Title: Father's Day
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own anything HP.
Author's Notes: I'm not really satisfied with the way this chapter turned out, but I'm going to post it anyways. I may do edits on it later, but I think for now I'm going to move on and get to some of the good stuff. It's a bit longer than the others, and runs a bit slower (at least in my opinion). I do think I get some good Harry/Artie interaction though.
Chapter 7: Preparation and Anticipation
"Honestly Harry, they did such a good job that I can't even tell it's the same place."
Harry nodded, glancing around the living room of Grimmauld Place. Nearly a month had passed since he'd secured McGonagall's permission to "hire" two of the Hogwarts House Elves to help clean up the dark house. Dobby and Winky had been ecstatic, Winky in particular, about the change of pace. Though Winky had refused payment, Dobby had graciously accepted the twenty-five galleons Harry had offered, even scoffing when Harry had offered more.
"Harry Potter sir has done so much for Dobby," the house elf had said. "Now its Dobby's turn to do something for Harry Potter and his young Wheezy."
He glanced around the room. The dark artifacts had been removed - Harry had taken them to Kingsley and he had offered his prompt assurances that they'd be disposed of. Without Kreacher around to hide things away (he'd died sometime during Harry's seventh year, for which Harry had been extremely grateful), it'd made it a lot easier to tackle the old house. Somehow, and Harry wasn't sure exactly - Dobby and Winky wouldn't discuss it in any great deal - they had managed to remove the picture of Sirius's mother. Harry had a strange suspicion that from the fresh coat of paint that they might have had to tear out that portion of the wall. At any rate, he was relieved.
"Still dark though," Harry muttered, glancing around the room. Cobwebs had been swept up, layers of dust removed, and the floors shined until Harry was sure he could see his reflection. Still, there was not much light in this place.
"That can be taken care of with a few candles," Hermione said, glancing around the room with an expression of surprise on her face. Harry had asked her to come along - to see if she could spot anything that he might have missed - but in truth he just wanted an excuse to spend a few moments alone with her before school dismissed for the winter holidays.
"I'll have to pick some up on my next trip to Diagon Alley," Harry muttered, feeling the nervous butterflies dart around in his stomach. Hermione turned to look at him, giving him an extremely odd look.
"What is it, Harry?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"What is what?"
"I know that tone of voice," she said matter-of-factly. "What do you want to ask me?"
Harry blushed, his emerald gaze darting to the ground as he tried to gather his courage. He'd battled more dementors than he cared to count, faced loads of dark wizards, and even defeated the darkest one of them all. But he still got nervous jitters when trying to ask his best friend for a date.
Well, okay, not a date really, but that's what it feels like.
"I was just wondering, Hermione," Harry stuttered, surprised at how small his voice sounded. He clamped his lips together, inhaling deeply before gathering his voice to speak again. "I know you're staying at Hogwarts over the holidays, but I was wondering if you might want to join me and Artie for Christmas dinner."
Hermione arched an eyebrow, and Harry felt his cheeks redden. Why had he bothered to ask her this? Hogwarts always had such elaborate feasts - certainly Hermione would enjoy her time among her fellow teachers than with a moody 11-year-old and a best friend who'd abandoned her ten years ago.
"I think I will."
"That's alright," Harry said quickly, not quite comprehending that Hermione had just accepted his offer. "I know that Hog…" his voice trailed off, his eyes widening in surprise as he looked at Hermione's bemused expression. "You will?" he said, his voice rising a bit.
"Of course I will, Harry," she said with a grin. "I've had dinner at Hogwarts every day for the past ten years - I don't think missing one is going to matter too much."
"Great!" Harry said quickly, stifling the urge to jump up and give a whoop of delight. Instead he glanced around sheepishly, realizing that now he'd have to try to prepare an extravagant dinner, and then glanced at the mahogany-haired witch standing across from him.
"Does seven o'clock sound good?" he asked.
