Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter. I do not have any association with J.K. Rowling or the publishers and distributors of the Harry Potter books. I do not profit from writing fanfiction in any way.

Rating: T for swearing, violence, and adult themes.

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place was situated in a small town square, surrounded by similarly worn and shabby houses. The front of the building, like those flanking it, was dirty, with many broken windows that were covered in grime, several heaps of rubbish in the yard's unkempt grass, and a large battered door atop a stoop of gray stone steps. The door's black paint was chipped and scratched, and its door knocker was a silver lion's head clutching a dead serpent in its fangs.

The sun shone brightly, covering number twelve, Grimmauld Place with a layer of warmth and a blanket of golden light. Inside the house, the sun's rays beamed through one of the cracked windows and onto the ghostly-white face of a tall, gangly, orange-haired boy. He sat up and raised a hand to shield himself from the sun's light, which was barely hindered by the window's thin vermilion curtains, which only served to tint the room red.

Ron Weasley felt himself being tugged back into the bed by a small pair of hands that gripped him around his waist. He turned to see a half-asleep bushy-haired girl nuzzling her forehead against his shoulder and urging him to lay back down. He wiggled his arm free from her grasp and nudged her shoulder with his palm repeatedly until she opened her eyes.

"Can't sleep in today," said Ron, softly. "It's Saturday. Hagrid's coming, remember?"

"Oh, that's -" Hermione's sentence was interrupted by a light yawn. "Right. I nearly forgot. Good morning, by the way."

"Good morning." Ron slipped his arms around Hermione's waist and embraced her as she leaned in to kiss his cheek.

"This is a great way to wake up," she said, before rising to her feet by the side of the bed with a spring in her step.

Ron stood, stretched his arms until his elbows cracked and walked over to his dresser, which had been recklessly stuffed with half his clothing, the other half still tucked away in his school trunk in the corner of the room. He slid one of the drawers open and vaguely heard Hermione doing the same to her dresser on the other side of the room, which had been neatly packed with all of her clothing on the night they arrived. They'd reached an unspoken agreement to keep their backs turned as they got dressed, but that didn't last past the first four days, as they kept catching each other peeking.

"A Cannons shirt?" asked a fully-dressed Hermione as she approached Ron from behind.

"Why not?" Ron turned to find his girlfriend clad in a lilac blouse and khaki pants.

"We're entertaining guests." Hermione shook her head and passed Ron, digging in his heap of tangled clothing to find a white button-up shirt. "Here, wear this, and no camouflage."

"It's Hagrid!" Ron snorted. "He'll probably be coming with his moleskin coat, packed with soggy sausages, and that's if we're lucky - that's if he doesn't decide on formal attire."

"It's a shame Madame Maxime isn't as strict as I am, then," said Hermione. "Though, I'm not sure if they're still seeing each other."

"I don't think so," said Ron, connecting the buttons on his shirt, only to find that he'd skipped one. "Damn these things. I don't know if she was right for him anyway. Too posh. You need to be willing to get your hands dirty if you want to be with Hagrid. Oh hell, the imagery..."

"Opposites attract," said Hermione, smirking as she watched Ron's third attempt at buttoning his shirt. "We're proof of that, aren't we?"

"We've been through a lot together. Aha!" Ron smoothed out his correctly buttoned shirt. "Besides, it might just be my Quidditch skills that turn you on. I know how you like good Quidditch players."

"I'm afraid Ginny is the only reason I still care about Quidditch."

Hermione giggled at Ron's dismay and swept in to place a quick kiss on his lips before trotting off towards the bathroom by the stairs.

"Hagrid would love camouflage, by the way!" Ron called after her, while stuffing his feet into his socks. "He'd be able to use it when he goes into the forest!"

There was a light laugh from behind the bathroom door. Hermione peeked out, clutching a toothbrush, and raised an eyebrow at Ron. "Yes, because that's the one thing keeping him from being stealthy."

