Chapter Seven: Great-Great-Great-Great Uncle Archibald Weasley
Harry woke on a very cold August morning; this was the usual behaviour of British weather; hot and sticky one day, biting cold the next. Harry pulled his bed covers up to his chin and then dragged his feet to his chest so he could stay warm. The curtains that framed the room's only window were slight ajar revealing a window peppered with raindrops and the world around encompassed by a deathly black sky.
Harry turned to face Ron who was still lost within a deep sleep, his breath becoming misty due to the extreme cold of the room. Harry wondered how it could be so cold, when it was still the summer and although the British weather was bad it was not this bad.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment in the hope that maybe he could fall back asleep and awaken when it was a lot warmer. It didn't help matters that Harry's covers consisted mostly of a wafer thin brown blanket and a worn and old quilt that seemed to have more holes than actual substance. With it being the summer the Weasleys hadn't planned on needing thick winter bed-covers for the boys and so both of them had been given the bare minimum, neither minded for it was still sweltering at night and Harry didn't like being hot and sticky.
Harry's attempts to get back to sleep were futile, he was awake now and had no choice but to either suffer under the bed-covers or to get up, get dressed and go downstairs where a fire in the lounge would be infinitely warmer. Harry decided on the latter, he swiftly leapt from his bed and dressed himself in the warmest clothes he had, which was basically a knitted jumped from Mrs Weasley and some hand-me-downs from Dudley.
Harry left the bedroom he shared with Ron and made his way down the stairs; he held his arms close to him as he walked down the stairs with a shiver; his body snapping forward every so often as the cold consumed him. After a minute or so Harry had descended the rickety old stairs of the Burrow and had reached the ground floor hallway.
Harry looked down the Hallway to see a strong orange light illuminating the doorway to the Kitchen. He entered the Kitchen to see Mrs Weasley busying herself with breakfast and Kingsley Shacklebolt sat in front of a steaming hot cup of Cocoa and lost in thought. Harry paused for a second and then motioned to the table in the centre of the room and sat himself down.
"Good morning Harry dear," said Mrs Weasley softly as she turned to see him sat opposite Kingsley, "Would you like some Hot Chocolate?"
Harry nodded in acceptance and Mrs Weasley began to make Harry a nice warming cup of Hot Chocolate. Harry sat quietly looking at Kingsley who had seemed not to see Harry sit down, though he probably did but was so deep in thought that he felt no need to react.
"Morning Kingsley," said Harry politely, Kingsley didn't react, "It's a bit cold isn't it."
Immediately Kingsley's eyes blinked and he turned his gaze from the table and upon Harry. "It is, isn't it," he said rhetorically, "far too cold for an August."
Mrs Weasley walked over from the kitchen counter holding a hot cup of Cocoa and placed it in front of Harry. "Mr Shacklebolt and I were just talking about it Harry," she said as Harry grasped the handle of the mug and sucked in the soothing aromatic fumes of the cup.
"Yes, it is most peculiar," said Kingsley as he looked over at the kitchen window, the rain pounding on the window with unheralded intensity, "The rain is understandable, but the cold, now that makes it all seem a bit too peculiar for my liking."
Harry nodded and took a sip from his Cocoa as Kingsley stood up from his seat and walked over to the window.
"Harry," he said nonchalantly, "When was the last time you witnessed weather this cold with no frost, ice or anything?"
"I haven't," replied Harry honestly.
"Exactly," exclaimed Kingsley, "You haven't and neither have I, the rain should be snow at least, something is afoot."
"Oh Kingsley, do stop with the theories, you're almost as bad as Mad-Eye," said Mrs Weasley,
"We've had weather this cold without rain all the time, it's just the weather."
Kingsley grudgingly accepted Mrs Weasley's explanation and sat back down opposite Harry. However Harry could see
that Kingsley was still thinking deeply about the Weather and its implications and causes. Harry knew at least that
Kingsley shared the same mentality at Moody, although maybe not as excessively.
"Drink up Harry, I'll be serving breakfast soon," said Mrs Weasley as she began ringing the bell for Breakfast.
Breakfast was a low-key affair, everyone sat eating quietly, and the conversations were few and far between with the cold weather being the main topic of the morning. Opinions ranged from Voldemort hexing a muggle weatherman to El Nino, to a theory that the Deatheaters had taken control of a weather device and were using it for their own gain; this theory was obviously voiced by Hermione. The theories weren't discussed much, there'd be the occasional few words and nods of agreement but nothing much else. As much as this was the main topic few wanted to talk about the cold when everyone was wearing at least 5 layers of clothing each.
