I've said more than once that I have the best readers, and that's never been more true than during this difficult time. Thank you all for your kind words! They helped make a horrible time a little more bearable, and I appreciate every one of them.

Still 15 June 2014

Because Dad said he had plans for Harry's actual birthday, Harry agreed to a pizza-and-cake party at Stark Tower London Docklands today.

Harry never knew planning a party could be so difficult.

Initially, Mrs. Weasley had protested, wanting to have a party at the Burrow, but Dad reminded her that Hermione's parents could come to Stark Tower without special measures. Besides, there would be other guests whom the Weasleys didn't know, and it wouldn't be fair to her to have such a large crowd of strangers. Mrs. Weasley finally relented when Dad said that he, Harry, and Sirius would be happy to have dinner with them at the Burrow before they returned to America.

Then Dobby had cried big, fat tears at the idea of ordering in a pizza - ten pizzas, actually, and even that seemed like too few for the twenty-some people attending - but jumped up and down excitedly when Dad gave him free rein over everything else, from decorations to dessert.

Harry wondered if Dad regretted that decision, given the golden Snitches flitting between red-and-gold streamers that hung from all corners of the room, the bright red tablecloth covering the dining table, and the gold-toned plates, cups, and silverware (goldware?).

Then again, considering Dad's Iron Man armor, he probably liked the color scheme.

Harry wasn't so sure about it, though he'd never voice his doubt aloud anywhere that might be within Dobby's hearing. The elf had worked so hard that Harry couldn't find it in himself to say anything other than, "It's brilliant, Dobby! Thank you!"

With any luck, Dobby would spend enough time with him by Harry's next birthday that he'd know Harry's tastes better.

Harry winced almost as soon as he'd finished that thought. Who was he to be ungrateful for such abundance when he'd had so little for so long?

"The Grangers have arrived," JARVIS announced.

"Tell Dad?" Harry asked.

"Sir is on his way to the elevator as we speak."

The elevator slid open and Dad stepped out, along with Hermione and her parents.

"All right." Dad rubbed his hands together. "Let's get this party started!"

HP – HP – HP – HP

Tony had hosted larger parties throughout his life, but this first birthday he could celebrate with his son - okay, officially Harry's birthday wasn't until next month, and they'd have a party then, too, but this one was technically first as last year they hadn't had a real celebration - was already his favorite, and they weren't even at the cake-and-presents portion of the party.

No, what made this party special were the people attending it.

Harry sat with Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, chatting mostly happily, though at one time or another, each one of the four had looked a bit disinterested in the conversation.

In the most secluded part of the room, Thor and his lady friend Jane Foster were chatting with Andromeda Tonks, Bill Weasley, and Wendell and Monica Granger about who knew what.

Ted Tonks had joined Molly and Arthur Weasley, along with Louise Grant and Sirius. Even from across the room, Tony picked up snippets of conversation now and again, and from those Tony suspected that they were talking politics of the magical world. Tony supposed he should join them and get caught up himself, but surely one of the group would tell him the important parts.

Finally, Nymphadora Tonks - and Tony's respect for Andromeda and Ted dropped a notch when he first heard that name. What kind of parents saddled a kid with a name like that? - and Darcy Lewis, Foster's intern, were showing the remaining Weasley kids how to play foosball.

"Please be excusing Dobby, Tony sir."

Tony glanced down at the elf. "What's up?"

The elf frowned for a moment as he looked up toward the ceiling, but then appeared to relax as he realized the question didn't require a literal answer. Tony would have to thank JARVIS for helping to teach the elf the quirks of non-magical conversation.

"Is it being time to serve the cake?"

Tony glanced around the room again, then at the clock on the wall. "Give it another ten or fifteen minutes."

"Dobby will, Tony sir." The elf popped away - probably back to the kitchen upstairs.

Tony looked up as Arthur Weasley approached. "Arthur."

The other man looked both puzzled and pleased. "You and your friends have adjusted to magic better than I would've expected."

Tony shrugged. "I keep telling you magicals that once you've met aliens and beings who were once worshipped as gods, wizards aren't that big a deal. Nobody believes me."

Arthur looked like he didn't quite believe Tony, either, but Tony chose taking a sip of his beer over commenting on it.

After a moment, Arthur cleared his throat. "Before we give Harry one of his presents, I want to get your approval."

That got Tony's attention. "Oh? How so?"

