A Newfound Story...hee hee hee

[Meg Boyd]

Ok this is a work in progress...I have no title for it yet, but hey, I like the band NFG, so I made a punny topic name...hee hee...

This is the story of life after Hogwarts and the final battle...


That morning started like any else since the fall of Voldemort. Yes, people were saying his name; it no longer shot tremors of fear down the speakers spine, nor did it lurch back a thousand memories of pain. The name just rolled off the tongue as easily as it were any other name. Voldemort didn’t bring back remembrances of death and destruction, but more like a fogginess of a bad dream you had once when you were small, but can’t recall what made it so bad, no matter how hard you try.

Yes, it seemed to be like any other morning in number 8 Grenwild Drive. The little cozy house sat between its neighbors as normally as the rest, its lawn as crisp as any other and its bricks, still chilly from the night’s cold, started to bake in the early July heat. The house was as predictable as any other house on the block, except for the large cauldron in the yard that grew the most interesting plant that anyone in St. Ottery Catchpole had ever seen. Even Mrs. Williams, the president of the Ladies Garden Club, a very important position indeed, had no idea as to what that plant could possibly be. However, the mistress of the house insisted that the plant was as normal as normal could be and that it came from her mother-in-law’s garden. This caused a stop to Mrs. Williams’s question of the plants properties, but it made her even more anxious about these neighbors. They seemed very odd, since they never seemed to share anything about their life away from their cozy brick home on Grenwild Drive. Mrs. Williams knew that the master of the house was a young man who had had his day in a sort of military service, some order she had never heard of called The Phoenix, who now owned a sort of athletics supply store in London and played on some sort of new fangled sport team. His pretty young wife, the mistress, was a type of medical researcher for some clinic in London. Mrs. Williams strained to remember the name of it. It was a saint she had never heard of, like St. Mondo or St. Mango...she couldn't remember. However, neither of them ever shared any information to the location of their places of work, nor did they ever seem to go to and fro from their cozy little house. They just seemed to appear and disappear, but of course Mrs. Williams, the respected president of the Ladies Garden Club knew this could not be so.

However that morning Mrs. Williams was awakened by the loud screech of an owl who was tapping for attention on her neighbors window.
“Gracious me,” exclaimed Mrs. Williams as she pulled her dressing gown over her pink flowered night gown, and slipped her feet into her pink fuzzy bunny slippers, “Owls do not tap for attention. It probably sees a mouse or something in the kitchen.”
Mrs. Williams then made a sort of sniff, as if any one who was any one would know that a mouse in the kitchen was not a sign of proper house care. However, in the back of her mind Mrs. Williams knew she was wrong; she had seen her neighbors house and it in its entirety, especially its kitchen, was the cleanest one she had ever seen, second of course to her own.
Mrs. Williams softened a bit as she remembered the blueberry buckle she had made the night previous as a present for the odd, young, expectant couple next door. It was a perfect opportunity to give them the cake; she could perhaps sneak a glance inside to see what the owl was tapping at, and see if there were any more oddities.
The old woman went down to her kitchen and took the pan of blueberry buckle and wrapped it in a clean white dish cloth. She then headed out her door and walked down the path leading to number 8 Grenwild Drive. She past the cauldron with the interesting plant and shuffled up the stone steps to the door. She raised her hand to the door knocker, and then took it back in curiosity. The large brass door knocker seemed to be of a large bird engulfed in flames, obviously the oddest door knocker she had ever seen in her life. Other ones had been of the family name or of the family crest, but never one of an animal in a camp fire. Certainly this was an obvious sign of their abnormality.
Mrs. Williams cleared her throat and grabbed the knocker and knocked three times on the door. Presently she heard a young woman’s voice call out sweetly,
“I’m coming.”

Shall I keep going????

[Lolita Banana]

yes yes. especially if you have a plan. I have no idea where this is going. I especially want to know how NFG is into this? Are they going to serenade Mrs. Williams?
LOL

[gecko]

Wow, this is maybe the best fanfic I've read so far, keep going Meg !
Do you write often?

[Meg Boyd]

Wow, this is maybe the best fanfic I've read so far, keep going Meg !
Do you write often?

