Disclaimer: I think if I'm forced to stay quarantined in my dorm room for any longer, I'll lose my mind enough to think that I actually own the rights to Harry Potter. But until then, I can safely inform you all that I am not in possession of the rights to Harry Potter.

Chapter 70

Two hours later, Harry and Hermione sat cross-legged across from one another atop Harry's bed. Between them lay a stack of pieces of parchment filled from top to bottom with notes written by both teenagers, and next to the papers lay the box of pizza they had brought up with them.

"So, there's definitely a lot to learn from this, right?" Hermione gestured to the papers as she bit into a piece of pizza.

"Loads," Harry nodded, reaching over and grabbing his own slice. "Let's start with who's who in the Order, because there are a few names I had never heard before tonight."

"Good idea," Hermione rifled through the stack of papers she had filled with notes on the inaugural meeting of the Order of the Phoenix until she found what she was looking for. "So, it seems that there's plenty of people we knew already. Sirius, Tonks, and Lupin are obvious. Professors McGonagall and Snape, too. Professor Moody –"

"Can you really call him a professor?" Harry interjected wryly, but Hermione's subsequent glare silenced him.

"The Weasleys and Bill we also know. And even though he wasn't here tonight, they mentioned Hagrid is in the Order as well," She continued, scanning the paper. "I think that's about it for members we already knew. Oh, and the Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. You probably don't remember, but when we went to the Quidditch World Cup, he was the Auror that Tonks was patrolling with when she bumped into us and pulled you into a headlock."

"That's why I recognized him!" Harry snapped his fingers in realization. "And then, also, I met that Dedalus Diggle bloke when Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley before my first year at Hogwarts. He was the guy with the really squeaky voice."

"Got it," Hermione grabbed her quill and jotted something down on the paper. "Alright, so that's it for familiar faces. Then we have a few people we've never met before; Elphias Doge is a part of the Order. Apparently, he's a special advisor to the Wizengamot – whatever that means."

"Special advisor means that the Chief Warlock can consult him on cases, even though he is not an official member of the Wizengamot," Harry muttered absent-mindedly, polishing off the last of his slice of pizza. Hermione looked up and raised her eyebrows, causing him to blush. "I read a lot about trials and stuff," He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Right," She nodded, giving him one last appraising look before returning her attention to the paper. "There's that man Sturgis Podmore, who we didn't learn much about. Same with Hestia Jones. Emmeline Vance, I've actually heard of her. Apparently she was an Arithmancy prodigy. Well, she was brilliant in all subjects when she was at Hogwarts, but Professor Vector claims she was exceptional at Arithmancy in particular. It's nice to know that we have someone so talented on our side."

"Maybe you can ask her to look at some of those wonky number charts you have to do for homework this summer," Harry winked, to which Hermione grabbed the stack of remaining papers and whacked him on the top of the head with it. "Ow!" He grunted. "Er…kidding?" He ran a hand through his hair and gave her an apologetic smile.

"You're ridiculous," She shook her head and turned back to the paper. "Lastly, there's Mundungus Fletcher. Apparently he was a small-time criminal before Dumbledore helped him out of some trouble years ago, and he's been fiercely loyal to the Headmaster since. As much as I hate to admit it…I suppose it could be beneficial to have someone entrenched in the magical criminal underworld on our side."

"I remember them mentioning that," Harry nodded, grabbing another slice of pizza. "Didn't he use his contacts to get loads of information in the First Wizarding War?"

"Exactly right," Hermione pointed to a sentence she had scribbled under a section with the heading M. Fletcher that was nearly verbatim to what Harry had recalled. "So, that was it for people in the room downstairs. It looks like the quantity of people in the Order is less than ideal, but the quality is undeniable. We have one of the best Aurors in the history of the DMLE in Moody, along with two talented current ones in Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt. We have Professor McGonagall, an incredibly talented witch, and Professor Snape, a legitimate spy within You-Know-Who's inner circle. Plus, we have eyes and ears in both the criminal world and in the Ministry."

"We could be a lot worse off," Harry observed, tilting his head to read the paper she was holding. "Plus, you're forgetting we have Dumbledore, widely agreed to be the most powerful wizard on the planet."

"That's right," Hermione nodded in agreement. "Things could be much worse. Should we talk about the more important things they discussed?"

"Sure," Harry nodded, leaning forward.

