Hello again! The following two chapters were originally written as one, but this turned out to be way too long too digest. I've decided to split it up into two bite-sized chappies as a result. Hope you like 'em!

'Harry! You made it!'

Harry groaned. His glasses had flown from his face upon landing, and his trunk had fallen open on his ankles. Squirming out of the mess of his wizarding gear, he began searching the floor with his hands as various indistinguishable blurs spoke enthusiastically from all around the room.

'We were worried the portkey wouldn't work, seeing as Fred and George made it... Thought it might just turn you into a parrot, or something,' said one of the figures.

'Ron has no faith. Really, us? Pull a prank like that? Never.'

A door to Harry's right creaked open, and yet another blur entered the room. "Oh, has he arrived? How lovely! I'll make you all up something to eat.'

'Oh, Harry... Here you are.'

Someone bent down next to Harry, and a moment later his glasses were being placed in his hand. He sat up and positioned them on his nose, and the room came quickly into focus. Hermione was squatting beside him, smiling.

'Honestly, Harry,' she said, standing up. 'There must be something you can do about those glasses. Haven't you learned the Epoximus charm?' She sighed, brushing off her jeans with her hands. 'I suppose I'll have to teach you. You really ought to start researching these things for yourself, though.'

'Oh, lay off it, Hermione,' said Ron from where he sat, atop a thin wooden bed. 'He's not been here ten seconds and already you're lecturing him.'

'Thanks, though,' Harry said, smiling up at Hermione. 'For the glasses, I mean.'

'This one leaves a trail of disaster wherever he goes,' said a voice from behind Harry. 'No consideration whatsoever. And us having to clean up after him!'

'Criminal.'

Harry turned to see Ron's twin brothers – George and Fred – waving their wands at the heap of robes and parchment he'd inadvertently dumped on the floor. A pair of his socks danced deftly through the air, as one of his textbooks flapped maniacally towards his open trunk.

'Honestly,' Hermione said, shaking her head. She sat on the bed next to Ron and motioned for Harry to come join them.

'Where are we, anyway?' Harry wondered, brushing himself off. He positioned himself next to Ron; the bed was actually surprisingly comfortable, despite its humble appearance.

'Oh, this is Fred and George's apartment,' Ron explained. 'We're directly above the shop.'

'Really?' Harry said. He looked about him. This room certainly didn't look like it belonged in a joke shop. It was simple, warm and clean, with wood- paneled walls, a pair of small beds, a rather unassuming stone hearth, and various paintings of the countryside adorning the walls. (Wizard paintings, of course – in one, a horse galloped merrily about a snowy pasture, snorting occasionally and gazing with mild interest at the dragon that lay snoring in a corner of its enclosure.)

'Haven't had a chance to redecorate yet,' Fred explained, as he sent Harry's quills cartwheeling into his trunk.

'Naw, it's not that,' George said. He waved his wand distractedly, and Harry watched his Potions set bounce cheerfully into the last remaining space. 'Mum's been living here a while now. She likes to keep a couple of rooms –'

'Boring,' Fred finished. The trunk slammed shut.

'It's not boring,' Harry said quickly. 'It's kind of nice, actually. I like it.'

'Good, 'cause it'll be your home for the next month,' Fred said. 'You and Ron are in this room.'

'Try to treat it better than your trunk,' George said, and grinned.

At that moment, the door swung open again, and a red-haired, freckled girl ran in to smother Harry in a hug.

'Harry!' she exclaimed, and gave him a squeeze.

'Oof!' Harry said, slightly shocked at the unexpected display of affection. 'Nice to see you, too, Ginny.'

Ron's younger sister released him with a grin and went to sit on the other bed. She was quickly joined by George and Fred. Ginny Weasley certainly had changed over the last few years, Harry noted – there had been a time when she wouldn't have made eye contact with him, let alone hug him. It seemed she'd gotten over her shyness.

'Oh, what's that?' Ginny asked suddenly, pointing at the floor. They all turned to stare at the vibrating ball of fluff that was ricocheting between the two beds.