"You know I work at the Ministry? Well, I spoke to some colleagues in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and I managed to get tickets for the Quidditch World Cup that's going to be held here in Britain toward the end of August." Arthur took a breath and straightened slightly. "I got enough to for Harry and Hermione, too. I spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Granger already, and they agreed. I do hope I have your permission to invite Harry along."

Well, that was a sticky wicket, as Aunt Peggy would say. How would she respond to Arthur? Tony took another sip of beer while he considered it. Finally, he decided the truth was the best option.

"Of course," Tony said. "Please invite him. Sirius got tickets for the three of us, but Harry sees us all the time. I'm sure he'd rather spend the time with your family," he added when Arthur looked ready to withdraw the invitation.

"If you're certain…."

"Absolutely. Harry doesn't know about the tickets Sirius got - he was going to give them to him on his actual birthday - so there's nothing to worry about."

Arthur looked ready to protest again, but after a moment, he just nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate you letting Harry spend time with my family."

"That's the drawback of tutors," Tony said. "Less chance to make friends. We've been looking for clubs - magical or otherwise - that he could join - Hermione, too - but not much luck so far. Most of the clubs I've found are school-based, and they don't attend a regular school. I've thought about Scouts, but they'd be split up. Boys and girls."

Arthur nodded in a way that made it seem like he agreed, though Tony would bet half his stock in SI that Arthur had no clue what Scouts were.

"Children need to be around others their own age, at least sometimes," Arthur said by way of agreement. Then, "The Cup starts on 25 August. We'll be taking a portkey very early in the morning, so perhaps Harry could stay over the night before?"

"That's a Monday, right?" Tony barely waited for JARVIS' quiet acknowledgment before continuing, "How about he portkeys into England on the 22nd? He could spend the weekend with you, if you're willing."

"That would be delightful!" Arthur beamed. "Molly will love having him over. She was born to be a mum, I think, and she's been a little down as our eldest have left home."

Tony grinned back. "It's done, then - Harry will see you on the 22nd, and we'll try to stay out of your way at the World Cup."

Arthur's expression fell. "I don't mean to keep your presence a secret-"

Tony waved the hand holding his beer bottle. "No, no. Full disclosure. Harry will know everything. But I meant it when I said he sees us all the time. No need for us to intrude on your family outing."

The barest flicker of movement across the room caught his eye. "Enough of that - I don't think I can keep Dobby from serving cake any longer, and cake means presents."

HP – HP – HP – HP

All three Grangers lingered after the party, and Harry's gut twisted into knots as the three of them, plus himself, Dad, and Sirius sat at the dining table. This was the discussion he'd been dreading, the one where they decided what his and Hermione's schooling options would be for the next year. Harry wasn't looking forward to being separated from his best friend, but it was the most likely outcome he could see.

Dobby served them tea and a selection of cheeses with water biscuits, the savory snack a welcome change from the cake and other sweets at the party, and then there was no more reason to delay the talk.

"I spoke with Molly and Arthur during the party," Mrs. Granger began. "They both were quite pleased at the changes at Hogwarts."

"Apparently the Potions professor - Snape, right?" Mr. Granger glanced at Hermione, who nodded a confirmation. "He hasn't been as biased as Hermione described in her letters."

"As biased means there's still some bias," Dad pointed out.

"Snivellus will never be unbiased," Sirius declared. "But if he's improved, that's a good sign."

Snivellus? Harry wondered at the nickname, but now wasn't the time to ask about it.

"Molly's sent us letters throughout the year," Dad said, "and every one of them is optimistic about the changes at Hogwarts."

"But is she looking through rose-colored glasses?" Mrs. Granger asked. "And, as much as I hate to ask it - are her children being treated better because they grew up in the magical world?"

"Valid questions, both," Sirius said. "But the most important one is this." He fixed first Hermione, then Harry, with a sharp gaze. "Do you want to go back to Hogwarts?"

Gryffindor courage, Harry reminded himself as he took a breath. "Not really."

"But - our friends-" Hermione protested.

"The only ones I care about are the Weasleys," Harry said. "Or have you forgotten how they treated me second year?"

"Second year was … difficult," Hermione acknowledged, and Harry couldn't help snorting.

"Justin ran from me," Harry said flatly. "Just because I can talk to snakes."

"Wait, what?" Dad asked. "You talk to snakes? Why didn't I know this before?"

Harry met Dad's gaze defiantly. "Because everybody at Hogwarts thought it was a dark ability. Evil."

"Is it?" Dad asked.

"No," Sirius said. "Salazar Slytherin could, and a number of his descendants, and they're the most well-known Parselmouths - in Britain, at least. But that doesn't mean it's evil in and of itself."