Ron chose to ignore this point and began tying his shoelaces. There was a rustling at the door when Kreacher the House Elf entered Ron and Hermione's room. Kreacher was a mere wisp, only as tall as Ron's thigh, with a bald head, fluffy white ear hair, and saggy, wrinkled, olive-colored skin. He was as thin as a skeleton, with his knobby knees and bony elbows, and wore a white pillowcase over his torso. He spoke in a gravely voice that used to make Ron's skin crawl, and had a tendency to mumble his thoughts.

"Your potion, Master Ronald," said Kreacher. He presented a small ornate crystal vial clutched in his thin fingers. "Kept Kreacher up all last night..."

"Thanks, Kreacher," said Ron.

He took the vial and placed it on Hermione's large potion rack that stretched across the far wall of the room, next to three other vials of a similar shape. Hermione had taught Kreacher how to brew the Wolfsbane potion, and it wasn't long before Kreacher was able to make it on his own. Ron insisted that it was only a monthly duty, but Kreacher had been making it daily, for practice. Ron's stomach lurched when he touched the vial; Wolfsbane potion was constantly and sickeningly warm.

"See?" said Hermione once she returned. Ron turned towards the door to find her eyes scanning him up and down. "Very handsome."

"Yeah, Hagrid won't be able to keep his hands off me," muttered Ron.

He passed the snorting Hermione and shuffled down the stairs through to the newly redecorated hallway. In just one week, the girls and Kreacher had run amok, completely transforming the interior of number twelve, Grimmauld Place into a respectably clean and safe residence.

Sirius Black's Muggle posters were difficult to remove, as Sirius had taught Harry the extra measures he'd taken to secure them in his room and Harry and Ron had conveniently forgotten that Kreacher could remove them by Apparition. Instead, variously colored tapestries from Otto's Curiosity Shop were draped over them, each depicting a scene from a different Wizarding era.

Ron spotted the bespectacled Harry sitting next to his sister, Ginny, on a large couch below Sirius's portrait. The painted Sirius was sound asleep, sprawled out over a black background. After yawning with his mouth wide, Ron greeted his sister and best friend, and noticed Harry's casual dress.

"Look at this!" said Ron when Hermione made her way downstairs. "Clearly Harry wasn't forced to dress smart!"

"It's just Hagrid," said Ginny. Hermione opened her mouth, poised to respond, but there was a crashing noise at the door. As they were expecting company, the Snape-repellent charm that guarded the front door had been temporarily lifted; even after they had learned how to remove it, Harry had elected to keep the charm in place for safety.

"Oops! Got ter be careful with these old ones, yeh know," said a deep voice from the doorway. "Mind helpin'?"

"Of course," replied a second voice that was shrill and sharp. "Step aside. Reparo."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny arrived in the hallway to find Hagrid setting the umbrella stand that was crafted from a hollowed troll's leg to an upright position. Hagrid was a massive half-giant, seemingly too big to be allowed, who wore a patchy moleskin coat. Behind him was an older woman with graying brown hair and a birdlike face, clad in vibrant, acidic green robes and a crooked witch's hat.

"Professor McGonagall!" cried Hermione, suddenly looking very flustered. She covertly checked her breath and adjusted her blouse. "Lovely to see - we weren't expecting - you're looking - please, come in!"

"Calm down, Hermione," said Harry, laughing lightly. "It's not as though it's Viktor Krum or anything."

"Watch it," growled Ron.

"Bes' not ter anger him, Harry!" said Hagrid jovially. He clapped Harry and Ron on their backs with his dustbin lid-sized hands; the force of the patting made them step forward involuntarily. "Yer livin' with a creature o' the night now - he's a wild animal!"

"Yes, he's a real creepy-crawlie," said Ginny.

"Oh, almos' fergot," said Hagrid, taking a seat on the sofa upon Ginny's offer. "Yeh migh' notice I've brought a friend."

"It's good to see you, Professor," said Harry, grinning, as Ron went with Kreacher to fetch the tea. "Well? What do you think?"

"It is barely recognizable," observed Professor McGonagall, surveying the room. "Magnificent work. Miss Granger is responsible, I trust?"

