Disclaimer: All characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

CHAPTER 2: A Very Special Birthday

Harry landed on the ground with a hard thump, sending a cloud of dust flying. The impact of his landing left a clear imprint in the firm earth beneath his feet. He looked around searching for Ron and Hermione.

Harry heard Ron before he actually saw him.

"Ow!" Ron cried as he slowly got up from his position sprawled face flat against the ground. "Still haven't quite gotten the hang of this yet," he said sheepishly, rubbing the side of his head.

Hermione landed gracefully just a few moments behind them, trying to suppress a laugh at Ron's unfortunate landing.

"You've got some dirt on your nose, did you know?" she smirked, pointing at a spot on her own nose. "Just there."

"Not this again," Ron groaned. "And she says I'm the one that's immature," he whispered to Harry, "when she hasn't changed since first year!"

"I heard that, Ron," Hermione said lightly, already ahead of them. "I'm choosing to ignore it."

The sky was clear and bright, the meadows lush and green. Clouds of soft smoke were rising from The Burrow's many crooked chimneys. Several old wooden boards had been haphazardly nailed to accommodate the building's unusual architecture. The entire house looked like it was on the tip of collapse. Harry thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Before Harry, Ron, and Hermione had reached the front door, Mrs. Weasley was barrelling down the dirt path towards them, holding up her skirts as she went.

"Oh, it's so good to see you all!" she squealed, wrapping her arms tightly around all three of them at once. "The clock told me Ronnie had arrived," she said, referring to the Weasleys' family clock hanging in the living room. The old clock monitored the whereabouts of each family member. "Come in!"

"Mum, I thought I told you not to call me that," Ron muttered. "I'm already eighteen."

"Speaking of eighteen, someone's birthday is coming up soon!" Mrs. Weasley cooed, nudging Harry. "You're all growing up so fast, I'll be so lonely when you're all gone," she said, wiping away a sudden tear.

"It's alright, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said comfortingly. "We'll definitely visit whenever we can."

"Alright then," Mrs. Weasley said, perking up. "I've still got cooking to do, you kids can come in and get yourselves settled."

Mrs. Weasley disappeared through the back door, which was surrounded by rusty cauldrons, old wellington boots, cracked flasks, and a random assortment of burnt pans and bent utensils. The trio trailed behind. The gnomes had started peeking out of the ground from their tunnels to see what the fuss was about. Hermione stepped gingerly over the gnomes while Ron happily stamped on their heads.

The backyard consisted of a large, overgrown garden, with a muddy pond in the middle. The entire yard was surrounded by a fence which was originally white, but currently appeared to be more of a moldy yellow color. To the right, the cornfield stretched as far as the eye could see, bright tufts of yellow-green reaching into the sky.

Ron walked toward the broom shed, pulling open the door with a loud creak.

"Brilliant! All the broomsticks are still here!" Ron said excitedly. "We should play Quidditch, Harry! We could get Fred to join, and Ginny. No one's going to want Percy on their team though..."

"RON! Didn't I tell you to get in here?" Mrs. Weasley called loudly from within the house.

"You'll have plenty of time to talk Quidditch later," Hermione said as she entered the house, Ron and Harry not far behind her.

Although the last time Harry had visited, the house had undergone a massive reorganization in preparation for Bill and Fleur's wedding, The Burrow had once again become jumbled and cluttered. Harry didn't mind at all. The Burrow had always been everything he thought a home should be - warm, welcoming, lived in.

Mrs. Weasley was standing at the sink, flicking her wand as the dishes dried themselves and flew into the appropriate cabinets. Occasionally, she would run to the oven, peering through the oven window nervously.

"You don't bake, Mum," Ron commented.

"I'm trying out a new cookbook," Mrs. Weasley replied briskly.

Harry glanced at the massive cookbook propped open on the kitchen table. "Mastering the Art of Muggle Cooking: How Muggles Make Magic in the Kitchen by Marta Stewert," he read slowly from the cover.

"Yes, Muggle cookbooks are very popular lately," Mrs. Weasley said. "I'm making chocolate chip cookies, it's a very traditional Muggle recipe from - Oh!"

Mrs. Weasley pulled out the baking tray hurriedly. Where the chocolate chip cookies were supposed to be, Harry saw something resembling black hockey pucks.

"How did they bake so quickly? They were rising so slowly before, I didn't think anything would happen if I tampered with the oven just a little bit..."

"Mum, what's burning?" Ginny asked as she strolled into the kitchen.

"Nothing," Mrs. Weasley replied curtly. "Mind your manners, say hello to Harry."

"Harry's here?" She turned around and saw him standing by the kitchen table.