"Sounds excellent," Hermione said, glancing at her watch. "But we're going to have to get back to Hogwarts soon. Headmistress McGonagall told me she had a few end-of-term announcements."
Harry nodded, and he found himself fighting a strong urge to skip the distance back to Hogwarts.
* * *
The end of term came far too slowly for Harry's tastes, and soon the Hogwarts professor found himself bidding farewell to his fellow teachers and students. His nerves began to spike - Artie had only stared at him with a confused expression on his face when Harry had informed him they would not be spending Christmas with the Weasleys - no thanks in any small part to Ginny, who, despite her anger, had kept her word and persuaded Bill and Fleur to invite Arthur and Molly over on a vacation. Molly, of course, had protested, but after several convincing talks with her husband had satisfied herself by writing Harry and Artie at frequent intervals in the month prior to Christmas break.
Harry walked around Hogwarts, bidding farewell to his friends. To his great relief, Ginny threw her arms around him in a hug and gave him a kiss on his cheek. Apparently, the Christmas spirit overwhelmed whatever lingering anger she may have had for him. Then Harry started towards Hermione's quarters, mentally rehearsing what he was going to say to her as he walked along.
Standing outside her door, Harry took a deep breath and ran a hand through his unruly hair. He gulped nervously and quickly knocked on her door.
"Come in," a voice called from the inside. The door opened and Harry stepped inside.
Hermione was sitting at her desk next to piles of books stacked five feet tall. Parchment was overflowing from the trash can. It was very uncharacteristically Hermione.
"Um, Hermione?" Harry asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
The brown-haired witch cast a glance over her shoulder, smiling at her friend.
"Oh, Harry, I forgot you were leaving today," she said apologetically, rising to her feet and crossing the room. Harry wrapped his arms around the smaller woman, hugging her to his chest and pressing his nose in her hair. It was just like he remembered - like a mixture of citrus and fresh flowers.
"Busy preparing lessons?" Harry chided lightly, feeling his heart fall just a bit as she stepped away. Hermione shook her head.
"No, I've been trying to decipher that code Kingsley gave us," she said, beckoning Harry to her disheveled desk. Harry saw that Hermione had some kind of text on Ancient Runes open. Little scribbles of her handwriting were visible in the margins. It was a daunting sight.
"Wow Hermione," Harry said, gazing over the stacks of books with wide eyes. "This is all you're going to do over your Christmas break?"
Hermione shrugged. "Well, I'm going to eat Christmas dinner with you and Artie."
"It doesn't sound like much fun," Harry commented dryly.
"Oh, I'm sure I'll do some other things," she said quickly. "Ginny has invited me to go shopping with her, and McGonagall has given me permission to throw a Christmas party for the house elves."
Harry wasn't sure that the Christmas party would go anything like what she had planned, but he wasn't about to tell her that.
"How about you," Hermione asked, snapping Harry out of his train of thought. "Looking forward to your holidays with Artie?"
Just like Hermione to hit on the crux of the matter. Harry shrugged glumly.
"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with him for these weeks," he muttered. "He barely tolerates me as it is."
Hermione rested a hand on his shoulder. "Just find something you both have in common. Take him shopping too - Molly would be upset if you two didn't send her anything."
"Find something in common, take him shopping," Harry muttered, ticking off the tasks in his finger. "Is there anything else I should know?"
Hermione smiled, stepping closer to Harry and rising on her tiptoes, giving him a light peck on the cheek. "Yes," she whispered quietly. "Have fun."
* * *
The ride home on the Hogwarts Express proved uneventful. Harry had decided it'd be best if Artie had some time alone with his friends before they left for the holidays. Harry had peeked in on the boy a few times, stifling a smile as he watched him, Todd, another Gryffindor, and Amelia - the dark-headed girl from the trip to Hogwarts, laugh over some indiscernible joke. It was good to see Artie had made some friends - Harry had been worried Ron's son would build up a wall around himself after what happened to his father.