"Partially," said Hermione, her cheeks tinted pink. "Harry and Ron started the whole thing, then Ginny and I came and covered up the posters of half-naked women and such, with Kreacher's help."

"Oho!" Hagrid chuckled. "I remember that - I knew yeh was lookin' fer trouble, Harry."

"It was all my idea!" declared Sirius drowsily as he woke up. "These fine boys are not to be blamed!"

"Oh!" Harry smiled. "Sirius's portrait is here now, professor."

"I know; who did you think requested that Hagrid transport the portrait here?" asked Professor McGonagall, her thin lips curling into the faintest smile as Ron placed a mug of tea on the coffee table in front of her.

After Kreacher and Ron finished distributing tea, Kreacher hobbled merrily back to his room, where he'd hoarded all of the Black family heirlooms.

"So," said Hagrid, gulping a swig of hot tea without flinching. "What're yer plans fer careers n' all?"

"Ron and I are applying as Aurors very soon," said Harry, looking proud.

"A'course."

"I'm trying out for the Holyhead Harpies." Ginny smiled.

"Chaser?" asked McGonagall. Ginny nodded. "But, you know, the Harpies do need a new Seeker."

"I wasn't that good as a Seeker," said Ginny, waving the notion away with a hand.

"Oh, but you were; I watch every game at Hogwarts, and few have excelled at two different positions."

"I'm going to work at the Ministry!" said Hermione a bit too loudly, eager to match Ginny at impressing Professor McGonagall. "Sorry - er - Magical Law - I'm going to try and reform the utterly outdated laws that oppress House-Elves and Muggleborns. The Ministry needs to be fixed from within."

"I agree," said Professor McGonagall. "One lesson I believe we can take from the war is that justice, ethics, and courage must be upheld at the Ministry of Magic first and foremost if we hope to live in a safe Wizarding world."

"Oh, I must agree," droned Hermione.

During these administrative discussions, Ron found himself zoning out until his name was mentioned. After scratching an itch above his eye, he spotted a small wooden radio cabinet on a table by the window in the corner of the room where he and Harry regularly played Wizard's chess while listening to the Wizarding Wireless Network.

"Potterwatch?" asked Ron. Hagrid nodded eagerly, his beard ruffling up and down in front of him.

Harry fetched the wooden wireless from the chess table and placed it at the center of the coffee table and began tinkering with it until it received a signal. The voice of their former classmate and fellow Gryffindor Lee Jordan faded in intermittently until the signal stabilized.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you never attempt to Transfigure yourself into something you just weren't meant to be. My snout - er - nose still hurts.

"Moving right along, ladies and gentlemen, we have something of a special treat for you today. Some of our loyal listeners might recognize his voice as that of Royal, one of our broadcasters during the war, but most others will know him as Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic. Good to have you back, Royal."

"It's always good to be here on Potterwatch," replied Kingsley.

"I understand you're here to relay an exciting bit of news to our listeners?"

"I am. The War on Delirium is at an end. As it stands, the Dementor threat has been completely neutralized, and our children and loved ones are now safe from these vile creatures."

"I'm sure, Minister, that you can appreciate that that's a rather bold claim. Are you saying there's not a single Dementor left on the planet?"

"That, I cannot say. However, I can confidently state that there is no Dementor threat left in all of Great Britain. If there are one or two crawling through the marshes or over the plains, they're much too weak to harm even a child, or a warthog..."

"Truly great news, Minister," chuckled Lee.

"Indeed."

"Well, now that our souls are safe and we've got that Dementor business taken care of, let's get to the important stuff, shall we?"

"Quidditch," said Harry knowingly, to general agreement.

"Of course, I'm referring to the Quidditch World Cup!"

"Yes," said Kingsley. "It was set to take place last year, but the Wizarding world had taken such a strong hit from the war that it couldn't be done. It's back this year, and it'll be just as big as ever. In fact, it requires full Ministry attention."

"Oliver might play!" said Harry. Ron nodded.

"What?" asked Hermione, her eyes wide.

"Oliver Wood is playing for Scotland," explained Professor McGonagall, with a hint of pride in her tone. "They've got a shot at the finals. Although, Ireland is still a powerhouse."