After breakfast Harry began to explore the house alone, he'd explored before, but with it being so cold and Ron wanting to spend some time playing Wizard's Chess with Hermione. Harry was left to his own devices which at the moment with the weather was searching every nook and cranny of the house for something interesting. This could be anything, knowing what Mr Weasley kept in the house.
Harry avoided searched the basement as he'd been down there already this summer and whilst it was
a cauldron of interesting things to most Wizards to Harry it was merely a collection of broken stuff that muggles use
everyday. Instead he decided to search the variety of hallways and rooms that led from the rickety stairs as much as
the house was a mish-mash of levels, it still had a large amount of rooms and Harry had only seen the main bedrooms and
nothing much else in his time spent at the Burrow.
Harry turned off at the 2nd floor junction at the stairs and turned into the hallway that housed the twin's old bedroom and a toilet. He walked down the hallway looking at the doors and checking to see if any were unlocked but unfortunately for Harry they were either completely ajar showing an empty bedroom housing a multitude of boxes or locked and Harry had neither the inclination to open and face the wrath of an angry Mrs Weasley.
Harry stopped at what looked to be the end of the hallway and turned to leave when he spotted some shiny concealed in the wall, he walked over for a closer inspection and saw that it was actually a doorknob half hidden in the wall and half out. He put his hand on what he could of the doorknob and pushed down. To his surprise a door opened revealing a dark and dingy small room; it was covered with dust and spider's webs and was unfurnished except for a single painting on the far wall.
Harry entered the room cautiously; it wasn't like the Weasleys to have a room which was left well alone unless it had good reason not to be entered. Harry looked around again and noticed that the room also had no windows. He turned back to the painting ahead of him and approached it, he looked deeply at the painting and noticed that it was an old painting of the Burrow, it wasn't the Burrow he knew today but it was still undoubtedly the Burrow.
"Whose that!?" came a voice from within the picture, "What are you doing here?"
Harry jumped back startled, "I'm sorry, I was just looking around."
"Who are you?" said a shaggy haired redhead wearing an old-fashioned tweed cloak and strange black riding boots.
"I'm Harry Potter," replied Harry slowly, his voice straining.
"So you're that Potter boy, the one my dear Nephew keeps going on about," said the picture with a sly grin.
"Your nephew?" said Harry puzzled.
"Yes my Nephew Arthur, sweet man, has an unhealthy obsession with plugs me thinks, but what can you do, I wasn't exactly the best role model," the picture said smiling.
"You weren't?" Harry asked.
"Oh of course not, I was always playing tricks on hapless muggles, poor people, never even realised I was the one who started the infamous frog downpour of 1717," said the picture his smile now erupting in a cheesy grin that consumed the lower half of his face.
"Ohhh, that was you," said Harry acting as if he knew it well.
"Sure was, though I never got the credit, they gave it to that bleeding fake Robert Whackleston," said the picture his grin now replaced with a deep snarl, "If only they knew it was I Archibald Weasley, I might have got myself on one of those Chocolate Frog cards Ronald loves to collect."
"Oh so you talk to the Weasleys then?" said Harry without thinking.
"Talk to the Weasleys!?" exclaimed Archibald, "I am a Weasley, why wouldn't i talk to my family?"
Harry didn't answer the question instead he stared around the room for a moment and then shot Archibald a confused glance, "Ummmm, why are you locked up in this dirty room if you talk to them?"
"Ahhh, yes, well you see they don't like my wake-up calls," said Archibald, his face now smiling again.
"They couldn't have been that bad," said Harry sympathetically.
"Well if using a foghorn at 4 in the morning isn't bad, then i don't know what is," said Archibald malevolently.
Harry let out a chuckle as he realised just how funny it would be to see the whole Weasley house running around like headless chickens at the sound of a foghorn at 4am.
"But they fixed that by putting me in this room, they say it's soundproof, it must be, my foghorn doesn't work anymore," said Archibald as his head drooped in disappointment.
"Well, it must be pretty lonely in here," uttered Harry.
"It is, but I have my distractions, I've managed to remove a tree from the painting completely, took me 12 years to do it, but i succeeded, oh yes I succeeded," said Archibald as Harry's eyes moved to the large blank spot in the painting just left of the Burrow.
"So you're Harry Potter," said Archibald quickly as he spotted Harry's eyes focused on something other than him.
"Yeah," said Harry.
"Well, you certainly look nothing like some Dark Lord destroying Super-wizard, now do you?" said Archibald with a chuckle.
"Excuse me?" said Harry slightly perturbed by the comment, he certainly never consider himself to be a 'Dark Lord destroying Super-Wizard' Harry was just Harry.
