Harry Potter and the Quest for Book 6

by Muppetboy

Harry & Co return to Hogwarts for year 6. Everything you'd expect from a year at Hogwarts, including Quidditch, ghosts, Firewhiskey, duels, girls and the Hospital Wing. Please read & review

1. Default Chapter

July

The sun beat down on the uniform rooftops, radiating the heat of summer and scorching the grass. The sounds of children laughing in a nearby garden echoed through the Saturday humdrum of lawn mowers and hedge clippers. House windows were left open, to catch the breeze, not that there was much to be caught.

Sitting in the shade of a large oak tree in the backyard of number four Privet Drive, was a teenage boy. His messy hair shadowing his be-speckled eyes from the sun, his hands curled around the thick book he'd been reading for the past two hours. He appeared much like any other fifteen-year-old boy, with the exception of the lightening bolt scar on his forehead.

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, had suffered the end of the worst of all years, just a few weeks ago. With the loss of his godfather, his mood had become less open, less friendly, and less obedient, especially toward his relatives. He had seen and felt more than any person four times his age, and he chose to tuck his feelings concerning all of it away, rather than confront them. It was less painful to think of oneself as cold, and unfeeling, then to grieve for hours and days on end. Since the death of his godfather, his whole life had taken on a new routine.

He was pre-occupied with death, which is unsurprising given the events of his past, both recent and distant. When you died, he thought, either your shadow stayed behind as a ghost or you were lost completely. Your body decayed and your magic got scattered all around the universe.

Today was one of the few he had spent outside. Otherwise a typical day would involve lying on his bed, in a stupor, staring at the ceiling going over the events of that night time & time again, wondering what he could have done to make the ending different. He remembered how cross he had been last year when he was left with the Dursleys with no contact from the wizarding world. This year, he didn't care; he didn't care about much.

By night he was visited in his dreams by Lord Voldemort, and the ghosts of his parents, Cedric Diggory and Sirius.

Uncle Vernon's fat face appeared at the doorway. Seeing Harry sat down he bellowed 'Don't just sit there boy, get up and mow the lawn'.

Not for the first time, Harry's temper got the better of him. 'Do it yourself' he replied.

His uncle stormed over to him. 'I don't care what your problem is boy' he snarled quietly 'but if you don't, I'll kick you out like I should have and you can take your chances with Lord whatsit and he's dementals'

Harry hadn't told his Aunt & Uncle about that night in the Ministry of Magic. They didn't know what had happened, and their lives carried on, unchanged. He got up and slouched over to the garage.

His uncle watched him then returned to the kitchen where it was much cooler.

'What's wrong with that boy?' asked Uncle Vernon to his wife. 'He's become even more unruly since he's come back from that school. I don't know what they teach them there, but it certainly isn't manners'

'He's not at all like Dudders' replied Petunia. 'At least he's out doing something instead of lazing around looking miserable.'

'Where is he then? At the gym again?'

Petunia nodded, and Vernon smiled then replied 'Good. That skinny little runt would do better to follow his example'

Harry didn't bother to wipe the sweat dripping from his forehead as he turned off the lawnmower and slowly pushed it back towards the Dursleys' open garage door. The garage itself was empty. No doubt Dudley was off in his second car, having crashed his first one the day after he'd received his license.

Much to Dudley's dismay, Harry was unimpressed by muggle transportation. A shiny Volkswagen was nothing compared to flying on his Firebolt, which had been sent to him a few days after his return to number four Privet Drive. He couldn't ride it in the muggle world, but had enjoyed cleaning it now that it was back with him. The broom's return reminded him of his easier days of Quidditch and studying. Sometimes Harry liked to be reminded of those days and he thought of them fondly; they were memories of someone else's life.

He had felt like a different person ever since he stumbled out of Dumbledore's office on that sad and tragic night. He could recall the meeting as though it had taken place the night before, not three weeks ago: Dumbledore's explanation, his burden of guilt, his admission of the truth and of the prophecy. And somehow, this had comforted him in the most miserable and furious moments alone on Privet Drive.

Even after he'd put the lawnmower away, he could see Aunt Petunia's head sticking out the kitchen window. She was peering closely at him with those beady eyes of hers. He did not acknowledge her supervision and walked back out onto the lawn, stretching his arms over his head.

He began doing chores for the Dursleys as a sort of reparation for the many new privileges he'd enjoyed over the past few weeks. Harry was allowed to watch television, which he did every morning, but it was only to watch the news as he had the previous summer, only this time he could be on the couch instead of hiding in the flowerbed. The Dursleys were not used to his presence in their sitting room, but didn't question him about only watching the news. Aunt Petunia would fold and unfold her hands nervously in her lap every morning. Harry could tell she was uncomfortable in his presence, but the memory of 'Mad Eye' Moody was still fresh in her mind, so she tolerated it.

Harry left the lawnmower in the garage and returned to the tree.

'Don't forget the weeds as well' called his Aunt

He got down on his hands and knees to remove some stubborn weeds that had managed to escape the wrath of the lawnmower. If he could have used his wand, he'd have been able to massacre the weeds with no problem.
After pulling up the weeds and throwing them into the rubbish bin in the garage, Harry checked his digital watch -lunchtime. He wiped his dirty hands on his jeans and walked to the kitchen.

The mowing & weeding had absorbed his bad mood, while the pleasant summers day lifted his spirits so much that he decided to open a new school book - The Advanced Book of Dark Arts and Forbidden Curses. If it hadn't been for Dumbledore authorising his purchase, the storekeeper at Flourish and Blotts would not have sold it to him. Usually, this sort of book was reserved for Aurors only, but considering the news of the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, it was considered logical for Harry to be armed with as much information as possible.

Harry shifted slightly on the hard ground; feeling the wand he had tucked within his shirt, poke him in his side. He had taken to carrying his only object of defence with him last year, and continued the habit now. His senses that had been so dull these last few weeks, were heightened and alert to every sigh and every whisper of the children

Harry continued to read a particularly difficult spell on disembowelment, when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up in response to an oversized shadow that fell across him. Looking up from his reading with a frown, Harry saw his enormous cousin standing over him, his usual smirk of distaste etched on his face, his fat hand wrapped around a large ice cream cone.

"Are you trying to convince someone, you know how to read?" Dudley snorted loudly. "That freak school you go to can't possibly have normal lessons."

The stupid smile he was wearing suddenly disappeared when he took notice of the type of book his cousin was reading.

"Wh...What is that?" he stammered. Seeing the wording on the front cover, he gave an audible gasp that sounded much like a pig snorting. His normal dim-witted reactions slowed even more than normal, as a look of fear crossed his suddenly pale features.

"Dad will kill you, when he sees you reading that thing," Dudley announced, pointing a podgy finger to the book Harry was reading.

"Sod off, Porky", Harry snarled, watching the fear cross his cousin's beady eyes.
Dudley paled. "You can't use magic outside of that freakish school of yours."
"I honestly don't mind bending the rules on you. A tail would go nicely since that seems to be the only thing you're missing in your pig costume," Harry sneered.
Dudley grabbed his bottom. His many chins quivered in fear. Then he turned around quickly, and rushed back into the house. Moments later he returned with his equally engorged father.

"Dad, look what Harry is reading, see I told you" Dudley announced proudly.

