The Harry Potter characters and world are the sole property of JK Rowling. My thanks to her for letting me borrow them.

Best Served Cold

By LNLisa

Chapter One- Tuesday

"Mr. Potter," said the chairwitch, Amelia Bones, in a shocked voice. "Do you realize the seriousness of what you have done? You may have to stand trial, and if proven guilty..." The woman stopped, unable to continue.

The churning in Harry's stomach turned up a notch. It isn't fair, he wanted to yell out. While the ministry was sitting around doing nothing, Bellatrix killed my godfather. She deserved... but Harry knew he had to stop thinking that way. The relentless anger he'd felt all year was tearing him up inside.

He realized he'd been glaring at Chairwitch Bones when the courtroom audience began murmuring again. He took several deep breaths to calm himself down.

"Mr. Potter, expect to be called back to this courtroom once all of the other witnesses have testified. We will have further questions for you at that time."

A rush of feeling, like air pushing past during a long fall, went through him. The adjournment of the hearing and the babbling noise as hundreds of people in the magically enlarged courtroom began speaking fell deaf on Harry's ears.

Several moments of panicky uncertainty passed before Harry realized that his part of the hearing was over...for now.

He looked around again at the incredible assortment of people seated around the perimeter of the room. The day before, when Harry first entered the courtroom, the huge number of witches and wizards in the vast audience stunned him. During his hearing the summer before he'd had the impression of three, maybe four rows of benches all around the room, but a quick glance into the audience now showed too many rows to count. Many of the adult witches and wizards that Harry knew, including most of the professors, had been given permission to join the courtroom audience, but Harry had only been able to pick out one or two recognizable faces during the last two days. He knew from lunchtime excursions to Mr. Weasley's office that even larger crowds stood outside the room standing three or four people deep along either edge of the corridors all the way back to the elevator. Still these crowds didn't bother Harry nearly as much as knowing that the entire hearing was being broadcast over the Wizarding Wireless Network. That way everyone can enjoy the show, Harry thought bitterly not for the first time.

The moment the chairwitch had adjourned the hearing both Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody had moved to Harry's side. The presiding committee of the hearing also stood, but they were waiting for Harry to leave. Normally they had the privilege of leaving before anyone else, but security around Harry was so tight that exceptions were made. Harry reached out to grab the salad tongs Remus and Mad-Eye held out to him. Remus began counting down, "Three, Two, One..." Harry felt a familiar tug, and then they were standing in the front hall of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Remus put out a hand to help Harry stay upright. Their arrival seemed to go unnoticed.

"Everyone else should be here by now," whispered Remus looking around.

After staying with the Dursleys only a few weeks, Harry, along with Hermione and Remus, had been invited to stay at the Weasleys and join in Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's 30th wedding anniversary celebration. The three had remained with the Weasley's after the celebration, then Sunday night Harry and Remus had relocated to Grimmauld Place. Since Professor Dumbledore felt sure that Harry would be in court at least two days, Hermione and the Weasleys had elected to stay the extra two days at the Burrow. He was right again, thought Harry, but also very wrong. I've got to go back, and Dumbledore never expected that.

"They arrived here just before lunch time," Moody told them. "Shacklebolt mentioned it to me. Your other two Ministry friends are here too, Longbottom and Lovegood." Harry nodded. He'd known that all six of them would be in the house. The Order hoped that by keeping the teens together that protecting them would be easier.

"I'm just going to go up to my room," Harry told Remus and Moody. "Rest before supper..." Remus nodded understandingly. Moody surprised Harry by squeezing his shoulder. What is this? Pity from Mad-Eye? If he hadn't been so tired from testifying he might have turned around and asked. Instead he shrugged off the hand and walked away without saying anything.

Harry began climbing the stairs slowly. He tried to keep from thinking about the hearing, but memories kept popping up.

"Mr. Potter, please tell us how you acquired the scars that are on your hand."

"That doesn't have anything to do with this hearing," Harry answered back resentfully. "You don't need to know that. It happened long before the trip to the Ministry."

