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Author: Musings Story: The New Professor Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: WIP Reviews: 6 Words: 160,238
Harry rose to his feet and dusted off his jeans as he finished re-arranging his classroom for what seemed to be the hundredth time. His classroom, he thought, a ridiculous smile crossing his face. Twenty desks were lined up in a semi-circle, facing two double blackboards, the top two set on rollers which could be raised with the flick of his wand to expose the second set of blackboards beneath them. He'd written the names of the planets and their moons as well as the major constellations for each of the hemispheres on the top set, sending them back up towards the top and leaving the bottom set unmarked for use during class. He gazed up at the still-barren ceiling overhead. He even had plans for that, the most important of which was a large, working model of the solar system to be suspended above his student's heads. He ran his hand lovingly across the crystal globe's surface, remembering the first time Dumbledore had shown it to him, eyes twinkling, his countenance relaxed with the sheer pleasure of its artistry. His gaze crossed to the portraits he had ringing the room: famous Muggle physicists and wizarding astronomers including one of Dumbledore. He'd asked that the crystal globe Dumbledore was so fond of to be part of the picture. The Astronomy tower had always been one of his favorite places at Hogwarts. Its design was wonderful: round and imposing, it rose 1400 feet off of the ground, the tallest of the Hogwarts towers. It was topped with a surface 60 feet in diameter – an open-air classroom where practical lessons were conducted at midnight once a week, weather permitting. The crenellations ringing the top of the tower allowed the students to easily slip their telescopes through them to view the details of the horizon. The spiral staircase leading from the indoor classroom below was a full three stories high; another, smaller spiral staircase led to his office and private rooms. He grabbed the bottle of butterbeer he had sitting on his desk and climbed the latter, crossing the landing at the top and stepping into his office. He'd kept his office fairly plain, choosing to keep only a couple of his favorite globes, and Dumbledore's Pensieve and sextants here instead of in the indoor classroom below. It had taken him most of his first week at Hogwarts to get things settled to his liking. Of course, it hadn't helped that he'd been nursing several broken ribs and a bruised hip at the time, but he'd persevered through the discomfort as best he could. He'd heeded Madam Rosmerta's request to leave only moments after Ginny had left the pub with Christopher that night. Spending only as much time as he needed to shrink his trunks to pocket-size, he'd Apparated straight to The Range, feeling queasy and disoriented upon his arrival. Given his physical state, Apparating had probably not been a good idea, however he could see himself only being more severely injured if he'd attempted to Floo over. Sirius and Remus had said nothing as he limped through the door and up the stairs to his room. He'd spent the next morning at St. Mungo's with Healer Buckle and been given the clearance to move to Hogwarts directly. Madam Pomfrey had insisted he check in with her each evening so she could keep track of his recovery, and it had seemed fitting that Harry should have to spend some time in the hospital wing upon his return to Hogwarts. The press had had a field day with what was referred to as "The Broomsticks Brawl". While the Daily Prophet's coverage had stuck with the facts of the incident, the report in The Quibbler had been downright embarrassing. Mrs. McGruder had granted an exclusive interview with the Quibbler's "investigative reporter" Gerald Rivers that had landed at the staff breakfast table three days after his arrival at the school. Broomstick Brawl "Screams echoed into the night as the patrons of The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade's pub and inn, fled from a Muggle-style, knock-down, drag-out fight between Harry "The Boy Who Lived" Potter and his former ‘best mate' Ron Weasley last Thursday night. "Mrs. Heath McGruder, who hails from Edinburgh, granted The Quibbler exclusive rights to her eye-witness account of blood, obscenities and property destruction…" His meeting with Headmistress McGonagall the day after the fight had not been pleasant. "Professor Potter," McGonagall said in the unmistakable tone of the none-too-pleased. "I would like a word with you in my office," Harry slowly closed the magazine and, removing his napkin from his lap, rose to his feet to follow her out of the Great Hall. They walked through the hallways in silence until they reached her office. She motioned him into a chair and settled in behind her desk. "Harry," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose