Introduction
The approval of the crowd was deafening, so loud that the tremendous noise registered as a bizarre almost absence of sound. Exhilarated, but exhausted, I executed a somewhat wobbly dive; I was eager to be back on the ground. Dismounting my broom, my spent body shook terribly, and I was suddenly unsure of my ability to stand, let alone walk off the Quidditch pitch.
I needn’t have worried; as soon as my feet touched the grass, the crowd broke free of the evidently flimsy barricades and surged towards me, the roar of their praise louder still, and hoisted me into the air. As they carried me joyously about the pitch, I desperately searched the faces for the one I sought above all others. It wasn’t among those supporting me, nor was it still over in the stands. My heart lurched. Where was “ I breathed a long sigh of relief. There. With our friends. And the grin I saw had to be as big as my own. My ears throbbing from the din, my wearied limbs trembling uncontrollably now, I nevertheless revelled in the euphoria around me as it slowly sunk in:
I was their hero.
I was the Triwizard Champion.
Chapter 1 - Summer That Year
Summer was glorious that year. It was as if Voldemort and his followers had had a grip even on nature, and now that they were gone, everything was liberated: the sun was brighter, the leaves greener, the air fresher, the water more refreshing, the sky a deeper blue. Life at The Burrow was wondrous as well, in a simple, wonderfully-ordinary way, for Harry and Hermione had returned there with the Weasleys after Voldemort’s defeat to attend Fred’s funeral and to spend the summer months with the family. Harry relished his time there, in the time he got to spend with Ginny and the others. It was much the same as always: two or three-a-side Quidditch matches in the orchard, gnome-throwing distance competitions, long walks beside the creek, and superbly-delicious meals prepared for them by Mrs. Weasley.
Much was different, however. Fred’s death had torn a huge and ragged hole in the family and the days were subdued without him. Bereft of his twin, George was painfully quiet, and Harry had, on more than one occasion, walked in on each member of the family as they were just wiping their eyes or suddenly having to blow their nose.
In the room he shared with Ron, Harry had another almost constant reminder of Fred’s passing: out the window every morning he could see the grave in the village cemetery, high on the hill overlooking Ottery-St. Catchpole. He could have avoided looking at it quite easily but he didn’t. For although he no longer felt guilt over Fred’s death, he chose to seek it out each day when he arose; it reminded him of the loyalty of this family, the sacrifice of friends, the love that others felt for him.
It made him feel blessed.
Over a very enjoyable breakfast one Saturday morning, two weeks after the battle and the day after Percy had bid his family a fond farewell and returned to his own flat, Harry was helping himself to a second omelette when Hermione suddenly announced, “I’ll have to leave soon.”
All eyes turned to her and everyone began talking at once.
“Leave?” repeated Mr. Weasley.
“Whatever for?” demanded Mrs. Weasley.
“Where are you going?” Ginny asked.
“Why, Hermione?” George and Harry wondered.
She smiled at the stream of queries and replied, matter-of-factly, “Yes. Leave. It’s my parents. I have to find them, undo the memory charm on them, bring them back home.”
“Oh, yes. Of course,” everyone murmured. It was obvious that the details of the battle at Hogwarts, and dealing with its aftermath over the last couple of weeks, had caused them all to forget that Hermione’s parents were somewhere in Australia, even she wasn’t sure exactly where, and they had no recollection of who they really were, nor that they even had a daughter at all.
“Are you going alone?” Ginny asked, the worry on her face apparent.
Ron reached for Hermione’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “No,” he said, answering for her. “I’ll be with her.”
“Well, thank goodness for small favours,” Mrs. Weasley said, noticeably relieved that the young woman wouldn’t be travelling alone.
Harry, although reluctant to head off again with the two of them so soon after their much too-recent adventures, nevertheless knew he had to ask the question. “Do you need me to go, too?”
“Or me?” Ginny promptly put in.