"Mr. Potter kindly do not tell us what we need to know! I will repeat my question...how did you get those scars?"

Much of the hearing had been like that. He hadn't wanted to answer most of their questions. Looks of reproach or pleading from Dumbledore hadn't helped any more than Chairwitch Bones' yelling or the disgruntled murmurings from the audience all around him. Harry's behavior had only changed when Remus stepped up behind him and gently put his hand on Harry's shoulder, whispering, "Go on, Harry. It's alright."

Harry was temporarily drawn out of his thoughts as he passed the drawing room and heard several voices talking and laughing. How can they be having fun when they know I've been in court all day? But Harry held back. He wanted privacy more than anything else right now, so he walked past the doors and kept going up to his room.

Entering the room, he silently closed the door behind him. Ron was only half unpacked. His trunk looked like it exploded leaving a debris field extending several feet beyond the front of the trunk almost to Harry's bed. The only items Ron managed to put in their proper place were his Chudley Cannon posters. A third bed had been added to the room, and it now stood against the back wall under the window. That must be for Neville. Harry realized. It will be strange to have two extra people around this summer. It will be stranger not to have Sirius here though. Harry quickly shook his head to loose that thought. He stepped over Ron's clothes and books, before laying down on his bed.

As he had the last two days, Harry carefully avoided looking at Phineas Nigellus' painting. So far Harry had detected no movement or sound coming from the painting and he was glad.

Harry had had his share of bad days, and these last two had been more difficult then most. Testifying at the Ministry for the second day in a row had left Harry feeling raw and edgy on top of his usual anger. He knew his friends were wondering about the hearing, but Harry didn't feel up to telling them anything. The last two days at Grimmauld place had actually been nice. There hadn't been anyone to hover over him asking if he was all right every two minutes. Remus and Moody respected his silences and gave him space, and since he'd been too tired from testifying at the hearing to really think about Sirius, that hadn't been a problem so far either.

What did it matter if he talked anyway? Harry often wondered. Hermione kept telling him that he needed to let out his feelings and not hold them all in, cry even. Harry didn't see the point in any of it. No one could solve his problems. No one had been able to get him out of testifying in front of the Wizengamot last summer or this summer. No one could bring Sirius back, and no one could find Bellatrix. No one could save Harry from Voldemort. No one ever could, and if they tried, they died. That was what it always came back to, his parents and Sirius died trying to save him. Harry felt an ache in back of his throat. He pressed his fists to his closed eyes until the feeling passed.

Harry's thoughts turned back to the hearing. On Sunday, Professor Dumbledore had told Harry everything he knew about the trial, but hearing about it still hadn't prepared Harry to deal with the real thing–a courtroom more like a stadium with him standing in the center ring. Throughout the two days of testifying Harry had wondered when the lions and gladiators might appear.

Reporters swarmed him whenever he left the courtroom. Their never-ending questions were like the pinpricks of a thousand needles reminding him of all of his mistakes. And now because of Chairwitch Bones' last announcement, the strain and worry would linger for weeks to come while Harry waited to find out if he would be tried too.

Harry closed his eyes, exhausted from the stress and worry. One of my biggest messes yet, and I did it all to myself, my fault... the ache in his chest was growing. He turned and buried his face in his pillow. The guilt and despair he felt were sharp and painful, cutting through him. Voldemort won't even have to lift a finger against me, he can just leave it to me to muck things up myself. Harry laughed finding that funny in a way. He turned back over so that he was staring back up at the ceiling and closed his eyes with a sigh.

Remus came in later and woke Harry just before supper. "Feel better?" asked Remus. Harry shrugged. His problems went far beyond anything a nap could cure, and they both knew it. Remus tousled Harry's already messy hair, and they both smiled ruefully. Walking downstairs, Harry found his steps gradually slowing down. He didn't feel ready to face his friends. Looking around for anything that might distract him, Harry noticed one of the paintings looking at him. He'd never paid much attention to the other paintings on the ground floor since avoiding Mrs. Black's painting usually took all of his concentration.