before placing the square spectacles back in their place, "it's been three days since you arrived at the castle, and I have refrained from inquiring about the incident in Hogsmeade until now. For good reason." She paused, her nostrils flaring slightly. "I don't want to know the details, with which I am certain the Prophet and the Quibbler are filled. I simply want an explanation, in your words, of the reasons for it." "Headmistress," he said uneasily, "there is no excuse for my behaviour. I can honestly say that when Ron showed up at the inn, I had no intention of harming him. I was, to be perfectly frank, very nervous about seeing or speaking to him again. I wasn't surprised when he swung at me – he promised me he would the last time we spoke to one another – and a part of me welcomed the blows." She blinked at him incredulously. "Why on earth would you welcome the blows, Harry?" "Because he was right," Harry said. His fingers dove nervously into his shoulder-length hair, disturbing the ponytail he'd secured at the nape of his neck with an elastic band. "I hurt the Weasleys in ways I had no idea I would have at the time, and there's a part of me that feels I should be punished by them for what I did." "Well," McGonagall said with a sniff, "public floggings went the way of the dodo decades ago, Harry. And as a member of this staff, participating in a barroom brawl is not only irresponsible but completely unacceptable. The parents of our students are sending their children here, not only to learn Transfiguration and Potions, but how to live their lives as decent members of our world. Having one of their teachers – a teacher who is well-known to everyone within the wizarding world, not to mention one who is closer to them in age and, as such, an obvious role model – brawling like a drunken sailor will not do." She straightened her glasses on her nose and pinned him to the chair with an unsympathetic gaze. "Even though you are no longer a student, you are not above punishment." He swallowed. "We gave serious consideration of retracting our offer of a professorship, Harry," she said, causing Harry's stomach to take an unpleasant turn. "However, there was no time to extend offers to other individuals. As a result, we've decided not to offer you the position as Head of Gryffindor House, which was to be announced at the opening feast." His stomach took another slow turn; he hadn't even realized the Head of House position was open. For a millisecond, imagined what it would have been like, cheering for Gryffindor to win the House AND Quidditch cups, to see them on the mantle of his office, and a wave of sadness washed cold over him. Swallowing his disappointment, he bowed his head. "Yes, Headmistress, I understand." Harry took a swig from his bottle and grimaced – Merlin, he wished he could forget that day. Idiot, he muttered to himself as he stood staring at that empty mantle. You've no one to blame but yourself. He could have stopped Ron from pummeling him into oblivion that night, quite easily. Sirius had moved heaven and earth to keep word of Harry's gift for wandless magic out of the newspapers. It wasn't something he had wanted to advertise to the world, at least not yet. The inadvertent celebrity his parents' death and his survival as a child had brought had always discomfited him. His involvement in the final battle against Voldemort and the transfer of power he'd received from Dumbledore had done nothing but increase his fame. Keeping the full extent of his abilities under wraps was something he desperately needed so he could have some hope of having a normal life. He walked over to the door to his rooms. He'd spent his first day at Hogwarts getting his rooms in order and was pleased with the outcome. The four-poster was positioned at a diagonal from the door and draped in rich Gryffindor scarlet. A large, arched window overlooking the grounds and the Quidditch pitch was visible from the bed, and he had spent many mornings staring out of it while propped up against the pillows, resting his still-healing bones and reading his curriculum materials for the upcoming year. Hedwig sat on a perch nearby, snoozing in the late afternoon sun. He glanced out of that bedroom window, checking the position of the sun, and finished off the last of the butterbeer with one gulp and a grin. He had about an hour before dinner and he fancied a bit of flying before then. A brisk ride would do wonders to clear his head. He walked over to the wardrobe, pulled out his flight robes and threw them on over his Muggle rugby shirt and jeans. He plucked up his Firebolt and, bounding up the stairs to the top of the tower, mounted his broom and kicked off into the air with a laugh. ~~~~~~~~~~~ Ginny sat back on her heels with a sigh of relief. She'd unpacked and arranged the last of her books onto her office shelves in record time. She'd gotten a late start for