DISCLAIMER: I own nothing – it all belongs to JK Rowling.
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Harry was up and about at 6am, packing his trunk and getting himself ready for his trip. He could hear Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia moving around their room, also packing and getting ready. Dudley, of course, was still in bed – Aunt Petunia had packed for him so he could stay in bed longer. Like he needed his rest, Harry thought sourly. The great pig never moved any more than he had to and when he did, it was like watching a brontosaurus making its way across a swamp. Although he and Dudley were now the same height, Dudley was roughly five times bigger than him across the middle and needed help to get out of a chair.
At 8am sharp there was a loud banging on the door. The Dursleys, knowing it was Harry's escort, pretended they hadn't heard so Harry trotted down the stairs to open it. Waiting on the doorstep, eyeball swiveling around all over the place, was Mad-Eye Moody.
"Hello Harry – you ready?" he grumped. Moody wasn't one for small talk.
"Yes – I'll just go and get my trunk, broom and Hedwig," said Harry, catching movement out of the corner of his eye. It was Uncle Vernon, who was peering warily around the corner of the living room door. Catching sight of Mad-Eye, he disappeared again.
"Don't worry, I'll get them," said Moody. Pointing his wand up his stairs, he muttered something under his breath, and a few seconds later Harry's belongings levitated smoothly down. Harry heard a gasp from the living-room – Aunt Petunia was cowering behind the couch, clearly horrified at the "unnaturalness" that was actually happening in her house.
"Back in a second," he said to Moody. Harry strolled into the living room.
"Well, bye then," he said loudly, causing Uncle Vernon to jump violently and drop his cup of tea. "See you next summer."
"Mind you behave yourself," snapped Aunt Petunia. "We don't want any more … birds to be delivering us letters from that … place."
"I'll do my best not to disappoint," said Harry with a grin. Heading out the door, he paused and looked back. "Oh, and by the way – you should remember that on my next birthday, I'll be seventeen."
"What's that to us?" growled Uncle Vernon.
"In my world, I'll be considered to be 'of age', which means I can perform magic outside of school," Harry said sweetly. "I'm sure you'll be dying for a demonstration of what I've been learning for the past five years!"
The look of horror that passed between them was priceless – Harry was going to remember it for a long time.
Back in the hallway, Mad-Eye had pulled out a pocketwatch and was scanning it with his normal eye, while his magical eye was spinning around crazily. "Nearly time," he said. "Get your backside over here quickly, lad, we don't want to miss it."
"How are we getting there?" asked Harry, moving swiftly to Mad-Eye's side.
"Portkey," he grunted, sorting through his pockets. "Got it here somewhere…"
Harry groaned silently. Traveling by Portkey was his second-worst way of travel, beaten narrowly by Floo powder.
"Aha!" said Mad-Eye, pulling two small items from his pocket. "Now which one was it… Oh, yes."
He casually tossed one of them to Harry. Harry grabbed it without thinking, and then did a double-take. It was a Quidditch Captain's badge. He looked up uncomprehendingly at Mad-Eye.
"Got it from Dumbledore – he thought it was a neat idea to make one of your badges the Portkey," said Mad-Eye, with a hint of a smile.
Harry's mind was whirling so fast he didn't immediately register what Mad-Eye had said. "Quidditch Captain? Me? I can't believe it …" he whispered.
Mad-Eye looked annoyed. "Come on lad – youngest Seeker in a century? Surely you knew that this would have to come your way one day … didn't you?"
Harry shook his head blankly. "Sometimes," said Mad-Eye, annoyed, "I don't know if you're REALLY modest or just plain thick."
He tossed the other item to Harry. Again Harry caught it on reflex.
"Prefect?" he said blankly. Mad-Eye made an exasperated sound. "Yes, they do appoint Prefects in sixth year – didn't you know?"
"No," said Harry. "I thought if you didn't get it in fifth year, you're chances were up."
Moody started to look even more irritated. "I'm not sure how things work in your crazy Muggle schools, but they're obviously a bit different at Hogwarts," he said. Glancing at his pocketwatch again, he motioned Harry closer to him.
"You hang on to the bird and me, and I'll grab the trunk," he said. "Right … three, two, one…"
The feeling of a hook behind his navel grabbed Harry, and a second later he and Mad-Eye were standing in the familiar living-room at The Burrow. Plump Mrs Weasley caught sight of him first and came bustling over.
"Hello, Harry dear!" she said brightly, before enveloping him in a tight hug. "How are you? Goodness me, those Muggles have been starving you again, haven't they? I'm going to have to feed you up a bit. Hello, Alastor! Have you got time for a quick bite?"
"Thanks, Molly, but I have to shoot back to Headquarters – we've got a meeting in ten minutes time," said Moody. "Don't even think about asking me what it's about, lad," he added gruffly as Harry opened his mouth to ask. "You'll be getting a full briefing from Dumbledore shortly."
Stepping into the fireplace, Mad-Eye took a pinch of Floo powder, muttered under his breath, and was gone in a flash of green flame.
"Ronald? Come downstairs – Harry's arrived!" Mrs Weasley bellowed up the stairs.
Ten seconds later, there was a thudding down the wooden stairs from the top floor, accompanied by the lanky frame of Ron Weasley, Harry's best mate and partner in crime.