"For starters, we learned that You-Know-Who is likely to let the Ministry keep claiming that he is not back, because working in the shadows and gaining power surreptitiously is what he did best in the First Wizarding War."

"And apparently they're calling the death of Selwyn – a Death Eater that Voldemort inadvertently killed in the graveyard – a tragic accident. Not exactly tragic if it's a Death Eater that's six feet under is it?" Harry snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "I suppose it was accidental; Voldemort was trying to kill me, after all."

"Be grateful the Ministry is not accusing you of killing him," Hermione said in a warning tone, and Harry gulped as he realized how frighteningly possible that was. "Anyway," Hermione continued, "we also heard that You-Know-Who probably has spies in the Ministry already."

Harry nodded and grabbed another piece of paper, reading its contents out loud. "According to Mister Weasley, Lucius Malfoy has been popping into the Ministry every other day or so, bribing people on the Wizengamot to pass certain laws and convincing Fudge to use his influence at the Prophet to keep smearing me and Dumbledore."

"Little cockroach," Hermione hissed under her breath, clenching her fists in frustration before she was able to compose herself. "We also heard that Dumbledore is utilizing Lupin and Hagrid to try and convince creatures like werewolves and giants to ally with our side, rather than You-Know-Who's."

"Right," Harry nodded absent-mindedly, still reading the piece of paper in his hand. "And after Lupin talked about that, they all started talking about the prophecy."

"The prophecy," Hermione echoed, scooting around the bed so that she could sit next to Harry and read the paper he was holding. "So, Professor Snape said that You-Know-Who wants to obtain this specific prophecy. Badly."

"Though he didn't exactly say why Voldemort wants it," Harry continued, skimming the paper and leaning into Hermione's side. "So far, we know that whatever it says has something to do with Voldemort – although that's just an educated guess – and we know that the only person who knows what it actually says is Dumbledore."

"We also know that it's located in the Ministry of Magic," Hermione pointed out, nuzzling into his shoulder and wrapping her arm around his. "In the Department of Mysteries, in a room called the Hall of Prophecies."

"Which helps us," Harry mused. "Voldemort's not about to waltz into a building when he wants everyone who works there to think he's dead, right? So, it's unlikely that he's going to try and steal it himself."

"Right," Hermione nodded, resting her cheek on his shoulder and letting out a content sigh. "So, overall, we know that this prophecy is essentially a weapon if it gets into You-Know-Who's hands, and we know that only Dumbledore knows what it says. We know that it's in the Ministry, and we know that various members of the Order are going to be guarding it in the Department of Mysteries to prevent You-Know-Who and any Death Eaters from stealing it."

"Must be really important if we're dispatching Order members every night," Harry hummed, pulling one of his knees into his chest. "It's surprising, don't you think? That a prophecy – of all things – seems to be at the center of the war against Voldemort?"

"You mean because Divination is a joke?" Hermione snorted. "Maybe there's someone out there less pathetic than Professor Trelawney that made this prophecy."

"Less pathetic than Professor Trelawney is a pretty low bar."

"True," Hermione flashed him a grin and snuggled into his side even more. "Anything else worth noting?"

"Not much related to actually fighting Voldemort," Harry yawned, leaning backwards until his back was pressed comfortably against the headboard. "Dumbledore's been voted out as Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, which means it's probably a matter of time before they kick him out as Chief Warlock as well."

"They've gone from libel to censorship alarmingly quickly," Hermione grumbled, tightening her arm around Harry's. "Next thing you know, they're going to try and get you expelled."

"I'd like to see them try," Harry turned and smiled at her. "Merlin help anyone that tries to take me away from you."

"Not even Merlin could help them," She looked up at him and beamed, her eyelids drooping downwards. She suddenly leaned across Harry and pulled up his wrist to glance at his watch. "Oh, it's rather late. And I'm tired," She murmured, stating the obvious as she let out a tremendous yawn.

"You should get some sleep," Harry chuckled quietly.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," She nodded, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder and letting her eyes flutter closed with a blissful sigh.

"I meant in your own bed."

"Don't wanna get up…" She mumbled, her breathing growing slower and steadier by the second. Harry shook his head amusedly and opened his mouth to try and convince her to sleep in her own room, but he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps climbing the staircase. A few seconds later, he heard someone knock on his door.