No, Harry, you're the only one who does that.
Soon the Hogwarts Express pulled up to station, and Harry straightened his disheveled robes. He rose to his feet, both excited and dreading his upcoming time with Artie. He made his way down the packed corridor and down the steps, leaning against the chair and waiting for Artie. Pretty soon the red-headed boy appeared with Amelia by his side.
"Hey, Artie," Harry called out. The boy stiffened and turned, fastening his gaze on his guardian. Amelia gave Harry a small smile. Harry smiled back at her, and then focused his gaze on Artie. "Would you like to get your trunk?"
"I guess," Artie mumbled, tugging on Amelia's hand and jogging off towards the luggage compartment. Harry watched the two take off, and spent the next few seconds waving goodbye to Todd. The brown-haired boy was tugging on his mother's hand, whispering and pointing at Harry's scar.
"They grow up so quickly, don't they?" a voice called out to Harry.
Harry looked over his shoulder, giving a slight nod to the dark-haired man approaching him. The man extended a hand towards Harry.
"I guess," Harry said, responding towards not really sure of what the older man was talking about. He'd scarcely been Artie's guardian for more than four months. These past months had seemed to last forever, and his love-hate relationship with Artie seemed to be going around in circles.
"Bartholomew Chambers. I'm Amelia's father," the man said. "I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Potter."
"Harry," Harry replied, shaking the man's hand.
"It's not easy raising children alone," Bartholomew continued.
"That's for sure," Harry said, watching as Artie and Amelia began dragging their trunks towards them. The man smiled, resting a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Amelia's mother died during childbirth. It's been me and her ever since," Bartholomew continued. At Harry's raised eyebrow, he continued, "Forgive me. Amelia told me Artie was having some hard times adjusting."
"Great," Harry grumbled, looking away from the other man. Did everyone know about his problems with Artie?
"Don't feel badly," Bartholomew said. "I had problems too, at first. It does get easier."
"I hope so," Harry muttered as the two children approached. "I hope so."
* * *
It does get easier.
Those words reverberated in Harry's mind over and over the next week, mostly through clenched teeth as he tried in vain to find some common ground between him and Artie. So far, he'd been through Quidditch, school, dragons, and every band on the Wireless Wizard Network. Desperation began flooding his body. Twice he had picked up a quill to compose a letter to Mrs. Weasley, asking her to take over. Once he'd even managed to compose the letter, though he'd never sent it out. It was now carefully hidden in his sock drawer.
It was a typical night a week before Christmas. Harry had settled in his easy chair and was flipping through the Daily Prophet, and Artie was sprawled on the carpet, flipping through a magazine. Several times Harry peeked over the upper edge of the paper, watching the red-headed boy. He looked so much like Ron had it was almost frightening. The thought sent a jerk of painful sadness towards his heart.
Why did you have to leave, Ron? A voice in Harry's mind called out quietly. Why did you have to choose me as Artie's guardian?
Letting out a small sigh, Harry folded the paper and stared at the younger boy. His mind desperately searched for something … anything to say to Artie. There had to be some way to strike up a conversation.
"Um, so Artie, do you want to go Christmas shopping tomorrow?" the raven-haired wizard asked tentatively. Artie glanced over his shoulder and shrugged.
Frustration boiled up in Harry and he tossed his paper to the ground. Quickly he stepped across the room, snatching the magazine from Artie and throwing it into the corner.
"Hey!" Artie shouted, scrambling angrily to his feet, his fists balled at his sides.
"I'm tired of talking to a wall, Artie," Harry said, testily. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."
"You never want to talk anything about what I want to talk about," Artie retorted, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Harry's eyes narrowed and for a moment he was tempted to smack Artie so hard the freckles would come off his face.
"I'm trying, Artie," Harry said carefully, barely restraining himself from exploding in anger - barely. "If everything I want to talk about is so boring, then tell me, what do you what to talk about? Give me something I can go on, at least."
