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Calm Before the Storm

August, in France

The sun had begun its steady descent into the horizon when it had arrived. They’d been about to leave their room, for another fabulous dinning in Dijon, when a low, hollow dove-like note had caught her attention. She’d turned her head, and there, outside her window was a small eared owl, with graceful streaks down its back. Hermione smiled and approached the owl with curiosity.  It was only later that she’d had time to read it.

Hermione – you never guess what? Harry blew up his Aunt. Blew her like a balloon not like Seamus turning tea into whiskey. But because he’s Harry the Ministry isn’t sending him to Azkaban. He’s not even having a trail. He just has to stay in Diagon Alley until we go to back to Hogwarts. Can you belief it? My dad just found out. As you know, we’ll be back from Egypt the last week of the holidays. So, I think we should surprise him at the Leaky Cauldron the day before. Mum and dad think it’s a good idea: so we’ll all be staying in London the night before going back to Hogwarts. What do you think, will you be joining us?

Love Ron

P.S. Egypt is brilliant and Percy being Head Boy will be the worst thing ever. He keeps quizzing Bill for tips!

Hermione looked at the letter and her cheeks reddened. Love Ron. Love Ron? She knew she was reading too much into this. He was her friend, wasn’t he? Friends could love each other. She was pretty sure she loved Harry, but not in the kind of way that made her blush and consider then reconsider whether she should write it in a letter.

She was sat on a bench next to the grandstand in Place Wilson in Dijon. The sky was painted in the most magnificent colours as the band played and her parents danced. She knew she should be embarrassed by their display of obvious affection; but she hoped that she and Ron would be like that some day. She frowned at that stray thought. Quickly, took out pen and paper and began to write.

Dear Ron,

I can’t believe Harry blew his Aunt up and didn’t get arrested. I bet he’ll find loads to interest him in Diagon Ally. And he’ll be able to get his books early. I don’t know who to be more jealous of you in Egypt or Harry for having a head start on his homework.

Hermione mind raced. Maybe it was heady scent of the floral boarders or the beauty of the night. She sighed happily thinking about who she’d rather be with. Harry alone in Diagon Ally or Ron and family in Egypt. In her heart of hearts though, she knew it was no contest.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Her father asked sitting beside her.

‘Daddy, shouldn’t you ask centime for my thought seeing as we’re in France?’ Hermione asked cheekily.

‘For you Hermione, I’d give you a whole franc!’ he smiled back. ‘But you’ll have to wait. I gave your mother my wallet to buy us some ice-cream!’ he said nodding towards his wife standing in line at the stand whilst still swaying to the music.

‘Daddy, can you drop me off at the Leaky Cauldron on August 31^st?’ Hermione asked in a rush. ‘You see, Harry is spending the summer there and Ron thinks that it would be nice for us to surprise him the day before term starts?’

‘Ron thinks, does he?’ he father enquired patiently. You see, Hermione had spoken a lot about Ron over the last two summers and Doctor Granger, not being an unintelligent man, had noticed.

‘Yes, daddy... and so does his parents,’ Hermione added feeling like her father had read her earlier stray thought. ‘In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were relieved that he suggested it. Especially, after last year when Ron sto... borrowed his father’s car and flew them both to Hogwarts.’

‘Hello, you two,’ Hermione’s mother said handing them both their ice-creams. ‘What did I miss?’

‘Last year, Ron stole his father’s car and this year she wants to spend the night in London with that delinquent and his family before returning to school.’ Doctor Granger said in a deadpan voice.

‘Yes dear,’ Rose, Hermione’s mother, replied composedly.

‘Daddy,’ Hermione grumbled. ‘He’s not a delinquent. It wasn’t totally his fault, Dobby the house-elf didn’t want Harry to go to Hogwarts... I mean he should have just waited in the car for his parents or contacted someone at the ministry about the problem. But he often acts before he thinks: which is why it’s good I’m usually with him and Harry because I make sure they think first. But the important thing is that Ron and his family are going to be staying at the Leaky Cauldron the day before term. Can I join them and get my books and school things... please mummy.’

‘And daddy,’ Hermione’s father added before licking her ice-cream theatrically.

‘And daddy,’ Hermione agreed. They were all quiet for a moment. Hermione watched as her parents exchanged looks. She’d always been fascinated to see how her parents were capable of this: wordless communication.

