Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. Therefore, I do not own any of the things she has created. Simple enough?

Loyal Reviewers: What do you guys think about making a chapter, or maybe a half a chapter, from Silver's point of view? For a bit of an inside look on how she thinks and so on...good idea, or no?

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Chapter 19 – Talking to Trees

The next morning Harry woke up early, as he usually did, and ambled downstairs. Lupin was reading The Daily Prophet in the living room.

"Morning," Harry greeted.

Lupin looked up in surprise. "Back to being an early riser, are we?" he commented.

"Yep," Harry confirmed.

"Molly's invited us over for breakfast," Lupin said, "Shall we go now?"

Harry grinned. It sounded a lot better than cereal.

"Floo Powder again, sorry," Lupin informed him as he folded up the newspaper.

"It wouldn't be so bad if it didn't make you so dizzy," Harry grumbled as he took a small handful and tossed it into the flames.

He stepped in and ordered, "The Burrow!"

Immediately he began to spin around...and around, and around...until he was finally deposited in the Weasley's fireplace. He remembered to duck so that he wouldn't hit his head, and as a result ended up in a heap on the floor.

"Morning, Harry, darling!" Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen as he scrambled up, still a bit dizzy.

Lupin arrived behind Harry, managing to duck and keep his balance at the same time.

"Morning, Remus!" Mrs. Weasley called.

"Morning, Molly!" Lupin replied, and then, very enthusiastically, "What's for breakfast?"

"You just wait and see," she replied.

Lupin grinned, and Mr. Weasley walked into the room.

"Remus, Harry!" he exclaimed, "How are you?"

"Good," they replied in unison.

Mr. Weasley beamed. "I believe Ron is waiting for you upstairs, Harry," he commented.

Harry grinned and headed for the staircase as Mr. Weasley and Lupin began to discuss the latest article in The Daily Prophet. He didn't bother to knock on Ron's door, but simply burst in, causing Ron to jump and bang his hand on his nightstand.

"Hi, Harry!" he greeted as he winced.

"Hello," Harry replied cheerfully as Pig zoomed into his stomach with the force of a small rocket, temporarily knocking the air out of him.

Ron stuffed Pig in his cage as Harry regained his breath.

"What's his problem?" Harry asked, rubbing his stomach and looking at the owl who was now rattling the cage.

"Just hyper," Ron answered, "He does it to everybody except Ginny."

Harry suddenly smirked as he noticed that there was a picture of Hermione on Ron's nightstand.

Ron followed his gaze and blushed bright crimson.

"She, uh, gave it to me on the train," he explained.

"Before or after you kissed?" Harry answered mischievously.

"Before," Ron admitted, blushing even harder.

Harry sniggered, and Ron threw his pillow at him.

"It's not funny," he mumbled.

"Sorry," Harry said, although he didn't really mean it, "So have you asked her to officially be your girlfriend yet?"

"No," Ron mumbled.

Harry tried very hard not to laugh.

"It's no worse than you not having asked Silver yet!" Ron told him.

"Who says I haven't asked her?" Harry answered in a superior voice.

Ron gaped. "You...you have?" he asked.

"Well, no, but I just wanted to know where you got the idea," Harry replied.

It was Ron's turn to snigger.

"Well, I didn't expect you to have the guts," he told him.

Harry threw his pillow back at him. "Are you saying I'm a wimp?" he challenged, grabbing another pillow from Ron's bed.

"Sure am," Ron confirmed wickedly.

They began a relentless pillow fight during which Pig's cage got knocked around quite often, much to the owl's content. Suddenly the door banged open. Mrs. Weasley stood there, hands on her hips. Harry turned to look at her, which was a mistake, because the next minute he got whapped on the head with Ron's pillow. He began to raise his to hit Ron back, but Mrs. Weasley interrupted.

"Oh no you DON'T!"

Immediately they both dropped their pillows.

"You two are making an absolute racket!" she screeched, "You'd think there was an earthquake! I want it to stop right now."

"Yes mum," Ron muttered quickly.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry echoed.

Still eyeing them suspiciously, she closed the door. They burst into laughter.

"Ha! I won!" Ron crowed triumphantly.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered.

"So, did you go to Open Market yesterday?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, we went with Silver and Snape," Harry answered.

"And Snape?" Ron repeated, "Why would he want to be around that many people?"

"He didn't have a good time, trust me," Harry answered.

Ron laughed. "We tried to look for you, but there was just too many people."

"Yeah, there was a lot," Harry said. He told Ron about Silver's infatuation with the silver hippogriff and how the picture on the wall had shown them...something.

"What do you reckon it was, Harry?" Ron asked, "The future?"

"That's what I thought, but Lupin thought it wasn't quite the future...just possibilities for it," Harry answered.

