While I approached, still quite annoyed at Mum, and took a seat by a few of the older boys close to Sirius' grill, the guests—my friends—didn't pay me too much attention while they gorged and mingled among themselves. A few younger ones ran and tumbled in the field, oblivious to my presence. I appreciated that, them not treating me like the press and public did. You'd think they'd have gotten used to my company by now, and fortunately, most of them long had; however, there was always one or two who'd become dazed.

Like a certain Weasley girl.

I looked deliberately at the table to the left, catching Ginny's eye. "Remember to chew while you eat. I'm fine with the staring, however." It didn't matter whether she was just another one of my crazed fans or if she had a crush on me—or both. It was all the same from my perspective.

She immediately looked away, blushing, and I had to remind myself that not only she couldn't handle banter like Olivia could but also she was indeed a regular eleven-year-old. Only Olivia and I received special Occlumency training that aged one's mind, which was why I sat with the older boys instead. They also made for good sparring partners.

Uplifting magic blipped behind me, and I found a plate of veges and steak floating toward me. I guided it to the table with a wave of my hand, reached for the fork and knife.

"Don't worry, Harry," Fred, one of Ginny's brothers, said before I could take a single bite.

"She'll get over you," George, Fred's twin, added.

"And if she doesn't." Fred again.

"You can always put her in a full-body bind." George. His tone was implying something I didn't bother to question. I was hungry.

And that was their thing, talking in turns like a lot of twins liked to play, but they played that game incessantly. I wasn't sure if they did it to just mess with everyone, as the pranksters they were, or if they had some kind of problem with their noggins. I didn't care. They treated me normally. Well, most of the time they did.

"That's true. Now let me eat." I dug in.

Or I was going to.

"Harry," Cedric Diggory said from a couple of seats down the table, "can you cool the juice pitcher, please?"

My Occlumency walls bulged. "Why can't you do it?" My tone was sharp. I was growing peevish, and it was expected; it was almost dinner time, the evening sun setting the sky ablaze with golden-red hues. I had been out for longer than I'd thought.

Cedric flashed a girly smile. "I'm still underaged. Don't want to get hit with the trace."

"Do it wandless." I knew traces were charms applied to wands, not area-magic as claimed by the ministry. I could feel it off the wood, not on mine, but on theirs when I had seen them.

"Easier said than done," Percy Weasley mumbled, one of the older Weasley brothers. I thought he'd turned seventeen. Apparently not.

"Don't you know the trace can't detect underage magic—"

Percy cleared his throat dramatically. "Actually, it can detect when someone performs magic through a Fedelius Charm, Harry."

Oh, right, Percy was a follow-the-rules-to-a-tee kind of guy and liked to pretend to be an Auror. I didn't want to waste more breath, so I waved my hand and willed the pitcher to cool to just above freezing, strands of invisible magic flowing from my mindscape through my fingers. My dwindling reserves were more than enough for such simple magic. Easy.

"There."

"Thanks," Cedric said with another girly smile. He grabbed the pitcher.

I finally bit into my first cut of juicy, hot steak, and on second thought, they could've just asked an adult to do it. They were just giving me a tough time again, messing with me. I didn't mind.

I sensed Olivia's approach. She plopped down next to me with a plate of sausages, peas, and mashed potatoes, and fortunately, she didn't try to make conversation. I nudged her elbow in thanks and greeting as I swallowed another bite. Delicious.

Discarding the chatter around me, I downed almost half the plate in record time. At one point, a child called my name. I ignored him whether it was polite or not. I could feel my magical reserves already refilling. The sensation was of great lukewarm relief, as though I were bathing in a bath of perfect temperature. Keeping up my Occlumency was second-nature again.

The pitcher hoisted with my magic, I refilled my goblet of pumpkin juice, and a kid's magical aura neared. I recognized it to be Ron, youngest of the Weasleys. We weren't too close, though he tried to be my friend. It wasn't working out in many ways. He was painfully ordinary and daft at times. We shared little in common, almost nothing. Even Fleur and I had our dueling thing, and we barely knew each other.

"Hey, Harry," he said cheerily.

I sipped juice. "Hey, Ron. What's up?"

"Do you think we could get some of the brooms out?"

Olivia looked at him and said in between two bites of a sausage on her fork, "You fractured your arm last time."

I nodded, agreeing. "Let's not risk it."

"They're right," Percy added.

His shoulders sank, his frustration leaking. "Come on. We'll be at Hogwarts in a month, and there'll be broom-riding classes. I want to prepare. I might even get on the Quidditch team."

With masked disdain, I concentrated on his body and carefully surveyed his magical aura. I found it to be lacking for his age, weaker than the other eleven-year-olds at the other table. His magical core was underdeveloped. He'd likely have trouble staying on a broom for another year, at least.

I shook my head. "Sorry, mate. Your magic still needs growing."

Now he was angry. "What do you mean it still needs growing? We're old enough for Hogwarts!"

And I really did not want to deal with this. "Look. Your magic is still that of a nine or ten year old's. If you get on one of our brooms and hurt yourself, I will probably get in trouble again."

"I'm not nine! I turned eleven in March! I'm older than you!"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then how can my magic be nine years old? Cus it's not. Bring out a broom. I'll prove it."