'Oh, for Pete's sake...' Harry got down on his knees and quickly had the fizzwidget in his grasp.

'It's so sweet!' Ginny cooed. 'Can I see it, Harry?'

Harry handed it to her. 'You can have it if you want. Hagrid sent it to me – it's a fizzwidget.'

'Oh, I won't keep it if it was a gift,' Ginny replied, stroking the thing. 'What sort of animal is it?'

'Well, I'm not sure that it's an animal at all,' Harry said, somewhat helplessly. 'More like an enchanted ball of fluff, as far as I can tell.'

'What's its name?'

'Name?' Ron asked incredulously. 'Ginny, it's a piece of lint!'

'Well, it ought to have a name.' She stroked it thoughtfully for a moment. 'I know – we'll call it Henry.'

Ron shook his head, staring at his sister. 'Mental!' he muttered.

'Where's Hedwig?' Harry asked, suddenly remembering his real pet.

'I think she flew out the window right after you landed,' Hermione said. 'She looked a little put-off.'

'Doesn't like traveling by portkey, it would seem,' George observed.

'Me neither, really,' Harry admitted, rubbing his bruised knees.

The door swung open once again.

'Here we are,' said Mrs. Weasley, Ron's mother, entering with a large tray. 'Nice hot drinks for everyone, and there're some biscuits there, as well.' She looked about for a place to set down her burden. 'Boys, would you...?'

'Sure thing, Mum,' Fred said quickly, and with a wave of his wand, a rather crooked coffee table appeared between the beds with a poof. Mrs. Weasley set her tray down and smiled at Harry.

'It is nice to have you with us again, Harry,' she said fondly. 'Now, you lot, don't stay up too much later. I'm sure Harry would like to get a bit off sleep.'

'No worries, Mum,' George assured her, and Mrs. Weasley departed through the door, the younger wizards and witches calling 'thank you' after her.

Harry took a steaming mug from the tray. The drink appeared to be hot, foamy milk, but smelled sweetly of spices and rum. He sipped it and sighed contentedly – everything inside him felt immediately warm and sleepy.

'I hope it's no trouble, having me here, and all,' Harry said.

'Trouble? Nah, not for us, anyhow,' Fred said, and took a swig from his own mug. 'Might be trouble for you, though – we'll put you to work in the store.'

'Yeah, you know those slave labour laws put through by the Ministry back in 1856?' George said. 'They don't apply in this place. We'll work you ragged.'

'Oh, shut up,' Ron muttered. 'Don't worry, Harry, it's real fun. ...But you don't have to work if you don't want to,' he added quickly.

'Sure I do,' Harry said. 'It sounds great.'

'It is,' Hermione said, nodding. 'Some of the charms are actually rather clever.'

'Ha! Listen to this one,' Fred snorted. 'Only yesterday she was trying to "correct" the spells on the Spitting Cherrychops.'

Harry laughed along with everyone else, as Hermione said indignantly, 'Well, I thought you could've done the colour-change charms a little better, that's all. Honestly.'

'Honestly!' Ron and Harry repeated simultaneously, and laughed even harder. Hermione rolled her eyes and stood up.

'I'm going to bed,' she said. 'Hopefully you two will be feeling a little more mature, come morning.'

'I think we'd all better be off,' George said, rising from his seat. Fred followed him, as did Ginny, though somewhat reluctantly. The six of them quickly said 'good-night', and Harry and Ron were left alone.

'Well!' Ron said, stretching. 'Feel like dozing off?'

'Yeah, actually,' Harry yawned. He hadn't noticed how sleepy he was until then.

'Alright. Which bed?'

'This one's fine,' Harry sighed, flopping back. This particular bed was not intended to be lain across width-wise, however, and his head dangled over the far side like a ripe fruit from a limb. Ron reluctantly moved over to the other bed.

Harry rearranged himself sleepily, pulling the covers over himself with no regard for the fact that he was still dressed in his t-shirt and jeans. He didn't notice Ron turning out the lights – his eyes were closed, and his mind, drifting. Within minutes, he was oblivious to the world; even Henry, buzzing away in his pocket, was incapable of disturbing his peace.