"So is everything you see a possibility?" Ron inquired curiously.

"I dunno," Harry replied.

"I want to go see it," Ron said, a touch of envy in his voice.

"Wait until you do," Harry said, "The place looks great, except for the bedrooms and the study."

"Nice," Ron replied, "Guess I'll have to wait until Christmas, though."

"Well, you never know," Harry answered, "What with all the stuff the Order has going on."

"Yeah...and you could always invite me over, you know," Ron hinted.

"To do what? Stare at the picture all day?" Harry asked.

"Well, it doesn't sound like it would be so bad!" Ron replied indignantly, "I've never seen the future before!"

Harry laughed and Mrs. Weasley called them downstairs for breakfast.

As always, there was a long, full table. Mr. Weasley sat on the head, and on either side of him was Mrs. Weasley's empty seat and Lupin. Fred, George, Ginny, Ron, and Harry also sat at the table. Mrs. Weasley appeared in the room carrying a huge tray of waffles.

"Waffles!" Lupin exclaimed delightedly.

Mrs. Weasley beamed as she heaped four waffles onto his plate. Lupin looked absolutely ecstatic. Mrs. Weasley proceeded to serve them all, and then sat down herself to enjoy breakfast.

"Does anyone need any more syrup?" George asked once everyone had poured theirs.

After receiving no's from everyone at the table, he proceeded to empty the syrup pitcher into two glasses.

"Okay then," he said mischievously to Fred, handing him a glass, "On the count of three."

"Boys," Mrs. Weasley said concernedly, "What're you doing?"

"One."

"Boys?"

"Two."

"BOYS?"

"Three."

They both raised the glasses to their mouths and began chugging.

"Sick!" Ginny squealed, blanching and running from the room with her hand clapped over her mouth.

Harry winced at the sight, and Ron clutched his stomach from beside him.

Mrs. Weasley was covering her eyes, and Mr. Weasley raised his eyebrows. Lupin looked shocked.

Suddenly, the sound of slurping air came from both cups.

"Ha!" they cried in unison, each ready to claim victory over the other.

"Wait – no!" they exclaimed, "I was first!"

Then, grinning, they declared a tie.

Mrs. Weasley dared to look up.

"FRED! GEORGE! NEVER AGAIN!" she screeched.

"I WON'T BE ABLE TO EAT SYRUP FOR A YEAR! DISGUSTING! YOU'RE BOTH GOING TO BE SICK, AND I'M NOT GOING TO GIVE YOU A DROP OF MEDICINE!"

Fred and George grinned.

"You're going to let us suffer from syrup intake, Mum?" George asked, trying to look both innocent and shocked.

"How cruel!" Fred exclaimed, mirroring George's look.

"Cruel indeed," Mrs. Weasley replied savagely.

Ron and Harry were overcome with fits of silent laughter. Lupin and Mr. Weasley both looked highly amused, but when Mrs. Weasley looked their way, they were innocently eating their waffles.

"Now," Mrs. Weasley declared, "I'm going to go see if Ginny is alright."

Once Mrs. Weasley had made it out of the room, all six left at the table dissolved into laughter.

"Admit it!" George boasted, "You've never seen anyone drink syrup faster than us!"

Harry had personally never witnessed anybody drink syrup before, so he "admitted" it with a shrug.

"Actually, I have," Lupin replied, a gleam in his eye.

"What?" Fred dropped his fork onto his plate.

"No!" George exclaimed.

"Sirius Black and James Potter," Lupin declared, "Could beat you any day!"

Harry was half saddened, half happy at this mention of his father and Sirius. How could Lupin talk...joke...about them like that? Or maybe he hadn't been – maybe he was just appreciating them. It was hard to tell. Lupin and the rest shot him a cautious glance, and he managed a halfway honest grin. Nobody said anything, anyway – they must have seen that his smile was not wholly sincere. He ate a bite of his waffle, and the syrupy taste made him feel nauseated.

"Ugh," he said, pushing his plate away, "I can't stand the taste of syrup any more!"

He shot Fred and George an accusing glance, and they grinned innocently.

"Wonder why," Fred commented.

"Think the poor bloke's had a bad experience with it," George added.

Harry smiled, still thinking of his father and Sirius. If they had been there at that moment, they would be happily taking Fred and George on, he knew. And his mother – would she reprimand them as Mrs. Weasley had done? Or would she only halfheartedly scold them? Would she look over and wink at Harry, or would she give him a gaze that clearly told him she didn't want him to drink syrup anytime soon? Would his father attempt to get him to try it? Would Sirius? If my parents were here, Harry thought wistfully, I could just walk over and give my mum a hug, right now...just walk right over and do it.

