Chapter Notes:

Okay, I hit about 9300 words and the chapter was still about 7/8 finished, so I decided it was not good for a 'healthy' reading and splitted it into two… Next chapter is going to be the second reading of the will and its chain of effects. I finally figured out how to arrange all the points and put them into writing. Hopefully this time I am not going to disappoint you all. Ah, and about my pathetic attempt at decent Harry Potter fan fiction… would someone help me with the sequel? Or do you still wish for one? :uncertain: Well, anyway, I hope you will enjoy this chapter and the last four chapters later.

- Rey

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Chapter 11: Happy Birthday, Harry!

In the appointed time and place, only Julian and Dick showed up. They said that George and Anne were tired and just wished to relax in the motel – wherever it was. Neither of the other children bought their line of reasoning, yet they were reluctant to press the matter further. Vorin and Henry were not present either, that was why; they did not want to bring their own absences into the two boys' attention. The six children talked amiably on the shore while eating little snacks the twins had brought for them all, then they moved to the water when nightfall was closing in around them. It might be perceived as something foolish and dangerous to do, since they only had the flashlights attached to the prow tip of the canoes and Dila's nack with anything about water (which was by the way not known to Julian and Dick), but at any rate they decided that they would be more comfortable and felt safer if on water, where they were harder to be reached by anything or anyone that might prove harmful.

Julian and Dick and the rest of their group, who called themselves the Five Friends and surprisingly included Timmy the dog in their number, told the other children that they were spending a three-day holiday in a motel by a lake larger than this one by half, which lay just about a mile from this neighbour of theirs. They had just been settled in the rooms their family had rented in the afternoon, before their 'stroll' to the 'next-door' lake they had found in when perusing the map of the Lake District. They had been curious since there were some buildings mentioned in the map, strewn in seemingly random places around the smaller lake, but there were no mention of any resort there. They had asked the receptionist in the loby of the motel, and he had supplied them with bits of information: that the land there, as well as some portion of the lake, were private areas owned by someone whom he would not speak of but hold a measure of reverence over, and that perhaps in just a little time the lake itself would be entirely a private property – based on a reason he had also not wanted to share with them. Their curiosity had been provoked into a new, higher level instead of sated, and so they had gone to explore.

Harry smirked to himself. Ah, so he had been right after all about the adventurous tendency of the "Five Friends." But meanwhile, uneasiness crept steadily all over him. The reaction of the receptionist, who was most likely a local who had known the Kensington couple from stories and rumors if not from direct acquaintance, disturbed him, reminding him too much about the odd stares and subtly(but strangely)-fond gestures directed at him in the family's tours around the manour and estate before he had been adopted into the household. There were obviously things this receptionist knew or guessed rather correctly about his parents, and it might have to do with him, too, given the fact shared by Julian that the ownership of the lake – water and land and buildings alike – had been stagnant from "time out of mind."

Time out of mind! That sounded too much like a fairy tale. Yet he could see an ounce of truth in it: The possession of the properties must have dated back to probably the medieval era… or perhaps even before that. His mind boggled on the thought of such a long period of time, so he stopped thinking right afterwards and opted to just enjoy the caress of the night breeze on his coarse but no-longer spiky (now) very-dark red hair. If he closed his eyes and concentrated in his imagination, he could picture his mother raking solid, soft, warm fingers across his locks instead of the moving air, her wont to do when he was agitated about something.

Ah. He had not been long away from her and yet here he was, missing her already. He still could not decide if his affection towards his adoptive mother meant an insult to the memory of his biological one, who had sacrificed even her life to ensure his living; yet anyway he could not prevent himself from building a genuine affection towards Harriet, and a craving for her generously-and-sincerely-given motherly touches he had lost prematurely. Besides, if he fretted over the philosophy of it all, he would lost everything, and who knew when or if he would recover them back?

By the way, what was Dila doing in the other boat with Julian and Dick? Come to think of it again, he realised that they had been whispering one to another since about five minutes ago…

And now said girl was staring at him…

"Wait for us in that islet, would you? We shall be joining you shortly. I need a few moments with Julian and Dick; just a few moments. We are going to see what it's all about tomorrow, by the way, so don't ask what we shall be talking in private." She pointed at the shadow of a dot of land some twenty powerful strokes diagonal from their current point; her eyes, lit faintly by the 'headlight' of the boat Ana, William and Harry were occupying, were decorated with her typical tell-tale secretive glint. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, hoping that she could see the gesture from her usual position on the stern of the other boat. He was not particularly fond of surprises, but resisting her and persisting to trail her was a moot point.