"Weird collar," said Harry noticing the white ruffling collar. "The only person I know who wears something like that nearly had his head chopped off. So are you hiding something under your ruffles too?"

"Ignorant trespasser!" shouted the painting as Harry began to laugh. "This collar marks me as having lived in the greatest era of English History, under the greatest monarch this country has ever known, Queen Elizabeth! If you were only half as well educated as you ought to be, then you would have known that!"

Harry shrugged, "She's dead and so are you. I don't really care." Harry felt a touch of satisfaction as the insulted portrait sniffed and turned away.

Harry paused again in front of the painting of Mrs. Black. After their arrival Sunday evening, Remus explained to Harry that the house was now clean despite the dreariness of the furnishings and the dingy appearance of the walls.

Kreacher, Remus had also explained, had made magical history by being the first house elf ever sent to Azkaban Prison. Even Hermione can't say that he didn't deserve it, thought Harry his temper smoldering. Dumbledore had pushed for a jury of Kreacher's peers to try him. Unfortunately there were very few public records regarding House Elves and no listing of their population. The old families weren't keen to share information on any House Elves they had, so unless something changed, the jury would be entirely made up of house elves from Hogwarts, fair or not.

Harry looked away from the feeble drapes and noticed Remus standing silently at the end of the hall waiting. Harry walked towards him.

The kitchen seemed bright after the darkness of the hallway and stairs. Harry stood on the first step outside of the room and blinked a few times while his eyes adjusted. They entered the kitchen just as Mrs. Weasley was putting the last of the food on the table. Only two empty seats remained and Harry was glad to see they were next to one another. Harry and Remus sat down.

The other five teenagers called out excited greetings, except Luna who sat quietly looking around with unfeigned interest. Despite being in an unfamiliar house, she appeared perfectly serene. Neville on the other hand kept shifting in his seat and was darting nervous looks all around. Harry looked around too. He noticed that Tonks, Fred, George, Bill and Mr. Weasley were smiling at Harry from their end of the table. Harry raised his hand giving them all a slight wave.

"Wotcher, Harry!" called Tonks.

"You did well today," Mr. Weasley told Harry. "Yesterday too." Harry raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"How did it go, Harry? What was it like?" asked Ginny.

"Did they ask you about..." began Ron, but Mrs. Weasley interrupted.

"Remember what Professor Dumbledore said," she reminded them. "You are not to talk about the trial amongst yourselves until it is all over." The others looked like they wanted to argue, but Harry was relieved. Finally a ruling from Dumbledore that he could agree with...

"You won't want to talk about it when you've testified," Harry told them. They looked at him in frank disbelief. Harry shrugged and suggested they change the subject. Mrs. Weasley nodded smiling at Harry benevolently. Harry looked down at his plate not wanting to acknowledge her look. He wasn't keeping quiet because of what Dumbledore said. He just didn't want to talk about it.

"So Luna and Neville, what do you think of the Black family home?" Harry said thinking he could change the subject himself. Neville shrugged still looking uneasy.

"It's quite thrilling," Luna replied.

"Thrilling?" Harry asked in surprise.

Certainly, I've never visited the home of a famous musician before," she answered.

"Uh, Luna," said Ron, "you have noticed there aren't any musical instruments around here, haven't you?"

"Yes, and I must tell daddy. Clearly Stubby Boardman didn't bring his music home with him...perhaps he was repressed?" Luna stared off into space considering this new aspect of Boardman's character.

"One of the books I ordered for you came by owl this morning, and just in time" said Hermione changing the subject. She handed him a small book she pulled from her pocket.

"You didn't need to get me a book, Hermione," Harry said.

"Of course I did," began Hermione, "we don't want..." She stopped herself mid-sentence looking worriedly at Harry.

Harry sighed. He looked down at the yellow cover of the book in his hand. On the front was a picture of a door set in a brick wall covered in flowering vines. He turned the book over to look at the back cover. A witch sat with her legs crossed. Her hands, the palms facing up with the middle finger and thumb touching, were resting on her knees. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to be chanting something. Looking at the front again, Harry read Guide to the Inner Self by Ima Krior.

