Harry arrived at the Burrow, closely followed by a
horde of Weasleys. He was practically tackled by Mr.
Weasley as he came through.
“Ron,” blurted Harry, ”I need to tell you something,
but it’s very …uuuuuhh … personal. Can we go up to
your room to talk about it.”
Ron nodded.
"Harry can stay in my room!" Ron said a little too
enthusiastically. "I'll help him take his belongings
upstairs!"
They each took hold of a handle on Harry's trunk and
trudged to their room closely followed by the Weasley
twins. Knowing full well that Fred and George were
planning to eavesdrop, Ron and Harry looked at one
another to quickly formulate a plan. Harry motioned by
tilting his head to one side and Ron nodded. In one
quick motion, Harry and Ron shoved the twins out of
the way and dashed to their room, where they
barricaded the door with a couple chairs and a desk.
"Are we safe from them," whispered Harry.
"I think so. Besides, if Mum catches them listening
in, they would get major punishment,” Ron said.
Harry was dubious whether Ron would care at all about
what he was about to say, and if he did, how he would
react. Will he start hating me? Harry fretted
silently.
"Ron, on my birthday I got this letter from Hermione,
well actually a small parchment,” said Harry. "It said
to meet her outside Gringotts, tomorrow at 1 p.m.,
well I’m not quite sure what she wants but, I have
been thinking about everything we have been through in
the past years ... and ... well um ... I
think I am in love with Hermione. And I might tell her
tomorrow."
“Har--” Ron started.
"Ron, I really don't want you to be mad at me, because
I know that you once told her that you loved her,”
Harry cut in quickly, "but now that I have thought
about it, I love her with all my heart!”
"Harry -- that’s brilliant,” Ron interjected. "I
actually really don’t love her anymore -- I just want
to see her happy, you know?"
"Well, that’s great," Harry exclaimed. "I was afraid
you were going to come off on me or something!"
One down, one to go, Harry thought to himself,
amazed and happy that Ron didn’t love her any more.
Now, what should I do tomorrow?
Later that afternoon, Harry, Ron, Fred, and George
trudged of toward the open field behind the Burrow so
they could practice. They brought along some used
Quaffles and Bludgers from Charlie and Bill's
Quidditch-playing days. But the Weasleys didn't have a
Golden Snitch, so the foursome had to bring along
Muggle golf balls (that Arthur had nicked from work,
naturally) to bewitch for Harry's sake. They all made
a bet on how many golf balls Harry could catch out of
100. Two hours later, Harry had caught 94 of 99.
Fred and George decided to really test Harry on the
final ball. They had Mr. Weasley blast the ball 500
feet in the air. It shot up at tremendous speed as
Harry took off on his speedy Firebolt. When he got
about 150 feet, up a sharp streak of searing pain shot
through his forehead. He lost control; he blacked out
and fell off his broom from 200 feet in the sky.
”HAAARRRRRYYY!” all the Weasleys were yelling and
hollering as he fell, picking up speed. Mrs. Weasley
came dashing out of the Burrow and pointed her wand at
Harry, attempting to break his fall, but the charm she
cast was too late and not strong enough. Harry at hit
the ground with a sickening thud.
A flock of Weasleys descended on him.
Mr. Weasley bent over Harry and tried to wake him.
"Molly, we have to get him to St. Mungo's," Arthur
said, urgency and fear pervading his voice.
Mrs. Weasley levitated him so that Harry floated
between her and her husband.
"Boys, we are going to Disapparate there with Harry,"
she said, her voice shaky. "You stay put. One of us
will be back as soon as possible to get you."
When Mr. and Mrs. Weasley apparated in the emergency
ward of St. Mungo's, Harry between them, the healers
rushed to their aid.
"What happened?" said a tall, lean healer with a gray
and blond goatee.
Mr. Weasley was the first to gather himself.
"He fell," Arthur breathed, "from high up. I don't
know how high -- he was practicing Quidditch."
The healer furrowed his brow and put a hand on Harry's
chest. "We need to take care of this boy now," he
motioned to two other healers who had just pushed
through the double doors leading back to the ward.
As they carried Harry off, Mrs. Weasley buried her
face in her husband's chest and began to cry. Mr.
Weasley rubbed his wife's back, attempting to soothe
her. "Molly, you should go back home and bring the
boys. Have a cup of tea. If I hear anything before you
get here, I'll let you know right away," he said
gently. "OK?"
Molly nodded and sniffled. "You're right. OK."
She squeezed him gain, stepped back and Disapparated
to the Burrow.
Ron, Fred and George breathed deeply and looked at one
another. Fred was the first to speak.
"Well ... I guess we better gather the Quidditch
supplies ..." he trailed off.
Ron picked up Harry's Firebolt where it had fallen as
well as his and the twins' brooms. Fred and George
filled their arms with Quaffles and Bludgers. They
started back toward the house.
