Chapter 3: The Unexpected Task

Author's Notes: I know I was supposed to introduce Hermione in this chapter (Not that Miss Granger needs an intro). I am sorry. I’ll make compensation. Instead of making her introduction, halfway through this chapter, I’ll dedicate the whole next chapter to her. I know it is a little unfair that Ron gets 3 whole ‘intro’ chapters to himself, and Hermione gets only one. But believe me, the shock which Ron has got now is his first, but certainly not his last. Brace yourself guys and gals!
A/N2: Additional disclaimer that the title of the chapter is borrowed from GoF, the brilliant JKR's creation.

Next morning, Ron woke to the first rays of the morning rays streaming into his eyes. As he got dressed for breakfast, he remembered the conversation he had with his mother the night before. He remembered vaguely that the last word he had heard before drifting off was ‘Hermione’.

I wonder where she ever got to? What has she been doing all these years? Why didn’t she keep in touch with Harry and me like she promised?

These thoughts clouded his mind, and his consciousness, and he didn’t realise he was already in the kitchen, until his mother offered him some bacon. Molly Weasley was busy preparing breakfast, while Arthur sat at the head of the table reading the Daily Prophet. Ron had heard that his former classmate Neville Longbottom now ran the newspaper. With the absence of people like Rita Skeeter, the paper had finally gained a respectable status.

“Good Morning, Mum, Dad.”

“Good Morning, Ron. You’re up early. Had a good sleep?” replied Mrs.Weasley.

“Oh yeah, great. I just haven’t lost my stupid habit of waking early yet…... I’ve had to be up with the dawn since the first day of Auror training, and I expect it will take a while to grow out of it.”

Mrs. Weasley chuckled, “Well, it’s a good thing that you’re up early, isn’t it? I’ve written up a nice long list of chores for you to do today, like-”

Oh no, Not de-gnoming of the garden, please!

“Not so fast, Molly. I want Ron to come to my office today. I have a job for him, small but important. Once he is done with that, he can come home and you can use him for as much manual labour as you like. Alright, my dear?” Mr. Weasley asked his wife, with a very meaningful look in his eyes.

A look whose meaning escaped Ron.

But, Mrs.Weasley seemed to understand what her husband meant. Catching on, she said, “Okay, Arthur. But I want him back as soon as possible. I need as much help as I can get, what with Ginny’s wedding coming up.”

“I understand dear. I’ll send him back as soon as I can.” Looking at Ron, he said, “Be at my office at 10 o’clock sharp, okay?”

“Okay, Dad.”

Thank, Merlin. At least, I won’t have to do any de-gnoming on the first morning of my vacation.

****************************

At 9.30, Ron left the Burrow and headed to his father’s office, after promising Ginny that he would definitely be back in time to meet her fiancé…just as soon as he got back from finding out about the “mysterious job” that his father was going to assign to him.

At the reception desk of the Ministry of Magic, he asked, “Could you please tell me which floor I can find Arthur Weasley? I’m his son, Ron Weasley.”

“Of course, you are. I can tell from your hair,” said the witch at the desk, smiling. “You will find him in Muggle-Wizard Relations Office. That’s on Level Two, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“Thank you.”

Ron was happy to find that he hadn’t been asked to leave his wand at the desk, likely due to his privileges as an Auror. He took his time to reach Level Two, watching all the strange people who were proneto frequent the Ministry, although being there, and seeing these people wasn’t that new to him. He had been there many times in his childhood, and it was nearly always amusing. After all, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office was a pretty amusing place to be.

As he was walking down the long corridors, caught up in the sights and sounds, he didn’t even notice the blur caused as a small witch (although, if his height were to be considered, anybody could be small) rushed right into him. In spite of his being a fully trained, and a very alert Auror, he could do nothing to stop himself from banging into her.

But, before he could tell if she was hurt, or even see who she was, she had hurried off after mumbling an apology.

“I’m sorry,” Ron called after the vanishing figure.

A bit shaken by the incident, he looked around to take his bearings, and found that he was outside his father’s office. He knocked on the door. Mr.Weasley’s voice beckoned him in.

“Hello, Ron, Welcome to my office. Oh…and don’t mind the mess.”

And what a mess it was. Loads of common Muggle stuff strewn everywhere, not as a part of his job (which no longer required him to deal with Magically Malfunctioning Muggle Matters), but as a part of Mr. Weasley’s famous obsession with Muggle objects. Ron adored his father for that very obsession.

“That’s okay, Dad.”

“You know, I’m quite proud of you, Ron. I know I must’ve told you that a thousand times by now, but I mean it. I hear that you had to learn to live in the Muggle world without arousing any suspicion. You seem to have been successful…unless that Ripley group has some sort of secret mickey-fony attached to you. But if you find one, let me have it. Anyway, being so successful means that you must know quite a lot about Muggles by now.”

“Yeah, I do,” said Ron. “But it helped a lot to have Harry with me. He knows way more about’em than I do.”

“Oh, of course, yes. The Dursleys and all. You know, as much as I know about eclectricity, I really don’t know much about how the Muggles actually live–I wish I did though. All that you’ve learnt will really help along the Muggle-Magic relations that the Ministry has been trying to build ever since Voldemort’s downfall.”

Not to mention your craze for Muggles.

Mr. Weasley snapped out of his dreamy daze, “Then again, that will be a job for some other day, some other time. For now, let’s stick to the task currently at hand.”

“What’s that?”

“Your mother told me about the conversation she had with you last night, you know, about, settling down and all.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. Anyway, I thought I’d just ease the situation for you a bit. Alright, you have to see the ‘prospective bride’, but…what if you don’t like her?”

“Huh? What do you -” Then as realization hit him, Ron looked up at his father and was met with a mischevious grin.“You’re just great.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank our ancestors. This is one of the traditional Weasley father-son conversation that take place when the lady of the house loses faith in the charm of a Weasley bloke, and so forces him into blind dates and the sort. And mind you, you aren’t the first one to get advice.”

“You mean Charlie and-”

“Yes, yes, all of them had to face the music eventually, and I gave them the cotton balls. But, Ron-”

Damn, I knew there was a catch.

The thought must have shown on his face, because Mr Weasley looked at him intently and continued, “You must promise me, that you will not misuse this right. I mean, you will not reject the girl just because you can. You will end it, if and only if you feel it will genuinely not work. You promise?”

“Yes, I promise, Dad.”

“So, let’s get back to business. First thing, you will not go alone on any of the blind dates.”

“What?! Are you telling that a mature 26-year-old guy like me needs a chaperone?”

“No. I am telling you that a bloke like you needs someone, more like, a ‘mediator’. And…” Mr. Weasley’s expression brightened as he continued, “I know the perfect person to carry out that job.”

“Who, Ginny? Oh no, not Ginny. I don’t need my kid sister to be my…mediator. Besides, she’s too busy with her wedding preparations.”

“Of course, I know that. I’m not talking about Ginny. I am talking about-“

There was a knock at the door.

“Oh good, come in. You’re just in time.”

All this while, Ron’s back was towards the door as he spoke to his father. So, when Mr.Weasley acknowledged the third person entering the room, he turned around to see who it was. He saw a witch with brown, bushy hair, reading glasses balanced on the bridge of her nose, approaching his father’s desk. As she came closer, he started feeling an air of familiarity about her. He knew who she was; he just couldn’t place a finger on it. He was too busy pondering over this mystery to participate in or, even acknowledge, the conversation taking place between his father and this witch. He didn’t even realise that he was actually staring at her - studying her- as she approached the desk. So, when she turned to look at him, he got the shock of his life as he suddenly recognised her.

It was Hermione.