"It's about Occlumency," said Hermione hesitantly. "I was looking through it earlier today. There's a whole chapter in there about how anger can interfere with successful occlumency..."

Harry tensed up. He knew from experience what was next.

"You have to deal with your emotions, Harry," Hermione told him. "You can't keep it all inside of you or you'll burst."

"Yeah," interrupted George, "take it out on Ron instead."

"That's our tried and true method," agree Fred. Ron gave them both dirty looks, before looking back at Harry and Hermione.

"Leave him alone, Hermione," said Ron. "You've already lectured him enough. Telling him again doesn't help." Hermione looked unconvinced, but turned her attention back to her meal while the other conversations resumed. Harry felt the pressure in his chest slowly receding. Of course he knew she would try again later, but he was grateful for the reprieve. She makes it sound easy, Harry thought not for the first time. How do you keep from getting angry when everything about your life is just wrong?

"What's that?" asked Remus nodding at the book still in Harry's hands. Harry gave the book to him. Remus flipped through the pages after browsing through the table of contents with eyebrows raised. "I guess great minds think alike..." Remus paused looking pained. He sighed deeply.

"Remus?" asked Harry. Remus gave Harry a rueful smile and handed him back his book.

"Sirius found a book about Occlumency in the family library. He was planning to give it to you this summer." Harry found himself blinking furiously. "I'd forgotten about it actually. I'll have to find it for you." Remus paused again with his eyes closed as though he were searching for the book mentally.

"It's older than this one. Sirius thought it probably belonged to his father, so I doubt there are any chapters called 'Yoga and Occlumency: The Twin Disciplines.' But... I think Sirius liked it. He was always writing in it..." Harry looked blankly at the book in his hands for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. He blinked several times and tried breathing more deeply to regain control of his emotions.

There were several conversations around the table, but after listening for several minutes Harry gave up trying to focus on one. All summer, he'd tried controlling his emotions, tried not getting so angry at everything, but then the little things would begin getting to him.

Neville was slurping his pumpkin juice, and suddenly it seemed like the world was full of the sloshing, sucking sound as Neville drank.

Except of course there was also the sound of Hermione and Ron's current "discussion" of chess.

Laughter came from the other end of the table, as Fred and George told Tonks about a shoplifter who'd dared to steal from Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. Another time, another day Harry would have appreciated it all, joined in even–except for the slurping, but today it was like a scratching in his ears that he couldn't get away from. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, biting his lip to keep from lashing out at all of them.

Like little bubbles in a glass of Butterbeer, his anger was always rising to the top where it inevitably burst. According to Hermione he chose to lash out far too frequently. She had no idea how often he did control himself. He wasn't going to tell her though as she'd only get upset and lecture him some more.

At the Dursley's it had been easy to deal with his anger–a dig here and there at Dudley had usually satisfied his agitation.

Since leaving Privet Drive, flying had helped take the edge off of his resentment and unhappiness. Straining his muscles with all of his might as he pulled his broom out of a dive seemed to ease the sense of helplessness that was always with him. But sometimes, before he could catch himself, he'd find himself adding a spiteful comment to one of Ron and Hermione's "discussions," and before long the two would begin really arguing. Harry always felt bad when that happened. He knew it wasn't fair to spread his bad temper, so then he tried even harder to control his emotions.

"You're very quiet," Remus commented softly, surprising Harry out of his thoughts. Harry looked at Remus thoughtfully wondering not for the first time, if he dared trust his father's old friend. Remus met Harry's searching look with patience. Finally after several moments of quiet, Harry turned back to his plate and began flicking his peas like Quaffles into his mashed potatoes. He decided to try.

"Remus, do you ever get so angry that you're not sure if you can control it?" Harry asked very quietly. He didn't want any of his friends to overhear.