"Lighten up boy, I was joking," Archibald said sincerely, "All these escapades have caused you to lose your sense of humour."
"Oh no," retorted Harry, "My sense of humour is fine, Ron and I were playing pranks all summer."
"Really," said Archibald his interest immediately peaked, "What exactly was one of these 'pranks'."
"Well I placed a dozen Dung-Bombs in his bed-covers," said Harry.
"No, no, no," said Archibald angrily, "That just will not do, you youth these days have no imagination."
"it's only a bit of fun," protested Harry, feeling slightly offended that Archibald Weasley would be so angry over a simple prank.
"No, if you want to a pull a proper prank here's what you do," said Archibald his eyes twinkling like a small child with new toys.
Archibald began to show Harry a masterful prank from within his own vault of practical jokes, it seemed complicated at the least. it took almost an hour for Archibald to explain all the wand movements, steps and directions needed to pull off the 'king of all practical jokes' as Archibald would frequently say during the instructions.
"Now remember, this is for someone you particularly hate," said Archibald with a wicked grin, "someone
you hate with venom, have you anyone in mind?"
"Oh yes," said Harry exuberantly, "I know the perfect person."
The door to the room suddenly opened and Mr Weasley walked in, his eyes darting from Harry to Archibald in the portrait and back to Harry.
"Harry," said Mr Weasley loudly, his voice startling Harry and causing him to turn round in shock, "I see you've met my Great-Great-Great-Great Uncle Archibald."
"That he has my dear Nephew, we're getting on just swimmingly," said Arthur as he looked down upon Harry with a look as if Harry was part of the family too.
"That's good to know Archibald," said Mr Weasley with a smile.
"I'm really sorry Mr Weasley," said Harry apologetically, "I found the room by accident."
"Don't worry about it Harry, we were going to introduce at some point anyway, no point in hiding our only family member portrait from you now is there?" said Mr Weasley as he held Harry by the shoulder with a fatherly like gesture.
"Had I known how much you resembled my own young self i would've insisted we were introduced Harry," said Archibald as he began to walk around the painting randomly.
"Now Harry, I think you best leave Archibald to enjoy his walk and come and see this," said Mr Weasley steering Harry away from the picture. Archibald put a hand up in a farewell gesture as Harry began to walk with Mr Weasley.
"What's going on?" asked Harry.
"Let's just say that the weather has taken a strange turn," said Mr Weasley as he led Harry down the stairs towards the kitchen.
The Kitchen was bustling with people; every person in the house was stood in the Kitchen looking out the window. Harry tried to see what it was they were looking at but couldn't see his way through the crowd. Suddenly Hermione turned and ran over to Harry.
"You have to see this Harry, it's a blizzard out there," said Hermione with a childish enthusiasm.
"It's what!?" said Harry shocked at what he had just heard.
Hermione didn't answer and instead dragged Harry over to a decent view from the window. Harry looked out the window at the white world that had seemingly appeared from nowhere in the middle of August. The snow was being ruthlessly thrown at the house and ground by severe swirling winds. The large Oak tree out in the garden was now completely white, it's branches swaying fiercely with the wind at the onslaught continued.
"It started half an hour ago," said Remus his eyes staring out at the inhospitable white wasteland, "the rain just seemed to stop and the temperature dropped further, then all hell broke loose."
"How can anyone survive that?" asked Ron his question not aimed at any one in particular.
No-one answered, they all seemed too hypnotised by the never-ending amount of snow being thrown from the dark skies above. No-one said a word for at least ten minutes as they all gazed in awe, this was something that happened once every 1000 years or so.
"But what about the Owls with the O.W.L results and our booklists," cried Hermione breaking the uneasy silence that had consumed the room.
"They'll be fine," said Mrs Weasley assuredly, "they managed in the winter, and they'll manage now."
Hermione let out a big sigh of relief as Ron turned to face her, "There's a blizzard in August and the worst thing you can think about is your O.W.L results not getting here, heaven forbid you might get them late," said Ron sarcastically.
Hermione scowled at Ron as Harry let out a chuckle and Ginny giggled, "Calm down you two," said Mrs Weasley firmly as she turned to the two children. Ron grinned and turned back to watching the blizzard as Hermione turned red and crossed her arms angrily.
"Harry has your scar hurt recently?" asked Ron whispering into Harry's ear so that only Harry could hear.
"No, it's been fine," replied Harry in a hushed tone his voice only loud enough for Ron to get his answer, "you don't think Voldemort had something to do with it do you?"
