HEATHENS - Harry Potter ✔

CHAPTER TWO

Kiera remained within the confines of the Burrow's garden for the next few weeks. Mostly, she spent days reading or listening to the radio on a thin rug beside Hermione in the Weasleys' orchard while the rest played Quidditch. Both girls always declined to partake in the games, preferring to keep their feet firmly on the ground. When the weather didn't allow for outdoor activities, they spent the days with various wizarding boarding games and on occasion, Kiera would help Mrs Weasley with cooking (or, more accurately, she would watch Mrs Weasley cook, taking mental notes so that she could learn from her).

"Are you two sure you don't want to play?" asked Ginny for the third time that day, broom in hand as the five of them approached the orchard.

Hermione only sent her a look with arched eyebrows to make it really clear that she had no interest while Kiera replied. "I haven't flown since first year, and even then I was a disaster, so I think it's better for everyone for me not to."

"Come on," said Harry. "It's not that hard."

"Well I know it's not for you, Harry Youngest-Player-in-a-Century Potter."

He laughed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Just try – I'll show you. You can use my broom."

"I'm alright, and I'd probably break it," she said. "And it's a Firebolt. I might not like flying but even I know it's the best and most expensive broom there is."

"I'm sure you won't break it," Harry said persistently.

"Harry, seriously –"

"Okay, alright. If you don't want to, I won't force you," he said, finally giving up.

"Thank you," said Kiera, turning away from him to join Hermione at the edge of the orchard. She, however, did not get very far.

Harry had come flying behind her and had pulled her onto the broom behind him without her having even a second to react. Dropping her book into the grass, Kiera shrieked and grabbed a thigh hold of his waist.

"Harry, what are you doing? Put me down!"

But he had already zoomed high into the air, only slowed the broom to a halt once they were above the treetops.

"What are you playing at?" she said, hitting him on the shoulder as she could not reach much else.

"Oh, come on, Kiera," chuckled Harry, not sounding slightly apologetic. "You know you're happy about it."

"No, I am not," she snapped, but this was not completely true.

As she slackened her hold on Harry as much as she ventured to without fearing that she would fall, Kiera lifted her gaze to look around. From the sight, she could see Ottery St Catchpole stretch all around her, the Burrow turning into a dollhouse. The sky was an iridescent melting-pot of colour, and it was reflected in the many ponds that surrounded the area so that they looked like holes that sunk through the whole planet to show the heavens on the other side. A few clouds floated above them, and Kiera could see birds flying serenely some distance away. Even the petrichor was stronger at that height and she inhaled deeply.

"Fine," she admitted, "it is quite beautiful."

"Told you, didn't I?" said Harry smugly.

"Just because I like the view, doesn't make flying any easier," Kiera sassed back.

><><

Now that she not only had access to the Daily Prophet but also much of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, it was rather difficult for Kiera to not allow the stories of disappearances and deaths to put a damper into her mood.

Even at Harry's small and quiet sixteenth birthday party, Remus had glumly informed them of new Dementor attacks along with Igor Karkaroff's death. And though Mrs Weasley made many desperate attempts to change the topic of discussion, but the others seemed resistant and it didn't take long for Mr Weasley to bring up Ollivander's disappearance.

The day after the rather gloomy birthday party, their letters and book lists arrived from Hogwarts. And Harry's letter included something else: he had been made Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Well, I don't suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon Alley much longer now you've got these," sighed Mrs Weasley, looking down Ron's booklist. "We'll go on Saturday as long as your father doesn't have to go to work again. I'm not going there without him."

"Mum, d'you honestly think You-Know-Who's going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?" sniggered Ron.

"Fortescue and Ollivander went on holiday, did they?" said Mrs Weasley hotly. "If you think security's a laughing matter you can stay behind and I'll get your things myself..."

"No, I wanna come, I want to see Fred and George's shop!" said Ron hastily.

"Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, before I decide you're too immature to come with us!" said Mrs Weasley angrily, snatching up the Weasley family clock, all nine hands of which were pointing at mortal peril, and balancing it on top of a pile of just-laundered towels. "And that goes for returning to Hogwarts as well!"

Ron turned to stare incredulously at Harry as his mother stormed out of the room. "Blimey ... you can't even make a joke around here anymore..."