"Mail's here." Ron announced as Harry groggily slumped into the kitchen. He hadn't bothered putting his glasses on yet so Ron's miniscule owl was just a fluffy blur of high pitched peeps circling the room. "You got a letter."

"Is it..?"

"Not from Gin." Ron answered before Harry could ask the question in entirety. "Doesn't look that important, though."

Harry nodded and slipped into the rhythm of making breakfast amidst the worn and dusty counters that crowded the grungy kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Ron had only started talking to him again last night and had brought a twelve pack of ale and a set of wizards chess as an apology offering. Neither of them had woken up that morning feeling clear headed or cheerful.

He didn't get to the letter until after sitting at the table and finishing his third slice of toast. It was a small envelope addressed to him only by name with no listing of his street number. He ripped it open and squinted through his poor nearsightedness to read the note.

Harry,

I hope this finds you in good health. I know it's been a long time but I wanted to inform you of Vernon's passing and I would be honored if you could attend the funeral.

Petunia.

He read it about four more times before Ron realized that something was wrong.

"What is it?" His friend asked. "You look ill."

"My uncle died." Harry mumbled. His half eaten piece of toast in one hand and the letter in the other.

"Your Muggle uncle?"

"Do I have any other uncles?"

"I don't know. Maybe your dad had some siblings they never told you about. You can have some of my uncles if you want."

Harry handed Ron the letter. "Aunt Petunia wrote to me."

Ron took the note and read it, flipping it over to see if there was more written on the back. "She'd be honored if you could attend? Huh. It doesn't give you any details. Check the envelope to see if there's more."

Sure enough, Aunt Petunia had clipped the obituary out of a local paper and had sent it to Harry in the same envelope. It was a short blurb claiming that Vernon Howard Dursley, a beloved father and husband, had died of complications from diabetes four days ago in his home in Little Whinging. He had only been fifty six years old. Services were being held at the neighborhood church next Saturday.

"Didn't mention you in the obit, did they." Ron gave him a sour expression as he handed Harry back the newspaper snippet.

"Of course not. He was a loving father and husband, not an uncle."

"Then why is she writing to you? She even went through the effort of sending it to you by owl. Doesn't seem like something your magic hating aunt would do."

"No, it doesn't." The last time he had heard from his mother's sister was when Dudley had gotten married to an American woman he had met on the internet. Petunia had contacted him to insist that Harry come and remove his 'nasty witchy things' from his old bedroom so the Dursleys new in-laws could stay there during the wedding. She had written to him through Hermione's address, the only one of them who lived in a Muggle house. The fact that his aunt had remembered Hermione's name was mind boggling enough let alone her ability to track her address down.

His old school supplies and Hedwig's things didn't mean enough to him for Harry to venture back to Privet Dr. to retrieve them. Aunt Petunia had never tried to reach him again and Harry assumed his 'nasty witchy things' had been burned.

"So, you aren't going to go are you?" Ron asked through his mouthful of eggs. "S' not like the big Muggle's going to care if you show up to his funeral or not."

"Not on your life." Harry grumbled before crumpling up the letter and vanishing it with a wave of his wand and a puff of green smoke. Whatever reason his aunt had felt deserved Harry's attendance, he was sure he would never care to know. "You get a chance to talk to Luna, yet?" He changed the subject.

"Loony?" Ron scoffed. "No, why would I be talking to her?"

"She came looking for you a couple days ago. Said she wanted to discuss something with you. You weren't here since, well…"

"Since I was ignoring you. Yeah, sorry about that." Ron poked his eggs around his plate. "What did she want to talk to me about?"

Harry frowned. "She didn't say. Just Flooed over one evening from the Ministry. She said she had looked for you at the Auror's office too."

"Well, that's probably where I was. Shacklebolt's got us working late on that Yellowbye case. Strange that I didn't see her there if she were looking. You think she's getting more batty than before?"

Harry put his toast crust down and glowered at Ron. "Don't call her batty!"

"What? That's what she is! I bet she was coming by to ask me about Noogles or Whambats or something for her magazine."

"Why would she be asking you of all people?"

"Bloody hell should I know? She's batty! I think spending all that time in the Malfoy's cellar may have addled her brain a tad."

Harry threw his toast crust in Ron's face. "You can't say things like that!"

"Eww! Watch where you're aiming, twat!"

"I think she fancies you." Harry grinned. The idea that Luna had gone the effort to track Ron down at work and at home was odd even for her. She was a busy person with having to help run her father's magazine publishing company. If she had wanted to talk to Ron about Narwhals she would have just owled him.

"WHAT!? No she doesn't!" Ron's ears had changed to a familiar shade of pink. "Aren't her and Neville a thing? I thought they were madly in love and all that mushy crap."

"Nope!" Harry brightened. "They broke it off after Neville started working at Hogwarts."

"Why?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't see Neville much anymore. The last time they had run into each other Neville had briefly explained that he had been given the Defence Against the Dark Arts position at school and that it was the best thing to ever happen to him.

"Now Gran can't force me to live with her anymore!" Longbottom had gushed. "She was never going to let me get my own place unless I was getting married, but if Professor McGonagall is personally requesting me for the position, she has to let me go!"

They had both been in the waiting room at Gringotts and Harry had called Neville over to say hello when he had seen his old roommate rushing through the door.

"She's forcing you to live with her?"

"Yes, well, after what happened with mum and dad and then all those things I did during the War, Gran has gotten a bit overprotective as she's gotten older."

"No kidding. But I thought you and Luna were getting married? Ginny said you bought her a ring last Christmas."

Neville had suddenly looked extremely miserable.

"No, Gran and Luna didn't get on very well."

"I think Neville's grandmother didn't like Luna." Harry told Ron.

"So he broke it off with her? That seems a little harsh. I wasn't going to stop seeing Hermione just cause Mum wasn't thrilled with her."

"Your mum likes Hermione!"

"Not really." Ron mumbled. He seemed to have given up on his eggs and was poking them to death with his fork instead of eating them.

"Is that why Hermione got mad at you?"

"NO!" Ron snapped.

"Then how come…?"

"We are NOT starting that up again!" Ron snuffed the topic out like it was a birthday candle to blow out on a cake.

"Well, I'm guessing Luna must have heard from someone that you and Hermione are no longer. Maybe that's why she's suddenly sniffing at your heels."

"I don't think so." Ron grumbled to himself. Clearly bringing up Hermione had him in a funk already.

"Mate, the girl used to follow you around at school. She laughed at anything you said even if you weren't really trying to make a joke."

"She did?" Ron lifted his eyes to the ceiling in thought. "I don't remember that."

Harry nodded. Ron had probably been too busy snogging Lavender Brown or trying not to fall off a broom during Quidditch practices to notice the dotty Ravenclaw girl. "Maybe try to meet up with her for dinner or something." Harry suggested.

Ron snorted. "Are you out of your mind? The girl's a loon!"

Harry shook his head and sipped at his orange juice. "You're a moron." He told his friend.