"Hiya, mate – happy birthday!" he said, beaming at Harry as he bounded forward to shake his hand.
"Blimey, Ron," said Harry, looking up at the tall, freckled redhead. "I think you've grown about half a foot in four weeks!"
"Six feet, two inches now," said Mrs Weasley proudly. "Going to be the tallest Weasley in the family, our Ron!"
"Should consider trying out for basketball, mate," muttered Harry. "You'd be a dead cert."
Ron looked blank. "Never mind," said Harry hurriedly. "Muggle sport."
"Think I'll just stick to Quidditch," said Ron. "Wonder who the new Griffindor Captain will be this year?"
"Er …" said Harry. "That would be me."
There was a few seconds silence, before Ron tackled him to the floor in a flying hug. "I knew it! I KNEW IT! Fantastic, Harry, you'll be brilliant!"
"You knew what?" said a voice from the door. Harry pushed his glasses straight and peered up at Ginny, Ron's little sister, who had materialized in the kitchen. "Hi Harry – had a good summer so far?"
"Hi Ginny," said Harry, trying to get up with as much dignity as possible. "Gerroff, you idiot! Not too bad," he added, when he had finally disentangled himself from Ron and climbed into an upright position. "How's yours?"
"Pretty good, apart from having to spend all of it with this idiot now that Fred and George don't live here anymore," she said, aiming a kick at Ron's prone form. "By the way - happy birthday, Harry!"
"Harry's the new Griffindor Quidditch Captain this year, Gin!" said Ron triumphantly.
"Brilliant!" said Ginny, looking delighted. "Think you'll consider me as a new Chaser, then, Harry?"
"After the way you flew last year, I reckon you're a shoo-in," said Harry thoughtfully.
"Our Ginny has been made a prefect this year, Harry," said Mrs Weasley proudly.
"Congratulations, Gin!" Harry said, genuinely pleased for her.
"I wonder who else will be?" mused Ron.
"Er … that would be me again," said Harry.
"Blimey, mate – you're having a good one!" said Ron, impressed.
"Yeah – the only thing that could put a bit of a damper on things is O.W.L. results," said Harry gloomily. "Any idea when they'll be getting here?"
"They're a bit later than usual, what with all the uproar at the Ministry," said Mrs Weasley. "I think you can expect them in the next few days."
"By the way," said Ron. "Here's your birthday present, Harry – you can see why we didn't send it with Errol."
Harry could indeed see why. It was a very large case, handsomely tooled in dark brown leather with gold clips on the sides. It would have completely finished Errol off.
"I don't believe it … a Quidditch set?" Harry breathed reverently. He opened the case, and nestling inside were four brand-new balls – a gleaming red Quaffle, two black Bludgers and a tiny, shining Golden Snitch.
"But … but … these sets cost a fortune!" he said.
"It's from all of us, Fred and George included," said Ginny. "Their joke business is booming and they say they've got you to thank for it."
Harry cast a guilty look in Mrs Weasley's direction. It had been the one thousand Galleons prize money he had received from winning the TriWizard competition two years ago that had allowed Fred and George to start their new joke shop, Weasley's Wizardly Wheezes, in Diagon Alley. Mrs Weasley had always been very unhappy about her twin son's choice of vocation, and he wondered how she felt about it now.
"Doing very well, our Fred and George," said Mrs Weasley placidly. "Who would have thought it?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "Amazing how far a bit of success goes," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "Fred and George are making buckets of cash and are bankrolling a holiday to France for Mum and Dad, hence the amazing change of attitude."
"Why don't you take Harry's things upstairs and get settled in?" said Mrs Weasley. "Come back down in about ten minutes and we'll have a bit of breakfast."
Dragging his trunk up the stairs with the help of Ron, Ginny carrying Hedwig's cage behind him, Harry started to relax. Things hadn't changed at the Weasley's too much – maybe he could enjoy the rest of his summer after all.
"You're in Percy's old room, Harry," said Ginny. "After all, he won't be needing it – git."
"Still not talking to you, is he?" asked Harry.
"Nope," said Ron angrily. "Even though the whole Ministry has now admitted it fouled up by not believing you and Dumbledore last year, Percy's still got his nose in the air about it. He's too proud to admit he made a mistake, and it's killing mum and dad."
They dragged Harry's belongings into Percy's bedroom. Unlike the rest of the Weasley household, it was as neat as a pin and almost looked like it belonged in Privet Drive.
"So," said Harry as he flopped onto the bed after letting Hedwig out. "What's the news on the Voldemort front?"
"It's been really quiet," said Ginny worriedly. "Dad and Bill are out almost all the time, and Charlie's been sending regular reports from Romania, but it's almost as if Voldemort's gone to ground. Which, I would think, is almost more of a problem than if he was out there doing stuff we could see."
Harry agreed wholeheartedly. "And the imprisoned Death Eaters?"
"Still inside – apparently Dumbledore went out to Azkaban with Fudge and put a whole lot of charms on the prison so they can't get out," said Ron. "The Dementors have completely gone over to Voldemort's side now, so they had to do something else to keep the prisoners in."
"I don't like it," said Harry slowly. "He's too quiet. I haven't even had any nightmares recently, and my scar hasn't even so much as twinged for weeks. Where can he be?"