“Oh, they don’t need you to go, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, before the others could respond. “But I know I’d feel better if Harry went with them ...” She looked hopefully at her son and his girlfriend.
“Mum!” Ginny cried, again before Ron and Hermione could answer Mrs. Weasley. “Why do you do that? Why do assume that I wouldn’t be able to handle myself? That I wouldn’t be much use? You do remember I’m almost of age now, right?”
“Now, Ginny, don’t start.” Mrs. Weasley sounded exasperated. “That’s not what I meant at all ...”
“Then what exactly did you mean?” Ginny demanded.
As the two of them continued their all too-familiar argument, Harry took the opportunity to catch his friends’ eyes and raised his brows, jerking his chin towards the sitting room. Getting up, the three of them tidied their breakfast things and headed into the other room to talk.
“Well?” Harry began. “I haven’t heard an answer from you two, yet.”
Ron and Hermione exchanged a brief glance before Hermione replied, “Thanks for the offer, Harry. You, er, you know I really appreciate it.”
“But you don’t want me.”
Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Ron spoke first. “And after all the fun we had last year too ... We must be mad not to take you up on your offer.”
“Ignore him,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, Harry? I really do appreciate the offer, but “ and it has nothing to do with not wanting you to go “ but I figured after everything you went through last year ... Plus, I have no way of knowing how long this will take, or if I’ll even be able to find them. I just don’t want to put you to all that trouble, maybe for nothing.”
“Oh, but you’ll put me, though. Cheers.”
Harry and Hermione both pretended Ron hadn’t spoken. “You know I wouldn’t see it as trouble,” Harry said quietly.
“I know.”
He sighed. “Won’t be the same without you here.”
Hermione nodded. “We’ll send owls if we can, although I have no idea if there are any wizarding communities in that area ...” She glanced at Ron. “We might need to find that out ...”
Ron nodded. “I’ll ask Dad what he can uncover for us.” He headed back into the kitchen.
Harry watched him go before asking, “When do you leave?”
“As soon as possible. Day or two at most, I hope.”
Harry shot her a sharp look. “You’re worried about them.” Her eyes welled up at his words and he knew she had been planning this for days, concentrating on the tasks at hand without allowing her worry, her fear for their safety, or the thought of not even being able to find them, get to her. His eyes softened as he watched her. “Hermione ...” he murmured. “C’mere.” He reached out his arms and she threw herself into them, clinging tightly, and began to sob, her body shaking against his. “They’re fine, Hermione,” he told her. “They are. I’m sure they are. And you’ll find them. I know you will.”
She pulled away to dig in the front of her jeans for a tissue. Not finding one, she sniffed vigorously, and tried to mop her eyes with her hands. “You don’t know that,” she said, her tone accusatory. Harry reached for the box of tissues on the sideboard and grabbed a handful, passing them to her. She took them gratefully and started wiping her face.
“Yeah, I do,” he retorted. “Everything we’ve gone through, Hermione? The number of times you saved our necks at the last minute? You’ll find them. No doubt in my mind.”
“And we’ll stay there until we do,” Ron added, coming back into the sitting room.
“Huh,” Ginny remarked, entering just behind him, “that’s not you being supportive is it? Are you not feeling well?”
“What else are we going to do?” Ron went on, as if Ginny hadn’t spoken. “Stick around here and listen to Mum and Ginny shout at each other? No thanks.” He made his way over to Hermione and draped his arm over her shoulder as Ginny pulled a face in his direction.
“Now, take a seat,” Ron added, “Dad’s sent an owl so he’ll have more info later, but for now, this is what he’s told me ...”
So the four of them sat down, Ron in an armchair, the others on the settee. But as Ron outlined what details he had at the moment, and tentative plans were begun, Harry listened with only half an ear. Even though he would much rather stay at The Burrow with Ginny than join them in Australia, he remembered with a fleeting longing all the plans they had made for their undertakings the previous year and a part of him couldn’t help feeling left out at the prospect of not sharing this adventure with his friends. Realizing he was being somewhat childish, though, he pushed aside his mutinous feelings and pulled himself back to the conversation at hand.