"Hi," Harry said, smiling. "Hope you've been doing alright."

"I've been fine," Ginny said. "Better now that you're here."

She was interrupted by the sound of a sudden coughing fit. Looking up, Harry and Ginny saw Ron.

"Ron, will you grow up please?" Ginny huffed. "It's not like you and Hermione are any better."

Ron's face turned bright red as he struggled to come up with a retort.

"We'll talk later, Harry," Ginny said. "I'm going to help Hermione finish setting up a bed in my room."

"You should help Harry with his bed too, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley cut in.

"Alright," Ron said. "Come on, Harry."

The two started their way up the staircase, winding up five flights of stairs before they reached the small room beneath the attic. The room was still exploding with bright orange Chudley Cannon posters. Books and quills were scattered all over the floor. The bed was unmade.

"Sorry it's such a mess," Ron said apologetically. "We were in such a hurry to leave last year, I don't think anyone's been up here since."

"No worries, mate," Harry said. "Your room's great."

Together, they shoved the books under the bed and tossed the broken quills into the wastebin. Ron threw all of his clothes and socks into his school trunk and forced the lid shut. The floor began coming into sight. They stood back and admired their work.

"Excellent," Ron said. "Now that that's finished, Accio mattress."

A mattress came zooming up the stairs, banging into the walls, and finally crashed into the door. Ron dislodged it with his foot and kicked it onto the floor.

"Ratty old thing," he said. "Should work fine though."

"RONALD! What are you doing up there?" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

"Helping Harry with the bed!" Ron called back.

"MUM! MY MATTRESS IS GONE!" Percy yelled from somewhere below them.

"RONALD! YOU BRING THAT BACK DOWN TO PERCY'S ROOM IMMEDIATELY!" Mrs. Weasley's voice was piercing even on the fifth floor.

"Guess I should've specified which mattress," Ron said. "Wish I could've seen the look on Percy's face when his mattress started flying out of his room though."

"I didn't know Percy was staying here," Harry noted.

"Percy's staying for the whole summer," Ron said. "Shacklebolt's giving him a break before he starts working for the Ministry in the fall. He's been holed up in his room studying Wizarding law or magical regulations or something boring and Percy-like."

"That was excellent, Ron," George interrupted. "The mattress hit Percy right in the back of the head. Couldn't have done it better myself. Oh, hello Harry!"

Harry waved in greeting. "How have you been?"

"Alright. I've been working on a new project for the shop, it's really taking off," George said. "You two interested in being test subjects?"

"Not particularly," Ron said.

"Still stuck on that nasty episode with Romilda Vane's Love Potion in sixth year? That's some strong stuff. Sold more than two hundred bottles just last year."

"Poor, unsuspecting souls," Ron grumbled. Harry nodded in firm agreement.

"Well, I'm starving," George said. "Let's go eat."

"Still have to get this stupid mattress back into Percy's room," Ron said. "You two go down first."

George and Harry started down the stairs. Harry could still hear Ron's voice faintly chanting, "Wingardium leviosa." He cursed a couple times before he finally got it right.

Mr. Weasley was already sitting at the dinner table when George, Harry, and Ron joined him. Ginny and Hermione were helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, stirring pots and pans and chopping vegetables.

"We're so happy to have you here, Harry," Mr. Weasley said warmly.

"Thanks for having me," Harry replied.

"You're always welcome here."

It was at times like these that Harry really wished he had a family like the Weasleys.

"What's that you're reading, dad?"

Mr. Weasley held up the front page of The Daily Prophet. "This article? Haven't you boys heard about the International Wizarding Games?"

They shook their heads.

"Goodness, I thought you all knew! It's been all over the news. Well, the International Wizarding Games are essentially a series of competitive sporting events that bring wizards and witches together from around the world. I guess you could say that it's the Quidditch World Cup except expanded for all sorts of sports like broom racing and cauldron lifting. The Muggles have their own version of the Games, they call it... the Oompa-links, I believe, and they hold it every four years."

"You mean the Olympics?" Hermione asked, joining the conversation.

"Yes, that! Of course, we couldn't afford to hold the Games every four years - the hospital costs get quite high, you see - so it only happens once every decade. They canceled the previous two Games since they were working on new regulations to make the events safer. The last time I watched the Games, I was your age! Just graduated from Hogwarts and all."

"What was it like?" Harry asked curiously.

"It was magnificent. I still remember the opening ceremony clearly. It was held in China that year, I think it was 1968..." Mr. Weasley got a dreamy look in his eyes. "The opening ceremony was simply spectacular. There were exploding fireworks in every color you could imagine, and the Directors of Charms enchanted the fireworks so they would dance like Qinglong azure dragons. Those dragons could blow actual fire! I really don't know how they pulled it off, quite difficult magic, very tricky technique..."

