Hogwarts always looked welcoming at night, lights twinkling through the windows like so many beckoning stars. After an endless, trying day, there was nothing like coming home, but Harry wasn't going to the castle. Not that night.
Ron would get after him for being late. No sane wizard worked overtime on the day before their wedding. Not when there was a stag party to attend in Harry's honor.
Crossing the main thoroughfare through Hogsmeade, he pushed thoughts of work aside and prepared himself for whatever evening his best mate had planned.
The night was warm. Many of the villagers had their shops open late, the doors wide to allow lantern light to stream out over the cobblestones. Harry kept to himself but received a few stares and waves from familiar faces as he crossed under the hanging sign of the Three Broomsticks and entered the crowded pub.
"Mr. Potter," Madame Rosemerta greeted him with a bright smile and stepped out from behind the bar carrying a tray heavy with drink orders. "They're upstairs, love, find your own way if you don't mind. Anything special you'll be wanting?"
"Not at the moment," Harry assured her and headed for the stairs leading to the private rooms above.
"Just let me know if you do," she told him on her way to a table at the front.
The din of raised voices from the jovial patrons diminished as Harry climbed. The upper hall was low-lit and cooled by a draft through an open window in the rear. Light streamed out from beneath a set of double doors to his right. Harry could hear the sound of muffled conversation on the other side.
"Harry!" Ron looked up when Harry entered from his place in an armchair by a broad fireplace. The comfortable lounge was furnished with scattered conversation areas and side tables set with refreshments in decanters and bottles. A long table under the window held an array of more food than the number of guest in the room could enjoy. "You're late."
"Sorry," Harry apologized and accepted the glass of mead shoved into his open hand. "Seamus," he nodded to his old friend and schoolmate after accepting the drink.
Seamus Finnegan refilled his own glass next and returned the greeting. "You've got some catching up to do, mate. Drink up."
"Cheers, Harry," Dean Thomas rose from his seat on the sofa and shook Harry's hand.
"Ready for this?" George Weasley completed the small gathering, grinning at Harry from where he leaned against the mantle sipping a glass of sherry. "Your last night as a free man."
"Has to be, doesn't he?" Ron said. "Made a commitment, can't back out now. You're part of the Weasley family whether you like it or not."
"Yeah, Harry," George agreed. "Maybe you should take Ginny's name rather than the other way around. Harry Weasley, how does that sound?"
"Bloody awful," Dean laughed.
"Charlie sends his regrets for not being here," George informed Harry. "He got tied up at work, but he'll be here in time for the wedding tomorrow."
"Ginny will kill him if he isn't," Ron added.
"Where's Percy?" Harry slumped down in an open chair after grabbing a plate heaping with food from the table. He hadn't eaten all day and the spread looked more enticing than Rosemerta's mead.
"Percy?" Ron scoffed. "Had you wanted to invite him? We're you looking for a good snooze listening to him yak on and on about his political aspirations? Don't you get enough of that from him at work?"
Harry shrugged with a smile.
"We thought about inviting him," George admitted, "but then came to our senses. Hope you're not too disappointed."
There was a small knock on the door, and the man Harry was going to ask after next entered the room.
"Neville!" All five of them raised their glasses in salute.
"Have a seat my man," Seamus took the role of host once more and poured Neville Longbottom a drink.
"Congratulations, Harry," he sank heavily into the chair George pulled forward for him.
"Thanks," Harry nodded. "You look positively ragged, Neville."
"Oh," he shrugged with a modest smile. "Yeah, a bit. Sprout and I cleared a patch of rogue Devil's Snare creeping on the grounds today. That's why I'm late, actually."
"Where? Not near the wedding tent?"
"Near there, yeah," he nodded. "We figured your guests wouldn't appreciate being throttled by temperamental vines during the ceremony."
Harry was grateful, but also regretful of all the extra work being done just for his and Ginny's wedding. "Sorry about that."
Neville just shrugged again. "It needed to be taken care of before start of term anyway."
"Devil's Snare," Ron shook his head in disgust. "Bloody useless, nuisance of a weed."
"Not so," Neville corrected him. "Devil's Snare has been used—"
Ron stopped him with a complaint and a gesture. "No Herbology lessons tonight, Professor. Tonight we celebrate the loss of Harry's freedom."
"And our gain of a brother," George toasted to that and the others followed suite. Glasses were knocked back and drained to be immediately refilled. The room was growing warm despite the gentle breeze through the open windows. The group of old schoolmates and longtime friends shared stories they recalled from their days at Hogwarts, leaving out the all-to-vivid memories of war. A peacetime wedding wasn't an occasion to lament losses.