Aw Shucks, *Meg blushes*

I don't know if I can really keep going cuz I have a lot written so far on my word processor, but there are minor book five spoilers...so i might have to wait

[Meg Boyd]

ahh, well, these are really minor spoilers in this one, and so far the only people that i know read this have also read book 5...

There was a loud “umph” and sound of shuffling feet and then the door swung open to reveal the round glowing face framed by brunette wisps belonging to the brown plait twisted upon the young woman’s head.
“Oh good morning Mrs. Williams! How good it is to see you! I hope you are feeling well.” The young woman said as she moved one of her hands to her back to brace her self of the weight of her large, swelling belly.
“I am just fine dear, and I hope you are well also, and I must say you are as radiant as ever. You know a woman only gets prettier as her condition grows.” Mrs. Williams said
“Well at this rate I ought to be the prettiest girl in all of Britain, the way I keep growing and growing. I’ll be the size of a house by the time I come to full term.” The young woman said giggling, placing her free hand over her mouth.
“The child will come soon enough, dear. Children are a blessing, but enjoy these last moments with your husband alone…it just might be the last time you see him properly until the babe goes to school.” Mrs. Williams said, trying to peer past the woman’s shoulder into the house, “Oh, my I’ve forgotten promptly haven’t I? Here I baked you this cake made with fresh blueberries!”
Mrs. Williams held the cake out, and realized that the woman was in no condition to carry the heavy cake.
“Here, let me carry this to your kitchen.” She said, her voice brightening with her growing excitement. This was a perfect chance to peer into the lives of these odd balls!, “I’ll even cut it up for you and the mister.”
“Thank you ever so much, Mrs. Williams.” The young woman said, waddling through the hall towards the kitchen.
Mrs. Williams’s eyes had never such a feast before. In all corners were knick-nacks that clicked and clacked in odd ways, a large broom by the hearth she could have sworn had the inscription of Cleansweep Eleven, photographs of people (presumably friends and family) that seemed to move when her back was turned, and large clock with no numbers, only destinations and the hands had faces on it instead of arrows. She peered closer at the clock and saw that some of the faces pointed to home, some to travel, and even some to a place called The Burrow.
"What is this, my dear? I have never seen such a thing? What ever does it do?" Mrs. Williams, pried, her free hand slowing reaching for the hand that bore the face of a dark haired man with shocking green eyes that pointed towards "Work". Something about that face seemed vaguely familar, as if she had dreamed about it was, when she was a small child, but all that remained of the dream was a foggy mess.
‘Oh I see you’ve found my husbands clock.” The young woman said, glancing back nervously, “Its a rather of a joke; it is supposed to show where all his friends and family are at a given moment, but we all know that clocks can’t do that. It was a gag gift from his brothers. They own a joke shop in London, did you know? I’d be careful getting too close to it; it sprays the offender with water if one strays too near. I’ve always wanted to get rid of that clock, but my husband insists that we keep it”
Mrs. Williams jolted back to reality.
The young woman placed her hands on the old woman’s shoulders as if to lead her away from the clock was very, very urgent indeed.
They had reached the kitchen where Mrs. Williams set the cake down. As usual the kitchen was as clean as ever, and the owl was long gone from the window. Instead a newspaper and a letter lay on the window sill. Mrs. Williams then directed her attention to scanning the kitchen for more oddities. Her eyes stopped at the ice box...
“Well, Mrs. Williams I think I can handle it from here. Thank you very much for the blueberry buckle; I am sure my husband will find it very tasty.”
Mrs. Williams jerked out of her concentration of looking at the oddly titled cook books on the top of the ice box, such as Fantastic Feasts in Five Minutes and Helpful Cooking Hints from House Elves.
“Oh yes, ah, anytime dear, anytime…well…uh…have a good day…”Mrs. Williams said, obviously nervous to be in the home of anyone who had a book that mentioned elves.
She quickly trotted back through the parlor and the hall back to the door, down the steps and across to her own home, closing the door with a sigh of relief.
"House elves???? Never, in all my days as President of the Ladies..." trailed off Mrs. Williams. She was in such a shocked state, she didn't even bother sniffing at number 11 Grenwild Drive (as she usually did every morning) because of the loud strains of New Found Glory music that boomed across the way.
In the cozy, clean kitchen of number 8 Grenwild Drive, the young woman also breathed a large sigh of relief.
“I thought she’d never leave. I told him we oughtn’t to have that clock in plain view.” The woman said aloud, crossing back towards the clock to the stairs.
In the upper level, the young woman opened a bedroom door that creaked as it swung wide; leaving a chink of soft yellow light that pored across the floor and upon the bed revealing a great lump covered in a green and blue patchwork quilt...
[/i]