When they had put the Quidditch supplies away, Ron
realized Harry was supposed to visit with Hermione
tomorrow. He thought quickly and sent a letter to
Hermione:
Hermione,
Harry's in St. Mungo's. He got hurt during Quidditch
practice. Dad's there. I'll be there soon. You should
visit him there tomorrow.
See you then.
Ron
As Ron sent Errol off with the letter, Mrs. Weasley
arrived back in the Burrow. A cup of tea later, Mrs.
Weasley, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny were traveling by
Floo to St. Mungo's.
They met Mr. Weasley in the waiting room and sat in
worried silence. An hour later, the healer who had
taken Harry back emerged from the large double doors,
a clipboard under his arm.
"First, let me assure you, he's going to be OK," he
said in a worn voice. "We managed to stop the bleeding
and mend his bones. But he's going to need a lot of
rest. We'd like to keep him for at least a few days
for observation."
Molly let out a sob of joy.
"Can we see him?" Ron asked eagerly.
"Yes," the healer replied. "Follow me."
Harry awoke after several hours to find the Weasley
family standing over him.
"He's awake! He's awake!" Ginny smiled.
"Oh, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.
As Harry attempted to sit up, he suddenly felt searing
pain in his head. "Oooooh," he moaned and fell back to
his pillow.
"Hi, Harry," said Mr. Weasley. "You're in St.
Mungo's."
"What happened?" Harry asked. "Last thing I remember,
I was catching golf balls and my scar started to hurt
..."
"You fell off your broom, mate," Ron explained. "You
fell really far. But the healer says you'll be OK--"
"With rest! Lots and lots of rest!" Mrs. Weasley cut
him off. "Don't get him over-excited."
Harry gave a small smile. Typical Mrs. Weasley,
he thought.
"But we thought he had died, Mum!" Ron exclaimed, half
to Harry. "Mum and Dad Disapparated you here. I sent
an owl to Hermione and told her to come here tomorrow
morning instead of Gringotts! Oh! And your broom! Your
broom was OK, and I made sure it was safe and sound
and put it in --”
"I'm sure Mr. Potter does not doubt his broom's
safety," said a voice. Dumbledore had entered the
room.
Ron turned a light shade of pink as Dumbledore crossed
the room to Harry's bed.
Harry was happy to be surrounded by his favorite
people -- but his stomach did a somersault when he
thought about Hermione's visiting the next afternoon.
After an hour of conversation, and after Harry had
eaten a light dinner, Mrs. Weasley saw that Harry was
looking sleepy.
"Well," she said, "I think someone needs his rest!"
The Weasley children grumbled, but they knew better
than to argue with their mother when she was in
nuturing mode.
"Come on, come on, don't dawdle!" And with that, she
pushed her family and Dumbledore toward the door.
"Good night, Harry!" said Mr. Weasley.
"Feel better!" said Ginny.
"See you tomorrow!" said Ron.
Dumbledore simply smiled and winked.
"Sleep well, dear," said Mrs. Weasley quietly as she
closed the door behind her.
Harry pulled the covers up, settled in and, despite
the pain he was still in, drifted off to sleep.
Harry awoke the next morning to Ron beckoning him to
eat some breakfast. He didn't feel like eating, but he
had a sneaking suspicion Mrs. Weasley had put Ron up
to the task, so he did anyway.
"You made the front page, mate!" Ron exclaimed,
holding up that day's Daily Prophet.
The headline read, "Potter in St.Mungo's."
"Apparently, everyone is worried," said Ron, and he
began to read from the article. "'Wizards and witches
young and old are frantic for Harry Potter's safety
after it was revealed yesterday by an anonymous source
that the Boy-Who-Lived was admitted to St. Mungo's
with a malady the source refused to divulge. "It was
touch-and-go for a while," said the source.' Blimey,
Harry, everyone knows!"
Just then a healer's assistant entered the room,
pushing a cart full of letters and sweets for Harry.
"Owls have been arriving all morning with this stuff,"
the young, dark-haired man said. "This is just the
first load. You might want to ask the Daily
Prophet to print an article that says, 'Stop
Sending Harry Potter Gifts,'" he sighed and turned to
leave.
Harry and Ron laughed, and Ron pulled out a box of
Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, opened it and began
to eat. "Oh! Caramel!" he munched.
"Oooohhhh," Harry said. "My scar!"
"Should I get a healer?" Ron said, spitting out a
lima-bean-flavored bean.
But Harry had already blacked out from the severe pain
that made his head feel as though it were about to
implode.
Several hours later, Harry moaned and stirred. He
half-opened his eyes and saw a blurry, bushy figure
standing over him. He shut his eyes and opened them
again, trying to focus.
"Here," said a familiar voice, "take your glasses."
He put them on and smiled at what he saw.
"Hermione," whimpered Harry painfully.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione hugged him.