"Come in," He sighed, and the mahogany door inched open a moment after. Sirius poked his head in, and Harry – who expected the Marauder to sport a mischievous smile at the sight before him – was taken aback when his godfather took on a sort of wistful expression. He held up a finger before Harry could say a word and slipped back into the corridor, and the sound of footsteps ascending the staircase to the top floor followed his exit a moment later.

After about a minute of Harry sitting in minor confusion, breathing in the unmistakable scent of Hermione's vanilla shampoo as she dozed on his shoulder, the footsteps returned. Sirius slipped back into the room, holding a picture frame against his chest so that Harry could not see it.

"I…" He began, glancing down at the picture and taking on the same wistful look he had held a minute earlier. "I was going to give this to you before you left for Hogwarts this year, but, well…you'll see."

He stepped forward and handed a bemused Harry the picture. As Harry lifted his arm to take it, his shoulder shifted and caused Hermione to flutter her eyes open. She made a faint purring noise in the back of her throat as she stirred, leaning up to rest her chin on Harry's shoulder and gaze down at the photograph he was holding.

Harry's breath caught in his throat at the sight of his parents. They were wearing school robes, so they were obviously still at Hogwarts. His mother had a Head Girl badge pinned to her robes and Harry could just see his dad's Head Boy badge clutched in his fingers. The two seventh-years were fast asleep with their backs pressed up against the wall of a room Harry did not recognize; they were sitting on the floor and Lily Evans was resting her head on James Potter's shoulder, almost identically to how Hermione had been snoozing a moment prior.

"Your parents, as you know," Sirius began, smiling longingly as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, "were Head Boy and Head Girl. It wasn't that surprising, really. Towards the end of our sixth year your dad – who already had the grades to be Head Boy, mind you – started to clean up his act and stop being a troublemaker all the time. By the time we left Hogwarts that year, everyone suspected your mum and dad were going to be Heads, and they did. They got themselves those fancy badges, a private common room, and a whole load of responsibilities, including nightly patrols. One night, I thought I'd mess with the two lovebirds, so I swiped four Nifflers from the enclosure used by our Care of Magical Creatures professor and I labeled them One, Two, Three, and Five." He paused to chuckle to himself, and Harry saw Hermione roll her eyes at his juvenile prank.

"Your mum and dad spent hours looking for the Niffler labeled number Four," Sirius continued. "It wasn't until around four in the morning when I called your dad on the communication mirrors and told him that there was no fifth Niffler. Lily marched into Gryffindor Tower and hit me with enough Stinging Hexes to make me wish I'd never been born, and James was just as pissed," He began to laugh again before composing himself. "I felt bad when breakfast came about the next morning, so I grabbed some food to bring up to the Heads' common room and I found them like that," He pointed to the picture. "I was going to give you that picture when you two inevitably get selected for…well, when I saw you two tonight I couldn't resist. The resemblance was uncanny. Hope you don't mind."

"Thanks," Harry grinned, glancing down at the picture of his parents before looking back at his godfather. "Really. Thank you."

"Happy to spread the happiness," Sirius winked before clearing his throat. "Now, if you two are ready for bed, I'm going to have to ask Miss Granger to retire to her own bedroom. I won't have you corrupting my godson, young lady."

Hermione's cheeks flushed and she tried to glare at the Marauder, but her visible exhaustion and embarrassment rendered the scowl virtually ineffective.

"Good night, guys," Sirius winked, grabbing the empty pizza box off of Harry's bed and vanishing it with a flick of his wand. "Oh, and…hide those," He gestured to the stack of notes on the Order meeting before he exited the bedroom, leaving the door open. Harry and Hermione quickly gathered the plethora of parchment they had accumulated and stashed it at the bottom of Harry's trunk, covering the evidence of their espionage with a few old sweatshirts and pairs of jeans.

"Guess we just have to hope Mad-Eye doesn't come snooping," Harry shrugged, closing his trunk and standing up straight. He turned to Hermione, who let out another yawn, stretching her arms above her head and arching her back in a way that made Harry's heart leap in his chest. "You're adorable when you're tired, you know."

"Shut up…" She blushed, rubbing her eyes.

"You should get some sleep," Harry said softly. "In your own room. I'd hate to invoke the wrath of your parents if they found out we were sharing a bed for a summer."