Uncle Vernon glanced down to his nephew, instantly turning a shade of purple that matched the plums in Petunia's kitchen drawer.
"What are you doing out of the house with that?" demanded Uncle Vernon in a soft growl, the veins in the side of his neck popping out dangerously.

"Don't know, but my guess would be, reading it." Harry's good mood vanished.

"Don't take that tone of voice with me, boy, and get back in the house before the neighbours see you," Uncle Vernon demanded.

Harry stood slowly

"As you wish," Harry said coolly. "I have a letter to send to Mad-Eye Moody, anyway."

The announcement of the man who had threatened Vernon at King's Cross at the beginning of summer, caused a sudden fear to race through the fat man's frame, forcing the purple in his chubby cheeks to turn ashen.

Harry smiled brightly to himself as he walked and into the kitchen, past Aunt Petunia, and up the stairs to his cramped bedroom.

Harry felt a soft pang of guilt in the back of his head, with the realisation that he hadn't sent an owl to Moody or anyone, and not even replied to the letters they sent him. He flopped down onto his bed and began staring at the ceiling again.

Stupid street.
Stupid house.
Stupid neighbours.
Stupid neighbourhood.
Stupid school.
Stupid people in the stupid school.
Stupid Dursleys Stupid dark wizards for killing my parents.
Stupid Dumbledore for thinking he can solve everything.
Stupid reasons he gives for not telling me before why I was destined to kill Voldemort.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Damn you prophecy for ruining my life.

He hated his relatives as much as they hated him, and it gave him a shimmer of pleasure to irritate them occasionally for all the grief they have given him, over the years. Sitting on his small bed, Harry opened the book again, re-reading the spell he had been studying for the past two hours. The sudden pain in his head, forced him to finally pay attention to it, and he tossed the large leather clad item aside, resting his head back against his flat pillow.

His scar was getting on his nerves. It was bad enough Lord Voldemort appearing in his dreams at night, taunting him, blaming him for Sirius's death, without his scar reminding him.

Then he remembered that prophecy again; the one that started all this trouble. It was odd that a woman, who as Professor Umbridge had pointed out, was incapable of predicting the weather, could have foreseen such dramatic events that changed the course of Harry's life. Harry was starting to come to terms with what it all meant.

If he was to fight Voldemort, he was going to fight to win and rid the world of a terrible wizard. He's anger was all coming back now, his parents sacrifice, Cedric's & Sirius's deaths, all caused by one person.

To win, he needed knowledge, and he needed practice, something he couldn't do, unless he wanted to be in trouble again. He needed another thing: To get back to the Wizard World. It was time to write some letters and give Hedwig something useful to do, apart from hunting.

Dinner at the Dursleys was outright boring, in Harry's opinion. He was now allowed to join his aunt and uncle at the table. For every other meal of the day he had to eat in the kitchen, standing over the sink. Aunt Petunia would fuss about him, threatening his life if he spilled on the carpet.

In contrast to meals at the sink, Harry was invisible at the kitchen table. When his aunt and uncle did speak, they spoke only to each other and did not even look at him. It was fine with Harry. He didn't have to be polite and ask them to pass this or that, and he even got to sit down properly.

Tonight was no exception. Mr. Dursley was sitting at the table, reading his newspaper and chewing loudly. Harry wished that he could read the Daily Prophet as he ate, but knew it was out of the question.

Aunt Petunia sat at the table looking bored and indifferent. She scooped up her peas with her fork one by one and slipped them into her mouth. Harry was just about to reach for his second helping of kidney pie when there was a great hoot from outside the back window. A small, brown barn owl was hovering in the air, pecking at the glass.
Aunt Petunia screamed. Uncle Vernon looked up from his paper and turned to the back window, horrified.

"Boy, I warned you last time..."

But before he could yell any further, Harry got up from his seat and sprinted outside, where he untied the parchment envelope from the owl's leg. He gestured up to his room where Hedwig was usually perched. He hoped the owl would get the message as he turned on his heel and walked back into the dining room.

"I told you boy, no more owls in my house!"

"Technically, the owl wasn't in the house," Harry replied. Uncle Vernon didn't object. He was staring at the envelope in Harry's hand.

"That's got my name on it," he snarled. "Boy, why has that letter got my name on it? Do you know what would happen if people saw my name on it?"

Harry looked down at the mail in disbelief. Who would be writing to his uncle?

Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley Care of Harry Potter Number Four Privet Drive Little Whinging, Surrey

When Harry flipped the letter over to open it, there was a stamp that said:

Top Secret Information Those who open this letter and are not the addressee will be hexed immediately.

He recognised the seal of the Ministry of Magic in wax, holding the letter shut. Afraid he would get hexed because the letter was not technically addressed to him, Harry handed the letter over to his uncle. "I think you should open it."

Uncle Vernon turned very pale and eyed Harry curiously. "What is the meaning of this?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, but it's addressed to you, so you'd better open it."

After a few minutes of debating with Aunt Petunia, Harry's uncle took a deep breath and ripped open the envelope, bracing himself for the worst. When nothing happened, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He briefly wondered what he had done wrong now that his aunt and uncle would receive a letter from the Ministry.

But after reading the letter several times over, Uncle Vernon turned to Harry looking very confused. "Boy, did you take some kind of... some sort of... tests?"

Harry's eyes lit up with the realisation that what he had just received were the results of his O.W.L. examinations. He snatched the letter as fast as he'd ever taken the snitch from Malfoy and took a moment to pray before reading.

Dear Harry Potter and Guardians,

Enclosed are the results from the Ordinary Wizarding Level (O.W.L.) examinations. Please read them over carefully as they will be very vital to your future at Hogwarts. Upon receiving the results, please consult the N.E.W.T. programs form also included in this letter and fill it out to the best of your knowledge. Send it back to your head of house and expect a list of school supplies the week before the next term. Any protests or complaints can be lodged with Griselda Marchbanks of the Wizarding Examinations Authority.

The grading scale works as follows: O is Outstanding, E is Exceeds Expectations, A is Acceptable, P is Poor, D is Dreadful, and T is Terrible. Anything lower than an A is a failing grade.

Harry was momentarily glad that T did not stand for Troll as Fred and George had told him, but his anxiety only increased. He tried to remember what McGonagall had told him about becoming an Auror. He needed to take five N.E.W.T. classes all together. Professor McGonagall had only told him four subjects he needed to take and they were Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. But if he wanted to take the N.E.W.T. classes, he would need certain grades in his O.W.L.s. If only Harry could remember more clearly. He thought he needed at least an E in Transfiguration and an O in Potions.

Fat chance, he thought bitterly. He was positive there was no way he had received an Outstanding grade in Potions, and if he didn't have an O, then Snape wouldn't accept him onto the course.

As he turned the piece of parchment over to reveal his grades, Harry realised his hands were shaking. If he couldn't be an Auror, what else would he do?

CLASS THEORY PRACTICAL OVERALL

Charms O E E Transfiguration E O O Herbology E A A Defence Against Dark Arts OO O Care of Magical Creatures E O O Astronomy E A E Divination - P PP History of Magic D -D Potions E O O

Harry couldn't believe what he was reading. At the bottom of the slip of parchment, next to Potions, was an O. He'd achieved an outstanding O.W.L. in Potions! He'd forgotten where he was and began jumping up and down in the middle of the Dursleys' dining room.

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it!" Harry cried. "I've done it!"

"Sit down boy!" Uncle Dursley growled. But Harry wasn't listening. He could have kissed his uncle he was so happy.