Artie pressed his lips together in a thin line, staring at Harry with an unascertainable gaze for a few moments. For a second he looked like he might storm off to his room.
He can't ignore you forever, Hermione's voice piped up in his head. Harry closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. His mind flickered to the letter that was carefully concealed under mounds of his socks.
"Well?" Harry asked, finally opening his eyes to find the younger boy staring at him. Artie mumbled something under his breath and Harry arched an eyebrow. Had he heard Artie right?
"What was that?" Harry asked, a grin spreading across his face. Artie muttered a response again, and Harry finally felt his body relax.
"I think I can manage that."
* * *
"Knight to E5."
Harry grimaced, watching as Artie's knight moved forward on the board and to the right. The small rider lifted his sword, smashing it across Harry's pawn, sending the piece across the board into broken halves. The green-eyed wizard grimaced, but couldn't help a smile from crossing his face as he looked at Artie, who was grinning in triumph.
"My turn," Artie said. Harry nodded. Hermione would be so proud of him if she could see him and Artie now, sprawled out on a rug with mugs of hot chocolate, playing a round of wizard's chess. Of course, they had made tiny adjustments to the rules - at Harry's suggestion. Now, each time a piece was taken, the victorious wizard got to ask the loser one question, which had to be answered truthfully. Harry had charmed a piece of parchment to inform either of them if the other had cheated, and the offending wizard would have to eat a random piece of candy from Fred and George's shop.
"Did you and my dad really steal grandpa's car and drive it into the Whomping Willow your second year?"
"Erm," Harry blushed, glancing at the ground. So far, Artie had found out about Harry's invisibility cloak and the Marauder's map, which Harry had learned Ron had discussed frequently. Artie had been sworn to secrecy, though Harry wasn't sure how long that would last.
Artie crossed his arms in front of his chest and Harry nodded. Artie thrust his fists into the air triumphantly. "So you DID almost get expelled from Hogwarts your second year."
"Yes I did," Harry admitted, sheepishly. He tried not to mention that he'd also been close to expulsion his fifth, sixth, and seventh years too.
"So why did you yell at me?" Artie asked, his eyes narrowing. Harry sighed.
"I shouldn't have yelled, but you weren't making it easy for me. Why did you hex Draco?"
Artie frowned, and pointed to the chess board. Harry immediately got the message. If you want to ask, you've got to play. Harry sighed, turning his focus to the pieces in front of him, trying to determine the best move. His bishop was in a good position to take Artie's rook, but doing so would leave a gap in his defenses that Artie might be able to exploit.
Of course, Artie was just an 11-year-old kid.
Harry smiled, calling out his move and watching his bishop knock Artie's pawn across the board. "My turn," he said, smiling at Artie, who gave a snort.
"Why are you scared of flying?"
Artie sighed, rolling onto his back and resting his hands on his stomach while he stared at the ceiling.
"Last time my dad took me flying, I fell off the broom at thirty feet," Artie said sheepishly. "Broke every bone in my right leg, and both arms. Mum was furious."
Harry glanced at the parchment, which hastily showed the word "True". Harry glanced back at the younger boy.
"But Artie, you do realize you have to pass Ginny's classes with at least a 'satisfactory'? How are you going to do that if you won't get up on a broom?"
Artie shrugged, and Harry felt a twinge of sympathy pass through his body. The boy was genuinely frightened of flying. It reminded him of Hermione during their third year, when they had ridden a hippogriff together.
"How about if I teach you?" Harry offered. Artie craned his neck to what looked like an uncomfortable position. An expression of fear passed through his eyes.
"I won't let you fall," Harry said quickly. The younger boy glanced towards the parchment, which scribbled out "True". He closed his eyes and sighed softly.
"I guess," Artie mumbled. Harry smiled briefly, frowning immediately as Artie muttered another command to the chess board, sending his own bishop into the gap opened by Harry's last move. Harry was now forced to choose between sacrificing his rook or his knight.