He just wished she would not grin so gleefully and yet enigmatically, triggering his curiosity and torturing him with it. `Tomorrow,` he growled viciously, sulkily, to himself, while trying to come up with a good retaliation for her subtle teases.

But "tomorrow" brought a new story.

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In the meantime, Dila navigated the boat she was commanding to the farthest and lushest islet in the mini archipelago. She smiled and graciously thanked the two boys sitting before them when they complimented her rowing skill. Her confidence on the water reminded them of George their cousin, they confessed. The statement, however, reminded Dila of another subject: They had been too long away from their respective families, and night was growing very late, despite the impression that it had only begun. She must be quick with her explanation and later apologise to the two boys for holding them away from their family. She must come up with an excuse for her parents and Viniele too for their lateness in returning. Hopefully the adults were not searching them as of now.

The islet they were aiming for was one of the largest in the lake. It was rocky despite the thriving vegetation and had no beach, but there was a natural bay fit for a boat 'parked' parallel to its length on the side which faced another islet some ten powerful strokes away. Dila carefully maneuvered the boat to the bay, then she jumped to the flat outcrop of rock beside it which served as a natural pier there, and tied a rope which was attached to the stern tip of the boat to a low, sturdy branch of the nearest tree which actually almost bowed over the small bay as if protecting it. She motioned the boys to leave the boat as well, and before long they were already perched in a tree near the centre of the islet, leaving the boat to itself with its headlight still on. The boys looked uneasy, although they struggled to hide it from Dila for the sake of their manly pride. Believing that they could not see her in the gloom under the foliage, the girl smirked with mischief and a little smugness. She had managed to impress them, or so she hoped, and if she was lucky, they would not perceive her and her twin as weaker than them – or any other boys – again.

"Still remember about our plan for tomorrow?" she asked them conversationally. Receiving their positive confirmation, she continued, "We will do all those things, hopefully, but only after a birthday party for Harry."

"A birthday party for Harry?" Julian was pleasantly surprised.

"In the morning?" Dick asked, seeming unable to decide whether to be totally serious or laugh at the absurdity of the idea.

"Yes," Dila grinned, excitement and glee in her voice. "The adults – I mean our parents and governess – will be away for the rest of the day, and we've all decided earlier, without Harry of course, that it'd be better if we hold the party in the morning, while everyone is still fresh. There is going to be a celebratory dinner in the end of the day too, but that's not the main part of the whole celebration."

"We've no present for Harry," Dick lamented. Inwardly, he wondered where the Dila he knew and had been acquainted with so far had gone. She had just almost blurted everything just now! It was different from the formal manner she had been conducting herself in beforehand. He wondered, too, if Julian was thinking of the same thing.

"Don't worry," Dila placated him, some of her earlier self returning. "He is going to be just fine, I think. Well, after all, he isn't even aware of his birthday celebration."

There was something she did not tell them, and that made the boys itch with curiosity, badly. They were reluctant to ask her, though, barred by propriety and a sense of compunction. They listened in silence, commenting here and there when necessary or when their curiosity got the better of them, as she told them about the strange-dressed and even-stranger-mannered people who would be invited to the party, and about the plan for the party itself. The thought of going to a party full of weird people and their inability to meet the dress code almost made them baulk from her invitation to the celebration, if not for her persistent coaxing. She seemed to be a very-skilled negociator, and the boys were both appreciative and unnerved about it.

They returned to the others afterwards to explore the straits between the islets, enjoying the eerie beauty of the night around them, dimly illuminated by their headlights. They parted around ten o'clock, after expressing their worries about what their parents would say about their tardiness and if they would be permitted to have a late dinner. The brothers gave their new friends a look of mock despair, answered by the twins' grins, William's reciprocating countenance, and Harry's genuine, if concealed, fear and uncertainty.

"Till later," they chorused in farewell when the brothers were safely deposited on the shore. Julian and Dick waved until the other children could not see them again, then they looked intently at each other and nodded. There was a mystery to solve. The Five Friends would be on the move again, it seemed.

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"Mum and Dad are asleep?"

"Yes."

"Aunt Fanny and Uncle Quentin?"

"Yup."

"The girls?"

"Naw. Whispering to each other, I think. I heard them."

"Good."