The hours ticked by late into the night. The pub below grew quiet, and Madame Rosemerta appeared once or twice to ensure they had all they needed. Harry drank slowly. He had every intention to remember every detail of his last night with the boys, and he wanted to arrive at his wedding the next day with a clear head. Neville seemed of the same mind as he, but the other four were very liberal with the flow of alcohol and drove the conversation onto interesting paths.
"You did not go out with Pansy Parkinson," Ron looked at Dean in flabbergasted disbelief.
"Once," Dean admitted humorously. "Out for a coffee."
"Traitorous bastard."
The room filled with laughter from everyone but Ron who looked as though he would never trust Dean again.
"I met her in Diagon Alley one day walking out of Gringotts. She practically threw her arms around me, all happy to see me for some reason. Surprised the hell out of me, I thought she'd gone mental. Maybe she has, but she's different now. She was nice. Talked a lot about herself all through our coffee, but she seemed really happy."
Ron was beside himself. "Pansy Parkinson."
"Yep," Dean nodded and smacked Seamus in the shoulder for laughing so hard.
"Pansy Parkinson the walking one woman Malfoy fan club?"
"That's the one."
Ron cursed and finished off his drink before standing abruptly from his seat as if this information was too much for him. "Of all the girls we went to school with…"
"I didn't run into any of them outside Gringotts," Dean pointed out.
"Remember walking in on Pansy and what's his name…" George snapped his fingers and tried to remember.
"Draco?" Neville tried to help him out.
"No, that other Slytherin in your year, Zabini."
"Blaise?" Ron whipped around on the spot. "You walked in on Pansy and Blaise?"
"Yeah," George nodded. "Me and Fred…" he dropped off a moment and took a quick drink before picking up his train of thought again. "We were dodging Filch and turned a corner near the entrance to the astronomy tower. That's where they were."
"Bet Draco never knew about that," Ron was pleased. "When was that?"
"Sometime during the reign of Umbrage of course, when the Slytherins had free range as the Inquisitorial Squad. That wasn't long before we left."
"In fine fashion," Seamus grinned.
"You know the swamp memorial is still there," Neville said.
"It sure is," George was pleased. "We made those Portable Swamps to be long-lasting. You know what I do wonder is still there, though?"
"What?" Harry asked.
"During our third year Fred managed to charm a quill into speaking any word that we wrote down on parchment while using it. It would say it, but as if from across the room like those Muggle ventriloquists throwing their voices. It worked perfect. We got a few kids in trouble for saying stuff in class they never actually said.
"Snape caught on after Fred used it in Potions one too many times, so we decided to hide it in Filch's storage room on the sixth floor until he calmed down. Snape checked every quill we carried after that for months. We ended up never going back for it. Wish we had. I haven't been able to recreate a model with such precise impersonation ability as that one."
"Let's go get it," Ron suggested.
"What?" Dean looked up.
"Let's go," Ron gestured toward the door to the hall, sloshing mead out of his glass all over the floor. "Let's run up to Hogwarts and raid the storage room."
"It's one in the morning," Harry pointed out.
"I'm game," Seamus piped up, looking to Dean next who appeared to agree with an intoxicated grin. George just chuckled into his glass.
"The gates are locked," Neville backed up Harry's reasoning.
"We'll ring the bell," Ron wasn't deterred.
"What bell?" Harry asked, sharing his humor with Neville. "You really want to wake up McGonagall in the middle of the night to fetch a quill?"
"Why not?" Seamus was all for it and had even jumped to his feet, ready to follow Ron out the door.
"We could use the secret passage, Harry," Ron suggested. "The one-eyed witch."
"That goes through Honeyduke's. We can't break in there in the middle of the night."
"That's not the only passage onto the castle grounds," George reminded Harry with a growing twinkle in his eye. Now he was even considering the possibility and Harry and Neville were left out-numbered.
"The Shrieking Shack," Ron caught on immediately. "Yes!"
"Whoa, whoa," Seamus held up. "The Shrieking Shack? Now?" he glanced out the uncovered window at the black void of night on the other side of the glass.
"You're afraid of a crumbling old house?" Ron asked sarcastically. "It's not going to hurt you."
"Not like the Whomping Willow on the other end of the passage," Harry input.
"Right," Ron agreed before realizing what he was saying. "No," he changed his mind. "We are wizards!" he announced, producing his wand in the air with enthusiasm. "We can get the quill. Let's go!"
