The Burrow was overflowing as usual during Sunday dinners. Children under the age of five ran amok while their parents were busy either herding them or preparing dinner in the kitchen. As the clock in the kitchen struck four o'clock, a gong sounded throughout the yard. Those preparing the food levitated platters onto the table while everyone else immediately changed their direction to settle themselves in the expanded dining room.
In the relative quiet of chewing mouths, idle chatter, and the occasional snort of laughter, the chime of the floo was easily heard and everyone paused to watch a man in a charcoal grey, tailored muggle suit with a bright blue, button down shirt step out of the fire and flick a speck of ash off of his sleeve. His midnight hair was slicked back and to the side, and sleek, angular frames sat perched high on his nose.
With a cry of "Harry!", a redheaded woman launched herself across the room at him. Faster than anyone was able to process, Harry had spun the woman around. Both of her wrists were in one hand and his wand was digging into her back. Half a second later however, he let her go with a sheepish "Sorry Ginny."
By this time, the rest of the adults had abandoned their meal to make their way to greet Harry. After everyone says their greetings from afar, Ginny having backed into the crowd of her family, Hermione stepped forward.
"May I give you a hug Harry?" She bit her lip uncertainly. Harry beamed at her.
"Of course, Mione. Thank you for asking." The ice broken, everyone eventually comes forward to greet their old friend. And then the questions started, with everyone talking over each other so that no-ones question was heard. Harry just shook his head and took a seat in a corner by the fire looking out at the rest of the room, and waited for them to come to some kind of order. He didn't let his discomfort over the chaos show.
It didn't take as long as he thought it would. