Ten years after the defeat of Voldemort, long after those who suffered from him had begun to heal, a large barn owl swooped into the visitor's entrance of the Ministry of Magic. Bearing a large, heavy invitation, it pecked out the entrance code onto the telephone keypad and hooted to the magical voice that greeted her. A small badge appeared in the coin holder (MINNIE: Messenger Owl), but seeing as she lacked opposable thumbs, there was little she could do about it. The lift descended, opening to the lobby and the Fountain of Magical Fellowship, which replaced the Fountain of Magical Brethren after its destruction. Minnie swooped over security and down many corridors and staircases, finally arriving in a large, busy department on the second floor. Bypassing the many witches and wizards who talked loudly to each other across the room, Minnie headed straight to the cubicle of one Mr. Harry Potter, to whom the invitation was addressed.
Harry received his invitation with curiosity, absentmindedly overpaying the messenger. Minnie swooped up and hooted loudly, exiting the way she came, as Harry opened the seal on the letter. He read the parchment with a smile:
You are cordially invited to the greatest party on Earth,
In honor of the 10th anniversary of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes,
On May 31st, 8:oo PM,
In the Grand Ballroom of the Apothecary Hotel.
Please R.S.V.P. at your earliest convenience.
Misters Fred and George sincerely hope you will attend.
No sooner had he finished reading than Harry pulled his wand from his robes and tapped the invitation, incanting "Respondeo." The parchment flashed a brilliant green, and again he touched the surface, this time saying, "I shall attend." Once again the parchment changed, this time glowing a soft violet with the words, "Brilliant! See you there!" appearing across the bottom. Harry's smile widened. He was already anticipating the event.
Since the war, Harry had become even more famous than he had been in childhood. If his early defeat of the Dark Lord had made him popular, then the final conquest had hade him a hero. Harry could hardly walk down the street without a group of awestruck witches and wizards following closely behind him. It was all extremely ridiculous. His two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, had also acquired a sudden fame, and their romance had made them Witch Weekly staples since the end of the war. Without fail Ron and Hermione would appear on the cover of some tabloid every week – usually accusing one or the other of cheating, lying, or generally being an immoral git. Ron was especially prone to character attacks after joining the Chudley Cannons three years before. Apparently the public was of the opinion that professional sports stars were all a breed of terrible liars, and poor Ron found himself barraged on all sides by all manner of outrageous accusations. Hermione kept a much lower professional profile, yet she was still very well known for her work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. After the death of Arthur Weasley, she took up the open seat in the department, saying that it was only right for a Muggle-born to work in a Muggle-relations position. Harry admired her ambition – not many witches would have been willing to take the spot, but she had elevated the office to a level of deep respect, even convincing the maintenance crew at the Ministry to put a window in the tiny office she shared with her colleague.
Leaning back in the plush chair within his cubicle at the ministry, Harry sighed and smiled to himself. The atmosphere was light, as his fellow Aurors laughed and called to one another across the crowded room, and he surveyed his small space within the department. Tacked all over the walls of his cubicle were hundreds of moving pictures – some of notorious criminals he was working on catching, but most of old friends he knew from his Hogwarts days. One of himself, Ron, and Hermione showed the three of them on Christmas vacation, bundled up against the cold; another showed his old friend and teacher, Hagrid, petting a formidable beast Harry did not care to meet again; still another, hung slightly apart from the others, showed a beautiful sixteen year-old girl, smiling shyly at the camera. She giggled softly and waved her fingers, blushing at the attention the camera gave her. A pang of sadness crossed Harry's heart as she moved, catching the sunlight in her flaming red hair. Of all the people lost in the war, Ginny was the one he would always miss the most.
At that moment, a wadded-up piece of parchment zoomed into Harry's cubicle, bouncing off his head and landing on the floor. "HA! You're it!" a tall Welch wizard cried, cackling as he ran away. Harry smiled ruefully, pulling out his wand and enchanting the paper ball to fly up into the air. One couldn't be morose when a game of Magic Tag was in progress.
OO-OO-OO-OO-OO-OO
The night of the party, Harry left work in a hurry, apparating home as soon as he could to prepare. After talking briefly to Ron about the event in the previous weeks, he had learned that many of the guests would be old schoolmates he hadn't seen since the end of his seventh year. There would be notable exceptions, of course, but he hoped to see some of the old faces he remembered from those early days.