It was over an hour later that the quartet went in search of the others. They found them in the back garden: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hanging out a load of washing, George surreptitiously controlling a bumble bee to buzz continually near his father’s right ear, and having to choke back laughter as Arthur kept swatting with increasing impatience at it. The three of them looked over at Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny’s approach
“We’ve, um, we’ve ironed out a few things,” Hermione began, hesitantly.
Mr. Weasley motioned towards the garden chairs. “Let’s hear it, then,” he prompted after they had all taken a seat and Hermione had made no move to continue.
“Well,” she said, “we started with transport. With the risks involved with Trans-Oceanic-Apparition, we’ve ruled out Apparating to Australia ...”
“Very wise,” murmured Mr. Weasley.
“Much too dangerous,” agreed Mrs. Weasley.
“ ... and it’s ever so far, so that leaves off broomsticks,” Hermione went on. “So, for such a long distance, we decided that taking Muggle air travel was the only option.”
Mrs. Weasley looked uneasy at the thought but her husband cried out, “On an aeroplane? How marvelous!”
Hermione shot an anxious look at Ron and Harry. “Well,” she asserted, “not that marvelous. The, er, the, the fees are quite horrendous ... I can manage my fare alright, but um ...” She trailed off, not wishing to say anything that would embarrass the Weasleys.
But Mr. Weasley quickly cut in. “Not to worry, my dear,” he assured her. “With that new promotion at the Ministry, thanks to Kingsley, I’ve had a tremendous pay rise. We’ll cover Ron’s fare. Won’t be an issue.”
The relief was obvious on Hermione’s face. She had been very nervous about this point, Harry knew. Much more confidently all of sudden, she continued, “Now the only thing is, taking Muggle transportation, it would be best if we left from a Muggle location. The only fitting one, in non-magical terms, would be my house. That means we would pack our things here, then Disapparate to my parents’ house, making it our base for all the Muggle arrangements, then Ron and I would leave from there when it’s time.”
The others nodded slowly, taking it all in. “Oh,” Hermione added, “it would great if you could all come with us.” She indicated Ron’s parents as well as Ginny and Harry. “I need Harry’s help with the Muggle things, and if you two are taking care of the bill for Ron’s flight ...”
Mrs. Weasley looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Well, I’m not really sure that we should all leave,” she began, casting a quick look at George. He caught on immediately and shook his head.
“No worries, Mum. I won’t be alone, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m heading back to Diagon Alley tomorrow. To the shop.”
They all expressed surprise at this but George raised his hands to quiet them. “Of course I’m sure,” he said. “I’ve got nothing to do here but wallow. Besides, after all the work we put in? Fred would never have forgiven me if I just gave it up.” He shot Harry a grin. “After all, seems to me I was once told that when things are tough, that’s the time we all need a good laugh.”
Harry returned the grin, remembering that very sentiment he’d expressed when he’d given the twins his Triwizard Tournament winnings.
“That’s all settled, then,” Ron put in. “George heads to London tomorrow and the rest of us to the Grangers’.”
“And therefore I need to pack,” George said, getting to his feet. He winked at his parents before going. “Good thing you’ll be there to keep an eye on this lot.” He jerked his head at the two young couples. “Never know what sort of hanky-panky they’d get up to without proper chaperones.” He turned, and deftly stepping over the leg Ron had shot out to trip him, he laughed, and headed to the house.
As Happily Ever After As They're Gonna Get by cjbaggins
Chapter Notes: Disclaimer - with the exception of Mrs. Lancaster, Ezmelda and Aisha and their teammates (not including Gwenog Jones of course) who turn up much later, all of the characters included here were created by J.K. Rowling. I'm just taking them for a spin around the block, I'll put ‘em back, I promise.