Julian grinned. Dick had just come back from scouting the other three rooms they rented for the holiday. It was a little past midnight. They had waited for some time before sending one of them to spy on their family, thinking that someone like their scientist uncle might stay up late to take note of an idea or two. Now that the area was clear, they could sneak out of their room, defying the ban their mother had put on them just two hours ago, and go to the girls' bedroom which was adjacent to theirs.

Praying that they were not caught by any of the adults, they made each a mound in an imitation of their bodies under their blankets to deceive whoever decided to peep in. Then they went out the door, closed it as quietly as possible, and crept along the dimly-lit corridor.

They nearly crashed with George, who seemed to be doing the same. The three children caught themselves only just in time from screaming in surprise. "Fool you, George," Julian grumbled, glaring half-heartedly at his cousin. "Now come on. I don't want to stay outside for too long."

They sprinted on tiptoes to the girls' room and quickly sealed themselves behind its door. The boys exhaled loudly when they deemed themselves safe. "I thought you were Mum, George," Dick accused. Their mother had been mad with worry, and none of the children had seen her so frightened and yet so angry. They had been sent off to bed without dinner, but thankfully they were not forbidden from attending Harry's birthday party or spending a day with the children staying in the neighbouring lake… because they had not yet told their respective parents about that.

"Your fault," Anne glared at Dick, then at Julian. It appears that she had not forgiven them for returning late. None of the boys objected to the accuse, though. Their eyes were riveted to the simple writing desk on one corner of the room, to the plates of covered food arranged neatly there. When she caught where they were staring, she snorted and waved them to tuck in the meal she had saved from dinner. "You know," she said amidst her snickering alongside George, "I would've done more than forbidding you to have supper if I were Mum."

Dick, still eating, glared sulkily at her, while Julian actually paused from his meal and gave his youngest sibling a pointed stare. "Then we'd all have missed Harry's birthday party. That's a good chance for us to know more about him and his family, and perhaps the only one," he said, then launched at the description of the brothers' night-time wandering in the lake and their conversation with Dila and the rest of her company. He finished with a firm declaration that they ought to 'smuggle' themselves from the motel and their parents' attention for the party, and probably for the rest of the day too. That was not easy to do, he admitted, but the result of it might be worth the effort.

"I shan't go," George said abruptly during a lul in the low-toned conversation. Her relatives stared oddly at her, and her dog too. She returned the stares with a glare and just pointed at Timmy.

"Dila didn't say anything about Timmy, so I guess we may bring him to the party," Julian suggested.

George sniffed derisively. "The tone you and Dick used, it's as if she's a heroine of some sort," she scowled. "She's just a bossy girl. Trying to be all noble. I bet she thinks it looks great or something."

Julian burst out laughing at the vehement statement. Anne rolled her eyes at her cousin and giggled. Dick, though, took it less humorously. "You're jealous about her," he opined. So quiet was his own statement that it was nearly drowned under Julian's guffaw.

George went beet-red. "I'm not!" she screamed. Immediately a door nearby the room snapped open, and the children were forced to hide under the beds (in the case of Julian and Dick) or in them (for George and Anne). The boys held their breaths when the door to the room crieked open and their mother's face poked in, her wary eyes roaming the room – thanks to the lamp which the children had not had the time to turn off. They could not see much by just peeping over the edge of the covers spilling down the beds, though.

It took their mother a full minute to be convinced that the girls were asleep, five minutes afterwards for the children to be convinced that she had gone back to her room and to her sleep (they had heard her checking in the boys' bedroom), and yet another five minutes before they dared to forsake their pretenses and came out from their hiding places.

"Fool," Dick hissed, glaring at George. "Haven't you learnt anything from our previous experiences?"

"Dick," Julian warned. George's face was going red again.

Dick ignored him. "If you didn't notice, then I'll tell you: I recognised her friends. They are Princes William and Harry. So it's rather natural that they went a bit formal and cautious with us. I, too, think that her extended formality is only a quirk of hers, since her friends and family seemed to recognise it well and take it lightly." He strode out of the room and, before he vanished completely, he said, "Night, all. Don't forget to think about suitable presents for the big Harry and how to distract the adults."

The atmosphere after his abrupt leaving was awkward at best. Anne excused herself to bed just a minute after her older brother had left the room, although it did not make much difference since she was practically still in the same room with them. She just hoped, inwardly, that everything would go well from there.

And it did, at least marginally. Julian excused himself from the room too, although less abruptly than Dick, leaving George the only person there who was sitting upright and alert.