the castle and was concerned she would miss her first meal with the staff because of it. In the days following "The Fight", Ginny had found herself counting the hours until she would finish her last shift at St. Mungo's, pack up the last of her things from her flat and head to Hogwarts to start her new career. She winced as she remembered the questions her co-workers had peppered her with when she showed up at work for the afternoon shift, but nothing had bothered her more than the conversation she'd had with her boss just before she started her shift. "Ginny," Joshua Buckle said, glancing up from his cup of tea, "I met Mr. Potter this morning. Nice young chap. Handsome, too, although it was hard to tell under all of those bruises." Ginny gave him a wan smile. "Rather stoic as well, considering his injuries." "What's new?" she said, sardonically. At Joshua's silence, Ginny's sarcasm was replaced by concern. "I treated his broken nose last night. That seemed to be the worst of his injuries." "It was the most obvious of his injuries, but by no means the worst." He picked up a case file and flipped over the cover. "He had a hairline fracture to his skull as well, not to mention several broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and," he paused, rifling through the file, "a particularly nasty bruise to the inside of his right thigh. Must have just missed a knee to the John Thomas, I'd say." Ginny paled, the grip on her wand causing it to creak under the strain. "Any harder and it would have broken his femur. We were able to patch him up, but he's under Poppy Pomfrey's supervision for the next several days while he gets settled up at Hogwarts. If he wasn't heading straight there I would have hospitalized him at least overnight." "Thank you for taking such good care of him, Joshua," Ginny said, shaken. "He was insisting on going home after that debacle." "It's not like you to miss so many injuries, Ginny," Joshua said, folding up the file and pinning her with his eyes. "I know," she said, "you know what they say about treating people you know. Your objectivity tends to go out the window. I'd better have Ron come over for a second opinion as well." She made to leave, only to be stopped by Joshua's hand on her arm. "I'm not second-guessing you, Ginny. You've been an outstanding member of our staff since your arrival and I am more than a little sad to see you leaving. I'm asking, as a friend, are you OK?" She nodded, her eyes suspiciously bright, and headed out onto the ward. Ron had gone in for a check up with Joshua later that day and, although Ginny had done a better job of fully diagnosing and treating his injuries, he had been hospitalized overnight for observation. In the days that followed, Ron had gone from argumentative to apologetic with both Hermione and Ginny; however, the apologies had nothing to do with beating Harry to a pulp – they had more to do with being sorry he'd been caught. Ginny was so frustrated with him that she hadn't bothered saying goodbye before she'd left their home for her flat to head to Hogwarts. Besides, she'd still had to say goodbye to Christopher. She rose to her feet and began to pace across the floor of her classroom. She'd wanted to talk to him about his behaviour while they'd been at the pub. While she'd expected him to be somewhat protective of her, especially following the discussion they'd been having before Fred's arrival, she had not been prepared for the outright possessiveness he'd demonstrated at the pub. She'd seen the pressure he put upon Harry's hand when they'd been introduced and wouldn't have been surprised if Harry had walked away with a broken finger. Christopher's attitude hadn't helped matters either, and had bordered upon rude. And then there was the kiss. One of the things Ginny had liked about Christopher was the fact he was always mindful of his surrounding and treated her like a lady. That had included a reticence towards public displays of affection. She'd always been the one to encourage him to hold her hand and he'd always seemed embarrassed to kiss her when they were in view of others. So when he'd hauled her against him in the middle of the Three Broomsticks and kissed her as though they had been lovers for years she'd been positively shocked. When she'd caught the expression on Harry's face she'd realized exactly what was going on. It had nothing to do with passion; Christopher had been marking her as his, and that had made her see red. Since that night, she'd been noticeably cool towards Christopher, coming up with excuses not to spend time with him. The few conversations they'd had following the fight were tense and uncomfortable. Finally, the night before her departure he'd stopped by her flat while she was packing. "Gin, I'm sorry," he'd said, holding out a bouquet of sunflowers and new catnip mouse for Peri. "I acted like a Neanderthal that night for no good reason." "Yes, you