"Oh, I think my mother would get over it. She mentioned in her letter to me yesterday that there's a store that sells wedding dresses not far from here," She rolled her eyes. Letting out out one last yawn, she broke into a radiant smile that melted his heart. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Hermione," He smiled back as she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. She snuggled into him for a few moments before pulling back and gently pressing her lips against his. "You can't kiss your way into my bed, you know," He said with a smirk as she pulled away.

"Oh, please," She said with a coy smile, lifting up the hem of her jumper to reveal that she was still wearing his Quidditch jersey. "With how much this jersey smells like you, I think I can convince myself that we're sharing a bed if I close my eyes."

"Oh, you cheeky little…" Harry leaned over and grabbed one of his pillows, but Hermione let out a mixture of a shriek and a giggle and slipped out into the corridor before he could hit her with it.

The two teenagers living at Grimmauld Place fell into an easy routine as the summer holidays progressed. Harry could have done without the occasional nightmares and his oft-prickling scar, but whenever he found himself screaming at night Hermione was by his bedside in a flash to comfort him. The fact that she was almost always wearing his Quidditch jersey and was more than happy to press gentle kisses to his scar until the pain faded made his nights more than tolerable.

Mornings began earlier for Harry than Hermione; Tonks's schedule was busier than ever between her duties as an Auror and her role as a spy for the Order, meaning that if she wanted to exercise with Harry she would have to Apparate over early in the morning. And unfortunately for Harry, she very much wanted to exercise.

By the time breakfast rolled around and Tonks had to leave to go to the Ministry, Harry was usually ready to crawl back into bed and sleep the day away, but he would begrudgingly shower and join Hermione and Sirius for breakfast in the kitchen. After the meal, Sirius would give them free rein of the Black family library to work on the endless amount of summer assignments that they had to complete before September first. Thanks to their determination – or nerdiness, if you asked Sirius – they were able to crank out their homework at an impressive rate and stick to the meticulously planned study schedules that Hermione had created on the first day of the summer holidays, much to their satisfaction.

"If we keep this up we'll have no trouble with our O.W.L.s," Hermione said with a pleased smile one day.

Afternoons were usually spent continuing on their homework, but Harry and Hermione would occasionally spend their time doing other things. Between reading for leisure on the roof, pillow fights, baking and cooking random delicacies in the kitchen, and other activities that the two of them very much enjoyed, they were able to cram some play into their work-heavy schedules.

Members of the Order of the Phoenix would come in throughout various points of the day to offer reports and updates on their respective missions. Harry and Hermione would listen in whenever they could, but unlike the first night they rarely gathered a myriad of new information. In the evenings, multiple members would congregate in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place while Harry and Hermione ate a takeaway dinner fetched by Sirius or Tonks, diligently taking notes and enjoying their food in content silence.

The pair would often exchange pleasantries with members of the Order whenever they crossed paths in the house. Harry and Bill had gotten to talking one day about how Fred and George were continuing to plan for their joke shop and Harry decided to give his Triwizard winnings to the eldest Weasley for him to deliver to his twin brothers, insisting that they were going to need some laughter in the future. Harry also asked Bill to use some of the money to buy Ron a proper broomstick, since he knew the youngest male Weasley still wanted to try out as Keeper.

Arthur Weasley would often pepper Harry and Hermione with questions about the Muggle world, ranging from the functions of rubber ducks to the ins and outs of a lightbulb. Kingsley Shacklebolt was imposing but cordial, and even mentioned that if what Tonks told him was true, both Harry and Hermione would make superb Aurors.

One July afternoon proved to be particularly entertaining for the rising fifth-years. They had spent the morning churning out one Transfiguration essay on Vanishing Spells after another in the drawing-room until they deemed themselves mentally drained enough to take a break for lunch. They were just wrapping up a meal of sandwiches and crisps with Sirius when the telltale secret knock sounded from the front door. Unable to resist, Harry bolted into the entrance hall and opened it, an equally eager Hermione hot on his heels.

Harry whipped open the door with a grin. "Professor McGonagall!" He gasped in surprise, his smile widening.

"Ah…good afternoon, Potter," The Head of Gryffindor seemed momentarily surprised at the sight of her student opening the door rather than Sirius Black, but quickly composed herself. "How has your summer been?"

"It's been great!" Harry stepped aside and let her into the house, quickly closing the door behind her after checking to see if anyone was watching from the street. "Hermione and I have been pretty busy with homework, but it's nothing we can't handle."

