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Mrs. Weasley was busy in the kitchen, her back to Harry as she directed every utensil to work for her. She didn't see his expression.
That made things much easier for him.
He changed the subject and asked, "Is Mr. Weasley still at work?"
"Yes," Mrs. Weasley replied.
"He's still at the Ministry. You and Albus went to see Slughorn tonight—he's the one Dumbledore brought back to Hogwarts.
He's always liked students who were talented and perford well. The Ministry is full of his forr students, and he values them greatly.
But he never thought highly of Arthur. He believed Arthur would never amount to much—never realized how capable he actually is.
Arthur was promoted recently. He's now in charge of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects, with more than a dozen people working under him!"
Mrs. Weasley said this proudly.
Clearly, that was what she had been building up to.
Harry took a sip of the soup she had just served—and imdiately burned his tongue.
He hurriedly put the bowl down, eyes watering.
"That's… really good."
Mrs. Weasley laughed at his reaction.
She probably thought Harry was happy to hear about Mr. Weasley's promotion.
"So… he's very busy right now?"
"Yes," she replied.
"He's been coming back very late lately, and tonight seems especially bad."
She glanced worriedly at the clock beside the basket.
Each hand on the clock bore the na of a Weasley, and every one of them was pointing to mortal danger.
"Don't worry," Mrs. Weasley said, forcing calm into her voice.
"It's been like this for a while. I've always felt sothing was wrong with that clock."
Harry knew she was pretending.
They both knew the danger was real—though thankfully, Arthur's hand was now pointing to on the road.
Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley raised her wand.
"Honey, is that you?"
She pressed her face close to the door.
Arthur's voice ca from outside, tired but cheerful.
"It's —but if I were a Death Eater, I'd say that too, so hurry up and ask!"
"Seriously, it's ."
"Hurry up and ask!"
"Well… what's your ambition?"
"To figure out why airplanes stay in the air."
Mrs. Weasley nodded.
She moved to open the door, but Arthur stopped her.
"No—there's one more question. If you don't ask it, I'm not coming in."
"I'm not asking that."
Mrs. Weasley glanced at Harry, her face flushing.
"Then I'll ask," Arthur said, grinning.
"What do you like most when we're together, and what do you call ?"
Harry imdiately looked away.
For the first ti, he truly understood what it ant to be a third wheel.
"Mollywobbles," Mrs. Weasley muttered in a tiny voice.
Arthur burst out laughing and opened the door.
He was clearly about to hug her—then he saw Harry.
He coughed awkwardly and abandoned the idea.
"Harry! I thought you wouldn't be here until tomorrow!"
They greeted each other, and Harry stifled a yawn.
He was exhausted and didn't want to intrude on what was clearly a private mont.
Mrs. Weasley noticed.
"Co on, Harry," she said kindly.
"Your trunk's already upstairs. You'll stay in Fred and George's room tonight—they're doing so well with their shop that they're living in Diagon Alley."
Harry felt as if he had just closed his eyes—
—and then a loud voice rang out.
Smack.
"Ow—brother, you're so rude…"
It was Ginny.
Harry opened his eyes to see Ron and Ginny smiling at him.
But Ginny was looking at him strangely, as if he were sothing unfamiliar.
"What's wrong with ?" Harry asked.
Ginny quickly looked away.
"What's with her?" Harry asked Ron.
Ron shrugged.
"What else? She couldn't decide whether to tell you that Darren was still alive."
"I already know," Harry interrupted.
Ron and Ginny both froze.
"You know?"
"How?"
"Hermione told you?"
Harry said angrily, "Dumbledore told last night. I still can't believe you all hid it from !"
He looked straight at Ron.
Ron avoided his gaze.
"They wouldn't let tell you. Ginny threatened —said she'd tell Mum I knew Fred and George were running off and didn't stop them."
Harry snorted.
Then he let it go.
He understood why Ginny had kept quiet. He wasn't in a position to bla them.
Just then, there was a knock on the door.
Fleur Delacour walked in, carrying a bowl of porridge.
Ron froze on the spot.
Ginny jumped aside, glaring fiercely at Fleur.
Fleur ignored her completely.
She walked over to Harry and set the tray down.
"Oh, Harry, try it."
Harry stared at her blankly.
She smiled and said lightly,
"It's fine—just think of it as currying favor. I want to pursue Darren. He's already sixteen, isn't he?"
Harry heard every word—yet sohow, they didn't quite register.
"Don't dream," Ginny snapped.
"Darren wouldn't like an old woman like you!"
"But I'm beautiful," Fleur replied calmly, spinning once.
Harry couldn't deny that.
But Ginny's twisted expression dragged his thoughts back.
Only then did Harry realize—Hermione and Ginny both liked Darren.
He'd understood that last year, after believing Darren was dead.
What he hadn't realized… was that Fleur liked Darren too.
"But… haven't you only known him for a year?" Harry asked.
"Oh, I've worked for the Order of the Phoenix since graduating," Fleur replied.
"We've actually known each other much longer than that.
And I'm still pursuing him now. I think we can get married after he graduates—before the war truly begins."
Harry was stunned.
He wanted to say that Darren was still just a child—
But then he realized that Darren wasn't young at all.
Still… marriage right after graduation?
That felt fast.
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