did, Christopher," she said, taping the last of her boxes shut and tucking her wand in the bun at the nape of her neck. "I realize I'd given you quite a shock that night, but it was no excuse for you to behave the way you did." She noticed that Peri had already snatched away the mouse and was rolling around the floor with it clutched in his paws, the picture of ecstasy. "Traitor," she mumbled to the cat. She raised her eyes and looked at the flowers, then at him. "Thank you." "You're welcome. Please say you'll forgive me," he said, crossing the threshold and handing her the blooms, "I'd hate for us to part on these terms." "Yes, I'll forgive you if you promise not to act like that again," she said, accepting his token and turning to enter the kitchen for something to put them in. "I know we still need to talk about things, but I'd rather not spend our last evening together as tense as things have been." They'd talked about his day at the shop, played a little chess, and gone to the pub downstairs for a bite to eat before he'd walked her back to her flat and bid her good night. Kissing her goodbye, he'd said, "I understand what you were trying to tell me that night, Ginny. And I hope to be the one who can show you how to love again. Just give me a chance." Now, as she looked at the rows of desks along the sides of the room, she hoped he would be, too. She rose to her feet, stretching like a cat, when a streak of movement caught her eye. Walking towards the window, she saw a familiar, black-haired figure flying fast, reckless rings around one end of the Quidditch pitch. Suddenly, he tilted his broom down towards the ground and flew straight into a steep descent towards the closely-cropped grass below and drove all thoughts of Christopher from her mind. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Rising smoothly from his dive, Harry shouted with laughter. Merlin, he had missed the blissful caress of the wind in his hair, the smell of the grass and the feeling of absolute freedom. He released the Snitch he'd caught moments ago to let it take to the breeze again, its silvery wings fluttering wildly. He'd nudged his Firebolt up towards the heavens again for another turn around the pitch when he noticed a figure emerge from the castle and head his way. The red hair shining like a beacon made it clear who approached him. Ginny. The hem of her summer dress danced in the breeze as she walked across the grounds towards the pitch. Sitting motionless several feet above the ground, he had a sudden memory of watching her walk across the field in back of the Burrow the summer before his sixth year, laughing as she chattered to Hermione, their steps disturbing the butterflies that rest upon the tall blades of grass. It was at that moment that he'd truly seen Ginny for the first time, seen her as she'd always been, yet different: a lovely, young woman. The rest of that summer had been filled with chance encounters with the young woman Ginny had become, moments when Harry would feel self-conscious to the point of stammering. He would struggle to remember her as Just Ginny, his friend, and at times he would be successful in doing so. Then, something would happen, and the young woman's eyes would meet his; the young woman's laughter would make his heart skip a beat. By the time the summer holidays had come to a close, he had been relieved to arrive at Hogwarts and see his old roommates and the rest of the members of his year. Anything to draw his attention back to something other than the young woman who'd captured his imagination, his very breath. Finally, at breakfast one morning, Seamus had, apparently, had enough and issued a challenge to his fellow sixth-year Gryffindor boys: a date for the next Hogsmeade weekend or face the public humiliation of a naked swim in the lake in December. By the end of the evening, however, he'd done what no one had thought he would do: he'd kissed Ginny Weasley. Smiling at the memory, Harry nudged the broom to the ground and came to rest about ten feet from where Ginny was standing. Pulling his wand from his pocket, he Summoned the snitch to return to his hand and tucked it into the pocket of his robes as she approached. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Weasley," he said softly. