AN - This is but the first part of an epic tale that will reach completion only when the tides of homework have subsided...or when we choose to blatantly ignore them.

Disclaimer: We claim ownership to no part of the Harry Potter universe, and can only aspire to one day produce an original magnum opus of such caliber.

Chapter 1: Reunions and Revelry

The reception was packed. Harry felt certain he had never seen so many witches and wizards, not to mention goblins, elves, and various other creatures, together in one place. Considering he had been to the Quidditch World Cup, that was saying something. It seemed the entire magical community of Great Britain, along with several other countries, had come to celebrate the marriage of Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall.

Though it had been nearly two years since Voldemort's defeat, the celebration seemed to be as much an official end to the war as a wedding. Two years...Harry gave an involuntary shudder. He tried not to think about that last encounter with the dark wizard. He had been trying very hard not to think about it for almost two years now. Only he, Neville, Lupin, and Dumbledore knew exactly what had transpired in that fatal battle. Harry just couldn't bring himself to talk about it with anyone else. Neville had been there for most of it. Like veterans of war, the young wizards had developed an unspoken pact; they rarely mentioned the subject.

Harry could smile at the thought of Neville. His once rater hopeless friend had made quite a name for himself. On that same terrible night that Harry fulfilled the prophecy, Neville had avenged his own parents by vanquishing Bellatrix Lestrange. Neville was on his way to becoming a very successful Auror after bringing down Voldemort's second-in-command, but had eloped with Luna Lovegood, much everyone's surprise. Neville had never liked dueling.

Neville and Luna were now well established magical researchers. Always traveling to some new, exotic location, they were known for their large collection of rare plants and animals. They had become, Harry was proud to admit, quite popular in the wizarding world. Harry had seen Neville earlier during the ceremony. He scanned the crowd now, hoping to catch sight of his friend.

"Harry! There you are!" Harry turned. Ron had attempted to force his way through the mob, but had collided with a gaggle of plump, elderly witches. After a sharp retort from one stout, feisty witch who was rubbing her shoulder gingerly, the witches continued gossiping happily, still blocking the way of the young wizard.

"Harry!" Ron shouted over their heads, "Come over here, there's someone I want you to meet."

Harry excused himself from the group of ministry wizards he had been talking to, walked over and pulled his tall, gangly friend to safety.

"Whew! Thanks mate, "Ron said, smoothing the sleeves of his robes. "Come over here, I've found some people I think you'd like to see..."

Harry followed Ron to an area that seemed to have been reserved for Quidditch players and their consorts. Sitting around the table were Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan, Viktor Krum, a few wizards and witches Harry didn't recognize, and—

"Oliver!"

Oliver Wood jumped to his feet at the sight of his former teammate. He hurried forward to pump Harry's hand enthusiastically.

"Harry! How are you, mate? Wow, how long's it been, huh? Seems like ages."

"Yeah, it's been a while," said Harry, slowly prying his fingers out of Wood's muscular grasp.

"How're you doing?" Wood pressed earnestly, "I mean, you know, after the war and all that business with—"

"I'm fine, just...fine," Harry cut in, casting around for a different topic. His eyes landed on an unfamiliar witch seated next to Wood at the table. "I don't believe we've met?"

"Ah! Of course, how thoughtless of me! Velinda, come here," Wood helped the auburn-haired witch out of her seat. "Harry, I am pleased to present my fiancée, Velinda Robinson. Velle, Harry Potter, the best bloody seeker I've ever played with. Except for you, of course, Viktor," he added hastily.

"Uf course."

"It's nice to finally meet you," Velle smiled. She had an American accent.

"We met over in the States when I was playing that tournament in Salem," explained Wood. "Velle's always wanted to live in Britain."

She grinned. "I'm a writer, so I work anywhere. I just love it here!"

"That's really great," said Harry, smiling back. "Congratulations, you two."

