Chapter 66

Dumbledore's nap lasted a long time, and while the aged wizard slumbered in the spare bedroom upstairs, the domestic life of the Weasleys, shattered by the news of Ginny's death, had suffered almost equal disruption by the discovery that the news was false. Both of the girl's parents were desperate to hear Ginny's account of the battle from her own lips. But Ginny was unable to give intelligible answers to her parents' questions. A home remedy was required. Sitting the girl down in the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley drew her wand.

"Soberfy!" Mrs. Weasley spoke the charm as quietly as she could, but Ron overheard it.

"Soberfy! Soberfy? Why is it you know that spell, mom? I thought only Geor —"

"Yeah," spoke up George with unnatural haste, giving Ron a non-too gentle nudge, "what's that charm for, anyway?"

Mrs. Weasley ignored the questions. Her children knew nothing of the reputation she had enjoyed during her schoolgirl days, and she wanted to keep it that way. With Ginny now capable of coherent speech, the Weasley parents listened with great attention at the kitchen table as Ginny told the entire tale of the second semester, while drinking numerous cups of coffee. Ginny was reaching the end of her very long narrative when the creaking of the stairs announced that Dumbledore had awoken and was descending to join them. Observing what was obviously an important family moment, Dumbledore paused at the entrance to the kitchen and began to withdraw.

"Oh, no, please stay, headmaster!" said Mrs. Weasley. "We just put on another pot of coffee and Ginny was just finished."

"I'd love a cup," said Dumbledore, sitting next to his student.

"Run along and join your brothers," said Mrs. Weasley to her daughter. "Your father and I have some family business to discuss with the headmaster."

"Sure, mom. Let me just grab a beer from the pantry before I go —"

Ginny easily evaded her mother's slow motion slap, and ran from the Burrow laughing. The Weasleys were now alone with Dumbledore, and Arthur spoke.

"We need to talk to you about Imogen."

"I thought you said you needed to speak to me about family business."

"We do. We've had a chat with our eldest children, but before we speak to the rest of our kids, we need a word with you."

Exiting the Burrow, Ginny found all her brothers waiting for her, along with Harry, Hermione and Imogen.

"You took your sweet time," said Fred. "Here we are, all set to play a four-on-four Quidditch match, and you're late, drunk and disorderly." Fred gave his sister a hug.

"What do you mean, four on four? There's ten of us," said Imogen.

"Right - sorry!" said Fred.

"What he meant was that he didn't know you played Quidditch, Imogen, nor you, Hermione," said George, coming to his twin's rescue. "But we were hoping that you'd play."

"Great!" said Bill, the eldest of the Weasley children and accustomed to taking charge. "In fact, why don't Hermione and Imogen play on opposite teams, and each of them be the seeker?"

"Perfect!" said Ron. Neither girl would ever catch a Snitch unless they blundered into it by mistake, and the game would go on until nightfall: hours and hours of glorious Quidditch. Brooms in hand, the seven Weasleys and their friends marched through the forest towards the clearing that had been used as the Weasley Quidditch pitch since 1486. The surrounding land (and the family's hereditary hair colour) was gifted to the Weasley clan in reward for its role in what was known to Muggles as the War of the Roses. Bill, Charlie and Percy walked on ahead of the rest, preferring to leave behind those Weasleys still in school to walk with their friends.

"I got three of those death eaters," said Harry, beginning a conversation that Ron had pre-arranged with him. "Now, how many did you get Ron?"

"I got three of them as well. How about you Fred? How many did you get?"

"Shut it."

"Did I hear 'none'?" asked Ron. "As in, 'not a single one?' I thought so. How about you, George? How many did you get?"

"You know damn well I only got one."

"And it was Goyle, wasn't it? And that hardly even counts. After all, he didn't even have a brain."

Fred and George grumbled, but there was not much they could say in their defense; both were conscious of a startling fact: that their younger brother, whom they had teased and tortured for years, had outperformed the two of them combined, and it troubled them. They could have flung out an accusation that Ron's success was merely the effect of the Felix Felicis potion he'd drunk, but they knew this wasn't true, and kept silent.

The group arrived at the clearing, and it was now time for the captains to pick teams. There was no need to choose who would be captain of each team; by custom, Bill would captain one team and Charlie the other. Percy pulled a knut from his pocket, and Bill won the toss. Normally Harry would have been Bill's first pick. But with Harry barred from his usual role as seeker, 'The Boy Who Lived" (and whom it seemed would live for some time to come, Voldemort having been defeated) was not necessarily the best first pick. Bill chose Ron as his keeper. There is no rush to pick either of the twins; if a captain picked one twin, his counterpart would pick the other. Now it was Charlie's turn, and he selected Percy.

"Ginny!" said Bill, who had heard reports of how much Ginny's Quidditch skills had improved, and Bill was delighted to have both her and Ron.