Merlin. Save me. Why couldn't I be with Fleur right now? She also seemed a bit older, mentally. She wasn't exactly human; they likely aged and matured differently. I shook my head and resumed eating, looked away from the kid. Sometimes, I wished a permanent aging potion existed. I didn't know how I was going to fit in with all the first-years. It was very, very trying.

"Ron," Percy said, "that's enough."

"Don't worry, Harry," Fred said and stood.

"We'll handle this." George.

"But—"

"No buts. It's time to go back to the little-boy's table."

"This way, brother."

"Oh, come on—"

"This way."

Ron's magical aura shifted as if he were casting a spell. Accidental magic. It was coming at me, very sluggishly and extremely weakly, so I didn't bother. Part of me was curious to see what it was going to do, though I braced my magic in case it was harmful.

My plate cracked into two.

Immediately, Olivia's head snapped right and down. "Really? He got under your skin?"

"No. It was his accident." I repaired the plate with a small wave, imagined the pieces to click back together and meld. My magic did the work, and the result was flawless.

The twins returned. "He won't bother you again," they said together.

I nodded in appreciation.

Roger Davies, the quiet guy whom I didn't know well at all, finally said something, "Harry, what's it like being able to feel magic itself?"

I had gotten this question many, many times. It was why I almost never mentioned my abilities. "Well." I glanced up from my plate for a second. "Imagine you were blind, but you're not at the same time and able to see in all directions even behind your head, and all you could see is magic, except you're not really seeing it, rather, you're feeling and seeing a kind of heat that isn't hot, a heat that can't be described in the same way that you'd never be able to describe sight to a man who has been blind from birth. It's a sixth sense. Ask Dumbledore. He can describe it better, probably."

Cedric burst into laughter. "Have you practiced that speech?"

Olivia answered, "He has. I saw him in front of the mirror."

"Not in front of the mirror," I clarified, "but it's the answer I usually give."

"I see," Roger said lightly. "Not literally."

"I definitely wish I could see!" Cedric said, still laughing.

I smirked, then laughed a few breaths. The older boys sure did lighten my mood. I returned to eating, finishing the plate. I was still hungry, so I stood, plucked my wand from its holster, and floated a plate from the barbecues with a swish toward me. My magic flowed through the savory air and wrapped around the plate, lifting it.

I instantly noticed my mistake with a thump of my heart. They didn't know Olivia and I didn't have traces. They weren't supposed to know.

"Harry. The trace," Percy said strongly, which only made it worse, for it made even more people look.

Sitting back down, I re-holstered my wand; however, it was too late. Far too late. Everyone around us looked. I mentally groaned, my magic flaring through my mindscape like a series of tornados. I'd gotten a little, just a little, giddy and lost my focus.

Olivia whistled.

"That wasn't a practice wand," a girl said.

Thank you so, so much.

Ron stood from the other table, pointing. "It wasn't! I saw! It was the same color as Dumbledore's!"

Ron!

"Yes, it was. What wood is it?"

Roger!

My body heated. My magical core swelled and tested my Occlumency to the maximum. It was a good thing that the adults were starting to intervene, and it was even better than Ron's mum was telling him off for being so rude.

Dad laughed and said in front of everyone, "It'll be fine. It was just a small slip-up. It's your first incident, isn't it, Harry?"

I smoothly caught on. "Yeah." But I seriously needed a time-out. I was on the verge of exploding, and everyone knew what that entailed. I took a breath and snatched my plate off the table. "I need a moment to myself to cool." I fixed a meaningful look on Dad, then Mum, then walked back to the mansion while the barbecue resumed without too much of a care.

Mum said something, but it was lost among the chatter. It didn't sound like she was too concerned for once.

Today really wasn't a good day for a dinner party. Whoever had that idea must've been bewitched.

Before I reached the door, I noticed Olivia's aura tailing me. She caught up and whispered, "By the way, Ginny asked me to ask you out to the Quidditch match for her."

My eye twitched. Flames sparked at my fingertips for a heartbeat and two. "Already have plans."

"Should I say that?" She followed me in.

I picked meat off my plate with gestures of my finger, eating with swift bites. "Yes. Tell the whole world Harry Potter is smitten over Fleur Delacour." As the words left my mouth, I wasn't sure if I was being sarcastic or deadly serious.

"Well, then I'm going to the alleys to find the press."

I thought she was also being sarcastic before she grabbed the invisibility cloak from an empty bookshelf and strode toward the floo. "Olivia. What are you doing?"

She looked over her shoulder. "Perfect time to sneak out. Did you forget?"

It took a moment. "Apparition? You're insane."

She smirked. "Just say we went to a park. Mum and Dad will understand."

No, they'd freak the hell out, and she knew. "You're insane."

She grabbed a handful of floo powder, stepped in, and giggled. "Knocturn Alley!" The heatless green flames roared to life and whisked her away.

I gulped. There was only one thing to do here, and it was not leaving my very ordinary sister alone in Knocturn Alley. Maybe I should've stopped her, but I knew, somewhere deep down in me, that I was hoping for her to go through with it. A risky adventure like this appealed to me more than I wanted to admit. The only thing missing was bringing Fleur along for a good time.

I followed her in, plate still in hand. Warm mashed potato piled into my stomach before I threw the powder with a bit too much force. "Knocturn Alley."

A/N This might be the last chapter for a while.