Sirius. He wanted to tell Sirius. He wanted to -

Harry realised with a start that Sirius wasn't there. There was no one there for him. He felt empty, a huge void inside of him. He was lonely. Anger flared up inside of him at his own stupidity. How could he have forgotten?

He didn't want to feel at all anymore.

Harry could barely hear his uncle shouting at him as he fell back into his chair. Somewhere in the distance a phone was ringing, but Harry was concentrating so hard on not getting emotional that he though it was on the television.

"It's for you," Uncle Vernon spat, and dropped the cordless telephone into Harry's lap. Bewildered, Harry picked up the phone and tried to bring himself back to reality. Forget about Sirius, he thought. Forget about the Ministry, forget about everyone. Don't feel.

"Hello?" Harry whispered.

"Harry?!" It was Hermione's voice that greeted him on the other end of the phone. "Harry, you sound dreadful! Did you just get your O.W.L. letter?"

Harry nodded, but then realised that Hermione couldn't see a nod through a phone. "Y-yes. I did."

"Oh, how did you do?" Hermione squealed. "It can't be all that bad Harry."

"No, I... I did fine," Harry replied, managing a light laugh that his heart wasn't really in. "I actually got an Outstanding in Potions." He barely believed it himself.

"That's excellent, Harry! I knew you would be great at Potions if you didn't have Snape breathing down your neck."

"How did you do?" he asked, but he was pretty sure he already knew the answers.

"All Outstandings," she said. "Except for... Well, except for..."

"Except for what?"

"Except for in Care of Magical Creatures."

Harry gasped. "But Hermione, how on earth...?"

"I was distracted!" Hermione cried. "I don't know where I went wrong. I've been replaying the Practical exam over and over in my mind and I..."

"But you did pass it, didn't you?"

"Of course," she said. "I got an E, but still..."

"Do you know how Ron did?" Harry interrupted.

"Yes, I do." There was silence on the other end of the phone.

"How did he do?"

"He did... Well, he did better than Fred and George."

Somehow, Harry did not find that very reassuring. There was commotion in the background, and he could have sworn he heard Ron's voice say, "Let me tell him!"

"Hermione, is Ron there? What's he doing at your house?"

"Actually, I'm at the Burrow. Ouch! Ron!" Hermione was apparently struggling. He heard Ron curse.

"What are you at the Burrow for?" Harry questioned, not bothering to hide his jealousy. He remembered last summer, when both Ron and Hermione had spent most of the summer holiday at the Grimmauld Place, while he was suffering alone at the Dursleys. He nearly had an ulcer from worrying so much.

"That's what we're calling about."

"Did something happen?" Harry demanded, immediately feeling guilty for his tone. "Is something wrong?"

"No, we were just wondering if you wanted to spend the rest of the summer with us."

"HERMIONE! GIVE ME THE FELLYTONE!" Ron demanded.

Harry heard Hermione cry out as Ron's voice came through clearly on the other end of the phone.

"Harry, you're not going to believe this. I got an E in Potions!" he said angrily. "I got an E and now I can't take Snape's stupid N.E.W.T. class and I'll never be an Auror!"

Harry's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. Ron had told him in a letter a few days ago that both he and Hermione had decided that they would be taking all the proper N.E.W.T. classes to become an Auror. He had been delighted at first, but the doubt that all three of them would make the grades had been eating away at him. He heard struggling on the other end of the phone and Hermione was speaking to him again. "It's not over yet, Harry!" Hermione cried. "We're going to contest it. Mr. Weasley has just sent an owl to that old bat Marchbanks at the Ministry. And we still haven't talked to Snape about it yet."

"Talk to Snape?" Harry asked.

Ron was back on the phone. "Yeah, Hermione's got this crazy idea that he may change his O.W.L. standard for the class, but I hardly think he'd give me special attention."

Harry felt a glimmer of hope somewhere. He felt a closer connection to Snape, though he didn't want to, ever since he'd seen a memory in his pensive. Perhaps he could talk to Snape. Maybe he could offer to help tutor Ron - but he was no better at Potions than Ron, especially when he was working in a classroom under Snape's nose.

Harry sighed. "I'm sure we can fix this." But he didn't quite believe it himself.

"That's not why we're calling. Mum and dad had a great idea."

"What is it?" Harry asked impatiently. His aunt and uncle were both hunched over his letter on the table, and Uncle Vernon was touching it carefully with his fingertips as though it were going to bite him.

"Well, we thought it was about time that you came and stayed at the Burrow. Are you ready to leave the Dursleys?"

Harry glanced up at his aunt and uncle who were still studying his O.W.L. letter. "Definitely. I'm ready."

"And the best part is that everybody's at the Burrow right now," Ron added.

"Well, not everybody," Hermione scoffed in the background.

"What do you mean, not everybody?" Harry asked.

"Percy," Hermione answered, her voice angry. "He's not here." There was another struggle, and Harry heard Hermione say, "The cord's tangled in my hair, Ron!"

"Sorry, 'Mione. Mum and dad want him to come back," Ron said, "but Fred and George were against it. They said that they can't trust him and he needs to suffer a little before he comes home."

Harry hadn't thought much of Percy after he'd written a nasty letter telling Ron to ditch him as a friend. But now the Ministry understood that Voldemort was back and they saw some of the errors of their ways. He still wasn't sure if he was ready to forgive Percy. Harry didn't know if he could ever trust him again.

Ron sighed into the phone. "Well, Percy's always been a mindless git. He's practically living at the office, beckoning to Fudge's every need. I can't believe that dad actually has lunch with that traitor everyday."

"But he's apologised a thousand times!" Hermione cried. "I mean, he's Percy, Ron. He's your brother!"

"Yeah, well you didn't get a nasty note telling you that your best friend was an insane attention-seeker and that you should sever all ties with him."

"We all make mistakes, Ron," Hermione said.

"Anyway, dad talked to some people in the Ministry and they're going to let us borrow a car to come and pick you up the day after tomorrow - if that's okay with your aunt and uncle," he added quickly. Harry gazed up at the two of them. They were still staring at the parchment, and Aunt Petunia was mouthing the words Defence Against the Dark Arts with wide eyes.

"I think they'll be ready to be rid of me." And at those words, Uncle Vernon looked up gave Harry a nod of approval, not that Harry needed it. He would never stay behind anyway.

"Wicked," Ron replied. "Dad's going to show me how to drive a Muggle car!"
"That's great," Harry replied. There was a pang of jealousy inside of him. He wished that Sirius could have been around to show him how to drive. Even Uncle Vernon had shown Dudley. Who would teach him?

And then he scolded himself for thinking of such stupid things. There were a lot of more important lessons for him to learn than how to drive some idiotic Muggle invention. Harry guessed that most wizards didn't even know how to drive. They could ride their broomsticks or use Floo Powder or Portkeys. If they needed to travel disguised as a Muggle, there was always the Underground or a cab. Driving an automobile was clearly not a vital skill he needed in his studies. But it didn't make him want to learn it any less.

"Are you still there, Harry?" Hermione questioned. It was her turn on the phone again. "Listen, we've got to go; these Muggle telephone lines are only secure for so long. We'll be seeing you the day after tomorrow then, all right?"

"Right," Harry replied firmly. "Bye, Hermione."

"Bye Harry!" Both she and Ron cried into the phone. It wasn't until he heard a click that he pressed the "off" button on the cordless and put it down on the dining room table.