"Harry?" Ron asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Are you okay?" Lupin inquired, looking at Harry as if trying to read his thoughts.

"You should give your mum a hug," Harry answered to Ron.

"What?" Ron asked confusedly.

"Give her a hug," Harry replied, as if it were a simple morning chore.

Ron looked too confused to say anything for a moment, but then he recovered himself.

"Sure, Harry," he said finally, "Sure I'll give her a hug."

Harry stared at the table in front of him, aware that everyone was watching him, and not wholly comfortable with the fact. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny entered the room, and Ginny cautiously took a seat next to Harry, instead of next to Fred and George where she had been sitting. Ron pushed his chair back and stood up as Mrs. Weasley prepared to sit down.

"Mum," he said, beginning to blush.

She looked up.

"Um, don't sit down," he told her, walking over.

"Why not?" she asked, looking down at her chair as if it might be bewitched.

"Because...um..." Ron stammered, not quite sure what to say.

Finally, he just put his arms around her. He had to bend down a little to do it, but he did. Looking shocked and pleased, Mrs. Weasley put her arms around him.

"Oh, Ronnie," she said blissfully, closing her eyes over his shoulder, "You've just made my day."

She released him after a moment, her eyes bright.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"I...um, I'm not really sure," Ron replied, his face growing steadily redder.

"Well...thank you," Mrs. Weasley said, looking at Ron lovingly.

"Welcome," Ron mumbled as he took his seat, his face crimson.

He looked at Harry inquiringly, as if wondering whether he had done a good job. Harry nodded, and then got up and headed for Ron's room. He didn't want company, and Ron seemed to sense that, because he didn't follow. He sat on Ron's bed, wishing that he could have been Ron then, giving his mother a hug. Ron thought that he, Harry, "the-boy-who-lived" had such a great life, but Harry would give anything to be red-haired, freckled Ron with both parents. He probably has godparents who are still alive, too, Harry thought bitterly. He lay back on Ron's bed, struggling with the lump in his throat. He found himself wishing that he was the boy who didn't live. He would be wherever his parents were - just as it was supposed to be. He took deep breaths, fighting the urge to break down into tears, or depression...or whatever it was that was threatening to overcome him. Finally, the lump in his throat disappeared, and his eyes no longer felt as if they were holding back a waterfall. He still lay there, feeling something in between relief and depression.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He knew it was Lupin's.

"Come in," he said quietly, knowing that Lupin was listening intently enough to hear him.

Lupin came in and Harry sat up and began talking before he was questioned.

"I was just wondering what it would be like to have parents," he informed Lupin quickly, "But I'm fine now."

Lupin didn't look as if he quite believed it. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yep," Harry replied in a horribly upbeat voice, "I think I'll go see if anyone wants to play Quidditch for a while."

"Well...okay, then," Lupin agreed, "But you'll tell me if something's bothering you, won't you?"

"Sure," Harry answered, getting up and striding out of the room. He felt a bit guilty about just leaving Lupin there, but Lupin could handle it.

He walked into the kitchen and everyone fell silent. His heart sank. They had been talking about him.

"Well, don't stop talking about me just because I'm here," he said, still using an upbeat voice. He heard Lupin enter the room behind him.

"Harry...we weren't..." Ron began.

"Oh, but you were," Harry replied, "Let's all talk about Harry, the-boy-who- lived! Harry Potter, famous for being an orphan with a scar on his forehead!"

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley tried.

"Oh, no," Harry said in a mock shocked voice, "I didn't want to disrupt your conversation. Please, do continue!"

Everybody was silent, which only served to make Harry's temper rise dangerously.

"Poor Potter, he doesn't have anyone to guide him, does he?" he asked, hinting at what he knew was going through Mrs. Weasley's (and perhaps the others') mind, "Yep, he has emotional issues which he needs to overcome – but he doesn't have time for that, because HE HAS TO DEFEAT VOLDEMORT!"

Everyone in the room gasped and jumped except for Lupin, who merely looked startled.

"VOLDEMORT, VOLDEMORT, VOLDEMORT!" Harry bellowed at the top of his lungs, watching with some sort of sick pleasure as they all jumped.

Then he smiled at them and strode out to the backyard. Nobody followed. He spotted a garden gnome sitting innocently on the grass in a corner.

"HO, HO!" he exclaimed, as if the gnome had purposely gone to great lengths to annoy him.