"Any predictions?" continued Lee's voice emanating from the wooden radio cabinet. "On who it'll be?"

"It's certainly tough," said Kingsley. "But I think the smart Galleons are on a rematch between Ireland and Bulgaria. Seeker's such an important position, and it takes an entire team to thwart a good Seeker, as we all saw during the last Quidditch World Cup."

"Oh, what does he know," snarled Ron, glaring down at the radio. "Why is it that every Minister we have has no idea - er, sorry."

"Really, Ron, one day I hope you'll have got it all out of your system," sighed Hermione, though she was smiling.

"Well, Krum or no Krum, we've got to go," said Ginny. "Dad might be able to get tickets again. People have been showering him with condolences after all that happened to us...""

"Well, it sounds like a great time!" said Hagrid cheerfully, trying to stop the conversation from taking a dark turn. "A'course, I can't go. Bin' banned from the event fer life - jumped righ' off the top box tryin' ter impress them veela, yeh know. Got ter be mighty careful 'round them. Professor Dumbledore got a right kick out of it, but he was the only one..."

"Thank you, Royal. Your Minister for Magic, ladies and gentlemen!" continued Lee. "The Quidditch World Cup starts in just one month. For full details, contact the Ministry of Magic."

"Phew," said Ron as Hermione turned the volume down until Lee's voice faded into silence. "One week sooner and I'd have not been able to go, not while walking on two legs at least."

"And how are you coping, Mr. Weasley?" asked Professor McGonagall. She then smiled. "Oh, I suppose I should call you Ron now that we're no longer teacher and student."

"Then can I call you Minerva?"

"That's fine."

"It's been dog days, Minerva," said Ron, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. He threw an arm around Hermione's shoulders and tugged her to his side. "But at least I've got this one here. She's taught Kreacher how to brew the Wolfsbane potion."

"Oh, it was nothing," said Hermione with red cheeks. "Kreacher's a very intelligent elf."

"How's Hogwarts?" asked Harry, nodding to Hagrid.

"She's great!" Hagrid beamed. "I've bin' tasked with buildin' a full trainin' area fer Dumbledore's Army."

"I thought the chessboard was fine," said Ginny.

"Oh, we'll still be using it, but we've put the other underground chambers to good use," explained Professor McGonagall, accepting a refill of tea. "We've also added a passage from the Erised room directly to the Hospital Wing."

"Good idea." Harry grinned. "This might be a stupid question, but the Erised room is the one that housed the Mirror of Erised, right?"

"Correct. We've renamed them; the room with the trapdoor that opens to the password 'Alohomora' has been named Fluffy's Corridor. Through the trapdoor is the Snare Chamber, which leads to the Key Hall, then to the Chess Room, and through to the Erised Room."

"Wicked," breathed Ron. "Though Ron's Chess Room might have been better, or That Room Where Ron Completely Saved The Day."

"As the group is now an official school club," continued Professor McGonagall without hesitation. "We'll be admitting the Slytherins as well." Professor McGonagall glanced at Harry.

"If you must," sighed Harry. "They might not even want to join, anyway."

"How's Scorpagog?" asked Ginny.

"Bigger, stronger, n' cuter," replied Hagrid. "Always hangin' 'round the Stone Circle fer some reason..."

Ron smirked.

"He's gettin' on great with Grawpy too," continued Hagrid. "Hardy enough ter take a bit o' punishment, n' that always helps."

"Oh!" said Hermione. "Hagrid, how are relations with the centaurs? Magorian's centaurs, I mean."

"Jus' fine - least, as fine as they're goin' ter get - they live out by Grawp's cave, yeh know. They don' mess with him, he don' mess with them. Why d'yeh ask?"

"We'll be going to meet them soon," said Ron. "We've got to return Helinora to the centaurs. She's great, but..."

"Worlds collide," supplied Hermione.

"Well, why not come by n' visit ol' Grawpy? He'd love ter see yeh."

"Yeah, that'd take our minds off of the centaurs..."