"What was that about?" Uncle Vernon demanded. "That call was far too long. We may have to make you pay for it in your chores."

Harry shrugged indifferently. "Ron and Mr. Weasley are coming to pick me up at noon on Wednesday," he announced.
"Good," Uncle Vernon said. Then he seemed to reconsider, eyeing the fireplace. "Er, how were they planning to arrive?"

"They've borrowed a car," Harry answered.

Uncle Vernon looked disgusted. "Now what was this? And why was it addressed to us?" he questioned, holding the letter in his hand and gesturing to Aunt Petunia.

"It's my O.W.L.s. My Ordinary Wizarding Levels." When the two of them still looked confused, he tried again. "My grades. I guess they were addressed to you so that the Ministry could make sure that the students are not hiding them from their par - their guardians."

Uncle Vernon seemed to accept this. It must have made sense to him, which probably only perplexed him. Nothing about the wizarding world had ever made sense to the Dursleys.

"I... I think I'll just head upstairs now," Harry said quietly. "To bed."

"You do that," Uncle Vernon barked. "And I want that garden replanted before you leave on Wednesday!"

"Yes" Harry replied automatically. Aunt Petunia looked down at the table, almost as if to suggest that Harry finishes his dinner. However, before she could say anything, he turned on his heel and trudged upstairs. If there was anything he wasn't feeling right now, it was hungry.

He was falling through a sea of darkness. He tried to cry out but he couldn't hear himself. Everything was pitch black and he couldn't see more than a few inches in front of himself.
He'd lost track of how much time he'd been falling for. He couldn't remember what he'd fallen into. He just knew there wasn't a way out.
With a thud he hit the ground. It took all of his strength to push himself up into a sitting position. He looked around blankly, still not knowing where he was.
It seemed to be a dirt road, leading to the edge of something that strongly resembled a cliff. Instead of rocks lining the path, like they sometimes did, there were daggers with green handles and blood streaks on them. They made him shiver.
Somehow he managed to stand. He forced himself to walk onward but something blocked his way.
There was a flash of white light that filled his vision. He threw an arm over his face to protect his eyes from the blinding light. After a few moments it dimmed and he removed the arm. Three ghosts of people floated before him. Each had its own shimmering gold halo. He recognised them instantly.
James Potter, Lily Potter, and Sirius Black floated in mid-air before him.
He screamed once before he was brought back to consciousness.

The next day moved rather quickly for Harry. He'd spent most of the night before packing up his things in eager anticipation of returning to the Burrow. If there had been one place that had ever felt like home to him - besides Hogwarts - it would have to be the Burrow. And best of all, there were no memories of Sirius there.
Harry had spent most of the morning working in Aunt Petunia's garden, weeding out the dandelions and planting seedlings in their place.

Uncle Vernon had taken the day off work rather than leave Aunt Petunia alone to meet Ron and Mr. Weasley. Dudley, however, was not hanging around. Bad things tended to happen to him whenever the Weasleys were involved in picking Harry up.

Dudley had not forgotten about the events of previous summers, one of them had left him with a tail, the other with an enormous tongue, then there were the dementors. There was one time when they had both arrived home early in the wee hours of the morning that Dudley looked as though he wanted to question Harry about the dementors. He was probably still convinced that it was something Harry had done to him. However, he had reconsidered and pushed Harry over into the driveway so hard he'd skinned his arm on the cement.

Uncle Vernon was pacing the living room, his gaze never wavering from the picture window. The driveway was empty. Every time a car drove by and it wasn't the Weasleys, Aunt Petunia would make a clicking noise in the back of her throat and check the grandfather clock near the doorway.

Though Harry now knew why he had to return to the Dursleys every summer, he didn't find it any more comforting. It was his family blood, used for protection. Some sort of ancient magic that it seemed Voldemort didn't even understand. He wanted to ask his aunt about it so bad that the question was burning on the tip of his tongue every afternoon they spent alone together.

But he didn't care anymore. His time at the Dursleys was over. And Harry knew that if he could be happy anywhere, it would be at the Burrow.

A sleek black car pulled into the driveway. Uncle Vernon looked quite surprised as Mr. Weasley stepped out of the car. "Well, well, it looks like they're getting a little better at this." Mr. Weasley was wearing a very fashionable grey pinstripe suit with a silk purple tie. Ron was wearing a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt as he followed his father to the front door.

"Oh! I've heard of these!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed. "They're called doorbells - an excellent alarm system for announcing visitors!" Harry quickly ran to the entrance just as he heard Mr. Weasley whisper to Ron, "Am I supposed to push this button once, or a few times to make sure they hear it?"

Harry opened the door. "Hello, Harry!" Mr. Weasley greeted. "Ready to go, then?"
"Just need my trunk and Hedwig," Harry replied.

"I'll help," Ron said and the two of them retreated to the hallway, where Harry had his things packed.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia approached him carefully. "How do you do, Dursley?"

Uncle Vernon looked as though he had just smelled something rancid. "Fine."
Mr. Weasley cleared his throat again in the awkward silence. "Lovely weather today, isn't it?"

Uncle Vernon didn't say anything. Harry quickly walked between them with his trunk and Ron followed behind him with Hedwig and her cage. "Er... We'd better get going."

"Righto, Harry." Mr. Weasley said. "Goodbye." He glared at Harry's aunt and uncle. Harry feared for a moment that there was going to be another episode like when Mr. Weasley picked him up for the Quidditch World Cup, and Mr. Weasley had demanded that they say goodbye to Harry. But this time, he didn't say anything.

'Bye then.' Said his uncle & closed the door.

"Now, I may regret doing this, but Ron, I believe it is your turn to drive." Mr Weasley sighed and took the car keys out of his back pocket. A giant grin broke out on to Ron's face. "Harry, I suggest you get in the backseat and fasten your seat belt. Tight," he added.

"You have nothing to worry about," Ron announced. "I've driven before. It's not a big deal."

"This is a bit different than flying an Anglia ," Mr. Weasley said. "There's no traffic in the skies. There are, however, a lot of pedestrians and other cars on the road."

"Pedestrians?"

"Muggles," Mr. Weasley replied. "You know, people crossing the street."

"Right," Ron said.

"Are we driving all the way to the Burrow?" Harry questioned. Ottery St. Catchpole was quite a ways away from Privet Drive.

"No, just to London," Mr. Weasley replied, "if we don't crash first."

The three of them made it to London without incident. Ron was feeling very smug with himself by the end of the drive. Mr. Weasley asked Harry if he'd like to give it a try, but Harry refused. It didn't feel right. He tried to remind himself of how he'd felt when Dudley was out riding around with his friends. A car was nothing compared to flying on his Firebolt.

From the ministry, they travelled by Floo Powder to the Burrow. Harry's trunk unbalanced him and he nearly fell out of the fireplace, but he had managed to collect himself and moved out of the way before Ron arrived with Hedwig.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, rushing over to him and giving him a hug. "How was your summer?"

"All right," Harry said honestly. "How was yours?"

"Amazing," Hermione replied. "My parents took me to New York for a week. It was one of the most beautiful cities I've ever seen!"

"Who knew dentists were so well-travelled?" Ron laughed, wiping some soot off his shoulders.