He dressed carefully, trying to look as polished as he could, without crossing the line into stuffy-and-overdressed. One thing he had learned as a public figure was to be scrupulous about his appearance – every move he made was sure to be analyzed by the press. Considering the high business profiles the Weasley twins kept, he could expect a large amount of press coverage at the event. Since the opening of the first Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, they had developed a regular empire of joke shops. The first store had expanded to two, then five, then ten, and now numbered in the upper 70s in three European countries. To put it mildly, Fred and George were a success. The press often referred to the two of them as the "most successful magical business leaders in the UK," and they accepted the title with grace, if not modesty. It was only fitting that they should pull out all the stops for their 10th anniversary bash.
Taking a last look in the mirror in his entrance hallway, Harry attempted to make the scraggly hairs on the back of his head lie flat. As usual, they refused to obey his desires, and he sighed in resignation. He straightened his tie and cleared his throat, ready to meet and greet. Taking a deep breath, he apparated out of his flat.
OO-OO-OO-OO-OO-OO
Arriving instantly at the ballroom, Harry surveyed his surroundings quickly, attempting to see all the extravagance the twins had put into decorating. Large banners strung across the walls read, "WEASLEY BROTHERS CELEBRATE A PERFECT 10!" and then the message changed to "GIVE FRED AND GEORGE A HAND!" Harry smiled; the twins would never learn to be serious. A large assortment of magical firecrackers zoomed across the ceiling, showering the guests in sparks of every color. Harry noted with satisfaction that the assembled crowd was quite large, and that he recognized many of the faces. Turning to take a champagne flute off a nearby table, he was surprised to hear someone shout, "Oi! Harry!" from across the room.
Craning his neck to see who had called him, he saw George rushing over, smiling widely. "Glad you could make it! How are you, mate?" George cried, slapping him hard on the shoulder when he was near.
Harry bit back a pained grimace, smiling widely to see his old friend. "I'm doing rather well. You?"
George beamed, gesturing to the rest of the room, "Very well, obviously. Lemme find Fred – don't move!" and he bounded off to find his twin.
Picking up a champagne glass from the table, Harry turned around and sipped, searching for other familiar faces. He hadn't looked long before he saw Hermione, blandly surveying her surroundings. Since becoming a ministry icon, she had developed a more elegant image. Her hair fell in soft, shoulder-length curls, instead of the bushy mass from years past, and every now and again one might even catch her wearing a touch of make-up. She looked particularly nice then, a mixture of glamour and intellect in vibrant violet robes. Harry's face broke into a wide grin. "Hey, Mione!"
To his surprise, Hermione acted as though she hadn't seen him standing right in front of her. "Oh! Harry…well…how are you?" she asked politely, and somewhat nervously.
Confused, Harry laughed, "Well, about the same as when we met for lunch the other day. How are you?"
"I'm...I…fine. Yes, rather fine." She sputtered.
"Come now, Hermione, why so distant?" he asked.
"Distant? What do you mean?" she asked innocently. He noticed that she kept her hands kept firmly clasped in front of her, not even taking them apart to pick up a glass.
Harry furrowed his brow. "You're acting awfully strange," he said.
She batted her eyes, a large, watery smile covering her obvious discomfort. "I don't know what you mean, Harry. I'm acting perfectly normal." She cleared her throat, averting her eyes to look off past him at a group of strangers conversing in a corner. Harry noticed a nervous blush creeping around her cheeks, as though she were trying to shield something from him as they conversed.
Warily, he patted her on the shoulder. "Well…see you around, then," he finished weakly, wandering away from her.
A train of star struck witches and wizards followed him with his eyes as he crossed the room. Feeling considerably self-conscious, he attempted to flatten down the fringe at the front of his head to cover the telltale scar. Naturally, his shaggy dark mane refused to lie flat, causing him all the more embarrassment to be walking around with his hand pressed firmly to his forehead. Distracted by the attention, he almost didn't notice as a delicate blonde witch smashed into his side. Absently rubbing her nose, she looked up at him. "Hello Harry. Missed you."
Harry was taken aback. "Luna," he marveled, "Is that you?"
She smiled vapidly. "Yes, it's me," she glanced over her shoulder, probably distracted by Fed and George, who were setting off fireworks for the entertainment of the guests.
A wide grin spread across Harry's face. "Well how are you? I don't think I've seen you in five years."
Luna sipped daintily from her champagne flute, "No, it's been quite a long time." A long moment of silence followed her answer. Her eyes wandered casually around the room, allowing Harry to suddenly feel extremely awkward. Just as he was about to excuse himself from the conversation, Luna suddenly began speaking again. "Did you hear about my father's business collapse?"
Relieved at the return to conversation, Harry responded, "No, I'm afraid I didn't."