[zledm007]

wholy, umm, (all the good words are censored) crud. yeah that'll do. that's awesome meg, perhaps we've found your career, so umm, bio's not gonna do you much, unless you want to write about bugs and stuff. but wow, this is really good, i wnat more!!!

[Meg Boyd]

wow...a compliment from zledm007? This can't be so! Wow

*Meg's head starts to grow to the size of zledm007's*...hee hee, just kidding

Here you go...

The young wife waddled passed the lump in the darkness to the window and thrust the shutters open so that the summer sunshine danced all around the room. The lump stirred every so slightly, as the wife waddled back towards it.
She bent down and whispered softly into the lump’s ear,
“Wake up darling. The sun has risen and the day is new!”
The Lump just rolled over, tangling its long, lanky legs with the quilt, pulling it downward revealing wisps of the Lump’s flaming red hair.
“Oh come on, dear! We mustn’t be late for the party, now up!” the woman said, her voice getting a bit of an edge, “Up, Up!” she said again, tapping the Lump on the region of where its bottom should be.
Again the Lump rolled over and this time pulled the blanket upward, showing its large feet and ankles uncovered by purple paisley pajamas.
“RONALD WEASLEY WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!”
This time the woman’s voice cut through the sunshine like a knife as she yanked the covers off the lump, who was so tangled in them that it rolled right off the bed landing with a loud ‘Umph’.
Ron Weasley peered over the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes looking very disgruntled.
“Oy Hermione dear, why such a rude awakening? Would it hurt you to be nicer next time? That really smarted!” he said rubbing his head in the place where it had smacked into the floor.
“If you would have waken up the first time I tried, then things would have been different, wouldn’t they?” the young woman said, glaring at him, again placing her hands behind her to brace her overtaxed back.
Ron stood up, his purple paisley pajamas at least three inches away from his ankle, and crossed over to his wife. He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her warmly. Afterwards he grabbed her hands and said,
“What was I thinking m’dear? I mean who wouldn’t want to wake up to such a beautiful site? I am luckiest man alive because I am only twenty-four and I have found more happiness in you than if the Chudley Cannons had won the World Cup ten times…but I’m not saying I wouldn’t be overjoyed if that would happen…but…”
“Oh Ron you are so romantic”, Hermione cut in sarcastically, but with an obvious smile of glee on her face.
Suddenly Hermione’s slight smile widened as she grabbed Ron’s hand and placed it upon her stomach.
“Feel it dear? Our baby is kicking! Isn’t all such a miracle?” she said, her eyes all misty.
“If that’s what you want to call it. But I suppose that’s the price you pay for a bit a fun.” Ron said jokingly
Obviously this didn’t seem like a joke to Hermione whose eyes full of joyful mist turned in to eyes full of tearful sorrow as she collapsed on the bed.
“Honestly Ron, is that what you think of it all? A Bit of Fun? If that’s how you feel perhaps I should go back to Viktor, he wouldn’t think so.” She said, weeping with her hands over her face.
Ron sat down next to his love and put one of his long arms around her and dabbed her tears with the cuff of his paisley pajamas.
“Hermione, you know I love you more than words can say. I was only kidding, trying to make a joke. I am very excited for our baby to come, you know that. Remember how excited I was when you brought home that altar-song –thingy with a muggle picture of our baby? I had to show everyone on Diagon Alley the next day at work, remember?” he said, holding her tightly.
Hermione’s tears vanished, although her face remained tear streaked, she laughed,
“Its an ultra-sound, Ron.”
“See, what do I know, I’m just a stupid man in love with you.” Ron still trying to take the blame for his wife’s hurtful words. He had always been jealous of Viktor Krum, the world famous Quidditch player who had always been in love with his wife, even back in school Krum had lusted over her. But that was silly, he thought, there is no reason to be jealous now, Hermione and I have been married for two years.
“I am so sorry Ron,” Hermione said, obviously noticing the hurt in his eyes, “I don’t want to go back to Viktor, I am just jumpy because all of all of the hormones going hay-wire in my body. Someday I’ll be normal again.”
“It’s alright. Let’s get dressed shall we and then we can have a spot of breakfast before we head to the party, ok?” Ron said, eased a little bit, but still a bit worried about what his wife had said.