‘Fine,’ her father agreed with a small smile.

‘Oh daddy thank you!’ Hermione exclaimed throwing herself at her father. ‘And thank you mummy, I’m writing to Ron right now so I’ll tell him. You can write a letter to his parents, to finalise the details.’

And with that, in between licks of her ice-cream, Hermione returned to pen and paper to finish her letter.

Just spoke to my mum and dad and they’ve agreed. I think we should meet up after breakfast, perhaps ten o’clock. We can have a cup of tea, meet Harry and then get our school things.

Dijon is wonderful. I’m currently writing to you from Place Wilson which historically was considered the most beautiful avenue in France in the time of Louis XIV, the Cours was intended as a victory and remembrance monument. There’s some magically history here too that you’d probably find it tedious but it’s really a beautiful place and has very excellent ice-cream. I wonder if they’ll be nice ice-cream in Hogsmeade. I can’t wait to explore some more of the wizarding world.

Enclosed is a letter from my parents to agree the details with yours. Also enclosed is a letter for Ginny.

Love from, Hermione

The Leaky Cauldron, August 31^st, 1993

As they walked down Charing Cross Road towards the broken down old shop Hermione Granger was jubilant. Soon she would see Harry, the Weasley’s and Ron again. Her heart fluttered a little when she thought of Ron but she tried to ignore it. Her and her parents passed shops, bars and other commuters; she ignored their stares at her Hogwarts trunk.

“Did you know that Daisy Dodderidge was the first landlady, in 1500,’ Hermione said happily opening the door of the Leaky Cauldron. ‘She said that it was, ‘to serve as gateway between the non-wizarding world and Diagon Alley.’ As Hermione followed her parents, she caught a brief glimpse of the bar, then there was a happy shriek, and her vision was completely obscured by red hair. And she felt herself held by a sisterly embraced.

‘Hermione! I’m so glad you’re here... it’s been so long.’ she hugged Ginny tightly and let her be the first to let go. ‘You’ll never guess what: Harry’s left for a wander and Tom doesn’t know where he is. But mum and dad and everyone are in the parlour.’

Privately, Hermione marvelled at the difference a year made in the manner of Ginny’s greeting. Last year, she’d been cold, physically distant and aloof. Now that had changed Hermione felt... happier.

‘Oh Ginny!’ Hermione said grabbing her hands and looking at her: the colour and liveliness that the diary had robbed seemed to have returned. ‘It’s so good to see you.’ Then, she turned to her bemused parents who knew nothing of the happenings between Ginny and the boy Voldemort’s diary. ‘Mummy, daddy. You remember Ron’s sister Ginny don’t you?’

‘Oh yes of course,’ Rose Granger said bringing Ginny into a motherly hug; because something told her she needed it. At this point Molly Weasley, walked in and exploded with delight.

‘Oh Doctors Granger, Hermione,’ she started warmly welcoming them. ‘How wonderful to see you again after all this time!’ They all embraced but afterwards, as Hermione was being led away she noticed that Mrs Weasley’s hug had been somewhat brief and shallow. When they walked into the parlour, Ron wasn’t there. But Mr Weasley was and she noted gleefully that he looked even more freckles than usual. They greeted each other and Hermione asked:

‘Where’s Ron?’ she muttered as they stood around the table.

‘Trying to get Scabbers to eat something...’ Arthur confided gravely, ‘He hasn’t been looking very well over the last few weeks.’ Hermione felt pang of sadness for Ron but not for Scabbers. There was something about Ron’s rat she’d never really liked. Sometimes when she glanced at Ron; Scabbers would be staring with unswerving attention. She’d mentioned it once to Ron but he’d assured her that that was just how Scabbers was sometimes.

Hermione’s gaze shifted towards the rest of the room and she saw the parlour had been set up for mid-morning tea with cakes and pastries that appeared incredibly nice and delicate. Hermione suspected that Tom had been pre-warned of the meeting and been asked to make a special effort. Molly positioned them all around the spread, leaving the seat free for Ron.

Her mother was sat next to Molly while her father was being quizzed by Arthur about all things muggle.

‘We can’t stay long, Molly dear,’ her mother said. ‘We have to change our muggle money and we’re meeting with an old colleague at lunchtime.’