"Harry!" countered Charlie, sizing up Ginny and wondering if he had made a mistake in not choosing her when he had the chance.

Once the picking of teams was done, Imogen found herself partnered with an all-Weasley team: Ron: Ginny, Bill and Fred. Bill passed her the broom she would use, and Imogen looked doubtfully at the object. The broom shaft was old, gnarled and ancient, which contrasted strangely with the straw, which looked new. She said as much.

"Yeah, the straw's new," said Bill. "I fixed the broom up myself just before we came out here. What you're going to ride is the oldest broom in the house, the beginner one that all us young Weasleys trained on when we were kids. My dad learned on it, and his dad before him."

Imogen took the broom from Bill, looking at it now with respect.

"You know I'm totally incompetent when it comes to broom-riding, don't you? I'm worried I might destroy it."

Bill laughed.

"Don't have any worries, Ginny. You, and the broom, are perfectly safe. You'll see what I mean once you get by, okay Gin?"

"Okay, but I'm Imogen, not Ginny. I've been at the Burrow a lot lately, but I'm no Weasley."

Bill laughed and turned, but not quickly enough to hide the bright blush that suffused his face.

"Hermione, can you help me? Tell me what to do?" asked Imogen. "You know I haven't flown much."

"Sorry. Would be glad to help, but we are on opposite teams and all that. It wouldn't be right for me to give you tips. Then there's the simple fact that I have no idea what I'm doing."

The players assumed their positions on the pitch, Imogen and Hermione having first to be shown the proper place for a seeker to start. Then it was time for Percy to open the box of Quidditch balls. Because Bill got first pick of players, Charlie's team started with possession of the Quaffle. Fred took one bludger, and George the other. Before releasing the Golden Snitch, Percy drew his wand, and muttered a few words over it. The Snitch, like so much in the Weasley household, was old, used and not of the best quality. Unless reminded frequently, it was want to fly out on its own far from the Quidditch pitch and difficult to recover. For the next hour or so, it would more or less behave itself. At least Percy hoped so.

On the signal, the match began, and the teams flew into the air. Or in Imogen's case, at least she tried to fly into the air. Imogen was no more than a few feet above the ground, the toes of her bare feet tickled by the long cool grass of the meadow as she attempted to control her broom.

"Hey! The broom's not working!" Imogen shouted up at the nearest Weasley, Ron.

"Nor will it," he replied, "not until it senses you've improved enough for it to trust you to go higher. It's a training broom, remember. It won't let you do anything that it thinks is dangerous for you."

"Then we're going to lose for sure! There's no way I'll catch the Snitch."

"I wouldn't worry about that, at least not yet," replied Ron as he watched Hermione almost collide with Harry, zoom straight towards the ground and recover just in time to avoid serious damage.

Snatching the Quaffle from Charlie, Ginny streaked towards the opposing goal. George slammed a bludger her way, but with plenty of spin on it to make sure that it curved and missed. Now nothing stood between Ginny and ten points but Percy. The third of the Weasley children had had no time for Quidditch since he joined the Ministry, and he was rusty. His sister faked him out with an ease that would have embarrassed a second-year keeper, and fired the Quaffle through the middle ring, to the laughter of all including Percy's teammates. By the time Percy played himself into something approximating his old form, his team was down fifty points.

Ron at the other end of the pitch was having a much better time than Percy. He was in top form, and only once had anyone managed to score on him.

"Imogen!" Ron was startled to see the girl next to him, the ground far below.

"I think the broom is starting to trust me not to fall off. But I can't go very fast and it won't always do what I want it to do. So I figured I'd come over here and help you by blocking one of the rings."

Unfortunately for Imogen, her idea had been thought of before. About a thousand years before. Woefully ignorant of anything to do with Quidditch, Imogen was unaware that it was against the rules for anyone but the keeper to take up a position blocking any one of the rings. Ron patiently explained the rule, and the acceptable way one could attempt to circumvent it.

"As long as you keep moving at a reasonable speed, you can fly around the rings and keep an eye out for anyone trying to score. When they come at the goal with the Quaffle, fly straight at 'em. That's an acceptable thing for the seeker to do when she has no idea where the Golden Snitch is. Or when she wants the other team to think that she has no idea."

Imogen nodded, and then began slowly to circle the three rings, bumping into them occasionally as she struggled both to control her broom and to keep an eye out for opposing players attempting to score. It was very boring.

"Can I do this around the other team's goal without breaking the rules?" she asked.

"Absolutely," lied Ron, eager to get Imogen away from him.

Imogen completed a slow turn, and then at a child's pace soared across the sky, players on both teams careful to avoid her. Eventually she reached the opposing goal rings, and began to circle around them. As Ron had surmised, Percy was too polite to take Imogen to task for her blatant rule-breaking, and suffered the distraction in silence.

