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It was a small gathering by Weasley standards. Arthur had been simply delighted by the Muggle barbecue gifted to him by Harry and Ginny as a late birthday present and had immediately sought to try it out. Molly, possessing years of experience with Arthur’s experiments had insisted on forgoing the invitations to the rest of the family until she could be certain he knew how to work the contraption now taking pride of place in The Burrow’s back garden. Harry had offered to take the kids home for dinner, but Arthur had been adamant that he, Ginny and the kids stay and appreciate the gift they had given him.
“I think dinner’s going to be a while,” Harry muttered to Al as he settled beside him on the picnic blanket Ginny had laid on the ground only a few minutes ago.
The news didn’t seem to concern Al who was much too busy picking up sticks and twigs from the grass beside them and comparing them before throwing away the ones which, Harry assumed, had been deemed unworthy.
A bottle of butterbeer floated across the garden, coming to a stop in front of Harry’s face. “Thanks, Molly,” he called, plucking the bottle from the air and tilting it in the direction of his mother-in-law who was standing by the back door, holding a cauldron cake just out of James’ reach.
Harry took a long pull from the bottle, closing his eyes for a second and appreciating the crisp spring breeze upon his face and the aroma of newly-bloomed snapdragons drifting to him from the flowerbeds.
His peaceful reprieve did not last long. The sound of Ginny’s exasperated voice drifted to him much as his butterbeer had done. “Dad, it’ll be so much quicker to use your wand."
"It’s a Muggle barbecue!” Arthur cried. “We must use matches, Ginny!"
Harry grinned to himself, able to imagine, without opening his eyes, the frustrated expression currently adorning Ginny’s face.
"Wand,” said a much closer voice and Harry felt something sharp poke him in the ribs. Albus grinned up at him, waving his latest stick wildly through the air. “Wand,” he said once more.
"You’ve got a wand, have you?“ Harry asked, smiling proudly at him.
Al nodded as he continued to wave the stick with abandon. His eyes focussed on the tip of the ‘wand’; his round cheeks turned red from the effort of concentrating.
Harry continued to watch Al, listening to Ginny and Arthur’s increasingly frustrated conversation until, finally, there was a whoop of joy and he turned to see the two of them hugging. Flames danced upon the coals and the smell of smoke began to drift across the garden.
It was at that moment that Al, seemingly bored of his stick, threw it carelessly to the side and took off, running as fast his pudgy legs could carry him towards the opposite side of the garden where a particularly grumpy looking group of gnomes had just popped up from a hole in the dirt.
“They bite, Al!” Harry shouted, hauling himself up from the picnic blanket in order to chase after his son.
Al shrieked loudly as he ran, obviously too overcome with excitement to listen to his father’s warning. Fortunately, the noise alerted Ginny to his presence. With a speed that had been honed over her years as a professional Quidditch player, she turned and grabbed Al before he could reach the waiting pack of gnomes.
His capture did not seem to bother Albus, who squealed loudly as Ginny proceeded to throw him into the air before catching him securely against her chest.
“Where are you off to?” She asked Al as Harry reached her side. “Was Daddy not paying you enough attention?”
“Daddy was giving him plenty of attention,” Harry said, reaching over and taking Al from her. “I’m just not as interesting as garden gnomes, apparently.”
“I’ve been telling you that for years,” Ginny said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Would one of Nanna’s cauldron cakes hold your attention?” Harry asked, ignoring Ginny as he turned his attention to his son who was wriggling in his arms, desperate to get away.
“You’re going to spoil his dinner,” Ginny warned.
Harry looked up from Al and smirked at her. “Who’s the boring one now?”
Ginny rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. “Naughty!” Al declared, pointing a stern finger in Ginny’s direction.
“Yes,” Harry agreed, already turning away from Ginny and carrying Al towards the table set up near the back door where Molly and James still stood. “Your mummy is very naughty.”
James was still jumping, though it seemed he had worn Molly down some time ago, judging by the traces of chocolate smeared across his face.
Harry settled Al into the highchair beside the table, securing him with his wand before reaching over and placing one of the freshly baked cauldron cakes arranged in the centre of the table on the tray before Al.
