Imogen
Chapter 25

Copyright© 2010 by you know who

The burrow was every bit as wonderful as the books had described it, thought Imogen. She had been there for several days now, along the Weasley family, Hermione and Harry. Sirius too was staying with them, and every nook and cranny of the convoluted home had a bed, cot or mattress to accommodate a family member or guest.

Imogen knew that everyone was 'supposed' to stay at Grimmauld Place, at least according to the books imbedded in her memory. But it was perfectly obvious to her why this had changed. With Sirius free to roam, there was no need for Harry to stay at the Order's headquarters to remain with his godfather, and he was free to accept an invitation to the Weasley home. Harry being the centre of gravity of this section of the wizarding world, it was natural enough that everyone that could had joined him, and a cheerful holiday it had been.

But Harry and his friends had not thought through the logical consequence of everyone leaving 12 Grimmauld Place and spending most of the holidays at the Burrow. In the Order's headquarters, a home owned by Sirius and under the ultimate authority of Dumbledore, there would have been no question that the teens could pursue Harry's plan of learning truly terrible curses, beginning with Avada Kedavra. But in the Burrow a different regime ruled: Mrs. Weasley.

Naturally the group turned to Fred and George to find a solution to the Mrs. Weasley problem. They were in a large clearing in the woods, an area usually used for family Quidditch matches. It was a beautiful, sunny winter's day, rendered more comfortable by Hermione's mastery of the charms required to create a dry, warm area where they could take off their coats - and also be safe from anyone trying to listen in.

"After all," said Harry to the twins, "you two are the eldest of us, you've known your mum the longest - surely you can convince her."

"I'm no coward," said Fred, "but there's no way I'm going up to my mum, and saying, 'just thought I'd let you know I'm going to be practicing the killing curse, and once I've got the hang of it, I'll teach Ron and the others.' Yeah, right. The only one using an unforgivable curse will be my mum. I'll be dead." George nodded his agreement, and expressed similar sentiments.

Ron looked about with alarm as the collectively gaze of the group fell on him. He was about to beg off the task of convincing his mother, on the ground of sheer impossibility, when he noticed Hermione's gaze fixed on him.

"Alright, then," said Ron. "I'll give it a go. I'm not promising anything, mind you, but I'll do my best."

"Are you nuts?" asked George. "Mum will eat you alive. No, there's only one of us that stands any chance at all, and that's Ginny. You've always been mum's favourite."

"What? Me? You're twice my size and you can easily defend yourself - mum can't even really ground you for that long, either - you're almost seventeen," protested Ginny. "But she can ground me for the next three years, and I'm not going to risk it. I'd try if I thought there was a chance, but I just know it won't work. Mum would be beside herself if she thought her young, innocent little daughter wanted to learn how to kill."

Harry shook his head in dismay. How were they to tackle Voldemort, if none of them had the courage to take on Mrs. Weasley?

"We'll just have to skip the bit about asking for permission, then," he said. "Right. Wands out everyone." Everyone got to their feet, eager to start on a curse none had thought to be learning until after they left school, if at all.

"No."

It was Imogen who spoke, and everyone turned to look at her.

"I know better than any of you what's in store for us all, but I won't do this, not here, not now when we're all guests of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. If we have to, we can find some excuse to go back to Grimmauld Place, or even Hogwarts, and practice there, but I won't do this here, not when Mrs. Weasley is trusting us. I'm not the greatest for following rules, it's true, but that's at school, where Umbridge's is in control and rule breaking is the order of the day. No one's trusting us at school - there's a zillion rules and we're watched all the time, so rule breaking's fair game. But I won't do this to Mrs. Weasley, not in her own home, or anywhere for that matter while I'm staying under her roof."

"But Imogen -" began Ron.

"But nothing," said Imogen testily. "None of you Weasleys is giving your mother enough credit. She's no fool. Why won't one of you at least try to talk to her? Why won't you give her a chance. Did you not hear what I told you only a few days ago? In an unaltered future, your mother duels Bellatrix herself, and kills her. Your mother deserves your respect."

"Then why don't you try?" suggested Ginny, a sincere suggestion without any irony in her voice. Hermione immediately seconded the youngest Weasley.

"She's right. If a Weasley asks, then Mrs. Weasley will answer not as a member of the Order, but as a mother. But if you, Imogen, do the asking, maybe you can appeal to a more objective Mrs. Weasley than her own children could."


That evening after dinner Hermione and Ron sat at a chess board. They'd been there for almost an hour, as Ron taught Hermione a few things about the game. She'd learned the rules years before, and could play a half-decent game, but nothing like Ron. He'd played a number of games with the charmed wizard chess set Hermione had given him for Christmas, but even it was not able to play him on even terms. For the set to stand a chance against him, Ron had to play with the black pieces, and remove at least a pawn.

"It's all about mobility," said Ron. "All things being equal, an extra pawn will count. But how often is everything equal? So usually who has more pieces on the board is not what matters. What counts is who can apply more force at critical points." There was no doubt that Ron was well-qualified indeed to instruct Hermione, if only in chess. Concerning anything related to relationships or girls, he was a novice.

Hermione listened carefully, struggling not to yawn. She'd be feigning interest for at least thirty minutes, and if she'd been honest with herself, since the lesson began. Her mind wandered back to events earlier in the day, when she'd returned to the Burrow after her first attempt at playing Quidditch.

It seems Imogen understood her own mother better than her children did. While the rest of them had played Quidditch, Imogen had been helping Mrs. Weasley with dinner ('Oh but it's not a chore for me, Mrs. Weasley - please let me help you - I know nothing about domestic charms and I'll learn loads from you - let the others stay out there and play - really this will be fun for me'). When Harry, Ginny and the others had returned from several solid hours of hard-fought Quidditch, Imogen had explained to them that aside from helping with dinner, she had also secured Mrs. Weasley's permission to use magic while at the Burrow and to learn curses, the only limitation being that they could not practice spells that were illegal.

"All I did was talk to her, that's all," said Imogen in response the Weasley children's demands that she explain how their mother could possibly have agreed to such a thing.

Now, after dinner, most of the Weasleys and guests were sitting about downstairs. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley along with Sirius were chatting by the fire. Ginny and Harry were playing a wizard version of piquet.

"Carte Blanche!" said Ginny with a laugh, allowing Harry only a quick peek at her hand as required by the rules before covering up again. "Another ten points for me."

 
There is more of this chapter...

To read this story you need a Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In or Register (Why register?)

Close