An eleven-year-old who inherited his father's talent at chess.
Harry sighed. "Rook to A3," he grumbled. Artie smiled triumphantly as his bishop put a hole through the center of his knight. Artie glanced up at Harry expectantly.
"Do you like Professor Granger?"
Harry, who had been taking a drink of hot chocolate at that exact moment, about spit it across the room.
"Wha… How… Who told you that?" Harry asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve and glaring at the younger boy. Artie shrugged.
"Why do you want to know?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing. Artie shrugged again.
"She seems nice," the boy replied, pointing at the piece of parchment and giving Harry an expectant look. Harry sighed.
"Yes, I do like Her… er … Professor Granger," he said hurriedly, feeling the heat rise to his face. Artie gave Harry a cheesy grin, rolling onto his left elbow and staring at the older wizard.
"So why don't you tell her?"
Harry's blush deepened, and he made a mental note to never play this game with Artie again.
"Hermione and I have a … complicated relationship," Harry admitted, looking at the younger boy with a hint of sadness in his eyes.
"Because you left?"
This kid didn't miss a beat, Harry thought to himself. Had to come from his mother's side of the family.
"Yes, partially because of that, and partially because of other things you don't need to know about," Harry responded. Artie grinned, looking at the board.
"Your move."
Harry studied his chess pieces intently, looking for the best position. A smile crossed his face as he realized that one of Artie's knights was unprotected.
"Bishop to J6."
Artie's eyes widened as Harry's piece crossed the board, knocking his piece over and dragging it towards the side of the board. Harry grinned in triumph, looking at the younger boy.
"Why don't you like your Aunt Ginny?" Harry asked.
Artie frowned, quickly rolling to a seated position and crossed his legs in front of his body. "Because she married Draco," Artie said, his voice carrying a hint of some hidden knowledge with it. Harry frowned. Obviously, being raised as a Weasley, Artie had picked up on the rest of the family's dislike for the Malfoys, but it didn't explain everything.
"Why do you hate Draco?" Harry asked, pressing the matter.
"I just do, okay?" Artie snapped, his hand reaching for a candy peppermint from the bowl. Internally, Harry sighed. Artie was going to eat the candy without ever giving Harry a hint as to why he hated his aunt and uncle. Harry's eyes watched as bright red dots began forming across Artie's face as Fred and George's latest invention began to work. The boy's hair turned a gleaming white. A few seconds later the dots fell off, turning into gumdrops at his sneakers
Harry glanced at Artie, wondering if he should push the issue, then deciding that Artie would probably talk about it in his own time. He shrugged, settling back on his elbows as Artie called out his next move.
"Queen to D1."
Artie's queen crossed the board, taking out one of Harry's pawns with a great flourish. Ron's son looked at Harry expectantly.
"Are you going to leave me like you left my dad?"
Harry's jaw dropped as he stared at the younger boy in amazement. "Why … why would you say that?" he asked.
Artie shrugged. "Dad used to talk about how you had to go away, but someday you'd come back. You never did."
Shame rose to his face as Harry glanced to the ground sadly. "I did what I thought was best to try to protect him. Looking back, maybe I made the wrong decision." Harry felt his cheeks redden as he looked to Artie seriously. "I won't leave like that again. I promise."
And that much was true. Even if Harry went back to the Ministry, he'd find a way to get holidays off so that Artie would have a real home to come to. The boy's shoulders relaxed a bit. Harry noted this, an idea beginning to formulate in his mind. Hermione's words echoed in his brain as he called out his next move, intercepting one of Artie's pawns. He looked at Artie.
"Is that what you think your father did? Are you mad at me because he left you like I left him and Hermione?"
Artie's face reddened, and he began reaching out for the candy dish with his right hand. Harry clamped his hand on the smaller boy's wrist, halting his progress.
"Answer me, Artie," Harry said, mentally wincing at how sharp his voice sounded. Artie's eyes narrowed.
