It was summertime, and Harry Potter found himself back at the Burrow once more. But the old cottage just didn't feel the same these days. The mood was dreadful. Nobody knew what to do with themselves. Everybody staying at the Burrow, as well as every person in the wizarding world, was still numb from the shock of Dumbledore's death.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts, the greatest wizard Harry had known, brought down so easily with one spell. The Avada Kedavra. And who had done it? Snape. Severus Snape, the Potions master who had been on Voldemort's side all along. Harry had persisted all throughout his entire life at the school that Snape was bad news, but Dumbledore always refused to even consider it. Why had Dumbledore trusted Snape so much? Why?

The questions flew around in Harry's mind, and each new thought made his insides lurch. Maybe if Harry hadn't forced Dumbledore to drink that potion. Maybe he would have been strong enough to fight back, and the whole cave incident wouldn't have been a complete waste of time. A waste of time that cost the life of yet another person who was so important to Harry.

But there was no time for regrets. Obviously, it hadn't been a complete waste of time, or else Harry wouldn't have been lying here now, clutching his fist tightly around a plain, imitation gold locket. Folded up inside this locket was a sheet of worn parchment. He took it out and, after slipping on this thin-framed spectacles, began to read it again - though he knew it by heart now.

To the Dark Lord

I know I will be dead long before you read this

but I want to know that it was I who discovered your secret.

I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,

you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B

Harry's mission was clear; he had been over it in his head many times. First, he was going to go back to the Dursley's, just one final time, since Dumbledore had wanted him to. Then, Bill and Fleur's wedding was going to be happening sometime soon. He supposed he should stick around for that, before going on his quest. He, and Ron and Hermione, should they wish, would then proceed to Godric's Hollow, the place of Harry's parents graves, to search for clues. They would find out who this R.A.B person was. And then, find the four remaining Horcruxes. Destroy the Horcruxes, so Voldemort was at last mortal. And then...

Harry took in a deep breath before swallowing. He didn't even want to think about it. He couldn't bear it. Not this soon...

Kill Voldemort.

Suddenly, the door flew open and a head poked out from behind it, making Harry start and automatically reach for his wand. He thrust his hand out, directing his wand at the intruder.

Ginny Weasley stood on the other side of the door, looking shocked for a brief second, then her pretty face broke into a slight smile.

'Sorry,' she apologised sweetly. 'Only me. Didn't mean to make you jump.'

'N-no, I'm sorry, I - I shouldn't - ' Harry flushed, then gestured to his wand, shrugged sheepishly, and placed it down on the bedside table. He rearranged his glasses and got up off the bed.

Ginny Weasley was sixteen now, and still as pretty as ever. Though Harry had forced himself to break things off with her, in fear of her safety, that didn't mean his feelings for her had gone away completely. Luckily, things weren't too awkward between the pair. At least they were talking. Sort of. The whole relationship had been a such a whirlwind romance anyway; happened so quickly, that it didn't even feel real. Just like Dumbledore's passing didn't feel real.

'Sleep well?' Ginny asked politely.

'Yes, thanks,' Harry blurted, bobbing his head up and down.

'Mom's made breakfast,' Ginny explained quietly, not moving from the door frame. 'You probably don't feel like eating, but - '

Ginny suddenly stopped, glancing up innocently and catching Harry's eyes. She studied his face for a few moments; his untidy black hair, his recognisable lightning bolt scar, his deep green eyes, brimming with emotion, and even the first signs of stubble that were beginning to creep out from under the skin of his handsome jaw. Ginny blushed wildly.

'Well,' she said in a hurried squeak, 'Just come down when you're ready.'

And before Harry could even try and call her back, she had disappeared so quickly that it was almost like she had Disapperated.

Harry flopped himself down on the edge of the soft bed with a heavy sigh. He held his head in his hands for a few moments before looking up at Hedwig. His white snowy owl was sitting freely on a nearby desk, out of her cage, unusually quiet.

'I dunno, Hedwig,' Harry mused aloud. 'Girls, eh?'

Hedwig hooted loudly in reply, flapping her large wings.

'Yep,' Harry agreed glumly. 'My thoughts exactly.'

At least the occupants of the kitchen were in a slightly brighter mood; if only marginally. Mrs Weasley appeared to be her usual self, bustling around the large wooden table and serving up the hot, fresh food, although she appeared more tired and disheartened than usual.

'Baked beans,' she announced distractedly, slopping what was in fact tinned tomatoes onto Ron's plate. But most of it actually missed the plate, and the red mess spilled onto the tablecloth instead.

'Whoops,' Mrs Weasley said dreamily, before noticing Harry at the bottom of the stairs. 'Oh, hello, Harry.'

Ron looked over his shoulder at the mention of his friends name, and offered Harry a glum smile as the dark-haired boy slid into the empty seat next to him.