‘Nonsense,’ Molly said warmly. ‘Fred and George are itching to get out of here... They’ll do it.’ A few minutes later, the twins had been called and left on their errand as the rest of the party were sitting down for tea. Ron walked in while Hermione was pouring tea for both her and Ginny. His ears were tinged pink and he held Scabbers tightly. Upon his entering Hermione stood up, knocking her chair down and slipping some tea. Arthur Weasley and Rose Granger looked amused but their spouses did not. Silence fell between them and it suddenly felt awkward.

‘Hi,’ Hermione said, unsure of herself. She recalled the last time they’d met after not seeing each other for a long time: Ron had been directing a confused Professor Lockhart into the care of Madam Pomfrey. He’d looked so relieved and there had been a moment where she thought they’d hug: but they hadn’t.

‘Hi,’ Ron said as his ears went red and Scabbers started to squeak and struggle.

‘Ron dear,’ Hermione mother said unable to take it any longer. ‘How nice to see you again, and looking so tanned. Please join us... We’ve saved a seat for you next to Percy...’ Ron seemed confused at being spoken to by Hermione’s mother but did as he was told. However, this meant that he was sat in between Percy and the other doctor Granger. Hermione and Ron sat opposite each other and unable to speak to each other.

However, it was lovely. The Weasley’s entertained the Grangers with stories of Egypt and the Grangers delighted the Weasley’s with tales of muggle France. Hermione and Ron simply smiled at each other and every now and then got the feeling that their parents were watching them interact. Hermione spoke quietly to Ginny. For his part, Ron seemed perfectly content to listen to Hermione’s father speak about France and teeth and whether Hermione would be able to keep up with all her classes this year. On this Ron was able to give reassurances that he knew she would.

An hour later the twins came back with the money for Hermione and broad smiles on their faces. The adults did their best not to enquire: but Molly Weasley looked at them seriously. She couldn’t pursue it too much because it was time for the Grangers to return to the muggle world. Hermione’s mother was, as ever, the more emotional one.

“Do remember to write, Hermione?” Rose Granger said, desperately trying not to cry.

“Yes mum,” Hermione said hugging her mother tightly. To his surprise, Ron was then also hugged by Hermione’s mother.

“Now don’t work too hard dear,” Hermione’s father urged her. Then, he gave her the pouch of money. “There’s enough in there for your books, visits to Hogsmeade and something extra for your birthday. It’s so close but we never know what you can use on the grounds of Hogwarts.” Hermione smiled and hugged her dad.

Hermione looked curiously over towards her mother and Ron and was surprised by how warmly her mother was behaving towards a boy she’d only properly met once before.

After the Grangers had left, Mr and Mrs Weasley then turned on Hermione and Ron.

“Right you two,” Mr Weasley said in a matter of fact way. “We’re going to trust you to buy your own things. Tom said Harry has gone for a wander.”

“Be careful out there though,” Mrs Weasley said sternly, “there’s a mass-murderer on the loose. Buy your things, find Harry and come back. If you step a toe out of line I’ll revoke your Hogsmeade permission Ron Weasley.”

 As Ron and Hermione approached Flourish and Blotts they were astonished at how normal it looked from their last visit. There wasn’t a crowd of over excited witches because there were no pictures of Gilderoy Lockheart. Instead, there was a heavy duty cage that held: The Monster Book of Monsters. The window was littered with torn pages and the books themselves were locked in a furious wresting match with each other.

‘You realise that that book is on our reading list,’ Hermione asked, plastering a flax smile on her face and widening her eyes scarily.

‘Of course, we need that book!’ Ron said with a patient sigh, matching her grin. They both let out a breath, staring as one Monster book grabbed another from behind. ‘The assistant is going to go mental when we ask for two...’

This year they didn’t need to slip in, but they wandered in reminiscing about last year’s scrum. The walls were covered in bookshelves, from floor to ceiling, stacked higgledy piggledy with special offers on books. Beside the counter, reclining on a chair, was a shop assistant; wearing a dragon skin apron, pink cooking gloves and a defeated exhausted demeanour. He was shaking, whilst contemplating his rather large pint of strong, no doubt sweet, tea.

‘Maybe we should give him a minute,’ Ron said cautiously, directing Hermione to the transfiguration section.