"Do you think what Dick said was true?"

The question hung heavily in the air. George stared hard at the bundle under the opposite bed's covers. Anne stiffened under her blankets but did not react to the provocation in any way. She pretended she was asleep, and in just a few minutes it was a pretense no more. George, getting no response from her cousin, actually grew tired of waiting and irritated that she just turned off the light and lay back down in her bed as well, entering her dreamland in a darker mood than Anne.

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It was just before dawn. The night was at its coldest and most silent moment. A cloaked-and-hooded figure crept into the prison building, as quiet and cunning as an assassin. It blended in with the shadows but did not shirk from the occasional lights. After all, the guards were either talking with each other or dozing off in their posts. A Notice-Me-Not Charm was enough to fool the CC TV cameras, both the hidden and the conspicuous ones. And when the figure arrived at the cell he had come for, a Silencing Charm on the barred dor and a bit of mental tweaking on the locking system ensured it a smooth, unnoticed entrance into the gloomy room wherein three inmates were all asleep soundly and snoring.

Unfortunately, it was just when one of the inmates decided he wanted to visit the chamber pot. The figure stood aside in a dark corner when he passed, and only stepped back to its earlier spot when the inmate was about to head back to his bed. They stood facing each other for some seconds before the – now terrified – pudgy man in prisoner's garb opened his mouth, about to holler to the guards about the intruder. No sound came from his throat. His eyes widened almost comically.

The figure motioned to the empty bed with a gloved hand from under its cloak. The hapless inmate hobbled to it and dropped onto the hard mattress gratefully, shaking with fear down to his slippered feet. He could tell that the intruder was powerful, and not in any way he had known before; the mysterious figure had a large amount of literal power which made almost everything possible.

Even magic.

Magic. The word left a bitter taste in the man's mouth although he did not say it out loud. A dealing with magic was what had thrown him into this prison about a month ago, making him one of the lot whom he had always jeered in many occasions. And now this person…

He sprang to his feet, suddenly finding back his courage. Believing that the intruder had incapasitated his vocal cord, he contented himself with glaring at the hooded head of the uninvited guest. The glare turned into an outright scowl when he heard a faint snort coming from the direction of the 'mystery-man'. His bravery did not last long, however, as he quickly retreated to the farthest corner of the bed when the cloaked figure stepped closer to him, looming over him seemingly without effort.

The figure raised its hand and did several motions with it in the air. The prisoner shrunk further away, realising that the gestures were directed at him. Then he felt it: a sensation which raised the hairs on his arms and neck and head, which he had always felt when his freakish nephew had shown forth the abominable power called magic around him. What was this menace doing with him?

He never knew. The freaky, powerful, scary lunatic slipped out of the cell as gracefully and silently as when it had come in without looking back. He went into a fitful sleep afterwards, and totally forgot about his unnerving encounter with the 'mysterious-man' in the morning.

He did not know that his wife and eleven-year-old only son experienced the same thing in their respective sleeping areas, or that in a cottage faraway in Lake District a wife was waiting for the homecoming of her sneaking-out husband with a near-murderous look on her face, ready for a grand verbal explotion.

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Dawn broke in glorious colours over the treetops, setting them afire by lighting up the dewdrops that clung to the surface of the leaves and branches. The songbirds welcomed the sun's return to the world with a cheery chorus of their beautiful chirps and tweets and chirrups and twitters, their slender heads raised up towards the brightening sky.

Harry sat on the damp wood of one of the posts on the dock. His head was as well tilted up, welcoming back the yellow eye to its celestial throne. A post away from him, Dila was ruminating the fusion of colours formed around the giant fiery ball which was the body of the sun; he knew, because her drawing tablet was with her, and every so often she would look down to it to add a streak or two to its open page with her omnicolour pencil. They had been there for close to an hour, silent and contemplative.

They would still be there for another hour, if Renna the guide dog did not bounce down to them from the back door of the cottage and bark, calling to them. Harry was the first to turn away from the heavenly tablo of colours and climb up the slope to the back door, where Harriet was waiting with Ana. Before he could greet them, though, Harriet had already enveloped him in a tight embrace and half-crooned a happy birthday for him, followed by a kiss on his cheeks and brow. Warmth with had little to do with the hug or the rising sun bathed him, and he simply hugged her back with equal tightness, conveying the gratitude his words failed to voice.