"They were able to do that just with charms?" Hermione inquired. "They could have just been shooting up actual fire in the air during the fireworks so it looked like the dragons were breathing fire, right?"

"Oh no, magic in east Asia is used quite differently you see. They do have wands - made out of rather strange materials, they have their own version of dragon heartstrings and phoenix feathers - but they commonly use Pixiu hairs - that's sort of a winged lion - and bamboo among some other strange plants and animals. It's truly quite fascinating. Anyway, a lot of wizards and witches choose not to use their wands after their studies. They perform magic by controlling energy flows, makes them especially talented healers. I don't know much about their magic, never really had the time to study them in depth. I learned everything I know from a Japanese gentleman visiting the Ministry for a conference on International Wizarding Health Policy. He was the one that told me about the enchantments on the firework dragons. Couldn't tell me the secret though."

Harry was thoroughly fascinated. He had never really thought about different types of magic existing outside of what he had known and experienced directly. Based on the looks on Ron and Hermione's faces, Harry could tell they were thinking along the same lines.

"I can't believe I haven't read about this before, I must not have been looking in the right places. There's just so much to learn about how other wizards and witches are using magic, and at such an advanced level as well," Hermione contemplated aloud.

"The Wizarding world is rather isolated," Mr. Weasley said, "likely because we work to prevent Muggles from finding about us. Wizarding communities are generally rather separated from one another. It's the reason the International Wizarding Games were started so long ago, to provide an opportunity for magic folk from all over the world to gather and showcase their abilities."

Mrs. Weasley interrupted the discussion by clearing her throat loudly. "Dinner's ready! The food's going to get cold."

Harry looked up and saw that the table was heaped tall with plates of roast chicken (courtesy of the Weasley's front yard), boiled potatoes, sausages and bacon, pumpkin soup, fresh bread and butter and jam, Yorkshire pudding and gravy, and even a rhubarb crumble for dessert. Harry's mouth watered just looking at all the food.

Wiping her hands on her apron, Mrs. Weasley said, "It's been a long time since we've had dinner together, sitting at this table. Regardless of difficult situations and painful losses, we've had each other. We've much to be thankful for." Her voice broke a little toward the end.

Everyone sitting at the table nodded in agreement, mumbling in quiet affirmation.

"To each and every one of you," Mr. Weasley toasted, raising his mug of pumpkin juice.

They ate and laughed and talked for hours, discussing everything from the International Wizarding Games to George's new business ideas to the weirdest paintings at Hogwarts. Harry hadn't known that there were so many strange characters besides the Fat Lady and Sir Cadogan. Apparently Brutus Scrimgeour in the Hogwarts Trophy Room was particularly talkative when drunk, and Merwyn the Malicious on the third floor was constantly cursing at passerby, but would fall asleep when he heard the Hogwarts song.

They ate until they couldn't eat another bite and laughed until their stomachs hurt. Harry hadn't felt so safe and happy for a long time.

By the time they finished clearing the dinner table and headed upstairs for bed, Harry could barely keep his eyes open. He all but collapsed onto his mattress besides Ron's bed - Ron had successfully found the guest bed before going downstairs for dinner - and fell asleep.

When Harry woke up the next morning, the sunlight was already streaming through the windows. Harry felt extremely well-rested. Not being inside Voldemort's head was extremely liberating; he no longer had strange nightmares and his scar hadn't hurt since the end of the war.

Suddenly, Ron's house elf-shaped alarm clock started jumping up and down, waving it's arms and squealing, "It's ten o' clock, you big old rock!" Harry looked over at Ron, who was tangled in his blankets and precariously close to falling off his bed. He was muttering in his sleep. "Get out of the way, McLaggen, you useless, bogey-brained bloke - you don't deserve to be Keeper..."

"Wake up, Ron," Harry said. "It's late."

Ron yawned widely and rolled over in his bed with a groan.

"BREAKFAST!" Mrs. Weasley hollered. "Get down here quickly, there are plenty of chores to do today! NO DAWDLING IN BED!"

Ron grunted and got up reluctantly. His toothbrush sailed down the hall and automatically began brushing his teeth before he even reached the restroom. Thinking of his days at the Dursleys before he learned he was a wizard, Harry thought to himself that magic was awfully convenient. He didn't know how he had gotten by without it.

The kitchen was filled with the wonderful aroma of freshly brewing coffee. Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, throwing bacon in the frying pan and scrambling eggs. A basket of assorted biscuits was already on the table, along with a large plate of grilled tomatoes and fried mushrooms, and a steaming bread and butter pudding.