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ginny started at the unfamiliar title. She glanced up at Harry, his hair windblown from his ride, his robes fluttering in the breeze. She could still see traces of the bruising around his eyes from his broken nose, but was happy to see it had healed straight and strong, just like it had been before the fight. "Thank you very much, Professor Potter," she said with a shy smile. "You look like you are healing well, Harry." She reached forward to lift a lock of white hair away from his brow and noticed his quick intake of breath. She frowned. "You aren't experiencing any pain, are you?" "N-no, I'm fine," he said, transferring the broom handle from one hand to the other. "Poppy has been taking excellent care of me since I've been here." Ginny smiled, shielding her eyes from the sun. "Gin, I wanted to thank you for taking care of me that night, and for the referral to Joshua – he was terrific, as were you." She shook her head. "I missed several things, Harry. You could have been seriously injured and I missed it. I'm very sorry." "It's OK," he said, laying his hand briefly on her forearm. "In the end, I've healed up quite nicely and I appreciate your triage." She nodded her acceptance, the silence between them deepening. "You looked terrific up there," she blurted. "You've missed it, haven't you?" "Gods, yes," Harry said, a smile lightening his face and causing Ginny's stomach to do a slow spin, "it was wonderful. I've been itching to get back up on my Firebolt, but Poppy didn't give me clearance until this morning. I've been putting the finishing touches on my class room and offices since then." He looked into her eyes. "Would you like to go for a ride?" Ginny flushed scarlet. "Oh, no, Harry, thank you very much." "Well, I hope you brought your own broom – perhaps we could show the kids a thing or two about Chaser and Seeker strategy?" Her mind flashed to the memory of a long-ago talk beneath the beech tree. "Perhaps," Ginny said, not trusting her mouth to say much of anything else. He glanced at her for a moment, then up at the sun. "Well, we should probably head in for dinner." He shouldered his broomstick and extended a hand. "After you, Ginny." She nodded and, with one more glance into his eyes, led the way back to the castle ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders, laddie," the mirror in Ron and Hermione's bedroom said as Ron stood adjusting his uniform. He glowered at the mirror. "Stating the obvious, are we?" he said, running a comb through his hair for the fourth time. "Dinna mean to upset you, boy," the mirror sniffed. Ron rolled his eyes – note to self: next time, buy a mirror in London, not Edinburgh. He frowned and, after running the comb through his hair one more time, turned resolutely away from the bureau and headed out of the bedroom door. His mind was racing – he faced a meeting with Sirius in less than an hour, and had not slept well due to worrying. This past week had been the longest week of his life. He'd felt as though his arm had been cut away from the rest of him, isolated at home with no word from his team. The only joy he'd had in his life was spending time with Matthew as he recuperated from his injuries. Hermione had been distant for much of the time, and he knew they would need to talk at some point. Just not now. He could still feel the tenderness of his ribs as he bent to pull on his boots. Merlin, had he made a mess of things. Having had several days of hindsight under his belt, he was horrified at his behaviour the night of the fight. He'd finally given up his pretense of having only gone over to speak with Harry, although that had taken him two days to do so, including one completely miserable day of poking and prodding at St. Mungo's. Hermione had barely acknowledged his presence during those first couple of days, and he'd reached the point where he could hardly blame her. He had told her he would think about having Harry back in their lives only hours before he tried to beat him to a pulp. That was the kind of thing that would take some time to forgive. Even now, as he reflected on the events of that night, Ron had to admit just seeing Harry again had been overwhelming. He would deny it to the grave, but before his temper grabbed ahold of him, the first glance he'd had of Harry had caused him to seriously consider wrapping his arms around his old best friend's shoulders in a hug. He remembered seeing Ginny walking over to talk with Harry after Sirius had finished with him. Saw how she'd set aside her feelings to take care of him, and she'd been the party Harry's departure had hurt the most. If she could do that, why on earth couldn't he? Because you are a bloody, pig-headed idiot, that's why. Tugging on his waistcoat, he stood up straighter and headed towards the kitchen. As he walked down the hall, he could hear the excited chatterings of his family. "Mummy, we've got a day trip to the zoo today," Matthew said happily, attacking the sausage on his plate with abandon. "My favorite's the lion house, but I heard they have some baby chimpanzees at the ape house, dear." Hermione said, ruffling his hair. "What time do you need to be at camp today? Show me on the clock." She pointed to the Muggle clock next to a miniature version of the Weasley family clock, which had the hands for Ron, Hermione, Matthew and what appeared to be a brand new hand resting on ‘Arriving Soon!' "Eight o'clock, Mummy. Big hand on the twelve and the little hand on the eight," Matthew said, wearing a jam-lined grin. "Which means we'll