"Thanks, said Wood. "We haven't chosen a date yet, but – ah! Drinks!" The mugs, goblets, and platters on the table had suddenly filled with refreshments. Wood picked up two glass mugs. "Here, Velle, you really must try some of this. Harry, would you like anything?" Harry politely refused.

"Thanks, but I was thinking I'd just head over to the bar later..."

Velle sniffed cautiously at her drink before taking a sip. "This isn't too strong, is it, Oliver? You know I've got a medical condition..."

"Ah, yes," Wood chuckled, sipping from his own mug. "Americans," he said to Harry, "Can't hold their liquor." Velle shot him a look.

A movement behind Harry caused him to turn. Ron was greeting a witch who had just joined the table.

"There you are, Keira. Oh, Harry, this is Keira, I mentioned her before, you remember..."

The witch standing next to Ron was trim and athletic-looking, with long, curly hair and, if possible, as many freckles as the red-headed wizard. As Harry shook her hand, it came to him.

"Oh, right. Charlie's friend, the dragon expert?"

"Fascinating creatures," she grinned.

"I'm going to introduce her to Hagrid next," said Ron. As Keira walked away to get herself a drink, Harry turned to Ron.

"So are you two—"

"What?" said Ron. "Oh no, It's just a friendly date, you know. To tell you the truth, mate, I don't much fancy the idea of hooking up with a girl who spends her free afternoons chasing monsters across the moors."

Harry grinned. "You really should introduce her to Hagrid. Where is he, anyway?" Harry looked around.

"Dancing with Hermione," Ron snickered. "You know, Best Man and the Maid of Honour." It didn't take Harry long to spot them on the dance floor. Hagrid, in his hairiest suit, cut a path through the crowd like a great lumbering bear. The other dancers scurried out of his way.

Hermione, in green dress robes, with her hair done up in an elaborate bun, appeared to be grinning. After watching Hagrid whirl her around several feet off the floor, however, Harry decided it was more likely an expression of sheer terror.

Realizing he was not in a dancing mood, Harry made his way over to the dimly-lit bar at the other end of the hall. As he sauntered up to the counter, he decided to make small talk with an emerald-clad witch who was finishing off a red currant rum.

"Fill me up again, Tom," the witch muttered as she held out her glass. There was something familiar about her tone, Harry mused. "I'll have the same," he said, sitting down next to her.

"So, you've come slinking back, have you? Is it safe enough to break my heart again?"

The stinging greeting was like a jolt to Harry's system, as he instantly recognized the speaker. His memory was suddenly flooded with painful scenes from his final year at Hogwarts. Harry hadn't wanted to give up his relationship with Ginny, but he knew that those close to him would only be hurt as he prepared to face the Dark Lord. It was clearly not below Voldemort to attack loved ones, and regardless, who even knew if he would survive their encounter? No, Harry could not let Ginny get too close and then leave her to grieve, and Cho had done for Cedric. But clearly, she still blamed him for his actions after all these years.

He had hardly spoken to or seen Ginny since then. And for good reason; in shocking fashion, Ginny had taken up with Draco Malfoy not too long after she and Harry separated. Her own family had still not come to terms with her over what they saw as a betrayal worse than Percy's. Obviously, Harry could not fathom the attraction, but he sometimes wondered if it was her way of getting back at him. Ginny had to know that seeing them together was not easy for anyone. But she must really love him to stay in the relationship despite the dismay and disapproval of all around her. So why was she reopening these old wounds? Wasn't she happy with Draco?

"I don't really want to get into this again, Ginny," Harry stammered. "This is a wedding; we should be happy. Isn't it great seeing everyone together?"

"Yes, well, some people have made it clear that my presence could potentially spoil the gathering, so my socializing has been limited," Ginny snapped. Harry felt a surge of pity for the ostracized witch. But she had brought this upon herself, he must remember.

"So then go back to your boyfriend! I'm sure Death Eater parties are loads more fun. Or maybe there's a reason you're not with him now?"

That's none of your business," she retorted. "You decided a long time ago you didn't want me in your life. That's not going to change now." With that, she huffed off and out of the room.

