The rest of the week at the Weasleys flew past quickly for Harry. Far too quickly, in his opinion. He was enjoying every minute of his life there, and didn't want to miss anything. Before he knew it, it was the 31st. Harry awoke early that morning to hear some quiet whispering somewhere near him. He had been awake all night thinking about things: Rose; Ron and Hermione's new-found relationship, Death Eaters and above all, this new class.

Psyche sounded interesting. Well, no. That would be a lie. It sounded great! Harry couldn't wait to start learning about everything he could. What really caught his attention was who the teacher would be. It must be a new professor, since he knew all the present ones. He thought back to what the older Weasley boys had said about the 'visual aids' as they called it. They weren't being awfully forthcoming with information, and maintained that the three sixth years would be pleasantly surprised. This last comment was aimed at Ron and Harry especially.

Harry sighed and rolled over. Ron's room suddenly became deathly quiet, like the person whispering had gone away. He looked around, and noted that Ron and Hermione were both gone. He reasoned they must have left early, but remembered that this was Ron he was talking about, and this was never going to happen. Wait - no. That couldn't be right. Harry's internal clock told him it was very late indeed – he must've slept like a log all morning. He shouldn't have spent all night thinking- the lack of sleep was evident in his slow movements.

He frowned to himself and slowly sat up, reaching around for his glasses blindly. His hands strayed along the floor, but to no avail. Uh-oh. Glasses gone? Not good at all. He felt a little stab of panic in his chest. Sight was a gift that most people took for granted. Harry could really appreciate sight at times like this, as he was starting to feel very vulnerable. What was he supposed to do all day if he was as good as blind?

He groaned with resignation, grumbling to himself, "Fabulous. It's my birthday and I can't see a thing –"

With a jolt, he checked over in his mind what he had just said. It was his birthday! Then he realised with another jolt that he wasn't at the Dursleys. With a third and final jolt he put together the fact that he was at the Weasleys with his best friends and the closest to a family he'd ever had. Harry paused for a moment to let his mind wander, and made a note to himself to stop that jolting thing so often. Really, he thought dryly, if I don't stop that soon, I'm going to give myself a heart attack one day.

With that, he thought about all the people trying to kill him and how funny it would be if he died of jolting himself to death instead. In some twisted way, it seemed very ironic. The mere notion of this sent him over the edge. Harry doubled over laughing to himself.

Your mind works in a strange way. Came a soft voice from inside Harry's head. Harry jolted.

"Rose? Is that you?" he thought to himself.

How many other people do you hear inside your head? Came a rhetorical reply in a singsong voice. Harry grinned.

"Oh, three or so…" There was an eerie silence.

Touchè. Came the pensive answer.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, okay. I think I can safely say it's you. What's up?"

I came to wish you a very happy birthday. She faltered, as if searching for words. After all, it's not everyday you turn sixteen…

"How old are you, Rose?" asked Harry, wanting to change the subject, as she was beginning to space out on him.

Oh, the same age as you. Sorry, I can't tell you much more than that. You're really not supposed to know anything about me.

"Huh?" came Harry's stumped reply.

If you're going to get technical on me, I'm…uh…well, I'm actually strictly forbidden to speak with you unless you're in an emergency and I have to get permission first. Hee hee. I'm bad to the bone. She began awkwardly, finishing with a mischievous giggle.

"What? How come? Who said?" cried Harry.

Oh, Rose began in a breezy voice,

Dumbledore, if you must know. He'll never know. I'll never tell. When you go back to Hogwarts, don't let it slip that I'm maintaining contact, please?

Harry felt a bit dazed, but conceded. "Yeah, okay. Fine. You're a real rebel, to openly defy Dumbledore like that. Why?"

There was a light snicker. Yeah, right. Me, a rebel? Not very likely. There was a pause.

Uh-oh! I gotta go now…someone's coming. Sorry, I have to say bye. I'll talk to you later. I'll probably know beforehand, but if you need to talk to me, just think really hard and I'll answer. Happy birthday, Harry!

Harry frowned in concentration, but there was nothing more. Like a radio that had fizzled out of sound, he could no longer hear anything. He sighed, and reached up to the ceiling in a stretch. He ran his fingers through his dishevelled hair. He still had no glasses. Yawning widely, with a contented grin on his face, Harry started to fumble his way blindly around the room, dimly hoping that was the door he was headed for. He would be very sad indeed if he tried to walk out of the several-storey high window in Ron's room overlooking the hens' keep.

After tem minutes of smacking into walls and falling down stairs, Harry slapped his forehead in disbelief. Was he really that thick? Wouldn't calling for help be a better idea than getting hurt? A resounding yes. Smiled sheepishly to himself, Harry took a breath.