‘Good idea,’ Hermione agreed, reaching for her book list. ‘We want to make this trip quick so we can get your wand and find Harry.’ Hermione said directly. ‘We need two copies of Intermediate Transfiguration, Unfogging the Future and...

‘... The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three,’ Ron said wearily, ‘I do know Hermione, I have got older brothers who’ve been at this level and used this book!’ He said a little sourly.

‘Fine,’ Hermione said airily, ‘you pick up those and I’ll go and look for my other books.’ She flashed him a short, humouring smile before stalking off towards the Arithmancy section. Ten minutes later, (after spending five minutes in the Quidditch section) Ron found Hermione with a pile of books to rival his own, she was looking at muggle studies books.

For a moment, he watched her: she seemed like a statue again. He remembered how still she’d been petrified. And his tummy started to hurt: (maybe he’d had too many cakes earlier) but it kind of felt like when he’d seen her lying there for the first time. It felt wrong. Hermione, his best friend was full of life and fire and knowledge. She shouldn’t be so still. Then, he noticed her steady breathing, he noticed her chest rising and falling (Fred was right, she had ‘developed’ a little (Ron’s ears went red)) and then he noticed the book she looking at.

‘Hermione, why are you taking Muggle Studies?’ he asked, with a laugh. She turned to look at him with a bright smile.

‘The question is... why aren’t you taking Muggle studies?’ she countered, smugly. ‘You love everything muggle. From 50p’s to telephone?’ He noticed that she was deflecting the question, but let it slide, thinking that he’d have some fun with this later.

‘Harry didn’t want to because of his awful family and for everything else I have you to teach me?’ he grinned heading towards the shop assistant. ‘Besides I think its fair exchange. I teach you about our world and you teach me about muggles... like what is the function of a rubber duck?’ He enquired, sounding very much like his dad as they wandered towards the counter.

‘I don’t think they really have a function,’ Hermione admitted following him. ‘Maybe... to encourage Muggle children to bathe, its like a funny friend that lives in the bathwater and they want to play with it, I suppose.’ Then she heaved her pile of books next to the till. Ron was just about to ask if she’d needed a rubber duck as a child, when the assistant arrived.

‘My, my these are a lot of books you’re buying!’ he said happily, ‘going back to Hogwarts tomorrow, are you?’ he said in a conversational tone.

‘Yep,’ Ron said with a grin, ‘but we need one more book...’

‘We need The Monster Book of Monsters,’ Hermione said in a pleasant calming sort of way.

‘The Monster Book of Monsters?’ the assistant muttered quietly, looking on the edge of a nervous episode.

‘Yes please,’ Ron said, now feeling slightly guilty. ‘Two copies.’ The assistant bit his lip, as though quelling a sob, turned smartly about like a man going to his execution and started putting his safety gear on.

 Half an hour later

They stood outside of Ollivanders Wand Shop and Ron’s mouth went dry. This was the moment, the very moment he’d been waiting for since he was three years old. Never in all that time did he think that he’d be standing here at the age of thirteen with Hermione... his friend, waiting for his first time.

Last time he was here, he’d come with Charlie to get Charlie’s first wand. Now it was his turn.

‘Come on Hermione,’ he said with a dry smile reaching for her hand. Together they walked confidently in: their faces shining with delight.

‘Well, if it isn’t Mr Ronald Weasley,’ Mr Ollivander said out of nowhere. ‘You my boy, are two years late!’

‘Sorry, Mr Ollivander,’ Ron replied abashed and surprised. Ron dropped Hermione’s hand and his bag of books.

‘You know, Mr Weasley, I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, from the Minister of Magic to The-Boy-Who-Lived and no one has ever disappointed me more than you by not coming the summer before last.’ Ron’s ears went pink; he had no idea why Ollivander would care so much.

There was the gentle thud of books as Hermione dropped her book bags too.

‘Now see here, Mr Ollivander,’ Hermione demanded feeling very passionate on Ron’s behalf.

‘The muggleborn Miss Granger,’ Ollivander said seemingly surprised she was there. ‘Vine wood with dragon heart string core, flexible, extremely good for strong minded witches.’ The old man noted lazily. Ron didn’t like the way Ollivander looked at Hermione, nor how he said muggleborn. He stepped slightly forward and grabbed her hand again.

