The Other Potter: Book 6

Mushroom and a fallalalalilili! and a fly FLY!

I remained within the confines of the Burrow’s garden over the next few weeks.

Oh...That makes this sound like a detention camp.

WELL IT MORE OR LESS IS BITCH!

We spent most of the days playing two-a-side Quidditch in the Weasleys’ orchard.

Harry and Hermione against Ron and Ginny; Hermione was dreadful and Ginny good, so they were reasonably well matched.

And then we tried Me and Harry against Ron and Ginny, in which I managed to fall off my broom, kick Harry in the face, headbut Ron and end up sitting on the back of Ginny’s broom happily.

“I think that’s called a foul.” Harry called up to us.

“I think that’s called superior.” Ginny called back.

We also attempter Girls vs Boys, but when Hermione scored a goal against Ron he got overwhelmingly pissy. Probably because Hermione sucks, and it made him look bad.

So we sort of...stopped playing Quidditch.

At every meal, I licked my plate clean after eating seconds. Well, after one night Harry banned me from literally licking my plate clean because Phlegm almost puked and had to leave the table. It resulted in us all telling tales of how in love with Phlegm he was.

We’re gorgeous.

It would have been a happy, peaceful holiday had it not been for the stories of disappearances, odd accidents, even of deaths now appearing almost daily in the Prophet. Sometimes I knew some of the people, like families of the kids at school. And Bill and Mr. Weasley sometimes brought home news before it even reached the paper.  

Harry and I agreed to celebrate our birthdays together because we didn’t want Mrs. Weasley to go to too much effort. However, his sixteenth and my fifteenth were made rather depressing when Lupin turned up looking gaunt and grim, his brown hair streaked liberally with gray, his clothes more ragged and patched than ever.

He looked even worse than when I stayed there...

Maybe I should have stayed....

PEW PEW DEPRESSION!

“There have been another couple of dementor attacks,” he announced, as Mrs. Weasley passed him a large slice of birthday cake. “And they’ve found Igor Karkaroff’s body in a shack up north. The Dark Mark had been set over it... well, frankly, I’m surprised he stayed alive for even a year after deserting the Death Eaters; Sirius’s brother, Regulus, only managed a few days as far as I can remember.”

“Yes, well,” said Mrs. Weasley, frowning, “perhaps we should talk about something diff...”

“Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?” asked Bill, who was being plied with wine by Fleur. “The man who ran...”

“Is the ice-cream place in Diagon Alley?” Harry interrupted. “He used to give me free ice creams. What’s happened to him?”

“Dragged off, by the look of his place.”

“Why?” asked Ron, while Mrs. Weasley pointedly glared at Bill.

“Who knows? He must’ve upset them somehow. He was a good man, Florean.”

“Talking of Diagon Alley,” said Mr. Weasley, “looks like Ollivander’s gone too.”

“The wandmaker?” said Ginny, looking startled.

“That’s the one. Shop’s empty. No sign of a struggle. No one knows whether he left voluntarily or was kidnapped.”

“But what’ll people do for wands?”