"I don't want to."
"You have to."
"No I don't. It's the rules."
"Yes you do. I said."
"No I DON'T," Artie shouted, jerking his hand out of Harry's grip and jumping to his feet. Before Harry could speak, Artie had fled up the steps to his room, slamming the door behind him with enough force the walls rattled. Harry stared at the chess board sadly before pushing to his feet. He felt like lead as he trudged up the steps towards Artie's room.
"Go away," Artie yelled as Harry knocked on the door. Harry shook his head and opened the doorknob, unwilling to let their conversation end for the evening.
Artie was sprawled on his stomach, his head tucked in his pillow. His feet kicked angrily against the top of the mattress. Harry felt his stomach give a slight jerk as he crossed the room and sat by the boy's side.
"Artie?" Harry asked softly.
"Go away!" Artie screamed, causing Harry to wince. Harry reached out to put a hand on Artie's shoulder, but the younger boy jerked around, his fists trying to pound against Harry's chest. Harry caught the boy's wrists in his hands and turned him around, pinning Artie's back against his chest until the boy couldn't move. Furious, Artie gave Harry a kick in his shin. Harry grimaced, but he didn't let Artie go.
"Are you mad at your father, Artie?" Harry asked, his throat feeling bone dry as the younger boy screamed loudly. Harry tightened his grip on Artie's wrist, trying to keep from being hit as Artie struggled.
"Let me go!" Artie screamed.
"Do you think Ron left you on purpose?" Harry asked, his voice deadly quiet against Artie's loud protests. Artie quit twisting, just a bit.
"I don't care," Artie screamed, kicking Harry in his shin again. This time Harry couldn't conceal his yelp of pain and he released Artie's hands. Artie made a beeline for the exit.
Squinting through the pain, Harry pointed his wand at the door and muttered the locking charm. The door swung closed moments before Artie reached it. Angrily the boy turned looked at Harry, staring venomously at him.
"Leave me alone!" Artie yelled, tossing a magazine towards Harry. Harry rolled onto his side, scrambling to his feet and crossing the room. Anger coursed through his body, and he ground his teeth together to keep from hexing the younger wizard. But he didn't lose control this time. Instead, he crossed the room and scooped Artie up so quickly that it rattled both of them. Two seconds later he dropped the kicking child onto the bed. Artie promptly turned his back towards Harry - he promptly sat up and faced the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
Harry sighed. This was not working out at all like he expected it too. Heaving another sigh he plopped onto the bed beside Artie, looking at the younger boy quietly. Artie's face was almost as red as his hair, and he appeared on the verge of tears.
The older wizard closed his eyes, deep in thought. Hermione's words echoed in his mind.
He's angry at his father for leaving him and he's angry at you for not being his father.
Slowly Harry opened his eyes, resting his left hand on Artie's left shoulder. Artie flinched as Harry touched him, but he didn't jerk away from him.
Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice coming out shaky as he spoke in a low voice. "I miss him too, Artie." Harry said quietly. Artie's shoulder began to shake underneath his hand, and for a moment Harry wondered if Artie was going to start hitting him again.
He didn't. To his surprise, Artie flung his arms around Harry, a ragged sob escaping from his throat. Harry felt the corners of his eyes begin to blur with tears as he hugged the boy closer to his chest. After a moment he gave up trying to stifle the tears and instead cried along with the younger boy until all emotion seemed spent and he was left with a strangely numb feeling inside his stomach.
"Why did he have to leave?" Artie whispered, sniffling, dropping his arms from Harry's middle. Harry released his hold on the younger boy, looking at Artie seriously.
"I'm not sure, Artie," Harry whispered truthfully. "But I'm sure we'll see him again someday." His mind flickered to the Department of Mysteries and that mysterious curtain he'd seen Sirius disappear into. Yes, there had to be something to that, Harry thought.
"You think so?" Artie asked, his red-rimmed eyes twinkling hopefully.