They left, making a great deal of noise on the stair and bringing a bottle or two with them as they went. There were only a few sleepy-eyed drunks remaining at the bar to watch them go, and Madame Rosemerta held the door for them, accepting Harry's thanks for the accommodations with a warm smile and a sendoff as they stumbled out into the street.
Seamus recalled an old folk song to sing on their way to the Shrieking Shack at the other end of the village. Ron and Dean joined in without knowing the words. They made up their own which included their fondness and loyalty to the house of Gryffindor. George, Harry, and Neville couldn't help but back up the off-key rendition after that.
Ron stumbled in a dip in the road, scuffed up his palms and nearly lost his wand. Dean snagged his trousers on splintered wood climbing the fence keeping trespassers away from the shack. Harry missed the front step off the porch and knocked into Seamus who dropped his bottle of Firewhiskey and spilled most of the remaining contents. George broke into the house through a boarded up window where they all somehow managed to pull themselves inside without causing too much damage or alerting the whole village with all their noise.
Harry knew where to find the opening to the passage. He ducked in first, pushing aside the memories wrapped up in that haunting place.
"My leg hurts just walking through here again," Ron grumbled as they lit their wands and began moving up the passage in the direction of the school grounds.
"This was your bright idea, mate," Harry reminded him.
By the time they reached the end of the tunnel, they were all covered in a fine layer of earth and sweat. Harry carefully ducked his head out of the opening beneath the willow, retracting back inside as the tree began to sway upon noticing his presence. "Do you remember where that knot is to immobilize the tree, Ron?"
"The what?"
"Brilliant," Harry frowned. "Okay, I'm never going to be able to find it from this position," he cautiously peered out again and scanned the grounds with the light from his wand tip. The small ray seemed only to aggravate the willow further.
George pointed his wand over Harry's shoulder and shot a spell into the branches through the passage opening.
"Nope," Harry said. "That ah…that seemed to make it worse." He looked to his left as the soil around them seemed to writhe with the movement of agitated tree roots. "We need to run," he told them. "We need to run right now."
The six of them shoved and scrambled out of the hole, fought to get to their feet, and sprinted as fast as they could away from the enraged old willow. Every one of them suffered some sort of scratch or bruising from the long, brutal arms of the tree branches. Ron collapsed into the grass just out of reach of their sting and gasped for breath. "I hate that damn tree."
"I'll take McGonagall in her dressing gown over going through that death trap again," George said.
"Agreed," Dean and Seamus said at once.
"No need," Neville panted and began following Harry as they all started toward the castle. "You all can crash in my quarters tonight if you want."
"Yes, that's what I want," Ron responded. "To sleep on the cold stone floor instead of the nice warm bed I paid for back in Hogsmeade."
"This was—"
"My idea," he cut Harry off. "Yeah, yeah, I know."
Neville led the way and got them in the castle through a rarely used entrance near the greenhouses. Once inside it felt strange being there. They all had been inside Hogwarts too many times to count since leaving school, but it always came with an odd sense of homesickness Harry couldn't put into proper words. Like they belonged, but not truly. Not anymore.
"This way," George turned down a dark and deserted corridor and up two flights of stairs before making another turn. "I keep looking for Mrs. Norris," he said in a loud whisper as they went. "Somehow I don't think Filch would care that we don't even go to school anymore."
"He would probably still try put us in detention," Harry agreed humorously.
"Fred and I use to try and bribe that damn, interfering cat with canned sardines. When that didn't work, we would hit her with a stunning spell and lock her in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."
"Why didn't we think of that, Harry?" Ron asked.
"Shut it, Ron," George warned his brother to keep his voice down as they took a winding, spiral staircase to the sixth floor.
"Why?" Ron demanded without heeding the warning. "We're grown wizards, aren't we? We have rights to roam at night. Besides, we've got Harry with us. No one's going to tell him he can't walk around Hogwarts whenever he damn well pleases. He's like…like the king of Hogwarts. King Potter."
"Nah," Seamus slapped him on the shoulder with a grin. "Weasley is our king."
Ron found this pleasant enough. "That's us then, all of us. Gryffindors, the Wizard Kings of Hogwarts."
"Come on, your majesty," George pulled him along. "The storage room is just down here."
They found it easily enough and, with a simple spell, George unlocked it and opened the door. The space was tight, but they all fit inside. Neville knocked over a bucket of some foul smelling goo which they then had to avoid, but George found the spot he was looking for at the back of the closet where the brooms stood in a cluster. Kneeling down, he searched with the light of his wand and the fingers of his free hand before coming up with a dusty old, common-looking writing quill.