"I would expect as much," McGonagall said with a slight twinkle in her eyes. "You two are some of the more talented students I've had the pleasure of teaching in recent years, after all," She turned to Hermione, who was now blushing furiously. "Miss Granger, a pleasure."

"Likewise, Professor," She greeted back. McGonagall nodded at them both and moved to discuss something with Sirius, but Harry had a sudden idea just before she was out of sight.

"Wait, Professor!" He blurted, and she turned around, visibly perplexed. "Er…we've wrapped up a few of the essays you've assigned for the summer. I'm sure you're rather busy with the Order, but if it's not too much of an inconvenience…well…"

"I'd be happy to look your work over, if that's what you're asking," The corner of McGonagall's mouth lifted into a smile. "I'm afraid I must speak with Mister Black on matters pertaining to the Order right now, but I'd be happy to take your essays with me when I'm finished."

"Brilliant!" Harry grinned, glancing at Hermione, who was beaming at him. "We'll be in the drawing-room, it's right upstairs; you can't miss it."

"Very well," McGonagall gave one last nod and disappeared into the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

"Look at you, being academically proactive," Hermione teased once they were alone in the entrance hall. "You're all grown up now, I'm proud of you."

"Shut up," Harry blushed, running a hand through his hair. "I've been spending too much time around you. You're corrupting my trouble-making self; my inner Marauder is in shambles because of you."

"Ah, yes, I've ruined you," Hermione playfully rolled her eyes as the two of them ascended the stairs to the second floor. "Sorry for making you care about your studies and thereby making you a better student and wizard. I won't do it again."

"I don't know if I can forgive you for this," Harry smirked as they reached the drawing-room. "Before you came along I was probably destined for a life of mediocre grades, and now look at me. I'm pathetic."

"Oh, stop it," She threw him an elbow before opening the doors. She looked ready to chide him into completing some more Transfiguration homework, but they were interrupted by voices. The room itself was empty, which unnerved Harry, until he saw that the communication mirror was lying on one of the room's many coffee tables. The two of them scrambled towards it, shutting the doors behind them and taking refuge on a sofa. The mirror was showing the inside of Sirius's jacket pocket, but the voices were easily discernible.

"He still hasn't found a professor?" Harry heard his godfather ask disbelievingly. "Christ, Minerva, if I weren't busy dealing with the Order I would apply for the post."

"I know you would," McGonagall's curt voice floated through the mirror. "But I'd rather not imagine you returning to the Hogwarts grounds and causing any more mischief than you did as a student, so I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."

"You always had a soft spot for me."

"I always had a spot in my classroom for you for when I was forced to give you detention, is that what you're referring to?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged disbelieving glances. Was their aloof Head of House, their impassive Transfiguration Teacher, bantering with someone? It was as if Severus Snape had walked in and started doing ballet.

"I don't suppose Mad-Eye is up for re-applying? Technically he'd be breaking the curse, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose he would, but I doubt he would be able to even if he were interested. Albus has assigned him quite a number of tasks for the Order and his schedule is just as limited as everyone else involved in the Order," McGonagall sighed. "Nobody is interested in taking the position. Nobody."

"What do you expect?" Sirius let out a sigh of his own. "The last few blokes to take the job have ended up kidnapped, disgraced, or guilted into resigning. Not to mention that fellow with Voldemort sticking out the back of his head."

The unmistakable sound of Minerva McGonagall inhaling sharply came next, and Sirius let out a dry laugh.

"I'm just saying, we should be prepared for the worst," He appeased.

"And what is the worst to you, Black?"

"To me? Snivellus teaching –"

"Will you please address my colleague by his proper name in my presence?" McGonagall hissed.

"All due respect, Minerva, he has yet to earn that right," Sirius said in an equally cold voice. "Get Snivellus to stop antagonizing my godson every chance he gets and I'll call the greasy bat sir if it means that much to you. Until he stops treating my godson like a punching bag under Dumbledore's nose, his name is Snivellus Snape to me."

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Harry thought for a moment that Sirius had ended the call on the mirror. After a while, however, McGonagall cleared her throat.

"I also come bearing news from Kingsley and Arthur," She continued in a much more civil voice. "Lucius Malfoy has apparently…suggested to Cornelius Fudge that if the Headmaster continues to be unsuccessful in finding a suitable candidate to fill a vacant teaching position, the Wizengamot ought to pass a law enabling the Ministry to appoint a professor to fill the spot."