Harry snorted again. "Everybody at school thought so - even Ron, though he never ran away from me. Or even really avoided me…so tell me, Hermione. Why should I want to go back there, when the only people who stood with me are either here with me, or keeping in touch regularly?"

Hermione flushed and looked away.

"I know that look," Mrs. Granger said. "What don't you want to say, sweetheart?"

Hermione shook her head, briefly, and when she turned back to them, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I know I should want to go back to school, but it's been so nice to work at my pace, with people who aren't…"

"Intimidated by you," Dad finished, and Hermione nodded. "I get it, you know?"

Hermione gave a watery laugh. "I'd think so."

"I'm not going to tell you not to care what they think," Dad said. "Though you shouldn't. It's a waste of that marvelous mind of yours. I am going to tell you that if you want to continue with tutors, we'll make it happen. Maybe not all the same ones you have now, but tutors if you want them."

"But that's so expensive-" Hermione began. Harry couldn't help the laugh, but he cut it off as quickly as he could. She glared at him anyway. "I don't want to presume on anything."

"I'd be getting them for Harry, anyway," Dad said, quirking an eyebrow in Harry's direction. "Because that sounded like you don't want to go back."

"No," Harry declared.

"While we understand that it's not a matter of money for you, Tony," Mr. Granger said, "it's a matter of honor for us. Let us contribute what we would've paid for Hermione's public school - because she would've gone to one if she hadn't gone to Hogwarts."

"Public…?" Dad frowned briefly. "Oh - wait. That's exactly opposite what a public school here is. Okay. If you insist, Wendell - contact JARVIS to make the arrangements."

Harry looked over to Hermione, who sat almost open-mouthed in her shock. He reached over to nudge her. She blinked once, then focused on him.

"You knew this would happen," he told her.

She blew out a breath. "Yes. I did."

HP – HP – HP – HP

Thanks to having to work around his official, sanctioned, assignments, it had taken Jasper Sitwell almost a year to find the remains of Lord Voldemort, who'd taken refuge in a forest deep in Albania.

The wraith-like entity was able to speak with Jasper, at least, and that conversation convinced Jasper, however reluctantly, to help Voldemort return to a physical form.

So now Jasper found himself trolling bars in Berat, Albania, for a suitable sacrifice.

He'd started in the magical areas of Albania, but found them more like small towns than anything else, in the sense that everyone knew everyone else and would immediately notice someone going missing.

He'd shifted focus then, to Muggle touristy areas, as surprising as it was to find there were touristy areas in Albania.

So far, he'd had little luck, as the tourists he'd seen were invariably in groups, whether family groups or college-age backpackers.

Jasper stifled a sigh as he stepped into the Illyrian Colonial Café Bar. It was the tenth bar he'd been to tonight, and he was almost ready to give up. There had to be other ways of embodying Voldemort's spirit than the one he'd settled on, and Jasper would bet his time would be better spent finding one of those than trying to find someone who wouldn't be missed for a while.

He slid into a seat at a table near the back of the half-empty bar - it was late enough that the dinner crowd had mostly dispersed but early enough that the club crowd hadn't started arriving - and studied the menu before him.

It was in Albanian, but most entries had pictures and brief descriptions in English, Italian, and Greek, so he chose a first course assortment of local cheeses and a main of byrek, a pastry stuffed with cheese and greens, and a selection of grilled vegetables, accompanied by a local wine.

His cheese plate had just been cleared away when the witch walked in.

Oh, she blended into the Muggle world very well, but in his mage sight she glowed a soft yellow. She appeared to be in her early thirties and wore sturdy clothes that were mostly Muggle, but Jasper noted the bracelet wand holster on her right wrist - that particular style had been quite the fashion fifty years ago, but now added a touch of nostalgia to her outfit.

Not, of course, that any Muggle would recognize it for what it was.

Jasper watched her survey the bar. It had gotten more crowded since he'd sat down; all the tables were full.

As the woman's gaze landed on him, he wandlessly vanished the last of the cheese from his platter. A widening of her eyes, visible even at this distance, told him she'd seen. He caught her eye and gestured to a seat opposite him.

She hesitated, briefly, but apparently decided the place was public enough - or else she was hungry enough - that sitting down with a stranger wasn't a bad idea, and she started to make her way through the tables to him.

As she arrived, Jasper gave her the best smile he had. "Please, join me. I'm Jasper."

"Bertha," she said, and sat opposite him. "Bertha Jorkins."