"Here it is," he stood up and held the quill under the light for them to see. "Let's hope it still works."
After a bit of searching, he came up with a scrap of parchment in the trash bin by the door. Using the wall to write against, George scribbled a line as the words he wrote audibly echoed from the quill and sounded from another part of the storage room close to where Harry stood.
In Harry's voice it said, "Ron is a pile of dung."
Seamus, Dean, and Neville laughed. "That's brilliant."
"How did it know to use my voice?" Harry was once again amazed with the twins' abilities.
"That's the art of magic, my friend," George responded without giving away any secrets.
"And the spell doesn't wear off?" Neville was also impressed.
"With lots of use it does," George said. "But this one was only used a few times before we hid it here. I guess it held its magic well."
"No joke," Ron was less enthusiastic since the joke had been on him. "Hey," he changed the subject as he picked up one of the nearby brooms. "These aren't regular brooms," he handed it to Harry before grabbing another. "They're flyers. I thought Filch chained up all his confiscated brooms in the dungeon."
"The dungeons were closed off during reconstruction after the battle," Neville informed him. "McGonagall's orders."
"This is a decent Nimbus," Ron looked it over. "I feel for the poor bloke who lost it."
Each of them picked up a broom. There was enough for them to choose, and all six of them seemed to think the same thing at once. Harry's gaze met Ron's and he grinned before ducking into the hall to be the first one out the door.
"Last one to the pitch plays Keeper," he called back.
The moon was bright over the grounds. The boys lit a few torches hanging in brackets around the Quidditch pitch. George disappeared a few minutes and returned with the set of practice balls from the Quidditch storage near the school changing rooms. Within no time they had an intense game going between the six of them, three on three with Ron and Neville as Keepers. The beaters bats were left out of the game until Seamus and Dean thought they would try using them to knock the Quaffles through the goal hoops for an added element of difficulty. In their inebriated state, this only caused more near accidents, balls and bats to the face, and several slips off of brooms at low altitude.
Harry released the Snitch at one point, and he and George timed one another to see who could catch it the fastest between Quaffle interceptions and attempts at Ron's goals. Neville lazily circled his hoops and made no real attempt to stop Seamus and Dean from scoring, but that didn't matter much since the two of them could hardly make out the hoops to knock in any Quaffles anyway.
Wind-swept and exhilarated, they ended the game in the stillest, darkest hours before dawn. Landing on the grass in the center of the pitch, they tossed aside the brooms and dropped to their backs with their eyes on the stars.
"I'm going to fall asleep saying my vows tomorrow," Harry was sure.
"Ginny's going to hex us all if you do," Ron said followed by a wide yawn. "Got anything in your greenhouse to stave off tiredness, Longbottom?"
"I've got a whole batch of Devil's Snare," Neville told him. "Will that do?"
The six of them chuckled before falling into a comfortable silence. The few burning lights through sporadic castle windows mixed with those twinkling in the sky. Harry could make out the dark, shadow-like outline of the school's towers looming above them in the gloom. He felt young again, like he did while in school. Not carefree, but with different cares and priorities. It was hard to believe that Ginny would be his wife in only a few short hours. Late nights lying in his bed in his dormitory, Harry had barely allowed himself the luxury of thinking he would ever see himself get married, much less to Ginevra Weasley. So much had happened, so much had changed, and Harry could not have been happier.
"Weasley is our king…" Ron began singing to himself with drowsy, slurred speck. "He didn't let the Quaffle in, Weasley is our king."
"Weasley can save anything," Seamus helped him out.
"He never leaves a single ring," Dean joined in next.
"That's why Gryffindors all sing," Ron geared them up for the finish as they all sang on the top of their voices:
"Weasley is our king!"
"How did the Sorting Hat describe us?" Harry asked when the laughter and song had subsided.
"You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart," Neville supplied the lines without need of prompting. "Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart."
"Yeah," Harry nodded in the dark for no one to see. "That's it."
Harry made it to his wedding ceremony one time. He watched in stunned silence as his bride walked down the aisle in a flowing dress which fit her to perfection. He forgot his tiredness from lack of sleep completely as Ginny took her place beside him in front of all their friends and family on the sunlit grounds of Hogwarts. And Harry made it through his vows without stumbling, stuttering, or yawning. He thought he couldn't be happier, but he was wrong. Happiness was only just beginning.
AN- Hey, thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this one-shot I wrote just to get me geared up to attend LeakyCon in Portland in two weeks. Any readers or fellow writers out there who I might see out there this year? :D