"Ron? 'Mione? Anyone? Erm…I lost my glasses. Can someone help me please?" Usually in the Weasley household, he would at least have two people coming to his aid by now.

Two minutes later. Must be a little slow. Five minutes later, he reasoned they must all be outside and sighed as he began his descent of the treacherous stairs again.

After falling down many stapes, his eyes were beginning to adjust a little. He could make out most things, even if they were a little hazy round the edges. He walked into the kitchen to see if anyone was there, but the spotless room was deserted. Mystified, the lonely birthday boy trudged into the lounge room, which was strangely dark.

All of a sudden, something grasped his ankle. Harry let out a yelp of surprise and flung his arms out. The lasso grip tightened and threw him off his balance. Harry scrunched his eyes and prepared his hands preparing for a fall, but it never came. Instead, he was hoisted off his feet so he was dangling from the ceiling by his ankle with his head one foot from the carpet.

"AARGGHH! WHAT THE…!?" he yelled, and as he swung backwards and forwards, trying desperately to see what had happened. Dazed and shocked, he cast his gaze around until he found the most likely people to blame. Standing in a semicircle were all of the Weasleys, surrounded by bright lights and streamers. Standing in the front were Ron, Fred and George; laughing their heads off. Hermione and Ginny were off to the left a bit, rolling around the floor giggling with mirth. Ginny was holding his glasses in one hand. The rest of the Weasleys, who were older and supposedly more mature, were chuckling along with them. All at one, they all cried as one,

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!!!"

When Harry was released and all his blood had rushed out of his head and back into his body, his face turned into a permanent grin and he thanked everyone profusely. He looked at the Weasleys (and Hermione) and beamed.

"You know, this is my first birthday party," Harry said proudly.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Rose sighed and stood up. She was wearing a long white dress, which one might almost call a nightgown if not for the distinct lack of lace. It swirled around her gracefully as she moved. Rose looked down and examined herself. She was very pretty. It was a shame, really. As she had so much extra time and no one to share it with, she aimed for perfection. She was hardly allowed to associate with anyone – and those select few had to all be members of the Order. Well, that was the general rule.

She had never been out of these three rooms for the majority of her life, as she was brought here when she was only a baby. The three rooms were the Meeting Room, the Sphere and her bedroom. The Meeting Room was where all the Order of the Phoenix meeting were held. Well, they used to be. The new Headquarters was now in the House of Black, and had been for about year now. So, she had all the rooms to herself. It was a very magical room, and had a rich and noble history.

The Sphere was her own room where, as the name suggests, it was a complete sphere. The walls were perfectly round and white. Not many muggles knew, but science is a magic. Just as light bounces off white, so does thought. Rose was a clairvoyant, and her powers were greatly magnified inside the dome. The round shape gathered energy centred all this extra power on her. Inside the Sphere, with the help of her crystal, Rose could talk to anyone on the planet telepathically.

Her favourite room by far was her bedroom. One couldn't tell what colour it was at all unless she let some real light in. Although it was a hypnotic mix of swirling blues and purple, Rose was not allowed windows in case someone outside looked in and saw her. To make up for this, delicate faerie lights drifting around the room brightened the room.

Dumbledore interrupted her thoughts as he walked in and cocked an eyebrow at her with a twinkle in his glance.

"What are you doing in here, my dear?"

She smiled furtively. "Just exercising my Inner Eye, Professor. You know I have to practice."

Dumbledore smiled, and gave her a knowing look that said he didn't believe her. She toyed with the pink crystal she had held in her hand. It looked so much like a regular rose-quartz crystal, but both of them knew it had a much less innocent background.

The old man smiled. She was so young, and held so much power. During the last two years, Albus became increasingly dependent on Rose. He never made any big decision about Hogwarts, the Ministry or the Order without her. Albus was a wise man: he had learnt very early on that to make conclusions or judgements of any kind, one must first obtain facts and all possible insights. Before a decision, he had to know all the potential outcomes. Here came in his two seers. Sybill Trelawney could foresee the result of any decision, and Rose would read the minds of those involved in a way much more effective than Legimency and relay any information she could gather.

Before the last two years, her main occupation was to tell Dumbledore anything he didn't know that happened around the school: when the kitchens were low on food, when a teacher wasn't feeling well, who was behind the latest prank held. Although, that was usually the Weasleys, so Dumbledore didn't need Rose's telepathic link to tell him that. A huge job of hers was to keep track of all the points taken from and given to the houses. Whenever a teacher yelled out a change in points, she concentrated hard on the teacher who said it and altered the hourglasses in the Great Hall accordingly.

She had been taught magic as any other young witch should; except her lessons were in private every evening, with her professors. None of the students knew that she existed.

Or that she lived right above them in the North tower.

A/N

I never shut up, do I? Anyhoo, plz review and I'm bound to write loads more! A motivated writer is a happy writer!