"Welcome back, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley greeted as she hustled into the room. Without warning, she threw her arms around Harry in a fierce hug. Harry was thrown off-balance. Mrs. Weasley had always treated him like one of her own. When Mr. Weasley had been in St. Mungo's last year, she pulled him into the room with the "family only" restriction. He felt awkward about it then, and he still wasn't quite sure about how he felt as a surrogate member of the already full Weasley family.

"Now, Molly, don't crowd him," Mr. Weasley scolded.

"Sorry, dear. It's just so good to see you."

"Er, thanks," Harry replied. An unsettling silence filled the air. Everyone was staring at him again. Had he really changed that much? He was just about to make an excuse to leave the room - anything to get so many pairs of eyes off of him - when the enchanted grandfather clock in the corner of the room caught his eye.

The clock was a great magical relic. It didn't tell the time, but had nine hands for each member of the Weasley family. There were no numbers, but it had things like "home," "school," "work," and "mortal peril" where the numbers would be. Harry realised that every hand but Percy's was pointing at "home," which was an odd coincidence. Why were Bill and Charlie home? But what was even more startling was that he now counted ten hands on the clock. He had his own hand and it was also pointing at "home."

Harry was shocked. Home? Was the Burrow really his home? The only place he'd ever felt really at home was at Hogwarts. But the Burrow was Ron's home; it wasn't his. And it wasn't that the Weasleys weren't great to him, it was just that he would never really quite fit in the family full of redheads.

"About the clock, dear..." Mrs. Weasley said. "I hope you don't mind."
Harry smiled. "No, not at all." He was actually feeling flattered that they cared enough.

"Yeah, Harry's in mortal peril so often anyway," Ginny said, joining them in the living room. Harry didn't look at her. He felt ashamed. He didn't want anyone fussing over him.

"Well, I'm afraid that you lot are never far behind him," Mrs. Weasley said sadly. Harry remembered when she was trying to battle a boggart last year at Grimmauld Place, and each time she tried to get rid of it, she would see another one of her children dead.

The sad truth was that Harry always did put his friends in danger, and that he always felt the need to rescue them, whether it was in their best interest or not. And a lot of his friends happened to be members of the Weasley family.

Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Did you bring your N.E.W.T. form?"

"My what?"

"That form that you got with your O.W.L. letter. We need to sign up for our classes and send the letters back before the end of the week."

"Hermione, I'm sure Harry doesn't want to do that right now," Ron said.

"Actually, I did have a few things I wanted to ask you about this year," Harry said.

There had been questions brewing in his mind ever since he got his O.W.L. results.

"That's a good idea," Mrs. Weasley said. "Dinner will be ready in a flash. Why don't all of you sit down at the kitchen table and get to work on your letters? Fred and George will take your trunk up to Ron's room and I'll go let Hedwig out. Ginny, can you help set the table?"

"Hurrah! Put the littlest Weasley to work!" George whooped.

"Hurrah!" Seconded Fred

Ginny let out a groan as she went into the garden and took a seat at the big oak table. Harry saw that outside, Bill and Charlie, were setting up a large table for dinner. Harry remembered his first time at the Burrow, the summer before his second year, when the entire Weasley family had been together for one meal. It had been one of the most comfortable moments of his life.

Ron retrieved his letter from a nearby countertop and plopped into a chair beside Harry. "Why is everybody here?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean?" Ron said, flipping over his results.

"I mean, why are Bill and Charlie home? Does it have something to do with the Order?"

Ron grinned. "No. It's just because it's summer holiday. That's all."

Hermione scoffed. "Doesn't it feel rather weird without Percy?"

"I'd say it feels very relaxed without that traitor," George spat, apparating into the chair next to her. He looked very slick in a dragon hide coat. He seemed to be growing his hair like Bill's, as it was rather long compared to Fred's.

"He's not a traitor. Everybody makes mistakes."

"Don't stick up for him, Hermione," Ron said.

"Well somebody ought to!" she cried. "He can't speak for himself when he's not even welcome in his own home."

"Oh he's welcome," George said. "He's welcome to come home and explain himself to me."

"And me," Fred added as he entered the kitchen. "I'm glad they demoted him at the Ministry"

"Really!" exclaimed Harry

"Yeah. After not realising Crouch was under the control of He- who-must-not be-named, and then being Fudge's sidekick, they decided he wasn't much good, and shunted him into the International Wizarding Standards department" said George

"Well that's not too bad, is it?"

"To do filing" smirked Fred "Oh how the mighty have fallen!"

"Why don't you two go outside and help Ginny with the table settings?" Mrs. Weasley said. It was more a command than a request, and, quite reluctantly, the twins headed outside into the backyard.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Mrs. Weasley apologised. "Things are a bit... fierce around here lately." And with a sad sigh, she followed the twins outside.

"If anybody should be apologising, it's Percy," Ron muttered. "The way he treated mum and dad... It still gets me riled up." There was a hint of heat in his cheeks as he slammed his fist on the table. Hermione made a clicking sound of disapproval in the back of her throat, but said nothing.

"What kind of questions did you have about the letter, Harry?" asked Hermione, changing the subject.

Harry thought back to two nights before, when he had re-read his O.W.L. results in his bedroom. "The form is easy enough to fill out," he said, "but I don't understand. Why do we only sign up for five classes? Won't we have loads of free time?"

"We have loads of free time because we have loads of homework," Hermione answered. "Twice the homework, twice as difficult. If you thought last year was bad, sixth year is even worse."

"Some people - like Fred and George - only take four classes," Ron said.

"But if we're going to be Aurors," Hermione said quietly, "we're going to need at least five N.E.W.T.s, which means we need five classes. I thought about taking six, but I don't want to stretch myself too thin."

"Oh, what's the point?" Ron said helplessly. "I'm not even going to get to take Snape's stupid Potions class. Maybe it's a sign I should give up."

"Do you really want to be an Auror, Ron?" Hermione demanded. "I mean, do you really want to, or are you just saying that because Harry wants to?"

Ron frowned. "What kind of question is that? Of course I want to be an Auror!"

"Then stop whining!" Hermione cried. "This will work out, I know it will. But in the meantime, you should figure out what classes you're going to take."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm going to take the same ones as you," Harry muttered. "Except potions, of course." It was hard to picture being in Potions without Ron. Snape would have to take him into the N.E.W.T. class. He had to.

"Well, McGonagall told me that students who aspired to be future Aurors needed at least five classes, and four of them had to be Potions, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Charms." Hermione produced a quill from somewhere and began checking off the classes on her form. "Oh dear, I guess this comes down to choosing between taking Ancient Runes and Arithmacy."

"I'm not taking either of those," Ron said quickly. "I was thinking more along the lines of Care of Magical Creatures or something."

"All three of you should take Muggle Studies," Mr. Weasley said, entering the room, leading some chairs outside with his wand. "Especially this year." Harry watched as the chairs danced out the door and into place at the huge table, which Mrs. Weasley was now filling with food.

"Hey, that's a great idea!" Ron said. "Muggle Studies is an easy class - it's an easy good grade."

"But can we take Muggle Studies? We've never had that class before," Harry said, frowning.

"Sure we can." Ron pointed at the form. "It says the only requirement is an O.W.L. We passed a lot of O.W.L.s. We definitely qualify. And besides, you've lived as a Muggle with the Dursleys - you'll have no problem."

Harry considered it. Any class where a grade was easy sounded too good to be true. But maybe Ron was right. He'd lived as a Muggle for the first eleven years of his life; learning about it all over again wouldn't be that hard. "I'm in," Harry said.