[Lolita Banana]

Aw that's so cute Meg, keep going. Is there more?

[Meg Boyd]

Here it is Lola, and there is more where that came from...

The couple headed down the stairs and went to the kitchen where Mrs. Williams’s blueberry buckle sat on the kitchen counter still cut up and placed on two plates.

As Ron sat down to his blueberry buckle and tea, Hermione waddled over to the window sill where the Daily Prophet and the letter sat. She tossed the newspaper to her husband, and she tore the envelope to read the contents of the letter.

“Oh…it says here that Ludo Bagman won a quarter of a million galleons in the lottery last night! Poor fool can finally pay off his debt to the Gringott goblins and to Fred and George. Owes them a considerable amount from ages ago, back when we were in the fourth year, remember? But it’s hardly like Fred and George needs the money, filthy rich they are.” Ron said, paging through the newspaper.

“Hmm….”Hermione said, and she unfolded the letter, written on a piece of important looking Ministry of Magic parchment.

Her eyes flitted to and fro as the read the letter as a curious smile crept across her face.

“Oh Ron!” She gasped waving the letter, “You’ll never guess who is coming to our Baby Shower today!”

“Is it that old bloke Draco Malfoy? I wonder what ever happened to that son of a…oh well, sorry dear, never mind, who is it?” Ron said, setting down his ‘Worlds Best Prefect’ cup.

“Its Harry Potter, Ron! It will be just like old times!” She exclaimed

“Harry Potter? I haven’t seen him since our wedding. Best man he was, remember the joke he and Fred and George played on me the night before…ah good times. What has he been up to?” Ron said, leaning back on his chair so only two legs touched the kitchen linoleum.

“Well, it says here he took his final Auror’s test and was hired by the Ministry.” She said, scooping a bit of cake up with her spoon.

“Yes, I knew that. I mean, we have been in contact via owls you know.” Ron said, taking another dreg of tea, “I mean what has he been up to in regards to his first mission. He wasn’t able to tell us before due to secrecy. I would imagine that since he can come to our party now that the mission would be over.”

“Alright then, I was just starting from the beginning of the letter,” Hermione said a bit irritably, “But he was on a mission in Kenya tracking down Jackson Towerclock, an old warlock who was kid-napping muggle children to sell to a group of wizards who were researching whether or not a muggle raised in the magical world would show signs of magic or not. Of course the researchers claimed that Old Towerclock and his gang had promised that the children were orphans who needed homes anyway. So Harry, Tonks, and Old Mad-Eye went down and tracked him down. It took them across all seven continents and all of a year, and they finally found him hiding in an old witch doctor’s hut in Africa trying to learn how to transfigure himself into another form. After that they spent a year finding all the stolen muggle children and bringing them back to their loving parents. Had to do a considerable amount of memory-modifications with the children and their parents. Towerclock was sent to Azkaban, as did the group of wizard researchers. It was a breach of Muggle-Wizard contact and of the Muggle Mistreatment Pact.”

“Whoa, who knew Harry would be involved in such action. Boy I wish I would have kept with my Auror studies. I’d like to try my hand at beating the scum of the world. Mad-Eye always said I had the making of an Auror in me.” Ron said, whipping the butter knife like a sword.

“Harry’s dealt with worse, Ron you know that. I agree with you, you could have been a great Auror, but you chose to not finish Auror’s College so you could play for the Cannons. You can’t be a Quidditch player and an Auror, Ron. Harry had the same choice, and he chose one path and you chose another.” Hermione said with complete honesty.

“I know dear, but perhaps when my Quidditch days are over and we’ve earned enough to hire someone to run the Quidditch supply store, I’ll go back to school get my Auror’s liscense.” Ron said, now placing his ‘sword’ back in the butter dish, “What else does it say in the letter.”