need to head out in 15 minutes, so finish up your toast and pop into the lav to wash-your-face," she said, punctuating each of her last three words with noisy kisses on his cheeks. Matthew squealed and, shoveling the last of his toast into his mouth, scrambled off his chair and ran down the hall, straight into his father. "Daddy, you look cool!" Matthew said, inadvertently getting jammy fingers all over Ron's robes. "Thanks Matty," Ron said, smiling ruefully while removing his wand and performing a quick Cleaning charm on his robes to restore them to their previous state. Tucking the wand back into his pocket, he walked into the kitchen, raising his eyes to meet his wife's. "Good morning, ‘Mione." Gods, she looked beautiful. She was nearing her due date and although she was convinced she looked like a zeppelin, he could have sworn she was a radiant as the sun. "Good morning, Ron," she said quietly, moving over to the teapot and pouring him a cup. "Have a bit of breakfast?" "I'm not really all that hungry, love," he said, reaching for his tea and leaning in to give her a kiss. He sighed as he felt her slightly stiffen as his lips touched her cheek. "Hermione, we've got to talk about this." Her shoulders slumped slightly and, turning from the counter, she sat down at the kitchen table. "I want to talk about this, Ron," she said, her eyes troubled, which made his heart clench a little in his chest. "I was so disappointed in you that night." "I know you were," he said, sitting across from her and catching her hand in his, fingering the sapphire ring he'd given her when they became engaged and remembering the look in her eyes the night he'd proposed. "I am as well, now that I've had a chance to think about what happened. I could sit here and give you all of the excuses that have run through my head over the last week, but the fact remains I broke a promise to you and it's up to me to do what it takes for you to trust me again." "Part of that includes Harry," she said fiercely, her brown eyes filled with tears. "I'll not have him missing out on being a part of my life again, of our lives. I was furious when he left us, but I know that he's come back for more than just his teaching career. He's back for his family, even if he doesn't see it yet, and I'm determined for him to have it." She squeezed his hand. "I love you, Ron. When we took our vows, we promised to be true to one another and to share everything in our lives together. We also promised to respect one another. Can we do that with this…this wall between us?" "'Mione, I'll try, I really will. I've got to find my own forgiveness for Harry, just as you have. I can and will promise never to do anything like that again. Please be patient with me?" She smiled tremulously, and leaned forward to kiss him gently on the lips. Ron reached forward, cupping the back of her neck with his hand, drawing her closer. By the time he'd released her, the frost that had surrounded them had disappeared. She smiled at him. "Good luck today," she said, touching his cheek. "Thanks, love," he said, rising to his feet and swallowing down his tea in several large gulps. "I'll need all of the luck I can get." With that, he Apparated to the Ministry. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Come in, Captain Weasley." Sirius stood in the doorway, a stern expression on his face, the golden, crossed-wand insignia of the MLES winking on the shoulders of his black uniform. He watched as Ron took a deep breath and crossed the threshold, coming to stand at attention when he heard the door click shut behind him. "At ease, Ron, and have a seat." Gesturing to a hard wooden chair sitting directly in front of his desk, Sirius walked around to the other side, where a chair of sleek leather embossed with the MLES crest awaited him. He picked up a file from his desk, taking a sip of tea as he perused the contents. "Captain Ronald Weasley, in service to the Ministry for the past five years…attained rank in record time. You've received an Order of Merlin, First Class for your help with the War as well as three commendations for services above and beyond." He snapped the file shut and fixed Ron with a piercing glare. "Can you tell me why one of the most highly decorated members of the MLES would resort to barroom brawling?" Ron flushed brick-red. Taking another deep breath, he raised his eyes to stare directly in Sirius' eyes. "I've no excuse, sir. I only planned on speaking with Ha…Mr. Potter when I accessed the locator quill. However, once I was there, I let my temper get the better of me. Regardless of my initial intentions, sir, my behaviour was inexcusable. I await your judgment." Sirius arched a brow – he'd hoped that Ron would use the time he'd been given during his suspension to think about his actions and was pleased that he wouldn't have to wade through a myriad of excuses to get to the truth. "Ron," he said, putting the file