It was impressive how quickly Al managed to make a mess. Harry watched as he succeeded in smashing the majority of the cake between his hand and the tray. “See, you won’t ruin your dinner like that,” he muttered.
His attention wandered from the destruction Al was wreaking upon Molly’s baked goods, to James, who was still hopping like a kangaroo in front of Molly. “I can jump higher than Louis!” James declared.
“Well, Louis is a few months younger than you,” Molly replied fairly, her hands on her hips and a look of amusement on her face.
“I can jump higher than you!” James said, as though he had not heard Molly at all.
“Of course you can!” Molly said through a chuckle. “Nanna’s can’t jump!”
James paused for a moment, as though considering his grandmother’s words. A hand reached up absently to brush through his unruly auburn hair. He turned, fixing Harry with a questioning stare. “Nanna’s can’t jump?”
“No,” Harry said seriously. “Everyone knows that.”
The doubt disappeared from James’ face immediately, apparently trusting that if his father said that Nanna’s couldn’t jump it must be true.
“I’ll show you,” he said decidedly, turning back to Molly and taking her hand.
“It’s no use, James!” Molly protested. “I simply can’t jump!”
“It’s easy, Nanna,” James said dismissively. He tugged on Molly’s hand until she bent her knees. “Now, jump!” James instructed, launching himself into the air.
Molly stood up straight once more with an expression of faux concentration. Her feet did not leave the ground. “I told you, Nanna’s can’t jump!”
“Nanna,” James said, his expression more serious than Harry had ever seen it. “That’s silly.”
Harry caught Ginny’s eye from across the garden; they grinned at one another before Ginny’s hand moved to her mouth to conceal her laughter.
“Try again!” James said, pulling on Molly’s hand once more.
This continued for some time. James, apparently unwilling to accept that his grandmother would never be able to do something as wondrous as jumping, became increasingly erratic in his movements until Harry had to move Al’s highchair further away, lest he fall victim to one of his brother’s flailing legs.
“Give it up, James,” Harry said eventually. Just watching his son bounce up and down endlessly was beginning to make him feel exhausted. “Nanna’s can’t jump, there’s nothing to be done about it.”
“One last try,” James said solemnly, widening his eyes and schooling his features into an expression that neither Harry nor Molly had ever been particularly good at saying no to.
“One last try,” Harry agreed through a sigh.
James crouched low, his bottom only inches from the ground as he gestured for Molly to follow his example. Molly bent her knees in a rather more dignified manner.
“One…Two…Three!”
This time, Molly jumped, her feet leaving the ground by mere inches. James, however, did not have the opportunity to savour his victory. His own jump had been more powerful than anyone would have rightly expected. Harry watched, his heart crawling into his mouth as James soared higher and higher, until he came to land upon the roof of The Burrow.
“Merlin!” Molly exclaimed, her hands flying to her face. “He hasn’t done magic before has he?”
“James!” Harry yelled, jumping from his seat at the table; barely hearing Molly’s question. “Don’t move! Stay right where you are!”
James’ laughter was audible even from a distance, his wide smile of delight was easy to see.
Harry was a fully trained Auror, he had extensive experience in dealing with high pressure situations, but seeing his son balanced so precariously on the roof had made him blind with panic.
“I’ve got him!” Harry heard Ginny call, though he was unable to tear his eyes away from James to look at her.
He withdrew his wand from his pocket, willing his hand not to shake as he held it poised, ready to cast a cushioning charm should James slip and fall. A moment later, Ginny appeared, hovering in front of James on one of the old broomsticks from the shed. Harry watched intensely as she gripped the broom between her thighs and scooped James off the roof, seating him firmly in front of her.
Ginny landed smoothly on the grass in front of him. Al applauded his mother’s daring rescue attempt enthusiastically and Harry felt his heart begin to retreat back into his chest as James’ feet touched the ground once more.
“Did you see that?” he asked, looking excitedly between Molly and Harry.
“I did,” Harry said faintly, lowering himself back into his seat before his legs gave out beneath him.
“Now you know,” Molly said, giving Harry a satisfied look as she patted James lovingly on the head. “What you lot did to me when you were younger.”
“Burgers are ready!” Arthur called triumphantly, seemingly having missed the commotion owing to the excitement of his new barbecue.
“Sorry doesn’t quite cut it, does it?” Harry said