His friends and siblings had given their birthday wishes to him much earlier, after waking him up by throwing themselves on him (Vorin and Henry), tickling his bare feet (Ana and Dila) and ears (George Junior), or taking photograph of the whole mess of piled bodies and tangled limbs (Edward). His parents had only gone to sleep just then, according to Edward. Apparently, the patriarch of the family had snuck away from the cottage about three A.M. without notifying anyone, and that made his wife quite worried… until he went home and she could lash out her worries to him in the privacy of their bedroom. Thus, Harry did not expect them to remember his birthday at all, or wake up early and greet him that lovingly. This was a pleasant surprise to him and a present on its own.

Not that he expected any present at all. His friends and family did not give signs that they would give him presents. He did not mind that. A bunch of birthday wishes was more than he had hoped to get, seeing that he had thought that they would not notice (or pretend not to notice) his special day, just like the Dursleys and his former schoolmates.

They ate a hearty breakfast on the dock at seven o'clock, early for most people adopting the western culture but apparently not for the family. Dila, as usual, sat in her beloved Alexis, her very own canoe which was made of wood instead of fibreglass and died soft multicolours, while enjoying her meal. Vorin and Henry, for once, sat side by side on two small chairs without involving themselves in a fight; but perhaps, their civility resulted from how near Viniele, Harriet and George Senior sat from them too. George Junior and his friend Edward seated themselves farthest in the range, whispering and frowning to each other as if plotting or worrying about something. The scent of melted cheese, grilled sandwiches, bacon and boiled eggs permiated the dock, mingling with the unique tang of the lake and the brisk highland breezes. Moments like this was Harry's favourite, and there were many, since the family seldom had their meals indoors.

The Five Friends, to his surprise, showed up on the front door at eight. He was colouring with Vorin in the working room, and the one who welcomed them was Dila. He was more surprise when, on his sister's call to join her in the central room, his little brother vehemently refused to go with him. "Why, Vorin? You aren't afraid with Timmy, are you?" he asked the five-year-old in concern. Vorin had never refused to meet anyone before, not even William and Henry. "Come on. I'm carrying you there, okay?"

To that, Vorin wept and threw a small tantrum, wriggling and jerking on his lap but did not attempt to run away. Harry gave up. "Five minutes, please!" he called out to his sister and the unexpected guests. Then he stood up and jiggled Vorin in his arms, careful not to let the little boy slip. He was rather confused and helpless now.

"Is there something wrong with those kids, little imp?" he murmured to the squirming form in his secure embrace. Inwardly, he thanked his much experience with the little one in the latter's moments of hyperactivity or temper tantrums (the first of which was more dominant), because, if not, he would not have been able to hold up the latter this long.

"Hey, talk to me, please…" he coaxed, bestowing a peck on Vorin's temple. He was still not used to getting signs or gestures of affection, less to giving them out, and he hoped his brother realised how meaningful the quick kiss was to him. A far-fetched hope, it seemed.

Well, but apparently not in the reality. Vorin did cease his struggling and crying. He wiped his eyes and cheeks and nose on Harry's T-shirt, giggling faintly when the older boy growled in a half-hearted manner. But then he did something totally unexpected: His eyes met Harry's, regarding him as though they were equal in age, knowledge and experience. Up close, Harry could see that the red irises were not gone from the little one's eyes, only veiled, to reappear when in an extreme state – or so he guessed.

"What's troubling you?" the older brother murmured, once again asking. The maturity in the pale-blue orbs melted away, and they were back to childlike again. Without taking his eyes away from his older brother, the five-year-old put his index and middle fingers into his mouth and sucked at them. He seemed to be at a loss for words, and that made him on the verge of tears again.

Harry decided to help him, seeing that he did not want to make the Five Friends wait any longer in the central room. "Do they remind you of some people? People from… from when you weren't with us?" He could not bring himself to mention the streets and the tough and violent life the little one must have led.

Vorin nodded without saying a word. The insides of Harry's stomach cavity froze.

"These… these are different, Vorin – I believe so. They look just fine. If they do something bad to you, you have me and the twins and Jerry, and Mum and Dad too."

After all, what else could he have said for a past trauma and horrible life? He had some himself, and he did not know what to do about them. Until the both of them found a better solution, the promise must suffice.

And Vorin nodded to that.