At the other end of the pitch, Imogen saw the Quaffle change hands, and now Ginny accelerated, heading towards Percy. Harry moved to intercept, but his superior broom-handling skills were not enough to compensate for his lack of familiarity in playing a position other than seeker. Harry reached out to snatch the Quaffle, only to grasp empty air as Ginny outmanoeuvred him, laughing with delight as she did so. The youngest Weasley charged the goal, and Imogen emerged from behind Percy, in his way now and blocking his view. Ginny charged straight at her, expecting Imogen to give way to help her team mate to score an easy goal. But in her haste to score her fourth, Ginny forgot that Imogen could hardly be expected to do any sudden manoeuvre on a broom. Imogen shrieked and threw an arm up to protect herself, while Ginny rolled at the last instant, soaring over Imogen, upside down. Ginny recovered effortlessly, and zeroed in on an empty ring as Percy lunged across to try to cover the gap.

But instead of scoring, Ginny stopped her broom cold.

"Missing something?"

Ginny turned, to see Imogen's smiling face and the Quaffle in her hand.

"I took that from you so easily," said Imogen in triumph.

"And I'd congratulate you, if it weren't for the fact that I'm on yourteam, remember? Your supposed to help me, not stop me."

"Oh. Sorry. Here you go," said Imogen, throwing the Quaffle weakly towards her friend. Harry, streaking in from behind Imogen, effortlessly intercepted the Quaffle, and took off towards the other end, part of a three-on-two break that led to an easy goal.

Charlie blew the half-time whistle, and a few minutes later Imogen was grateful to be on the ground once more, sitting in the shade on the cool grass, a bottle of butterbeer in one hand and a ham sandwich in the other. All the Weasleys, Hermione and Harry were sharing a lunch pulled from a small picnic basket which seemed to possess an inexhaustible supply of food and drink, and everyone helped themselves to the basket's contents. Except for Fred and George. Unnoticed, they pulled their own bottles of 'butterbeer' from a small bag they brought with them. Before they could even open the bottles, a rough summoning charm deprived them of their alcohol. Fred and George were mortified to see Bill and Charlie open the bottles of cold beer, toast each other and take a swig.

"That's not fair!" said George.

"That's right," seconded Fred. "You're not mom and dad."

"That's right, Freddie," replied Bill. "We're not mom or dad. But we're adults, whereas you are a child and I'd be remiss in my role as an adult to let a mere child imbibe alcohol. Don't you agree, Charlie?"

"No question about it," replied Charlie, taking a swig and stifling a belch. "But thanks for bringing the beer. Now there's some kiddie drinks for you in the picnic basket."

"But we're seventeen now," said Fred. "We're not kids! We're adults, just like you!"

"You're adults? Really? OK, maybe you are, but you've got a long way to go before you're adults like us," said Bill. "Right, Charlie?"

"Spot on, Bill. For one thing, we've got the beer and they don't. Better luck next time, kids.'

The younger Weasleys and their friends love seeing Fred and George, both of whom were possessed of a mild bullying streak, humbled. As the group gorged on lunch, they talked about the half-completed Quidditch match, mocked Percy for his poor goalkeeping, laughed at Hermione's appallingly poor broom-riding, and examined the bruises that Fred and George had inflicted on each other with the bludgers.

"That was a great play, Imogen," said Percy when there was a silence. "You stripped the ball from Ginny like a pro, great except for the fact she was on you're team. We'll make a Weasley out of you after all."

Bill exchanged a quick glance with Charlie, and then spoke up, asking Harry how he enjoyed playing Quidditch when he had no Golden Snitch to chase.

"It's pretty strange," said Harry. "I keep seeing the Golden Snitch and I'm dying to go after it, but I can't."

"Oh, go on!" said Hermione. "You can't have seen it! I know I looked everywhere, and it was nowhere to be found."

Harry opened a hand briefly, displaying the Snitch he'd caught just as the half-time whistle had blown.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for inattention," said Harry. "And another ten for contradicting me."

The two Quidditch teams finished their lunches, Bill and Charlie vanishing the trash. Charlie's team was down sixty points, and he hoped Percy would be able to hold it together while they tried to catch up. They had all just picked up their brooms when they were interrupted by the characteristic "pop" of an apparation.

"Change in plans, everyone!" said Mr. Weasley to the throng. "Time for a Weasley family meeting! Harry, Hermione, Imogen: You three can stay out here if you like, practicing your Quidditch moves, and we'll come fetch you once the meeting is done." Mr. Weasley took hold of his two youngest, and apparated them all back to the Burrow, the older Weasley children all following suit.

"This is a great opportunity for me to teach you some broom riding," said Harry. He mounted his broom and prepared to soar into the sky, but Hermione put her hand on his shoulder.

"If you don't mind, Harry, I think I'd rather leave off of broom riding, for a little while, if you don't mind."