Ron flinched at Voldemort's name as Mr Weasley leaned over the shoulders of the two boys, "Now boys if you're going to whisper you might as well tell us all what you're saying," he saying jokingly.
"We didn't say anything," said Ron with an air of deceitfulness.
"No Mr Weasley, we were only talking about the new Defence against the Dark Arts Teacher and who it could be," lied Harry.
"The new Defence against the Dark Arts Teacher," said Remus with a glint in his eye, "I think I may have an idea on who that may be."
"You do?" said both Ron and Harry in unison.
"Oh yes, although I'm not entirely sure, it may be another Auror, one whom is well respected in the Wizarding World," said Remus, "He's widely believed to be the best Auror around."
"But Moody was the best Auror we've ever heard of," said Hermione sharply.
"Ahhh," said Remus, "Moody was once the best there is no doubt about that, but this Wizard is something else, he keeps to himself, but there is no doubting his undeniable ability, it's a shame he declined Dumbledore's offer to join the Order."
"Who is this Wizard?" asked Harry curiously.
"I cannot say, because if I am wrong then it'd be detrimental to his work in the dark and murky underground of the Wizarding World," uttered Remus obviously being vague so that none of the young Wizards could do some research and come across whomever it may be, "I will say one thing, if he does teach Defence against the Dark Arts he'll certainly take a shine to you Harry, that I can be sure of."
Harry looked at Remus blankly, that could mean anything, many Wizards have taken a shine to him since he knew he was a wizard and not all of the reasons were exactly for the want to do good.
"Kingsley, who is this Wizard?" Hermione asked, trying to see if she could somehow get it out of Kingsley who obviously knew the answer also.
"Oh I couldn't indulge that information," he said with a chuckle, "I couldn't go behind Remus' back, now could I?"
Both Harry and Ron shook their heads in jest, as Hermione turned her back on everyone and stared out at the blizzard ravaging the world around them. A loud crack of thunder exploded from within the white wall outside, Ginny and Hermione both jumped in response to the sudden burst of sound and light. Ron looked at Harry and mouthed the words 'scaredy cats', Harry let out a guffaw.
"Oi!" yelled Ginny at Ron, "I've seen you jump at a pot falling in the Kitchen."
"No I haven't, I'm unscareable," he stated arrogantly.
Suddenly a huge bolt of lightning erupted from the clouds and lit up the white garden, the sound was deafening and the suddenness of it caused Ron, Hermione and Ginny all to jump. Ron jumped slightly whilst Hermione and Ginny jumped into each other and then backed away from the window.
"I think everyone should go sit in the lounge," said Mrs Weasley in a Motherly tone of voice, "This blizzard is becoming even worse by the minute."
She led the four children from the kitchen and into the warm lounge, its fireplace glowing orange from the medium sized fire burning inside of it. Harry and Ron sat on the large sofa, whilst Ginny and Hermione sat themselves down by the fire, their backs turned on the two boys and engaged into a quiet conversation that only the two of them could hear.
"I don't know why Mum has sent us here Harry," said Ron, "It's only a bit of snow and lightning."
"Your Mum is just trying to keep us safe, we both know she overreacts," said Harry.
"Yeah, I know, but I'd like to watch it, it looks cool," he said his eyes widening with glee at the prospect of a huge storm. Such is the Teenage male's fascination with Storms that you'd think with one so close; they'd both be sneaking off to see it at firsthand.
"Hermione, do you think You-Know-Who is causing this?" asked Ron.
Hermione turned immediately and waited a few moments for her thoughts to accumulate and a theory to finally make it's way from the depth of her knowledgeable mind, "Well, he has to doesn't he, you don't get Blizzards in the middle of August, ever."
"I guess, but how would he do it?" chimed in Harry, his reluctance to engage in the conversation not as powerful as he'd hoped as he was really intrigued to know how someone could control the weather like this.
"I don't know Harry, but if he can control the weather then what else could he do? The possibilities of his evil are endless," she said starkly, the words staying in the air for an eternity it seemed.
"But why control the weather?" asked Ron, his want to know the answers as strong as Harry's.
"I don't know Ron, why do you always ask me, I'm not a seer, I don't know everything," said Hermione firmly.
"Yeah, you got that right, I'm sure Professor Trelawney would be predicting 7 apocalypses and 15 grisly deaths for Harry, as well as why this is all happening," joked Ron.
Hermione threw a pillow at Ron in response and hit him on the head as she turned back to Ginny and resumed her original conversation. Ron looked at Hermione with his mouth wide-open but didn't say anything; instead he turned back to Harry who had the box of Wizard's Chess in his hands.
"Come on then Ron," challenged Harry, as both boys set up Wizard's Chess.