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"Come on. It's just a little party," the twins chorused. Their arms wound around Harry's in a vise-like grip. They were dragging him between them across the last several meters to the pavilion on the opposite side of the lake. The boy's eyes, abnormally wide, were riveted to the front of the pavilion where several people in fancy robes were milling around and talking to each other, refreshments in their hands. Sounds of tableware clinking and more chatting wafted out from the inner side of the pavilion, suggesting the presence of a greater number of people housed inside the ornate one-room building.

"It's not the end of the world!" William joked in a whisper behind the trio. Henry, bouncing beside him, giggled. Together, they slipped into the pavilion and to the back of it.

Before Harry knew who did it, a pair of strong arms wrapped him in a heartfelt embrace, pressing his face to a broad chest reverberating with a low chuckle. It was George Senior, he surmised, given the fresh-spring scent his nose caught lingering in the silk shirt it was pressed to and the typical sound of his father's laughter. So here was where his father vanished to since an hour ago…

Then where was his mother and Viniele?

Oh, there they were, grinning in amusement at his expense by the end of the serving counter of a buffet of refreshments. He threw them a pouting glare, trying to veil – in vain – the faint twinkles of childish happiness in the depths of his vivid-green orbs. "Thanks, Dad," he whispered in a soft, croaky voice to his father's midriff. He reciprocated the hug for a moment, then detached himself and made a beeline to his mother and governess.

"You will like it, Harry," Harriet whispered as she enveloped the overwhelmed birthday boy in a bear hug no less strong than her husband's, reminding Harry of what she had been until several years ago. "We set you up for this. You aren't feeling cheated, are you?" She laughed. "There is no girl to impress over yet, after all."

"Muuum." Harry, cheeks reddening, glowered up at his mother, who just laughed harder. He pouted and slipped from her slackening arms, but his escape was cut short as then Viniele swooped down on him, giving him the same tight embrace his parents had given him before. He tried to sneak out to the open air afterwards, but his way was blocked by his big brother, who was currently charged with minding the littlest one in the family.

"Happy birthday again, Harry," George Junior smiled and tweaked his nose. Vorin attempted to imitate the gesture from his perch in the young man's arms, but Harry had caught the younger boy's small hand before he could do so and meanwhile sent a glare up at George. And once again, his annoyance fell short of the mark. His soldier brother marched him out of the pavilion, and there they gathered together with the twins, William, Henry, and the Five Friends under the shade of an oak tree. Edward, his camera dangling down his chest, added himself to the group in a moment, tailed by six men in casual shirts and slacks.

"My friends in the armed forces, little ones," George introduced the six men to Harry and Vorin. "We will be spending our time today with them – well, and Vin too. Mother and Father will be doing something with some of the guests."

"Doing what? Mama and Papa go?" Vorin looked dejected.

"That's not the way to say it, Vorin; but yes, your mama and papa must do something with some other adults." George bounced the five-year-old in his arms, preventing Vorin from pestering him further or throwing a tantrum. For someone rather reserved and formal, he was surprisingly adept at handling young children.

The six men (Carl, Clark, Steven, Patric, Tom and John) did not linger with them. When Harriet, George Senior and Viniele appeared on the threshold of the pavilion, they had melded with the surrounding trees and low cliffs, leaving the group of ten children and two young men to themselves. They beckoned Harry inside, and as one the group moved with him; curious and, in Harry's case, apprehensive.

It was just as well, for Harry tasted his first experience at formalities there, while receiving birthday wishes from various people, most of whom belonged to the Wizarding World. Upon realising the identity of the birthday boy, many of them tried to utilise the occasion to gain his favour, for whatever reason, something that he found more unpleasant than the strained pleasantries. After a while, perceiving that his siblings and friends were equally uncomfortable with the enthusiasm, he urged them to leave him alone, escaping the spotlight while they could.

There were several Wizarding families in the throng of partygoers. Most of them were simply glad – and honoured – to meet the famous Harry Potter in person, yet some grated at his nerves, contrary to their seeming hope of gaining his good graces. All, though, vexed him because they always called him "Harry" and seemed to be unwilling to call him otherwise. What was wrong with the name Harlend? Besides, he was not even their acquaintance yet, so calling him by his full first name should be just proper.

"David Greengrass, Harry Potter. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. This is my wife, Edelweiss, and my daughters, Daphne and Estoria."