Harry nodded, running a hand through the boy's hair. "Yes, I do."
Artie nodded, and the two wizards sat in silence for a long time. It wasn't until Artie's eyelids began to droop that Harry quietly helped the boy out of his shirt and into his sleep pants. He lifted the blankets on Artie's bed and the child slid without protest underneath them, trying vainly to keep his heavy-lidded eyes open.
The older wizard gave Artie a weak smile, tousling his hair slightly and whispering a quiet "goodnight" before rising to his feet and crossing the room. As he reached the door, he heard his name called and cast a glance over his shoulder.
"Yes?" he asked softly. Artie slowly turned his head towards Harry.
"Thanks," Artie whispered. Harry felt a wave of peace rush over his body as he canted his head towards the boy.
"You're welcome." Harry said, relieved to find that he actually meant it.
* * *
The next morning Harry woke up first, and feeling in a considerably better mood than any other mornings, made his way down to the kitchen and began preparing breakfast. The routine hadn't changed - this is the same thing he'd done every morning since the start of winter break - but his feelings on the matter had changed.
No longer did he think of it as an obligation - he actually wanted to cook for Artie. Well, if it could truly be called cooking. Oatmeal was hardly the breakfast of champions, but it was quick and easy and impossibly hard to burn.
He'd just managed to finish when Artie plodded into the kitchen. The boy's reddish-gold hair stood straight up and at least half his face bore what looked like the imprint of a pillow. Harry gave the younger wizard a smile and beckoned to the bowl of hot oatmeal at one of the places at the table.
"Sleep well, Artie?" he asked.
Artie frowned, staring at Harry without saying a word. The older wizard felt his heart skip a beat, and for a second he wondered if last night had been a fluke.
"Yes," Artie finally said, settling down into the chair and promptly reaching for the bowl of sugar. Harry watched with mild amusement as Artie dumped what seemed like half the bowl on his oatmeal before beginning to shove the sugary mess into his mouth. He definitely inherited his father's appetite, Harry thought.
Harry took his own bowl to the table, sitting down into a chair across from Artie and taking his first tentative bites of oatmeal.
"I thought we might go Christmas shopping today," Harry said cautiously, gauging Artie's reaction. Artie's eyes lit up and his face took on an excited expression as he looked at Harry.
"Diagon Alley?" he asked. "Or Hogsmeade?"
"I figured we could go to Diagon Alley today, maybe Hogsmeade, and maybe around a muggle shopping center, if you wanted to," Harry replied.
Artie's eyes widened. "Shopping with the muggles?" he asked suspiciously. "Why?"
"I think Mr. Weasley would enjoy some of the muggle stuff more than he'd enjoy anything you could get him in Diagon Alley," Harry said. Then as an afterthought, he added, "Plus I want to see what I can get for Hermione."
Artie grinned mischievously, but said nothing else and they finished their breakfast in relative silence.
Later that day, the two wizards made their way to Diagon Alley, where Artie picked up a book for his friend Amelia, some owl treats for Arnold, and a picture book for Mrs. Weasley. Harry picked up a new book on charms and something called "The New Revised Guide for Household Pests" for Mrs. Weasley, as well as some chocolate for Artie.From there the two made their way to Hogsmeade, where Artie picked up a box of chocolate frogs for Todd. Harry picked up an empty photo album, thinking that he could dig up some old photos of Ron to put in them. He still hadn't found a gift for Hermione when they headed to the muggle shopping center.
Artie, of course, became immediately enamored by a muggle toy called a Game Boy; and although it was fairly expensive - almost 75 pounds - Harry did acquiesce and let Artie get it. As an afterthought, he picked up a model plane kit for Mr. Weasley as well as a battery operated remote controlled car (to replace the one that had broken down some years before).
Five o'clock rolled around and the two tired wizards made their way back to Grimmauld Place. Frustration gnawed at Harry's insides.
Less than a week was left, and still he had not found anything for Hermione.