down, "when you refer to your temper, I believe I can rightly assume you still harbor serious feelings about Harry's disappearance…" "You mean his desertion," Ron snapped quickly, then paling at his tone "Yes, disappearance, desertion, abandonment – any of those terms can apply," Sirius said nodding. "We've known one another for many years, and were friends for several of those years, although if I had to guess, that friendship has been a bit cold since Harry left us nine years ago. I don't expect you and I to become friends again overnight, and I can honestly say I have been pleased with how well we have worked together, despite our differences of opinion when it comes to this one area of our common lives." He took another sip of his tea, placed the cup on the desk and folded his hands. "I try to keep my personal life and my professional life separate, although recent events would suggest otherwise." "Well," Sirius said, "I'm about to cross that line with you. Harry's experiences in those final days of the War involved some of the most intense and spirit-breaking things I think anyone could encounter. I cannot go into detail about them – it's not my story to tell – but I ask you, Ron, to give him a chance to do that with you." He rose from his desk and came around to sit on one of the corners closest to Ron. "He hasn't shared the details with anyone other than Remus and me, and only because he'd gotten himself drunk and spilled out the story in front of us." He laid a hand on Ron's broad shoulder. "He's coming home, in bits and pieces, Ron. I'd hate for you to miss out on an opportunity for a full accounting, and I believe in my heart that he's beginning to recognize that he owes you all just that." Sirius stood, tugged down on his waistcoat, all business once again. "Captain Weasley, all charges have been declined and you are restored to duty effective immediately. We will have mention of this incident in your personnel folder for the term of one year. At the end of that year, the documentation will be destroyed. However," he paused, looking into Ron's stunned face, "if there are any further incidences of this nature during this next year, you will be fired. Do I make myself clear?" "Y-yes, sir," Ron said, rising to his feet at attention. "Thank you, sir…thank you, Sirius." Sirius nodded brusquely and rounded the corner of his desk again. "Excellent. We need to get you back to work as soon as possible. While you were on suspension, we uncovered the body of that missing witch from pub in Sheffield." He handed Ron another file. "Girl's name was Lindsay Garthwaite, age 22, single, lived with her parents." He paused as he watched Ron read through the file, his face turning white. He'd reached the photos of the scene. "She was brutalized, Ron. Hex marks from the top of her head to her ankles, not to mention signs of rope burns on her wrists and ankles. And," he paused, rubbing his eyes, "she was raped repeatedly by at least three different men." "Dear God," Ron said, slowly closing the file and raising his eyes to meet Sirius'. "Do we have any leads?" "One," Sirius said grimly. "She'd been branded on her arm, pre-mortem." Sirius took the file and flipped to one of the photographs, giving it back to Ron. "The Dark Mark." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Notes: Many thanks to the Usual Suspects for their assistance and patience in reading through draft after draft after draft…you get the drift. And thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far – I love hearing what you think and hope you won't stop reading and sharing your thoughts with me about this path we're on. My apologies for NOT getting to September 1st yet again! There are too many things happening to rush along, so bear with me – the students arrive at Hogwarts next chapter, I promise! I wrote an outtake for this chapter entitled "Under the Beech Tree" which finally gives you the backstory of Harry and Ginny's first kiss. It's my first fluff outtake (and lord, those are challenging to write for a dark, sarcastic soul like myself) so I'd appreciate any feedback you've got for me. Finally, many thanks to the souls who created the internet. Without it, so many things that have happened in my life would never have taken place (including this!). However, as a researching tool, it's pretty awesome. Just some of the sites I referenced to write this chapter include the following: Guy's Tower at Warwick Castle for inspiration for the astronomy tower – it's a gorgeous site so do visit and see exactly what I'm talking about; Science Made Simple, Inc.'s Metric Converter (I know, I know…the price of being raised in the States). In future, I'll make a better effort to include all of the sites I use for research so you can get a glimpse at where some of the visuals come from. Coming Soon: Chapter 9 – Fall Term (really….I promise this time!)
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