"Excellent. What do you say, 'Mione?" Ron asked.

"No way," she replied. "Both my parents are Muggles. I wouldn't learn a thing."

"That's the beauty of it!" Ron said. "Just think: an exam you don't have to study for."

"No thanks. I think I'll stick to a real education, thank you very much."

Harry looked at his own form and ticked the classes he wanted to take. It would be odd, not having Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid, or sleeping through a lesson on the History of Magic with the ghostly Professor Binns. "Do you think Hagrid will mind we're not taking his class?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. "It's only a year off. Wait 'til seventh."

The first thing Harry noticed about the Weasley dining table was that it had an extra place setting. He thought that maybe it was for Percy, but when the family actually gathered around the meal outside, he was glad to see someone else occupied it. Fleur Delacour, the gorgeous fair-haired beauty and graduate of Beauxbatons Academy, took the extra seat at the table. She was flashing a magnificent engagement ring on her left hand. The diamond was large and cut into the shape of a dragon.
Bill was sitting next to her, a smile constantly plastered on his face.

"She didn't work on her 'Eeenglish' much," Ron whispered to Harry, "but she sure did learn how to work one over on Bill."

Harry thought for sure that the diamond on Fleur's finger brought out the veela in her, because as he ate, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. She was absolutely stunning. He noticed that she had the same effect on the twins, and that both Ginny and Hermione didn't pay much attention when she spoke. They would glare at her when she wasn't looking, though.

Harry told Mrs. Weasley that the meal was excellent once everyone had finished eating.

The night sky was clear and warm, bringing with it the usual aromas of dinners being eaten outdoors and the sound of night birds calling for silence. All was calm and peaceful.

The family sat around listening to stories of Bill and Charlie's adventures. Bill worked for the wizarding bank, Gringotts, and Charlie had a new position in Africa, but still working with dragons. Both jobs seemed very exciting to Harry, but both of their tales had convinced him that he still wanted to be an Auror. Bill admitted that there was a lot of paperwork with his job and Charlie said that even he spent most of his time recovering from dragon wounds.

'Did you hear about Fudge?' asked Ron.

'No, why what happened to him? replied Harry.

'Made some big speech about putting the past behind us, meaning his cover up over He-who-must-not-be-named, and to focus on the challenges ahead. Trouble was, they took a different interpretation to him, and kicked him out' explained Ron.

'Mind you, could have seen it a mile off' interrupted Fred.

'Yeah, true. Thing is, he was found floating face down in the Thames a few days later' added George.

Harry remembered an article on the muggle news he had seen about the police finding a body in the Thames, but had taken no more notice.

'Does anyone know how he died? I mean was it more than drowning? '

'Well the muggles say he did drown, but the rumours are that it was He-who-must-not-be-named. Some people are saying that he had the Dark Mark on his arm'

'Yeah; makes sense' said Harry, an expression of sudden understanding appearing on his face. 'On the night Voldemort was reborn, he said there was a death eater that had tried to leave him. Fudge went really odd refusing to believe that he had returned."

"That's probably why Fudge had that dementor give Barty Crouch the kiss; to keep him quiet before he told that Fudge was one of them" said Ron

"So who's running the Ministry of Magic now?' asked Harry

'It's a consortium of the heads of each department; Dad's in it, along with Amos Digggery and a few others. Makes it harder for He-who-must-not-be-named to control anyone senior.' replied Fred.

"What about Dumbledore?"

"He's an advisor. Said he wouldn't do it unless they repealed some of the wizarding laws that Umbridge introduced, which is good news for Lupin"

"And house elves" interrupted Hermione

Harry, Ron, Fred and George all groaned and rolled their eyes to the ceiling in unison.

Harry didn't sleep well that night. His insides were churning from the amazing dinner. He guessed he must have eaten too much, but whatever it was, he didn't fall into a heavy sleep until sometime after the first rays of light streamed through the windows in Ron's bedroom.

When he finally woke up for good, Ron's light snores were gone and Harry was in his bedroom alone. He glanced at his watch. It was already ten-thirty. Embarrassed about sleeping in, he quickly got dressed. He attempted to do something with his hair to make it lie flat, but it was a hopeless case. He slipped his glasses on and thought. This is as good as its going to get.

He caught his reflection in Ron's full-length mirror. He couldn't help but notice how much he looked like his father, except for her startling green eyes and the scar on his forehead, he looked exactly like James did when he was fifteen.

No wonder Snape hates me so much, Harry thought bitterly.

Without taking any more time to ponder his appearance, he quietly slipped out of Ron's bedroom and into the Burrow's narrow stairwell. It was eerily quiet in the house. There was no howling from the ghoul in the attic or explosions from Fred and George's bedroom. He felt a shiver down his spine. Maybe something terrible had happened?

But as Harry climbed further and further down the stairs, he suddenly came to the realisation that today was his sixteenth birthday. Before he hit the bottom landing he broke into a jog. When he reached the kitchen, he was greeted by glowing faces and the delicious smell of pancakes and pies.

"Surprise!"

Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Lupin were gathered around the kitchen table. There was a stack of presents next to an empty chair at the head of the table.
"Happy birthday, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, getting up from her seat and hugging him tightly.

"Thanks," Harry replied automatically. "What's all this for?"

"Why, it's the beginning of your all-day birthday party!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "We all thought it was about time that you celebrated your birthday properly, and not alone with your wretched aunt and uncle." She hurried over to the stove and picked up a kettle. "

"Come and have a seat," Lupin said, patting the empty chair next to him. He was looking a little better than the few days before. Harry wondered, briefly, why he was here and then he realised that everyone just assumed that Lupin was to take Sirius's place in his life. Harry felt a rush of anger inside of him, but quickly let it go. The Weasleys had gone to all the trouble of throwing him a party; he wasn't about to let his temper ruin it.

Harry sat down in the vacant seat. "Where is everybody else?"

"Arthur and Charlie went off to the Ministry - I dare say that they'll be having a chat with Percy." Mrs. Weasley bit her lower lip as she filled Harry's mug with tea. "Fred and George have gone to their shop in Diagon Alley," she said with a bit of resentment in her voice. Harry wondered, feeling guilty, if she new yet about where the funds had come from for the twins' joke shop, but she didn't give a second glance to Harry as she filled Remus's cup. "And Bill and Fleur have gone off sightseeing."

"I doubt they'll be seeing much other than each other," Ron said. Ginny stifled a laugh. Ron shook his head and smiled. Much as he was convinced she'd been found in a zoo, Ginny was definitely a Weasley

"They were here earlier, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, "but I'm afraid you just slept in too late. How did you sleep, by the way? Ron said that you'd been tossing and turning until morning."

"Er, well, I... I slept all right," Harry lied. He didn't know what to say. He suddenly felt a hand on his arm and looked up. Professor Lupin was staring at his scar, concerned. "Any... funny dreams lately?" he questioned.

Again, Harry felt ashamed. His stupid scar. He hated the lines of worry all over Lupin's face. "No, Prof - Remus. I didn't have any dreams about him. I guess I just ate too much, that's all."

"Oh dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "Well, I hope you're hungry now. We've got poached eggs and pancakes and a few mince pies." She gestured to the table full of food.

"Don't worry mum, I'm starved," Ron announced. "I'll eat Harry's portion."