The man was handsome but haughty and prim, not unlike his family. His ice-blue eyes, inherited by his daughters, were sharp and calculating. His cocky confidence, which was imitated by his family, made Harry wish to humiliate him in some way

It did not help at all that the man tried subtly to match Harry with first Daphne then Estoria. Unfortunately for Harry, It was not the only instance of someone over-interested in his love affair. He sulked and groused at the twins because one of the school friends they invited to the party, Cho Chang, kept tagging him along and fluttering her long eyelashes at him, trying to impress him more than the mere beauty of her Asian complexion had done. She was indeed beautiful, and the glimmer in her eyes promised a thirst of learning balanced with good intelligence. If only she would stop stalking him, perhaps he would consider befriending her…

But there were some individuals who were even worse than the Greengrasses or Cho Chang. One of them was Cornelius Fudge, whom his father had invited rather reluctantly to the party – or so George Senior told him. Harry was surprised when the estatic man in mismatched set of Muggle clothes introduced himself as the Minister of Magic; for one, said man did not look like one. The man blustered about being happy to meet him at last, about his being the hope of the Wizarding World—

He? An eleven-year-old who could not put up even a simple distraction spell to save his life (literally), the hope of a community full of witches and wizards? Until then he had not been able to appreciate Ana's derisive statement ever told to him that humans were ridiculous.

Then came Horas Sluckhorn, and Cornelius Fudge was driven out of the flustered boy's mind.

"Harry, my boy!"

`I am my parents' boy, not yours.`

"How are you, child?"

`Miffed, frustrated, tired, impatient, sarcastic…` "I am fine, Sir. Thank you." `Should I ask him how he is? He's obviously elated. Ah crap. Pleasantries.` "And you, Sir?"

"What a polite boy! I am fine, Harry, thank you very much."

`I am not five years old! Even Vorin would probably throw a tantrum if he were addressed like that by a stranger.` "Would you mind calling me Harlend, Sir?" `Hopeless, but why not try it once again?`

"But why, my boy? Everyone knows you are Harry Potter. Why change it? Were you obliged by someone?"

`No talking about my family like that!`

Thankfully, the portly old man seemed to realised what he had said and was swift to apologise. But still.

"I would thank you if you would never again speak about my family like that, Sir," Harry said in a low, stiff tone. "They took me in and treat me like human, not a plague or vermin, ever since. I lived for ten years without knowing how it was to be loved unconditionally, but now I am beginning to taste it." He nodded curtly to the man in farewell, then strode off towards where Ana was teaching Vorin to make shapes with his fingers and hands, possibly just so that the little one was kept entertained. He was about to join them and offer a simpler game to the frustrated Vorin when Viniele called to him softly from the sidelines, saying that he was expected by his parents near one of the smooth cliffs by the water.

His heart pounding in his chest and throat, he nodded to her and made a beeline to said place. The called looked to be not at all coincidental to him. Had his parents or other family members been around when he had confronted Slughorn? If so, what did they think of him now? Would he be reprimanded for acting like that against Slughorn? Was he dubbed arrogant and a disappointment now? Was it really true that they loved him unconditionally? He had said that to Slughorn, yes, but that had only served to make a point… had it not?

He gulped. His insecurity, priorly repressed by the plentiful warmth showed by his family, returned full force. What would happen now? Would—

A pair of arms encircled him, drawing him close to a woman's body and the scent of lavender and lilac. His mother.

Gulping once more, Harry looked up and around. He had arrived at his destination without realising it; and there they were, his parents. But what was in their faces? Guilt? No, he must be mistaken. He was not as provicient in reading subtle gestures or looks as Dila, after all.

"Shall we adjourn the party for now, son?" George spoke softly. Was that concern in his voice?

"Harry, you are not breathing, son. Calm down." But really?

Harry felt faint. So perhaps his mother was right. But—

"You are not totally at fault here, son. Please calm down and we shall explain everything to you," George murmured. Harry nodded feebly, startled when his father raked his stiff hair reminiscent of his biological father – or so his parents had said. So they were not angry with him for telling off that weird guest?

He sat down between his parents on the smooth rock jutting out over the lake and tried to manage his breathing. It needed quite some time, but his parents appeared unconcerned about it. When he had gained some semblance of composure, he asked them in a timid voice, "You are not angry with me?"

His parents laughed. Harry gaped slightly.

"This is your first time exposed to your fame in the Wizarding World, Harry," George smiled. Now there was no mistaking the guilt in the depths of his pale-blue orbs. But why?

"We called you here to apologise," Harriet joined in. This baffled Harry even more.

"Why?" He voiced it at last.

