Harry James Potter was sick of fame. He was sick of going to Diagon Alley under his Invisibility Cloak, sick of coming home every day to the mountain of fan mail, usually containing several bottles of love potion disguised as "chocolate," and, most of all, sick of the screaming. The constant, un-abating screaming of very silly girls.
Now, he collapsed into his easy chair by the fire, throwing his head back, and letting out a groan. Someone had stepped on his Invisibility Cloak in Diagon Alley, where he had been picking up some Broom Wax for Ginny, and the ensuing melee was more than he could bear. James was asleep, sucking happily on a toy, and Ginny sat at the table, sorting through the mail. Harry could fold himself into the chair, and brood as he hadn't done since he was a teenager.
"It's not as if I saved their lives. Most of the time I just got lucky, and had ideas at the last moment. They act as though it was all a blaze of glory, spells and cloaks and, and, I don't know. They forget that there was cold, and death, and losing sometimes and..." He trailed off, gazing at Ginny, who had a small smile on her face as she continued putting aside fragrant pink envelopes.
"You've heard this all before, haven't you?" Harry gazed at his wife, who raised an eyebrow pointedly. He sighed. She laughed aloud.
"Harry, why don't you get over to Ron and Hermione's for a while? I can ask Hannah over to keep an eye on Jamie for a while, and then I'll come too, once I'm done with the mail. We haven't had a good catch up in ages." Ginny grinned at her husband. "Oh, go on, you know you want to."
Harry couldn't resist taking her in his arms and kissing her, before Disapparating.
Arriving in Puddleby, only one village over, Harry strode briskly along the street. He didn't think there'd be anyone who recognized him here, but as a precaution, he ducked into an alley and performed a Disillusionment Charm, at which he had become very good. Arriving on the porch of the sprawling (and Unplottable) house where his two best friends in the world lived, he withdrew the charm and rapped on the door.
A wild barking sounded from within, along with some scuffling and muttered curses. A flash of red hair sped past the window, then dove to the floor. The door was opened a crack. A face, framed in bushy hair, appeared.
"Come in, hurry" whispered Hermione frantically. "Flossie's going bonkers, she's much too excited, she'll run out into the street if we're not careful. Come in Harry." And with that, she grabbed his arm and yanked him into the house.
Ron Weasley lay on the floor, on top of an enormous Irish setter, who was wriggling with all her might. The dog's red fur matched Ron's untidy mop of hair to a tee. The dog finally triumphed; throwing Ron off, she galloped up to Harry, leaping and whining.
"Hello Flossie, who's a good dog? You are, yes you are. Hello mate." Harry grinned at his disheveled friend, who, having gotten up, was scratching the back of his head, embarrassed.
"Blimey Hermione, couldn't you let up just for one night? She's stopped me just Petrifying the bloody mutt whenever someone comes to the door," he added, by way of explanation.
"Oh, shut up Ronald. Harry, why don't you come on in to the sitting room, I'll get us some tea." Hermione waved her wand in the direction of the kitchen, where clunking could be heard. Moments later, three mugs of freshly prepared tea came zooming towards them.
"Thanks, Hermione. Listen, Gin'll be along in a minute, you might make her some." Harry caught his tea, and followed Ron into the sitting room.
Indeed, it seemed that it took even less than a minute for Ginny to arrive. A knock sounded at the door, but before Ron or Hermione could arise, Ginny burst into the sitting room, her eyes wild.
"Oi, sister mine, may I remind you that this is MY house, and-" Ron began, but Harry shushed him impatiently. He had seen the expression in his wife's eyes. He stood, and approached her.
"Ginny, what is it? What's wrong?"
Her face was deathly pale. She held a crumpled letter in her hand.
"It's her. She's back. It's Bellatrix."