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Fic: Welcome to Magic
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catty_the_spy
Title: Welcome to Magic
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: gen, background Harry/Ginny and Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG
Warnings: children, wounds, terrorists, mentioned concern about metal health problems
Notes: technically part of a series? But no prior knowledge of said series is necessary or recommended. For the h/c bingo prompt: “scars”. Words: 2014

Summary: Ron tries his hand at teaching, and police work, and at being a pal.



Because he was the most famous muggle-raised wizard of their time, Harry Potter was the person most desired to host their Welcome to Magic classes. Harry was too busy, with baby Al needing care and James being a terror and gangs running amuck in wizarding Britain. So, when Hermione found herself in need of a second instructor and found herself too busy as an Unspeakable, she turn to the person most likely to give in: her husband.

That was how Ron found himself surrounded by nine and ten year olds at seven in the morning after a fifteen hour shift.

“Hullo,” he said, wondering if he looked as nervous as he felt.

“Hi,” the children chorused back. Their voices were tiny and hesitant.

Ron sighed and sat down. “I’m tired and I’m nervous, so I hope you’ll be patient with me. How about we start by giving our names and getting to know each other?”

There were stares and a few nervous giggles.

One of the children raised their hand.

“Er, yes?”

“My name’s Stephanie Cowell. I’m not sure whether I’m supposed to be here; Mummy always said magic wasn’t real.”

“It is and I can prove it.”

Ron magicked up coffee and hot chocolate. The rest of the morning was a success.


The day after Rosie’s first birthday, Ron was faced with a handful of children aged five through seven. They were impossibly small and clearly scared of him. These were ministry kids, plucked from muggle orphanages into the only home the wizards had. Even with Harry’s generous anonymous donations the place was bursting at the seams. This was the most recent lot, the ones just ready for a bit of schooling. The babies and toddlers found homes pretty quickly, but the school aged children were piling up.

He offered them a snack right off – most of the frightened ones were lured by food. Each child got a bit of something to eat and a large mug of hot chocolate.

He showed them several simple, harmless spells, neatening his clothes and making their chairs soft and comfortable. He told them about his job and his pet niffler, and promised them that they’d meet him next class.

He’d spent a great deal of time brushing up on muggle children’s things and the children were happy to chatter about it. Several of them expressed the fear that they’d be beaten by their teachers, so Ron brandished his wand a bit more, and then he said “If any adult hurts you, I’ll turn them into a toad.”

Then he showed them that he really could turn things into toads, so that they’d believe him.


Brian was a little boy who couldn’t have been older than James Sirius. He had a tuft of hair at the back of his head that resisted all tampering – muggle or magical.

It was strange no one had adopted him yet; a child his age should’ve been in someone’s house playing with toy brooms, not sitting in Ron’s tiny ministry classroom wearing clothes that didn’t fit.

This was a class Ron hated. Not because of the children, though most of them were scared and overtired and could be right little monsters. No, he hated it because these were the youngest lot; these were the ones the Ministry was in a rush to get into some sort of school so they could me moved out of the children’s home and into the bunk house where the school-aged children slept.

This wasn’t the same classroom he’d started in. That was for the muggleborns with their Hogwarts letters, and was now ruled by a truly frightening witch who was eager to rap one with her walking stick. This new classroom had a tiny window that just showed the pavement of the street above and ten desks squeezed together. The children had to climb over the desks to reach their seats.

Whoever thought of cramming twenty children into a room meant for ten deserved a good bat bogey hex.

Three days ago Ron had started off with the usual introductions – hot chocolate, assurance of safety, and silly harmless magic that got them laughing. Brian was the only one who hadn’t seemed to be having a good time; in fact, he hadn’t interacted much at all.

“I don’t know what I’ve done wrong,” he complained. “Usually they’ve relaxed by now.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Can we talk about this later, Ron? We’ve got half the leaders of the Dark Six gang in there.”

“Sorry.” Ron put the string of the extendable ear back in. “It’s just that he never smiles. I don’t think he’s scared of me.”

Harry didn’t answer. The Dark Sixers were discussing a hit on the new Gringotts branch opening up in Hogsmeade. If the aurors didn’t stop them, the goblins certainly would, and they’d charge the ministry a fee. The goblins took their banks quite seriously.

“Do you think I’m scary? I mean, outside of the auror robes, when I’m dressed like a dunce for the kids.”

Harry sighed. “Have you even considered that maybe it’s not you he’s scared of? He might not even be scared at all. Maybe his face is just…like that.”

“No it isn’t, I talked to Ms Creedey.”

Harry made a face. “Creezer? Ugh.”

“She is efficient.”

“Efficient or not, she makes Umbridge look like a saint.”

Harry had a point there. “Anyway, Creedey had pictures from when he was younger, and some the MIL snapped between then and him coming to us. He used to be pretty happy, pretty…normal. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”

Harry frowned pensively. Ron wasn’t sure it was directed at him or at the tossers inside who were debating the merits of imperious.

“Maybe you’re not the one who’s done anything wrong. I think I’ve heard enough now; Ron, could you call in backup.”

It was a mess of course. Dark wizards were always difficult, and the Dark Six was among the worst of the lot. Harry was fine – a few nasty looking cuts, and a sprain – but Ron ended up with a gouge in his arm that resisted magical healing.