“Well, Harry’s on leave because of having such a taxing and long first mission. He’s looking for a house because…Oh Ron…oh my! You’ll never guess what….” Hermione gasped again.

“Well what, Hermione?” Ron said with a tone of impatience to his voice

[zledm007]

yeah, the one thing that i liked the most (well two actually) was how in the first two, shall we call them chapters? you didn't mention the characters' names your self but left it a mystery until the characters said them. also i liked the amount of detail and the way you wrote it. there's a lot of detail in your writing, but it's not like the detail in say, The Grapes of Wrath, it's a lot, but, well, i think the perfect amount or maybe it's just written so well, i dunno. but anyway, it's really good. i haven't read the latest two insallments but surely will shortly. good work Meg!

[Meg Boyd]

wow, thanks zledm007...I never have had anyone read anything I wrote for fun before and I am shocked to see that you actually like it...

[zledm007]

arg!!! you leave me hanging again!!! (awe, the signs of a good writer) how much mroe have you written, i mean of this and other things too. i'd love to see something else of yours too. but first, more of this if you have it.

P.S. (and no, it's not the book) (i'm so funny) my "awesome" mother likes it as well.

[Meg Boyd]

P.S. (and no, it's not the book) (i'm so funny) my "awesome" mother likes it as well.

huh? I am confused? What about the book? What book?

But I am pleased to know that your awesome mother likes it...she is awesome, no aire quotes now...I am serious...

As for stuff I have written, sadly the lot of it was lost when my computer crashed in Sophomore year...*tear*...and I haven't really written until now...I have a few song lyrics in a style similar to Alk3's but I don't want you to read them, sorry...they are personal

[Meg Boyd]

ok zledm007 here you go...here is some more story...

“Harry’s getting married!” She said breathlessly, “To Lavender Brown!”

“Lavender, eh? Not a bad choice, Lavender is. Always was one of the best looking girls in our year.” Ron said, then noticing the glare on his wife’s face, “But if you ask me she’s kind of an air head. Doesn’t seem to be Harry’s type at all. It’s a pity. I always thought he’d end up with Ginny.”

“Yes, I thought so too, but I always thought that because you never felt that any of Ginny’s beaux were good enough for her.” Hermione said, folding the letter and placing it in her pocket.

Ron stood up and placed his dish in the sink along with Hermione’s. He waved his wand muttered something and all the dishes became clean again. He then put them back in their respective places in the cupboard.

“I was right, wasn’t I? Look at that Michael Corner? He’s …”

“…he’s not a bloke at all. He inherited a fortune and now has a secure position in the Ministry. He’s married to Cho now. They had a baby last April.” Hermione retorted, slipping on her shoes with great difficulty.

Ron knelt down and helped his very pregnant wife out with her shoes. As he struggled with the laces he said,

“Well, he’s a git anyhow. Look at Dean Thomas, he’s a bloke if I ever saw one…”

“Thank you dear, but Dean is not a bloke. He’s working at Gringotts with Bill if you don’t remember.” Hermione said

Ron looked very put out, “Well, he wouldn’t have that job if he hadn’t been with Ginny.”

“You’re cute when you care,” Hermione said smiling

“Then I must always be cute,’ Ron said gruffly taking her hand and leading her towards the door. “Let’s take the car today, I don’t want to make you work too hard with apparating anymore.”

“Thank you dear, it is getting rather difficult now that I am getting bigger. I guess its hard to apparate for two…” laughed Hermione.

The couple walked out the door to the garage. Ron lifted the large door up, and inside was an old Ford Anglia that was a turquoise color.

“I’m glad we found this thing and had Harry and Dad look at it. I had no idea how expensive cars were.” Ron said as he got his keys out.

The young Weaselys got into their car, which was no longer inchanted to fly, and no longer did it have a mind of its own. They drove down Grenwild Drive and out of the village towards the country. In a few minutes they had reached the comfortable looking house that had sign that read : The Burrow

[gecko]

I continue to be amazed by the story! Please write some more!

Ohoh, how did Harry get to know Lavender, as he's been away for 2 years? Or were they together before that?