The gnome sensed danger and got up to run away, but Harry grabbed it by the ankles, swung it around, and then let it fly with such force that it probably landed somewhere in the United States. Feeling a bit more satisfied, Harry sat down with his back against the garden wall. He ran his hand through his hair, feeling his temper begin to drop. Finally, he leaned his head back against the garden wall and closed his eyes. The December sun was weak, but after a few minutes he felt a warmth creeping across his face and body. He sighed, wondering if the others were going to come out for him anytime soon. Nah, he thought, They probably need some more time to discuss how they're going to 'handle it'. He half grinned at the thought, knowing that it was exactly what the others were doing at that very moment. He figured there was no need to go back in, since he was enjoying sitting outside anyhow. The sun's rays were becoming more and more successful in warming him up. He felt nearly intoxicated by the heat. He began to grow drowsy, and was somewhere in between sleep and wakefulness when he was interrupted.

"Uh, Harry?" Ron's voice came.

Harry reluctantly opened his eyes and looked at Ron.

"Um, we're going to go get our trees now," Ron said, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else than talking with Harry.

"Super," Harry replied a bit sarcastically as he got up. How long had he been sitting there?

Ron eyed him warily. "Uh, yeah. Would you rather travel by Floo Powder or the Knight Bus?"

"Why? Don't want to ruffle my feathers any more?" Harry replied good- naturedly, although still finding himself unable to completely lose his sarcastic attitude. "The Knight Bus, I suppose."

"Right," Ron said, still looking at him as if he might explode at any second.

"No worries, Ron, I've got most of my yells out of me," Harry assured him brightly as they walked through the door. Everyone was sitting at the kitchen table, looking at him as he walked in. Harry knew Ron was shrugging behind his back.

"No need to shrug, Ron, just tell them in words," he said as he headed for the front door. He was in rather a good, but yet sarcastic, mood.

The others joined him as he stood outside. They all looked at him uneasily.

"Shall I do the honors?" he asked in an imperial voice, whipping his wand out and flourishing it in the air. He continued to wave his wand about crazily until the Knight Bus pulled up.

They all exchanged worried glances, causing him to chuckle in amusement. Stan grinned cheesily at them as they boarded.

"Hiya, Neville," Stan greeted.

"Hey, Stan, ole buddy, ole pal," Harry replied with mock cheerfulness, patting Stan heartily on the back.

He eyed the other's worried looks with amusement.

"I'm not crazy, ya know," he informed them as they took their seats.

Nobody looked too convinced. Ron hesitantly sat next to him, looking extremely concerned.

The bus took off, sending Harry backwards against his seat. He refrained from laughing. Riding the Knight Bus was like riding the worst roller coaster ride ever invented. After a while, the bus lurched to a stop for some other passengers to get on. Harry went flying into the seat in front of him. Everybody leaned toward him, as if that would somehow help, but Harry began to laugh almost uncontrollably.

"Some ride, huh?" he asked them as he struggled to stop laughing. It looked as if it were worrying them. He stretched back comfortably in his seat and let the bus toss him about.

Everybody was too scared of him to say a word when they got off at their stop, which was Mary's Magical Christmas Trees.

"Are the trees really magical?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yeah," Ron replied, "Mum likes these better than regular trees."

"What do they do?" Harry inquired.

"Well, they smack you if you try to pick up your presents before Christmas, and they assort them by name so that everybody has a pile on Christmas morning."

"Nifty," Harry replied. He strolled up to a tree, and it bent down, as if looking at him.

"Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived," he introduced himself formally, extending a hand.

The tree reached out one of it's branches and shook his hand.

Lupin and the Weasleys looked concerned for Harry's life.

"I just thought I'd introduce myself," he said innocently.

He wondered what had put him in such a mood for shocking people – he found that he was suddenly rather good at it. Or maybe he always had been. In any case, it was fun. And it wasn't as if he had anything else to do. He wandered through the rows of trees, refraining from introducing himself to each and every one of them. He had a feeling the others would transport him to St. Mungo's immediately if he did.

"Harry!" Lupin called, "I think I've found one!"

Harry hurried past the trees to find Lupin looking at a dark green pine that was stretching itself to its full height...which wasn't amazingly tall...for them. For some reason, it looked as if it would compliment the Black living room very nicely. Harry had the urge to introduce himself to it, but didn't.

"I like it," he told Lupin.

"Good, then," Lupin replied, "We'll take it."

The tree nearly jumped in excitement. Harry grinned. He liked the thought of a tree with personality.

Harry called Ron over to see it.

"Well...it's not very tall," Ron said disappointedly.

The tree sagged sadly.

"Of course it is!" Harry exclaimed, as if Ron were blind, "Just look at it – taller than any tree I've ever seen!"

The tree immediately straightened and stretched itself upward, eager to prove Harry right.

"If you say so," Ron replied doubtfully.

Harry grinned at the tree as Ron walked away.

"I think you're tall enough," he told it.

It quivered happily.

Suddenly something struck Harry.

"Oh god," he moaned, "I'm talking to a tree."