'Alright, Harry?' Ron asked hopefully. He, too, looked tired like his mother. He had the same unshaved suggestions of facial hair that Harry also had also sprouted, seemingly overnight, and eyes with such prominent bags under them that he looked much older than his seventeen years.

'Don't mind my mum,' Ron continued, gesturing with a nod of his head to Mrs Weasley, who was now trying to fry a wooden spoon in the saucepan. 'She's just worried about dad.'

Arthur Weasley, like so many other wizards, was still working. Though Dumbledore was gone, and Hogwarts closed until further notice, the Ministry of Magic was still around. Rumour was that they were investigating into Voldemort's whereabouts and plans more fiercely than ever before. They had no time to waste. With Death Eaters freely walking the globe, and the Dementors at Voldemort's side, there was not one witch or wizard who was safe from danger.

'How are you feeling, Harry?' asked Hermoine, who had popped out from behind Ron's head. She looked just as tired as the rest; bushy hair in a mess, a pale face, and eyes that once glowed with excitement and enthusiasm were now dull with fear.

Harry noted that Hermione was sat next to Ron. Nothing unusual about that. But Hermione appeared to have one of her hands placed on top of one of Ron's. And the other on his leg.

'I'm fine,' Harry lied eventually, eyeing Hermione's hand, then looking back at his two friends. They both blushed simultaneously, and snapped back to their original positions, no longer in physical contact with each other.

'Good,' Hermione concluded, in a slight fluster. She knew Harry was lying; weren't they all? 'Well, that's - that's really good. I'm glad.'

But Harry was hardly listening; he had noticed something else. Bill Weasley sat opposite, his fiancee Fleur cooing and fussing over him.

After the terrible accident barely a month ago, in which Bill had been attacked by the most deadly werewolf of the wizarding world - Fenrir Greyback - Bill had been discharged from hospital and was recovering rather well, considering the circumstances.

His face had changed; he obviously had many wounds, although no one could see them, they were covered up by bandages. Most of the left side of his face was bandaged, as well as one eye, most of his forehead, and a great deal of his neck. Harry didn't need to see the injuries. He remembered them, very clearly, from when he had seen a freshly attacked Bill lying on a bed in the hospital wing of Hogwarts.

At least Bill was still recognisable. Ginger hair poked out from the bandage around his head, and highly visible freckles framed the edges of a plaster that sat across his nose.

Fiancee Fleur was looking after him well. Right now she had cut up a large, fat sausage (since the werewolf attack, Bill had began showing some wolf-like traits, which included a sudden fondness for meat) into small pieces and was feeding it into Bill's mouth. He greedily chewed and swallowed each chunk instantly, always wanting more.

'At least 'e 'as still got 'is appetite!' Fluer giggled proudly as Bill took more sausage off the fork she was holding. 'We must focus on zee positives.'

Positives. What positives? Harry thought moodily to himself.

Lupin and Tonks were also at the table. Harry was relieved to see that at least they weren't holding hands, cooing over one another, or feeding each other food. They did, however, begin blushing and apologising profusely to one another as they both reached for the same bottle of ketchup; their hands brushing together accidentally.

Harry fought a strong urge to roll his eyes. Everyone, except him it seemed, was in some kind of relationship, or an extremely close mutual friendship, at the least. He suddenly remembered someone, and looked around.

Ginny had been placed in, or more likely chosen, the seat furthest away from Harry's. She had her flaming red, poker straight hair covering the one side of her face (the side that was facing Harry, coincidentally), and was hunched over her plate, as if wanting to hide. She didn't appear to want to join in any conversations.

Not really wanting to talk to anyone either, Harry forced himself to eat a forkful of scrambled egg before pulling towards him that days copy of The Daily Prophet. He almost gagged on his egg when he saw the date.

It was July 31st. Harry's seventeenth birthday - and he never even realised. He looked around the table, but there seemed to be little chance of everyone suddenly jumping from their seats and shouting, "Surprise!" Obviously everyone was so caught up in their own thoughts, that Harry's birthday had been forgotten by all.

Harry wondered if he should say anything, then decided against it for now. He wasn't in the mood for everyone falling over themselves, apologising for their forgetfulness and making him feel guilty for being selfish.

'I'm not hungry,' Harry stated bluntly, placing down his fork with a clatter. Hardly anyone in the room seemed to notice, though Ron gave him a slight sympathetic glance. Scraping his chair legs nosily across the floor, Harry stood up and headed for the stairs, wanting to be back in his bedroom. He felt like sleeping some more. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard someone mutter something.

'Oh dear,' Lupin sighed. 'Back off to his room again. I hope he doesn't end up like Sirius.'

Harry stood still on the stairs, feeling tears fill the bottoms of his eyes. He didn't try to hold them back, and ran the last few steps before storming into his room and diving onto the bed. He yanked a pillow over his head and cried freely onto the sheets.