Chapter Nine - The Job
Uncle and I were standing in front of my grandparents' house, on the next morning. We went inside and I led the way towards Mother's room, right next to mine.
Her room was small, but tidy and organized. I glanced at her bookshelf and sighed. There were many useful books there, but most were Muggle books. Her magic books were safely put in a vault at Gringotts, since they weren't school books.
Mother had a small but wide bed, a short nightstand and a simple drawer against the wall, with a mirror. The bookshelf took a large space against the wall facing the door, and a small closet was beside it. I knew the trunk should be there.
She kept pictures of Father, her and Uncle. Some of her old school books and her study notes. Her old robes and her dress for a Yule Ball from her Fourth Year at Hogwarts. There were letters from her friends, and some that she never sent.
I never knew exactly the contents of any of her things, but she had explained it to me and told me I could not read through the letters until I was older and could understand adult stuff. I would keep my word and I would wait.
I turned around and noticed Uncle was looking at the portraits in her room. Most were of her and me at different stages of my life. There were a bunch of her with her parents. And there were a few of her when she was pregnant. Uncle was looking at one of those in awe. "I actually never imagined what she'd look like while pregnant..." he muttered.
I walked up to him and stared at the picture, as well. It was taken a few days before I was born, according to Mother. Her belly was big and she was actually caught off guard by Grandma, while eating ice cream and pickles. Uncle and I winced in disgust. "I can't believe someone can eat that," I said.
"Me neither."
We picked most of the portraits and put them in her old trunk. It had been sealed with a normal lock and a weak Locking Charm, but Uncle said it must have been so that Muggles couldn't open it. At my request, Uncle shrunk her bookshelf and put it in another trunk that he had brought.
As much as I wanted to take everything with me so no one would use her things, I knew it was inevitable. So I just took her pillow and a blanket that she had knitted for me when I was a baby. Uncle looked at me quizzically, and I blushed in embarrassment. "I... It has her smell," I said quietly.
"That's fine, John," he said with a smile. He put the pillow and the blanket in the trunk he brought, and then shrunk it. Mother's old trunk was already in my pocket. "Is there anything else we should pick?"
I looked around and sighed. No matter how many things I took with me, Mother would never come back. I sighed and shook my head. I felt Uncle's hand on my shoulder and I looked up at him. "Can... can I talk to Miss Lovegood someday?"
He nodded, with what seemed to be a sad smile. "Of course."
After locking the house, we went back to The Burrow. Mrs Weasley greeted me with milk and muffins. Neither she nor Uncle had said a thing about what happened the previous day, and I really didn't want to bring it up.
Uncle had not read the newspaper that morning, so he read it while I drank my milk. "I think I finally got it!" he said excitedly, nearly five minutes after grabbing the Daily Prophet. Mrs Weasley looked at him apprehensively, but said nothing. "Listen to this: 'Do you want to earn a few Galleons? Do you know your way around a kitchen? The Leaky Cauldron is offering a post for cook assistant. Please present yourself on January 1st, to demonstrate your abilities.'" He turned to me with a grin. "Reckon I should go?"
I realized then that Uncle didn't seem to have a job. So he had been looking for one in the magic newspaper. "Do you like to cook?" I asked curiously. After all, Mrs Weasley was the one doing all the cooking always.
He looked over at Mrs Weasley and frowned. Then he turned back at me, his expression replaced with a grin. "Yeah, I love to cook." His eyes lit up at that.
"Then I think it's a great idea," I said simply.
But, apparently, someone else didn't think that way. "You could do much better than that, Ronald," Mrs Weasley said. She had been listening to us, while somehow dusting things with her wand. "You could ask your father or even your brother to find you a job in the Ministry."
Uncle scowled at her, but his voice was calm when he spoke. "I want to do things on my own. Besides, I don't like the idea of working for the Ministry. I want to do something I like, for a change."
"Could you cook dinner for me, Uncle?" I blurted out, startling them both. I ducked my head when they looked at me. "Sorry."
Uncle chuckled and ruffled my hair. "No need to apologize, John. You did nothing wrong. And, yes, I'll make dinner tonight." He looked at Mrs Weasley with a smile, but his eyes seemed to shine with determination, as if daring her to object.
She didn't. Instead, she walked away from the kitchen, to keep cleaning the house. Somehow, that made me feel better. And, looking back at Uncle, I thought he too felt better.
That night, dinner was great. Mr Weasley and I made Uncle blush a lot because we kept praising him for the delicious food. Really, I didn't know liver and potatoes could taste so well together. Mrs Weasley ate in silence, but she had two servings.
Notes: Mrs Weasley will have to realize she can't win this battle, and she'll have to trust
Ron. The question is, will she? It is very difficult for a mother to trust a son who has harmed himself (with alcohol,
in this case) in the past. I can understand what she feels, even if it annoys me.
John is starting to ask for things, which is good. I had the impression he was much like his father, always keeping
things to himself and allowing others to drag him along.