"Help yourselves," Mrs. Weasley said. "Eat up! You'll be busy today. Ron, George, you two will be responsible for de-gnoming the garden. Harry dear, you don't-"

"I want to help," Harry interrupted.

"Well... alright, if you insist. But don't overwork yourself."

After Mrs. Weasley had convinced everyone to eat third helpings, Harry, Ron, and George headed outside into the garden. Ron was the first one to find a gnome. Deftly grabbing it by the ankles, he swung it over his head violently a couple times and let go. As Harry watched, he felt a pair of razor-sharp teeth sink into his ankle. He jumped in surprise and shook his foot rapidly back and forth. With a particularly forceful kick, the gnome was forced to release its grasp and ended up sailing at least forty feet. Harry felt quite pleased with himself and returned to work.

Soon the air was filled with gnomes flying in every direction. When they were relatively certain that they had completed de-gnoming the garden, Ron suggested that they take a break and do a couple rounds on the broomsticks. They each grabbed a broomstick from the shed and ran up the hill towards the small paddock the Weasleys owned.

Harry gripped the handle of the slightly beaten up Cleansweep Five tightly. He hadn't touched a broomstick since he had lost his Firebolt last year. Taking a deep breath, he kicked up against the ground and took off. It was the perfect day for flying. He could feel the sun warm on his back and a pleasant breeze breathing through his hair. Harry felt completely free. It was a wonderful feeling.

The three boys were soon racing amongst the tall trees, immersed in their own worlds as they sped through the sky. They swerved and dove and looped, blocking invisible Quaffles and catching imaginary Snitches. They even engaged in several rounds of broom racing, pretending they were champions in the International Wizarding Games, with the crowds cheering and roaring beneath them.

They were quickly brought back to reality when they realized that the roaring was actually coming from one red-faced Mrs. Weasley.

"BOYS! If you insist on pretending not to hear me any longer, you are going to regret it very soon!"

Afraid of facing Mrs. Weasley's wrath, they quickly descended and returned their broomsticks to the shed. The air was cooling and the sun was no longer high in the sky. Harry hadn't realized that they'd already been out for so long. He carefully closed the door of the shed behind him before heading toward the house. He was the last to enter.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!" Harry jumped up in surprise and looked up to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, George, Ginny, and even Percy standing around the table and smiling at him. A "Happy 18th Birthday" banner was hanging above the dinner table and automatically changed colors every thirty seconds.

In his excitement in coming to The Burrow, Harry hadn't even realized that it was his birthday. It had never been a big deal with the Dursleys, and the fact that anyone bothered remembering his birthday and actually throwing him a surprise celebration was a novelty.

Mrs. Weasley rushed back into the kitchen and came out bearing a giant cake with a pinkish frosting and eighteen large candles.

"Made it from scratch myself, using my new cookbook," she said proudly. "I didn't use any magic in the baking process, I only added the singing enchantment at the end. Charmed it to sing "Happy Birthday!"

Harry thought the cake sounded like it was howling "Banshee Buffet," but thought it would be wiser not to tell Mrs. Weasley.

"Make a wish, Harry," Ginny said.

Harry silently wished that his friends would always be safe, and that there would be more times in the future to be together like this. Memorizing the moment, Harry took a deep breath and blew out the candles. Everyone cheered and George let off some mini fireworks.

"Time for presents!" Ron exclaimed.

There was something from everyone. Mrs. Weasley gave him a hand-knitted scarf with his name embroidered on the edge in Gryffindor red and gold. Mr. Weasley gave him a book called "The Best of Muggle Magic Tricks" while Hermione had found him an autobiography called "The Life of an Auror" by Prichard Smith, who was apparently one of the first official Aurors. Ron picked up a massive bag of sweets from Honeydukes, which was overflowing with Acid Pops, Fizzing Whizzbees, Liquorice Wands, Sugar Quills, Peppermint Toads, and even a number of things Harry had never seen before. George gave him a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Sampler Kit with all of their bestselling products, including everything from Extendable Ears to Patented Daydream charms. Ginny had gotten him a subscription to "Quidditch Illustrated." Ron flipped through the magazine in interest but scowled when he found Viktor Krum flying back and forth for a new broomstick ad on page fourteen. Percy handed Harry a thick volume entitled "The Encyclopedia of Wizard Law Part 1." Even Hagrid had gotten a gift for Harry, sending it by owl. It was a miniature model of a Hungarian Horntail that blew fire when you pulled its tail.

Harry thanked everyone at least a dozen times and thought that there wasn't a thing he would have changed about his eighteenth birthday.

It was definitely his best yet.