Remus sat back against his chair, clearly thinking deeply before answering, "Yes, but not very often anymore." Remus paused seeming to think about what he'd said. "The things that make me angry don't change quickly, but as a member of the Order I can help them along. I've learned too that patience can often be surprisingly effective, but that's a lesson only experience teaches. Are you having problems with feeling angry?"

Harry looked at him, half-smiling and uncertain, not sure if Remus was being serious. From the way Hermione went on about it, he'd assumed that he'd made life miserable for just about everyone with his bad temper. Remus seemed serious though, and he wasn't smiling like he usually did when he was teasing someone.

"Sort of, and I'm worried that it will get worse," answered Harry. "We're going to be cooped up here together for the next three weeks, and I don't want to start getting angry all the time." Remus nodded in agreement.

"Yes, spending weeks in a confined space is always difficult, but then we have the added stress of the hearing... You're right. Short tempers will probably become quite a problem, and not just for you." Harry felt his heart lightening at these words. It hadn't occured to him that other people might be having similar feelings. "Maybe we should try to think of a project or activity that would keep us all busy," Remus said. Something clicked in Harry's head, a project.

Speaking loud enough for everyone to hear, Remus asked the six teenagers, "What's the status on summer homework?"

"Harry and I are done with everything but Potions," said Ron. Hermione gaped at him while Ron smiled smugly.

"Luna and I studied together before her trip to Sweden earlier this summer," explained Ginny. "We've finished everything except for History of Magic."

"I finished everything while I was still at home," said Hermione slowly. She was still in shock from Ron's pronouncement.

"I'm finished too," said Neville. "Gran always makes me do my homework first thing every summer." Remus nodded, thinking for a moment before responding.

"Harry and I were just thinking that we should come up with a project to keep us all occupied," began Remus.

"They can finish cleaning," Mrs. Weasely quickly inserted.

"Acually, the cleaning is finished. Sirius did that," said Remus. He looked down for a moment and drew in a ragged breath. "He wanted the house to be ready for Harry." Harry was careful not to make eye contact with anyone. He'd known this already, from his earlier conversation with Remus, but he still felt miserable knowing that things would have been different if Harry hadn't messed it all up. Feelings of guilt surged forward, but he quickly suppressed them focusing again on the discussion at hand.

"Well," said Mr. Weasley with forced cheerfulness, "this place could definitely use a new coat of paint." Several people at the table nodded in agreement.

"That's true," Remus agreed. "You should each finish your homework, and then afterwards, we could begin some kind of home re-decorating project. Even if we only finished one room, I think that would be a huge improvement."

"I wish you could do the hallway," said Mrs. Weasley tiredly. "I'm already sick of that woman screaming..." Mrs. Black's painting was being especially difficult since Sirius' death. Now that her son was gone, she wanted everyone else to go too. No one had been able to find the spell to remove her.

"Maybe that should be your project, Hermione," suggested Ron. "I bet you could find the sticking charm that keeps that hag up there." Harry cocked an eyebrow in surprise. That had almost sounded like flattery.

"Maybe," said Hermione with a slight blush, "but I would have to wait until the school year began again, when I could look in the school library."

"I believe Dumbledore has already asked Madame Pince to look through the library for countercurses," Remus told them. "She hasn't been able to find anything that works yet. Mrs. Black had a reputation as a charmist. She could possibly have created a new charm for the paintings..." The group was once again silent, discouraged.

"We could always paint around her though," said Ginny. Harry looked up in interest. "Something to really annoy her like hot pink."

"Or the Gryffindor colors," agreed Harry. Everyone laughed, and Ginny nodded with enthusiasm.

"We could decorate the whole house in Gryffindor colors and drive the whole family batty!" added Ron.

"Draw lions everywhere," said George.

"Sirius would have loved that," said Remus with a small, twisted smile.

"You could add a dog to the theme too," suggested Hermione. "You know, here and there, subtly, add in a picture of a black dog." Remus smiled at her his eyes twinkling.

"I like that idea, and I believe we're onto something here," said Remus. "Tonks, could you get some paint samples tomorrow when you go to Diagon Alley?"