The tiny woman waved her arm airily, dismissing the morose nature of her topic. "Yes, The Quibbler went under, I'm afraid," she sighed heavily, "it's just that no one cares about important issues these days."
Harry smiled mischievously. "Like the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?" he asked.
She gave him a withering stare, replying, "I was referring more to dangers of organized crime in our Floo system."
For the umpteenth time, Harry felt his face turning a bright shade of fuchsia. Luna, who seemed to instantly forget his remark, took a large sip of champagne. "Well," she breezed, "if you see Ronald, tell him I'm looking for him." Harry could have sworn he heard her humming the ancient tune of "Weasley is Our King" as she slipped away.
Turning towards the front of the room, he finally spotted Ron, standing thirty feet away with his mother, Molly. He waved energetically to his friend, who spotted him in an instant. Ron motioned him over, but just then they were called to attention by the sound of a fork tapping on glass. He looked around the room to see the source, and found Fred and George standing on a pair of chairs, commanding the crowd.
"Thank you all for coming today!" Fred exclaimed jovially. "As everyone should know, this year marks the tenth anniversary of the opening of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and my brother and I are delighted you all could make it!" A round of applause circulated the room, congratulating the business owners.
Holding up a hand to silence the pack of magicians, George continued, "As all of you know, Fred and I have always strived to make every day count and every joke last, and today we'd like to thank you all for making our first ten years remarkable ones."
"Little did we think," Fred continued, "when we escaped form school at the age of seventeen, that we would ever come so far."
"Little did our mother think that we would ever amount to anything…" George countered, drawing chuckles from the guests. Harry looked back to see Molly beaming with pride, and Ron worming away towards his brothers.
"But we did—"
"And now we're here—"
"Before all of you—"
"To prove that we are not failures." Another round of hearty clapping greeted this last sentence, and Harry laughed, sure that the Weasley twins had never considered failing at anything.
Silencing the crowd once more, George raised a hand. "And on this important occasion, we would most like to thank the man who made this all possible, due to a generous donation made years ago."
Oh no, Harry thought, suddenly aware of what was coming next, and feeling prematurely uncomfortable.
"Mr. Harry Potter!" Fred boomed, and both twins gestured to the red-faced Harry. The guests clapped loudly for him, and he waved meekly to those nearby. He made a mental note not to fund anyone else's entrepreneurial endeavors.
"And now!" George cried, once again commanding the spotlight, "I believe my younger brother Ron wished to make a speech on our behalf."
Appearing at his brother's side from within the group, Ron gave a nervous smile to the others. Fred and George hopped down from their chairs, and Ron stepped up onto the now vacated seat. Slightly red-eared, he turned to the crowd, holding a champagne flute delicately in his hand. "Thank you, George; though I admit the nature of my announcement doesn't much concern the business." A small ripple of laughter traveled across the room. Harry crossed his arms, bemused. He wondered what on earth could prompt his normally crowd-shy best friend to make a speech. Though more accustomed to fame after becoming a professional Quidditch player, Ron was still notoriously uneasy in front of large groups. He always remained as modest as before.
Ron cleared his throat and began, "Well, as most of you know, I'm the youngest of the Weasley brothers, and certainly the least interesting of the six. It seems that my whole life I've been compared to these two lunkheads," he gestured to the twins, who beamed proudly, "whether I deserved it or not. And though they've always been the ones with the most exciting lives, I'm very proud to say that they're not the only ones with an announcement to make today." He took a deep breath and smiled widely, evidently gaining confidence as he spoke. "Just call me Mr. Homemaker, because my girlfriend, Hermione, and I are engaged," and he gestured to an elated Hermione, who stood next to him, blushing furiously.
Overcome with shock, Harry gaped at his best friend. The other guests exploded into cheers and applause for the happy couple, who stood smiling at the front of the room. Harry was dumbfounded. Completely forgetting to applaud, he stared at the two in horror. He was sure he must have misheard – engaged? No, that would never happen – not without informing Harry first. Ron and Hermione were his best friends – they had been for fifteen years. There wasn't a chance in the world that they wouldn't tell him first. But as he watched the pair, he suddenly realized that they had left him out completely. Ron grabbed Hermione by the hand and pulled her up onto the chair with him; she giggled madly as he kissed her cheek, coyly turning her head aside. Harry felt a dull ache growing in his stomach as realization dawned; he had been left out of the most important moment of their young lives. As Hermione began lovingly returning her fiancée's small kisses, Harry turned and left the ballroom, followed into the hallway by deafening cheers.