Harry stared after Ginny's retreating back, but any brooding was cut short by a nudge from Ron.

"Oy, mate," Ron muttered from behind Harry, "Would you look at that?"

Following his friend's gaze across the room, Harry spotted an unusual couple – Justin Fitch-Fetchly had just arrived, escorting none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. Justin, who had apparently been scanning the crowd, caught sight of Harry and made his way over to the bar, dragging Lockhart by the elbow.

"Harry! Ron! How are you?"

"Er, fine, Justin," Harry stammered. Justin seemed to understand Harry's confused expression, because he beamed and gestured to Lockhart.

"Gilderoy and I are partners. I found him when I was working a shift on the closed ward at St. Mungo's. Isn't he the most adorable thing?" Lockhart flashed an award-winning smile. As the couple strolled away, Ron glanced sideways at Harry, mystified.

"I always thought Justin was a bit of a nutter..."

Hermione, back from the dance floor, had come up behind Ron in time to catch the gist of the conversation. She bit her lip. "I kind of figured Justin was gay, but should he really be dating Professor Lockhart?" Ron snorted.

"You're one to talk about dating professors."

Hermione bristled. "What I meant, Ronald, was that I don't know if it's a good idea for Justin to be seeing a man who doesn't even remember his own name..." She trailed off, scowling.

Harry smirked. He knew where this was headed. After their graduation from Hogwarts, Hermione, as she promised years ago, had taken S.P.E.W. to the next level and founded S.P.A.M.M., the Society for the Protection and Advancement of Magical Minorities. The organization had proved crucial in gaining the Order the support of many non- and part-humans in the resistance against Voldemort. As Lupin had been in dire need of employment, not to mention his certain affinity for oppressed minorities, he had jumped at the chance to aid Hermione in her work. Two of the brightest student s to come out of Hogwarts, they worked extremely well together. S.P.A.M.M. had grown rapidly from a grassroots project into a very effective civil rights organization. Hermione and Lupin still headed the operation, and despite their best efforts to deny it, it was becoming clear that their feelings for each other were perhaps less professional than either cared to admit.

While Harry could agree that the two were, in many respects, perfect for each other, part of him still found the idea of his best friend in a serious relationship with the man he had come to view as a father figure to be rather disturbing. He had yet to voice any opinion on the matter. Ron, however, had been less hesitant to share his feelings with Hermione. Harry figured now it was only a matter of time before their bickering breeched the subject of—

"—when we were going out!" Hermione was ranting. "Haven't changed a bit, have you, Ron? Well, I won't take it anymore. I need someone more mature—"

"Mature?" Ron snickered, "Well, if you consider gray hair a measure of maturity, I'd say you're doing well."

"That's it!" Hermione hissed. "You are unbelievable, Ron! We're not thirteen anymore! Honestly..." She straightened up and said, rather tartly, "If you would excuse me now, Remus and I were going to dance. I'll talk to you later Harry." She fixed Ron with one last icy glare before heading back to the table where Lupin was chatting pleasantly with Hagrid.

Ron glared after her, disgusted. "'Remus and I,'" he mimicked. "I mean, really! Can you believe that?!"

Harry shrugged noncommittally and was about to return his attention to the bottom of his glass, when something caught his attention over Ron's shoulder. "I don't know, Ron," Harry had to grin, "but I think you might have other things to worry about at the moment..."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "What're you—" He turned around. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Keira! Get down from there!"

A short distance away, it seemed Ron's date had hit the fire whiskey a bit too hard, climbed up on the table, and was now performing a lively rendition of "The Ballad of Finnegan's Wake," with Lee Jordan and Seamus keeping time. Oliver's girlfriend was up on the table as well, but had abandoned the last few verses of, "Whack fo' the darn O, dance with your partner!" and was wailing into her empty mug, "But where's the rum gone?!"

"How many times do I have to tell you," Oliver was saying, "It's not rum, it's whiskey!"