"I'll get some home decorating magazines too," said Tonks. "You'll need more than a paint job to fix this place up." Suggestions and plans were tossed around until Remus finally said he and Harry would have to think about everything first. They decided not to begin the project for another week when the teenagers had finished testifying.

As they were going up to the drawing room after supper, the doorbell rang, and Mrs. Black's curtains flew open.

"TRESPASSERS! VILLAINS! THIEVES! FILTH!" she began screaming at them. Ron and Ginny each grabbed a curtain and began pulling them together. Neville and Hermione joined them trying to pull the two curtains together. Harry thought about helping them, but decided that he didn't care if she screamed, and so instead he stood next to Luna watching them.

"Hello, Mrs. Black!" called Luna pleasantly waving at the painting. "How are you this evening? Better than this morning, I hope?" Harry looked at Luna. He found himself smiling for the first time that day.

"Did she answer you before?" asked Harry curiously.

"Well, not exactly," Luna told him. "She didn't seem to be in a very good mood."

Harry laughed to himself. He noticed the painting of the man with the ruffled collar watching him, but when Harry turned to look at him more fully, the portrait turned away. Harry smirked and then paused staring back at the four struggling teenagers still wrestling with the drapes in front of the screaming painting. An idea suddenly came to him.

Ron and Ginny finally managed to get the drapes closed with both Hermione and Neville helping them. The other paintings complained about Mrs. Black's treatment until Ron waved his wand threateningly at them. Harry thought he saw the woman in the painting next to Mrs. Black, a grey-haired lady in an old fashioned dress, stick her tongue out at Ron, but when Harry turned back to look she was again busily waving her wand over her embroidery. Harry looked around at the other paintings in the hall curiously. He had never wondered before about any of them.

Bill had been slightly ahead of them earlier, so, once the curtains were closed, he opened the door. "Good evening, Professor Snape," he said in a cool, civil voice.

"This," enunciated Snape disdainfully while waving an envelope at Bill, "is for your father. See that he gets it!" Snape turned around with a swish of his robes and left. Bill closed the door gratefully after him.

"What is it?" asked George. He and Fred were standing on the stairs above everyone else.

"Just a letter probably about schedules during the hearing or something," said Bill with a chuckle. "I'll bet that's why he was in such a foul mood. He doesn't believe he should be used like a post owl."

"That's a foul mood?" said Fred in mock surprise. "I thought he seemed more cheerful than usual." Everyone laughed. Bill headed down to the kitchen where the other adults were still talking while Harry and his friends followed the twins upstairs. They went into the drawing room, the twins leading the way to the desk.

"Exploding Snap anyone?" asked George indicating a stack of six unopened decks of cards. Neville reached out a hand to take a deck, but Ginny grabbed his arm to hold him back.

"What have you done to them?" asked Ron suspiciously.

"Nothing yet," said Fred, "and that's the problem. We want to think of a way to improve on this game or even better to invent a new one that's loads more fun."

"We thought we might be able to come up with something if we just played around with the cards for awhile," explained George. "After all it was only after years of trying to use Zonko's inferior products that we realized we could do better."

No one moved to pick up a deck of cards. "So obviously," Fred told George, " a deck of cards that explodes at first contact would be a good place to start."

"Hmm...too predictable, maybe something that only sometimes explodes at first contact..." George added taking out a notepad and writing the idea down.

Still no one moved to pick up a deck of cards.

"We have them so well trained," George told Fred. Neville laughed. Everyone turned to look at him in surprise.

"What? It was funny," said Neville.

"Yes, it was," agreed Luna, "but not nearly as funny as Ronald's jokes." The twins didn't seem to know if she was serious, and Ron just looked embarrassed. After an awkward pause they went back to the original discussion.

"Honestly, these are just ordinary cards. If I open and shuffle them all, will that be good enough?"

Ron and Ginny looked at each other. They were both still suspicious, but they nodded in agreement. Ron answered, "We get to pick how many times you shuffle them and the way you do it."

