"Come on, Potter," said McGonagall, striding towards the dilapidated yet wonderful building, "let's get you settled."
Tonks handed the luggage to Harry, and said, turning to Minerva, "I'd better get off. I don't like spending too much time with Molly any more – in case she tries to marry me off to Charlie! See you at the wedding!"
She disapparated elegantly, as McGonagall and Harry waved at her, smiling. They carried on walking.
"Professor?"
"Yes, Harry?" McGonagall was growing increasingly annoyed, as she had only been with Harry for about half an hour, and almost every line he had uttered to her had been that of 'Professor?'
"Don't you think it crude, to have somebody invade my life and watch over it?"
"I see where you're coming from, Potter, but, as we know how… irresponsible you've been, I believe that it was a good idea. And anyway, why so bitter about Miracula? She saved your life when you were in your second year. Oh, and by the way, don't mention to the Weasleys about me being her mother, as Frederick would throw a dickey fit, and Molly would treat her as if she was a celebrity, and she doesn't want that. Fleur knows though, they're the best of friends nowadays."
Harry laughed to himself. He didn't think that was the only reason a young, fashionable woman with her whole abundant life ahead of her would hide the fact that the not so exhilarating Minerva McGonagall had given birth to her nineteen years and nine and a half months previously.
The mismatched pair knocked on the old wooden door. Molly's voice sounded from just inside the door.
"Come in, Minerva. We're just making brunch!"
They stepped inside to see Molly at the sink washing potatoes to make a salad, and Miracula sitting cross-legged on the floor, stirring an indefinable red liquid with little lumps inside.
"Harry! Happy birthday!" Molly cried, dropping the potatoes into the sink and running over to embrace Harry.
Miracula frowned guiltily, "Oh, happy birthday," and then suddenly smiled, "aha! I know just what you might like!"
She ran away to the stairs, and McGonagall looked at Molly and Harry.
"I suppose I'd better be getting off then."
Molly gasped, "No, Minerva! I insist you stay for brunch. Now, you and Harry sit down, and I'll make some tea."
Miracula reappeared, gasping after running up and down three flights of stairs. Her hands were behind her back.
"I was saving it as a grand opening for the wedding reception, but I know you'd better have it now."
She brandished a golden cup from behind her back, and laid it on the kitchen table. It was embellished with the letters HH. Harry gazed at it in wonder.
"Helga Hufflepuff's cup! The third Horcrux!"
She nodded politely and stepped backwards.
"Mrs Weasley," he said, "could I use a hammer please?"
Mrs Weasley looked confused, but when nobody else did, she opened a cupboard, brought out a toolbox, and picked a large hammer out of it. She handed it to Harry.
He held it in both hands, and brought it over his head. The three women who were accompanying him stepped backwards. He swung it down onto the cup with a loud crash. It shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, which spread themselves across the kitchen, never to be worried about again. Molly pulled a face.
"Harry dear, Miracula gave that to you as a present. You shouldn't destroy gifts."
Miracula snorted, "Molly, I gave that to Harry for him to break. It was a seventh of Voldemort's soul – a Horcrux."
Molly and McGonagall jumped when Miracula said the Dark Lord's name.
Molly furrowed her brow in thought, "So that makes You Know Who almost immortal?" the other three nodded, so she continued, "Then why doesn't everyone have a few Horcruckles?"
Miracula sighed knowingly, a lot like Hermione did, "To create a Horcrux, you need to commit a heinous crime, which rips your soul apart. This is usually done through murder, but I would guess rape is just as effective. Then you have to perform a complex enchantment on an object or animal, which seals your soul inside it."
Mrs Weasley nodded sadly, silently wishing her family were immortal, and then she wouldn't have to worry about them day in and day out, and fretting over the slightest thing.
The poignant silence was broken by Fleur appearing at the foot of the stairs. Her throaty syllables sounded worried.
"What was zat terrible – oh! Harry! I did not realise zat you had come zis early! Ron and 'Ermione are in his bedroom. Molly! Why 'ave you not told our guest sooner?"
Molly sighed. Life was so much more peaceful without the delectable Phlegm.
"Phle – Fleur is right, Harry. They are in his room. I trust that you remember where that is?"
"Yes, Mrs Weasley."
And he strode towards the stairs without a backwards glance at the four women who watched him leave.
As he walked up the stairs, he was suddenly aware of how many people there were in the Burrow. As well as six of the Weasley children (almost all of which were adults now), there was Molly, Arthur, Fleur, Miracula, Hermione, and a few other people dotted around. When Harry was walking up the second flight of stairs, for example, Katie Bell appeared at the top, wearing only a towel.
"Oh, hello Harry!" she said embarrassedly, and disappeared from view. Harry supposed she was with George, but you could never tell with the Weasleys.
When he was walking along the small corridor on the fourth story, George ran out of the room in front of him, followed by Charlie, holding a wand up in the air. They seemed to be so engrossed in chasing after each other, they completely ignored the boy they had almost knocked over.
He climbed the last flight of stairs, and reached Ron's bedroom door. He knocked, and there was a loud shuffling noise from inside. He pushed open the door to see Ron staring at a Chudley Cannons poster suspiciously, and Hermione lying on a camp bed reading a Quidditch book. If that wasn't fishy enough, it was upside down. They looked at him.
"Harry!" they cried in unison. Hermione ran to hug him, but he stayed looking at the smeared pinkish lipstick on his cheek.
Hermione broke off. She was, lo and behold, wearing cherry coloured gloss on her lips.