"Are you serious?" Sirius spat, followed by the unmistakable sound of a fist slamming upon a table. "The same people that are dragging my godson's name through the mud are going to handpick someone to teach him?"

"It is a frightening but increasingly likely possibility."

"What's stopping them from picking another Snivellus, someone who will just make his life miserable because he's telling the truth?"

"With Albus's removal as Chief Warlock, nothing. Nothing is stopping them," McGonagall let out a long, dejected exhale. Harry's stomach plummeted as he threw Hermione a nervous glance. Dumbledore, the only wizard that Voldemort had ever feared, had been officially sacked as Chief Warlock. He now held no power in the government, in the justice system, whatsoever.

"Do I have anything to look forward to?" Sirius groaned from the mirror. "Or would it be in everyone's best interest to keep Harry and Hermione here for the school year and tell everyone that they've got dragon pox?"

"Well, I won't stop you from doing that," McGonagall conceded. "But it would be rather inconvenient for me."

"Ah, yes," Sirius chuckled. "The secret thing that's going to happen that everyone with half a brain already knows is going to happen."

Harry and Hermione frowned at each other.

"When are they going to find out?" Sirius asked. "I know the ba –" He stopped suddenly and cleared his throat. "Will you let them know before or after their letters?"

"I was planning on informing them on Potter's birthday," McGonagall offered. "Will that work for you?"

"It's brilliant. They'll love it."

"Wonderful," McGonagall said, followed by the sound of a chair sliding across a hardwood floor. "I believe I am to collect some of Potter's and Granger's assignments. It is nice, I will say, to see that Potter inherited more than Lily's eyes; has he told you that he finished second in his year this past school year?"

"No," Sirius chuckled. "He did not. I think he and I are going to have a very interesting conversation about modesty tonight."

Harry gulped, and Hermione giggled into his shoulder to subdue the sound of her amusement.

"Modesty," McGonagall repeated. "Only more reason that he deserves to be made –"

"I agree," Sirius said loudly, drowning out the end of the Transfiguration teacher's sentence. "Here, I'll show you to the drawing-room."

The image of Sirius's pocket vanished, and the sound of footsteps climbing the grand staircase followed a moment later. Quickly, Harry leapt off the couch and bounded across the room, shoving the mirror into the first drawer he opened and dashing back to the couch. He and Hermione were just gathering their essays when the doors were pushed open, revealing Sirius and McGonagall standing expectantly.

"Hello, Professor," Hermione stood up and handed her their collection of essays. "Thank you again for doing this, we really appreciate it."

"The pleasure is mine," McGonagall gave them a quick smile. "I shall bring these back the next time I am due to report, which I believe is just a few days from now. The thirty-first, is it not?" She turned to Sirius. "I shall see you all on July thirty-first, then. Good day."

She turned and took the stairs back down to the ground floor, the sound of the front door opening followed by a faint CRACK of Apparition the only sounds in the house for the next few seconds.

Harry was the first to speak. "What's happening on my birthday –"

"Stop," Sirius shook his head, a sly smirk on his face. "You'll find out on your birthday."

"What happened to telling us everything?"

"I haven't told you a thing," Sirius said earnestly. "You miscreants have been spying on us."

"Thanks to you!"

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," The Marauder's eyes twinkled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm due to meet Moony in London to discuss things entirely unrelated to the fight against Voldemort. I'll be back with dinner."

He turned on the spot and vanished with a CRACK, leaving two very confused and slightly annoyed teenagers to stand and stare at where he had been.

A/N: Here ya go. This took a tad longer than I wanted it to, but my professors seem to be under the impression that I eat, sleep, and breathe schoolwork. I know this was a bit plot heavy, but are you going to tell me that Harry and Hermione sitting cross-legged on a bed across from each other eating pizza and talking about the war against Voldemort is not an amazing image to have in your head? You shouldn't tell me that, because it is an amazing image.

Also, obviously I'm not even trying to be subtle about what's going to happen on Harry's birthday, but by this point y'all should have seen it coming. Pretty much everything that happens in this story is engineered to make Harry and Hermione happier than they were in canon, so this big reveal should be obvious.

To all of my wonderful readers, I really do treasure you all. Your kind words and your dedication to this story never fail to make my day; I cannot find the words to describe how much you all mean to me, so I have to settle for a simple thank you. Please, stay safe out there, and know that I do appreciate you guys.