Not wanting to be rude, and actually feeling emptiness in the pit of his stomach, he raised his plate and helped himself to some pancakes. "No way, Ron. I think I'll be able to eat my own portion, thank you very much."

Mrs. Weasley looked pleased as everyone dug into breakfast. Harry found that he was quite hungry, and it did turn out to be a very nice birthday breakfast. Remus told some stories about when he went into a Muggle pet store and saw some of the vile treats they had for dogs. "Imagine - bones that claim to whiten a mutt's teeth." Mrs. Weasley even talked about how everyone at the ministry loved Fred and George's new joke shop. Harry was glad to see she was taking their business venture lightly.

"Are we going to get to visit the joke shop before the term starts?" Harry asked eagerly.

"I'm afraid not," Mrs. Weasley answered. "George and Fred have run into some problems. They may not be open for a while."

"What problems?"

"Stupid Zonko's," Ron replied. "They think that Fred and George stole their idea for the fake wands. They were working on a prototype that turned into a rooster while Fred and George's turned into hens." He shook his head in disbelief. "Now they're being investigated by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement until further notice."

"They've been spending day and night cleaning up the store to be perfect for the inspection next month," Ginny said.

"But maybe at Christmas time, dear," Mrs. Weasley suggested.

Harry couldn't help but smile. So he wouldn't have to spend another lonely Christmas at Hogwarts, either. He would have a proper Christmas celebration too.

After another cup of tea, Harry opened his birthday gifts. He received a giant bag of Bertie Blotts Every Flavour Beans from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and an "I Love New York" t-shirt from Hermione. "It's what all the tourist Muggles in America were wearing," she added excitedly.

Ginny gave him a patch in the shape of the Gryffindor Lion to put on his Quidditch bag. Ron got him some of Fred and George's Skiving Snackboxes. He got a few of all four flavours: Fever Fudge, Fainting Fancies, Puking Pastilles, and Nosebleed Nougat.

"For one of those days when McGonagall's voice is just too annoying to handle," Ron whispered, avoiding looks of annoyance from his mother. The twins themselves got him a sweatshirt supporting the Puddlemere United Quidditch team, who their old captain, Oliver Wood, played for.

There were also a few gifts from owls that had arrived earlier that morning. Dobby the house-elf had given him a scarf with Gryffindor colours. Apparently he was really improving on his knitting skills. Hagrid had given him a case of Honeydukes chocolate, with an odd letter on the inside.

"What's it say?" Ron asked, watching Harry with anticipation.

"It says that the other half of my gift is waiting for me at Hogwarts. She's waiting for me at Hogwarts." Confused, Harry read the letter again.

"She?" Hermione questioned. "Oh no, you don't think it's some kind of animal, do you?"

Ron shrugged. "What else could it be? I bet he got you your very own blast-ended skrewt." They all laughed at the joke, however, Harry felt a little uneasy about the idea of Hagrid giving him a pet. But the best gift was from Remus. He got Harry a small, white, glowing orb that fit into the palm of his hand. It reminded Harry of a miniature crystal ball. "What's this?"

"Hold it up to your eye," Remus said.

Harry hesitated for a moment, and then lifted the small white orb to his right eye. His glasses got in the way, so he quickly took them off and used his good eye to peer inside the globe, as though looking through a telescope. At first, he didn't see anything except bright light, but then a light grey circle appeared inside of the globe.

"It's a Moon Guide. It tells you when the full moon is going to be. The darker the circle gets, the closer to the full moon," Remus explained. "And when it gets black, well... that's the night."

Harry grinned. "Wicked. Thanks, Remus." He leaned over and gave Remus a hug. And somehow, it felt natural.

In odd ways, Remus did remind Harry of Sirius. Both were built about the same, though Remus was thinner around the full moon. Remus had long hair, but it was curly at the ends. Sirius's hair had been straight and jet-black. Both of them had dark eyes. But the most familiar thing about Remus was that when he hugged Harry, it felt a lot like he was hugging Sirius. And he found comfort in this, though it did make a lump swell in the back of his throat.

"Well, now that all the gifts have been opened," Mrs. Weasley said, "why don't you all go outside and find something to do while I clean this place up."

"I'll help," Hermione offered, but Mrs. Weasley held up a hand to silence her.

"No, dear, it'll only take me a minute. Go on now, all of you. The summer holiday won't last forever." And with a playful shove, Ginny and Hermione left the kitchen.

Two load cracks announced the arrival of Fred & George.

"Happy birthday Harry, hope you liked our present" Fred face cracked into an evil grin.

"Hey, Harry, you should get your broom," Ron suggested. "We could work on some Quidditch."

"Didn't you catch the snitch in five minutes once?" Ginny asked.
"Yup. It was amazing. Fastest game I've ever played," said George.
"And there were all those times where he nearly got himself killed."
"And Dobby's rouge bludger"
"And how he got past the dragon."
"Okay! Enough of Harry Potter's grand Quidditch tales! Let's get playing!" Ron yelled.
"Ahh. Is Ickle Ronniekins jealous?" Bill sneered.
"Oh shut up Everyone roared with laughter. Ron turned bright red. They all knew Ron had always been semi-jealous of Harry. It was a given fact.
"Sounds great," Harry replied. "I'll run up to my room and get it."
He turned and began to sprint up the stairway to Ron's room.
"At least I don't have a crush on him!" said Ron under his breath once Harry was out of earshot.
"Oh and now you're accusing me for no reason? I do NOT have a crush on Harry Potter!" Ginny hissed.
"Yeah, but you did Ginevra" smirked Fred.

"Don't call me that" she screeched "It's Ginny!"

Harry had just entered Ron's room, when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to find Remus following him.

"About that Moon Guide, Harry," he said, "there's something else it does. Though I didn't know if it would be wise for everybody to know about it." He glanced down the stairs. "It's been bewitched to do something else as well. Can I see it?"

"Sure."

Harry pulled the orb out of his pocket, where he had put it for safekeeping. Remus took it from him, produced his wand from his pocket, and said quietly,

"I solemnly swear I only want to watch."

The orb glowed brighter for a moment, and then he handed it back to Harry. The words he spoke reminded Harry of a similar item that Lupin had been associated with: the Marauder's Map.

"Now look inside."

Harry slipped his glasses off again and peered inside the orb. He gasped. Now he could see Remus and himself, standing on the second floor landing of the Weasley's staircase.

"Wow," Harry breathed. "This is amazing. How - how does it work?"

Remus slipped his hand along the collar of his shirt and pulled out a chain. There was an even smaller orb attached to it. "It's sort of a... surveillance item. When I wear this, you can see me. Anytime you're wondering what I'm up to, you can use this."

Harry was taken aback. Remus must really trust him to give him such a gift. "Remus, are you sure I should have this?"

Lupin smiled and ignored his question. He took the orb back from Harry.

"Now, to turn it off, all you need to say is, 'I have seen all there is to be seen.'"

Remus flicked his wand again, and the orb seemed to dim. He handed it back to Harry with a wink.

"It's another gift from Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Progs."

Harry grinned. "Thank you so much, Remus. But isn't this sort of, well, an invasion of privacy?"

"If I'm doing something I don't want you to see, I'll be sure to take the chain off," Remus laughed. "Now, I don't think you should go around telling people what I gave you, but I trust Ron and Hermione. As for young Ginny..."

"Don't worry, Remus," Harry said "This gift is safe with me."

