Whelp II The Wrath of Snape

Whelp II -- The Wrath of Snape

By jharad17

Chapter Fifteen

Previously:

After greeting them both warmly, Molly shooed the children outside with a, 'Show Harry around, dears, and don't forget the pumpkin patch. There you go.'

With only one backward glance at his father, Harry followed the Weasley boys and Ginny outdoors for the grand tour.

Despite what Harry had expected, the yard outside the Weasleys' front door was nothing like outside the Dursleys' door. The Dursleys had a perfectly manicured lawn, perfectly trimmed hedges and perfectly weeded flower beds, all in perfect little rows. Harry ought to know, having done almost all that work himself -- though Aunt would never in a million years have told him it was perfect. The Dursleys' drive, where they parked their clean and shiny sedan, was asphalt, with only a couple tiny cracks in it, and the door was painted bright white, with a black '4' hanging just to the right of it on the front of the house.

The Weasleys' yard, however, was nothing like that. They didn't have a drive, nor even a car. They hadn't any hedges to block the view into the next yard; there was no 'next yard' at all! No neighbors to peer over the fence and pry into their business, or to yell at The Boy for making too much noise while working outdoors in the early morning. Their front yard was part chicken coop, with several chickens scratching at the earth and squawking in their odd voices, and part odd collection of brooms and wellingtons.

Standing by the coop, Harry gaped around him, mouth hanging open, wondering what they were going to have to fix first, when Ron said, 'Never seen a chicken before, Harry?'

He shook his head. 'Only in a book,' he admitted. At his primary school.

'Wish I had,' Ron said. 'These stink, and they'll claw your eyes out if you're not careful.'

Ginny came up beside him and said, 'Nuh-uh. Mum said that wasn't true. I asked. Mum says the chickens are doss-ull.'

Ron puffed himself up. 'Well, George told me they . . .' He trailed off and glared at his older brothers, who were giggling together by the corner of the house. 'You said they'd claw my eyes out!' he yelled.

George snickered harder. 'Don't believe everything--'

'--you hear, little brother,' Fred finished his sentence for him.

'You oughtta know that by now.'

Ron turned back to Harry and rested his head on his arms. Under his breath, he muttered, 'I hate those two.'

Harry bit his lip, not knowing what to say. Dudley often screamed that he hated Harry -- though what he said was, 'I hate that freak!' -- and Harry did not doubt it for a second. But Ron didn't seem to really hate his brothers, not for true. He often played with them and laughed with them, especially when they were playing Gobstones or something like that. Dudley had never played with Harry or laughed with him, only laughed at him, and beat him up with his friends.

It was very confusing.

The next moment proved even more so, when Fred and George called for them from around the corner of the house, and Ron perked up with a grin and a laugh and ran alongside Harry to see what the twins were up to.

Harry rounded the corner of the building to see both boys up on brooms, a good ten feet above Harry's head. He stared up at them, wanting to be up there with them. Flying was the only time he felt free, and sure that no one and nothing could hurt him. When he was in his father's arms, he felt safe, but there was always that niggling fear that someone could still get to him.

Even if he wanted to be up in the air with the others, he could never ask for such a thing. He