"What? Is there more than one way to shuffle cards?" asked Fred innocently. Ginny just raised her eyebrows at him. The twins finally agreed and shuffled three decks apiece until Ron and Ginny were satisfied that the cards hadn't been tampered with.

Unfortunately George managed to burn off half of an eyebrow while shuffling two decks together. Ginny tried to appease him by saying that now the girls would be able to tell the two boys apart. This only began a heated debate between Fred and George as to which one was more likely to attract the most girls.

While their argument raged on, eveyone else grabbed a deck of cards. They had fun trying to think of different ways they might be able to use or improve on the cards.

Harry moved to the other side of the room pulling a chair up in front of the tapestry. He began flicking cards at the hideous cloth, thinking maybe it would catch fire if a card exploded on it, but not really caring either way.

Fred and George walked over to him after awhile and watched him flicking cards.

"What an original idea, Fred," said George. "I don't know why we didn't come up with that concept ourselves." Harry looked up at them with a smile. He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed them watching him.

"You're so right, George," said Fred. "Tapestry flicking is such a novel sport, and think of all the fun we missed out on at Hogwarts." George nodded in sad agreement. There were tapestries throughout the castle.

"Hey sit down for a moment," Harry requested still smiling. The twins looked at each other in surprise. Harry suddenly realized that they had come over to cheer him up. They assumed he'd been brooding again. He tried to shrug off his anger.

Fred and George quickly pulled up chairs sitting on either side of him.

"What can we do for you?" asked George.

"Need a supply of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes to get you through the school year?" asked Fred.

"No," said Harry with a laugh. "Maybe later. I just wanted some advice."

"On the ladies, right? Well, first suggestion, avoid crying women," Fred told him. Harry blushed in embarrassment.

"Is there anyone who doesn't know about that?" asked Harry ruefully.

"Well, no one's told Percy," said George thoughtfully. Harry laughed uncertainly. He wasn't quite sure about Percy's status within his family, and Harry wasn't anxious to get into the middle of it, even for a joke.

"No, actually," began Harry quickly changing the subject, "I was wondering if you have any ideas on how I could...well, annoy someone?"

"Use a clipboard," the twins answered in unison.

"What?" asked Harry in surprise.

"In our experience, which you must understand is not only extensive but also widely varied," Fred told Harry, "a clipboard reduces the amount of time required to unhinge a bloke by at least fifty percent."

"And in Percy's case, make that seventy-five percent," added George. "So say for example, if it normally takes Malfoy one minute of taunting before he finally loses his temper, then you can be sure that with the correct application of a clipboard your work can be done in only 30 seconds."

"Or, in Percy's case, only fifteen seconds," Fred agreed.

"Anything else?" asked George benignly. Harry shook his head mutely unsure what they meant or if they were serious. George patted Harry on the head, and the twins went back to see what the others were doing. Harry realized he should probably have asked more questions, but instead he turned back to flicking the tapestry.

Just before the twins left that evening, Harry asked them where he could get a clipboard. They referred him to Mr. Weasley who was happy to give Harry one of his extras. Apparently Mr. Weasley had something of a collection of clipboards.

"A clipboard?" asked Mr. Weasley. "Yes, I actually have several upstairs. Dead useful they are. I just got a new one that has a small box underneath so you can store parchment in it. Muggles are such a clever bunch!" He quickly summoned a clipboard from his room and gave it to Harry. Harry thanked him, still wondering what he'd do with the thing.

Just before laying down, Harry noticed a book on his nightstand that hadn't been there before. Probably another gift from Hermione, thought Harry tiredly. Deciding to look at the book in the morning, Harry took off his glasses and climbed into bed.

A/N About the hearing, on her website J.K.Rowling said, "This theory has been put forward to explain why Harry does not spend as long in Privet Drive during this book as previous ones, but I am happy to say that he leaves the Dursleys early for a much pleasanter reason than a court case." I decided to interpret that literally, as in, a court case may not be the reason he leaves early, but that doesn't neccessarily mean he won't be involved in any kind of trial. In any case, I started writing this six months before she said that, so I decided to finish it anyway.