"Good. I knew I could count on you. Now how about that game of Quidditch?"

It felt good to be back on his Firebolt. He had forgotten exactly how sharply it turned with the slightest effort, and it's exceptional acceleration. Harry and Ron practised their Quidditch moves so intensely that even Oliver Wood would have been proud. It was only at lunchtime when Mrs. Weasley stopped them that they had time to catch their breath.

Everyone returned home shortly after lunch. Bill, Fleur, Charlie, and Ginny joined Harry and Ron in the air. When the twins came back from Diagon Alley, they got out their clubs, and it wasn't long before there was a Quidditch match in the Weasley's backyard. Even Remus and Mr. Weasley found some old Shooting Star brooms and took to the skies. Mrs. Weasley was refereeing, but Hermione sat in a grassy patch near the makeshift hoops, reading a copy of The Daily Prophet.

"C'mon, Hermione!" Ron cried from his position as keeper, not too above her head. "I'm sure dad would give you a few minutes on his broom. Maybe we could even dig out another one from somewhere in the attic."

"No thank you," she replied. "I think I'll just stay on the ground."

"Oh, don't be such a spoil sport, Hermione," Ron scolded. "I've always wanted to see how good you'd be at Quidditch."

"No thank you," Hermione repeated.

"Are you scared?" Ron taunted. "Afraid that I might be better at something than you are?"

"No," Hermione said. "In fact, I know that there are things you're better at than I am."

"Like what?" Ron questioned, genuinely curious, swooping down to Hermione's level.

"Like making a fool of yourself," she said, pointing at Charlie as he hit the Quaffle through one of the hoops Ron was supposed to be guarding. He cursed, glaring at Hermione.

"Hey, Ron!" Bill called from the other side of the field. "Stop faffing and start playing your position!"

Red-faced and at a loss for words, Ron retreated to the safety of guarding the hoops. Harry, however, was way up in the air, keeping his eyes peeled for the golden snitch. Ginny was not far behind him. He wondered if she was planning on trying out for the Quidditch team again. She mentioned something last year about one of the vacant chaser spots.

Harry couldn't wait to be back on the Gryffindor house team. This Quidditch game was not like one at Hogwarts, but he didn't care. It had been so long since he'd been on a broom that he couldn't think of a better way to spend his birthday.
There was only one injury: George hit Bill square in the face with a Bludger when he was watching Fleur score a goal to pay him back for teasing Ron. After a few laughs from the game below, Harry finally spotted the Snitch glinting in the sunlight above the shed.

In a flash, Harry took off and gained some speed as he chased after the snitch. He was vaguely aware of Ginny behind him, working her way up to his level. He thought, briefly, of letting her grab the snitch and take the win. But it was his birthday, and he knew that if he let her win, Ginny would be insulted.

Harry was closing in on the snitch. Five yards. Three yards. Four feet. And in a matter of seconds, his fingers had closed around the wiggling snitch, and the game was over.
Ron, Fred, Bill, and Remus cheered as Harry soared to the ground. They all patted him on the back as. Charlie tousled his hair a little and laughed. "Lucky catch, hey Potter?"

Ginny came over to Harry and shook his hand. "I thought it was only right to let you catch it," she said, grinning. "It being your birthday and all."

"Sure you did." Harry smiled.

Things didn't feel too awkward now. In fact, he felt a lot better than he did the day before. Maybe it was because it was his birthday, or because he'd wasted an entire afternoon playing nothing but Quidditch, or perhaps because Remus was around. Either way, Harry didn't care. Maybe being an honorary Weasley wouldn't be as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. Maybe he did fit in a family somewhere.

After another dinner spent dining outside, Mrs. Weasley brought out a homemade cake with Why Can't'ya Blow 'Em Out? Candles, an experimental product from the twins. As hard as he tried, Harry couldn't blow them out, and was actually quite winded from his endeavour. Ultimately, the candles lit the icing on fire and Mr. Weasley managed to save the cake, although it did taste a bit like charcoal. However, Harry enjoyed it nevertheless.

To make up for the cake, Fred and George got out some of their Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. The enchanted fireworks paraded through the yard. There was a set of long-tailed rockets that emitted brilliant pink sparks. Everyone sat around "oohing" and "ahhing" with delight. Then somebody brought out the Wizard's Wireless, a device like a Muggle radio, and turned it on so that the music filled the backyard.

"So what have you been up to?" Harry asked Lupin, nonchalantly.

"I visited with Hagrid for a time. He's got a handful of trouble in that forest, all right. He's such an affectionate old chap."

Harry did not hide his smile. He had seen Hagrid's half-brother, Grawp, firsthand, and experienced some of the damage a sixteen-foot, substandard giant could do. "Madam Maxime has been with him for most of the summer. The two of them wanted to go back to the mountains again, to see what could be repaired with the other giants, but Dumbledore wouldn't let them." Lupin's eyes grew dark. "I'm afraid it's too late for them."

"And after Hagrid's and collecting some potion from the most generous Severus Snape," Lupin paused to snort, "I went back to the Grimmauld Place. We only had a few days before Narcissa Malfoy would be using every sort of magic to find the House of Black, with help from Kreacher, of course. We had to clear the place out."
Harry's stomach lurched. What he wouldn't give to strangle that house elf. But when his rage subsided, what Lupin was saying started to sink in. He was glad he would never have to return to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. The memory of Sirius was fresh there, in the House of Black. "Malfoy's mum?" Harry questioned. "I don't understand."

"Well, with... with Sirius truly gone..."

Harry heard a small gulping noise, and he was quite sure it had come from him.

"It was only a matter of time before the house turns against the Order and reveals itself to the true owner, who would, indeed, be Narcissa Malfoy, Sirius's cousin. Of course, in all probability, it could also go to Bellatrix Lestrange, but she is on the run, and it would be quite foolish of her to attempt to use the house. We were hoping that it would somehow end up in Molly's care, but it appears the house has already made its decision..."

Harry's fury was boiling inside of him. He felt he would explode. He wanted to throw a tantrum. He wanted to scream at Lupin to stops speaking of these people: Sirius, Kreacher, the Malfoys, or Bellatrix. He couldn't take another word. If he heard anymore, he thought that surely he would explode from the inside and his heart would crack.

"Women," Charlie said, plopping into the vacant seat next to Harry. "Who needs 'em?"

'What's up?' asked Harry.

'Them two' he replied, looking at Bill & Fleur.
"Exactly what I say, Charlie," Lupin agreed, sitting on Harry's other side. "Can't live with them, better off without them."

Harry grinned. The two of them were reading his mind. He just couldn't believe that all the effort one needed to put into a romantic relationship was really worth the outcome. "So Bill and Fleur are really getting married, huh?"

"Yeah, probably this time next year," Charlie replied, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed behind his head. "Marriage. The mere thought makes me want to run away. Lifelong bachelorhood sounds like a good thing to me."

Lupin laughed. Harry had never really thought about being married before. He didn't even know if he'd live to be seventeen, let alone to get married.

"It's a waste of a man's time," Remus growled. "You spend day and night thinking of them, being with them, and in the end, you end up alone and poor." Harry laughed, but he had the sneaking suspicion that Remus was speaking from experience.

"Take it from us, Harry," Charlie said, "you don't need to be in love to be happy."

Harry watched the couples dance. Bill was twirling Fleur with flair.

"No, he's not in love," Charlie commented. "Look at him. He's totally whipped."