"We should not have piled everything on top of you at once," Harriet explained. "We should have just invited some close friends to celebrate your birthday this year, so you would not be overwhelmed."

This year? So there would be next year and more?

"You—You shouldn't," Harry stammered. On his parents' expressions of mingled confusion and surprise, he hurriedly elaborated, "You shouldn't do that – I mean celebrating my birthdays with parties like this. Just birthday wishes like this morning was already quite enough. I don't want to burden you. Please don't go out of your way on my account."

"But how if we want it?"George drawled. The tone was so alien to his character that Harry was flabbergasted and speechless.

His father grinned. "That is settled, then. You ought not to fret about the parties or everything else. They are done out of sincerity, son." He ruffled Harry's hair, making the messy nest even more unkempt. Afterwards, though, the grin slipped from his face and he became more serious.

"We do apologise for the arrangement of this party, Harry: for exposing you to so much attention at once, and without adequate preparation too. What you did with Horas Slughorn Is something you should not have done, but we understand that you are overwhelmed with everything… which is our fault." He raised a hand when Harry was about to give a remark about his statement. "No, Harry, please don't defend us against a glaring mistake we have made. And by the way, you are wrong if you think yourself a disappointment." He cast the boy a sharp, shrewd look. "For someone who has never been exposed to this environment and setting before, you did remarkably well." And the admonishing gaze became a proud one.

"This party is supposed to be closed with an evening dinner, but if you feel too overwhelmed, we can cancel that part," Harriet opined. "Don't hesitate to say no, Harry. This is your birthday, your party. You are not a mascot to be paraded or made into a display. We never think you as other than a family member to be cherished, just like our other children."

If Harry had not been truly overwhelmed, then he certainly was, now.

"Your mother and I must be away soon on some business with several of our guests here. We are hopefully back in time, then," George said when Harry shook his head. He looked sincerely relieved – and grateful, for a reason Harry could not even guess. The father, mother and son then spent some time only sitting there enjoying the view of the party and the lake from the sidelines, basking in the late-summer morning sunlight meanwhile.

And so peace slowly settled back in Harry's mind and heart.

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End Notes:

Oops. Cheesy ending? Sorry, people. I was stumped there. Is there any better idea for the ending above? I would appreciate it.

I told a reviewer that Harry's placement in Hogwarts will stay canon, but I changed my mind recently, given my dissatisfaction with this messy plot I had. So now, people, you get to have a say in the matter of his schooling. I have no poll put up for this, but you could tell me your choice(s) via review, E-mail, PM, or instant messenger (unknown(underscore)aware(at)hotmail(dot)com)

The question is: What will Harry be in?

The options are:

Homeschooled

Gryffindor

Hufflepuff

Ravenclaw

Slytherin

All four Houses

A combination of two Houses (please specify)

I would very much appreciate your view on the matter.

I think I will revamp this story once it is finished. Someone wants to help me with plots, characterisation, ideas and whatnots?

And here is something that is long overdue…

Shoutouts! (:sheepish

For those who put this story into their story alerts: xx golden phoenix xxx, xnevynx, Twinheart, Anitajane, annv, ar1502599, caroline88, CopyZero, Eewec, evil-reincarnated, FireAndChocolate, fragonknight01, Frog1, GinaStar, griffindorlioness81088, Johnny-on-the-spot, Juli Black Potter, Kats323, Kiera Jedi Master, kmullin, kyzhart, lady sakura cosmos, MaileS, MartinDeShade, mumu15, ogremage640, panther73110, rebekahalana, runrigrocks, sabre1492, sris, thingfishy, twilight Eads;

For those who put this story into their favourite alerts: Annv, Astrocycle2, jabarber69, Karogas, Kiera Jedi Master, Nachtdemon, starwars2001;

For those who reviewed this story: annv (Thanks. But I don't know if the story looks good still now…), cyiusblack (Thanks. *grin*), Allen Pitt (I enjoy discussing things with you! Thanks for accompanying me in this story thus far.), spellbindersasuke (Thanks for saving me from further embarrassment… I hope I am not messing up with any more name spellings!), fragonknight01 (I hope you still like this story… I lack the twisting, intricate, delicate plot many excellent authors out there have, and I am not quite into detective genre (nor romance, for that matter), so…), GinaStar (Thanks!), jabarber69 (Thanks! And sorry for the rather-wide span between updates.), lady sakura cosmos (Thanks!)…

Thank you all very much!