‘It wasn’t Ron’s fault. Charlie gave Ron his wand...’ Hermione continued like she was unflustered whilst Ron held her hand more tightly.

‘Charles’s wand!’ Ollivander exclaimed with a mixture of delight and scorn. ‘No wonder you’ve finally had to come. An ash wand with unicorn hair... No, no, no. Charles should never have given you such a loyal wand, especially in light of your last visit.’

‘What happened at your last visit?’ Hermione asked Ron, who still felt the irrationally need to stay close to protect her.

‘Well, Miss Granger,’ Ollivander started looking down at her. ‘When your Mr Weasley was three years old, his brother Charles was about to start Hogwarts. Ronald came in with his mother and Charles. While I was showing Charles wands, Ronald grabbed one from the counter, a wand that Charles was about to try: ash with unicorn hair.’ Ollivander was sounding very stern. ‘Young Ronald even got it to spark before Charles got it off him. The wand then became loyal to Charles.’

‘Ron!’ Hermione exclaimed, looking at Ron with a new found appreciation.

‘It’s not my fault, all I can remember was the coloured sparkles and Charlie getting it back.’ Ron grumbled, scuffing his feet. ‘Mum has never let me live it down though.’

‘So what have you done with the wand?’ Ollivander asked, hearing a note of disconnect between Ronald and the wand he’d been using for two years.

‘Now that really wasn’t my fault. The Whomping Willow broke it last September!’

‘September!?! But what have...’ Ollivander asked again trailing off. ‘Don’t tell me, you’ve been using a broken wand with Spellotape!’ he exhaled exasperated. There was an awkward silence in which both Ron and Hermione thought they’d be removed from the shop. ‘I don’t want to know any more Mr Weasley, Miss Granger. Let’s start with the choosing of your wand.’

The process didn’t take as long as it might have done because Ollivander knew Ronald was from a very loyal pureblood family; because of this all the wands he brought forth, had unicorn hair in. Ollivander tried him with a handsome ash wand – but it wouldn’t give hits alliance. Hermione encouraged Ron that the right wand you present itself soon. Ollivander made a show of getting more wands down and sorting them through, while he was really observing this muggleborn and pureblood interact.

Although the girl was trying to calm and encourage him, it was Ronald who was making her feel better: he kept saying ‘that they’d find their friend soon’. The other interesting situation was the bag of books on the ground kept trying to attack each other. The muggleborn noticed the pattern of their behaviour and pragmatically told this pureblood when it was time to act. He would roll his eyes, but he persisted and delighted in her happiness. An idea came to Ollivander.

He tried vinewood because of the obvious bond between Ronald and Hermione. But the wand that usually yielded to strong minded wizards, did not like this Weasley. On a whim, Ollivanders next choice was made of Willow. Good for healing and charms. It was a feminine wood but not unusual for a man to have, because it showed a deeply caring wizard that could be extremely dangerous when his loved one was in trouble.

‘Alright, give it a little flick Mr Weasley,’ Ollivander said handing Ronald the wand. As soon as it was in his hand, Ollivander knew that his was the one. There was a glow between boy and wand: orange. The boy turned, seeking approval, not from Ollivander but from the girl before him. With a grin he flicked and swished his wand and said: ‘Wingardium Leviosa’. Hermione giggled with pleasure as her books began to fly around the shop. Then, her t-shirt changed colour to Cannon orange and she spluttered with more laughter.

‘Your rat Ronald Weasley!’ she said trying to be stern. And to Ollivanders surprise, a sickly rat popped his head from young Ronald’s pocket. It gave a look of mild interest between the witch and wizard before disappearing again.

‘Not my fault Hermione!’ Ronald grinned affectionately. ‘My wand is a Cannon’s fan! Yes, we’ll get on famously!’

‘That,’ Ollivander said, ‘we will see in the full course of time. I’ve been selling wands for more years than I care to remember and none of them have ever shown favour to a Quidditch team. This wand Mr Weasley will cost you seven gallon’s and will serve you better than Charles’ wand. But if I hear you’ve broken and stuck it together with Spellotape. I will transfigure myself into a dragon and pursue you with my fire breathe!’

Ron meekly nodded. He paid for his wand and exited from the shop in search of Harry Potter and the beginning of the stormy year ahead.