“I’ve got classes tomorrow.”

Harry rolled his eyes, stepping out of the mediwitch’s way. “You’ve got that class every day, now. You can afford to miss one.”

“I hate letting them down,” Ron said. “They haven’t got anyone else.”
Harry sighed. The mediwitch cut him a nervous look, like she wanted him to move but was too frightened to say so.

“What were you going to do with them?”

“Food. I’ve already covered wands and potions. I was going to bring them a good haul from Honeydukes.”

“You were going to spend an hour giving toddlers candy?”

“Well why not? Kids like candy.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised Creezer hasn’t murdered you. What can I do for them that isn’t candy?”

“You?” Ron jolted upright and instantly regretted it. He didn’t know what curse hit his stomach, but he hated it. “Gah, whichever one takes credit for this deserves my wand up his arse.”

“I’ll tell McGillen you said that; she’d love passing that one on. And yes me. Who else is going to do it? Not Hermione – she’s worse than Snape in a classroom.”

Ron huffed a laugh at that. A very gentle laugh.

“Neville’s busy at Hogwarts,” Harry continued, “Luna’s…Luna, Nott’s got a good heart but he’s shite with children, and do you really want to see Zabini in a roomful of children? He holds Rose like she’s going to explode.”

“The last small squirmy thing he held did blow up on him…”

“…and nearly took all his internal organs with it, yeah I know he never shuts up about it. So anyway, can you name anyone of our friends who is both willing and able to teach the damn thing?”

“Chocolate frogs,” Ron said eventually.

“What?”

“You asked for something to do with them. Give them each a chocolate frog and talk about the cards.”

“I’m not giving twenty small children chocolate!” Harry snapped.

The mediwitch made a small “eep” type noise.

“That’s just asking for twenty screeching Jameses,” Harry went on. “It’s not going to happen. That can’t be all you do with them? If it was just sweets day in and day out they would’ve kicked you out by now.”

“Then just give them the cards, bloody hell, it’s not that difficult. The point was going to be that even the candy’s got spells on it, and the cards give ‘em a bit of history. Find something else then. But don’t forget to bring Otters.”

“What are a bunch of toddlers going to do with an otter?”

“Otters is the class pygmy puff. Creezer said a puffskein was too big.”
Harry shook his head. “This entire thing is ridiculous. Whatever, I’ll get it. Anything else?”

“I don’t really have a lesson plan. I just…look.” Ron sighed. “They’re all a bit nervous about magic, so I want them to see that it’s fun, yeah? So candy, toys, games, anything. So long as it isn’t serious.”

“I’ll try.”

And Ron knew Harry would.


He found out later that Harry made them cry.

“Not on purpose,” Harry protested. “I told them you were hurt, and somehow they got the idea you were dying. They took turns holding the pink thing, but it didn’t help. I had to give them the chocolate after all.”

“How do you manage with your own children?”

“I don’t,” Harry said without a hint of shame. “I’m never home.”

Ron sighed – gently, his stomach was still sore. “Sorry, mate.”

“I’ve talked to Shacklebolt; he’s going to give me more time, let the Juniors take over the smaller cases. It’s not as bad as when James was born, but it still…”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m worried about Ginny. She’s been…strange. Different. Ever since she got pregnant with Al.”

“Lot’s of girls go weird when they have a baby. It’s the hormones or something. Like Mum said when Hermione went…” Ron made a vague noise, and Harry shuddered. “Yeah. Anyway, that was more’n a year ago.”

“Hasn’t got any better. And James is so…James, I’m sure it’s not helping.”

Ron hadn’t been by much – he was just as busy as Harry – and when he had time to visit, Ginny was usually off working. So he and Ginny hadn’t seen each other often enough to see if anything was wrong.

“I’ll drop in, see how she’s doing. Not like I’ll be working anytime soon.” He pointed to his bandaged arm. St. Mungo’s had called in a cursebreaker and the wound still wasn’t closed. They were waiting on a backup cursebreaker to fly in.

“Thank you.”

“You’re my brother aren’t you?”

Harry grinned. Calling him brother never got old.


“Did you really fight a bad wizard?”

“Yep,” Ron said. “That’s my job. Got a scar to prove it.”

He showed the children his arm, and they all eagerly crowded around to ooh and aah over it.

“That’s sick,” tiny pig-tail-braids Annie said, vibrating with glee. “Was it oozy? Did it bleed? Did you have to get stitches? Were they going to chop it off?”

“They weren’t going to cut it off, but it did bleed.”

“Eww!” they shrieked, most of them giggling. Some of them liked to show off whatever lurked under their bandages.

This set Brian crying, and Ron rolled his sleeve back down.

“I thought you weren’t coming back!”
And there they went, off like dominos, saying how worried they were and wasn’t it horrible.

“Of course I was coming back,” Ron said. “I’ll always come back. There’s not a lot that can stop me.”

He went around his crowd of little people, giving out headpats and backrubs and the occasional emergency hug.

“There’s lots of good things and bad thing about magic,” he told them, “but one of the best things is that when you get sick or hurt, magic can fix it quick.”

Brian was the most upset, so Ron held him for a while, until he calmed down.

“I’ll always come back.”

This entry was crossposted to My DW Account. Please feel free to read or comment on either site.

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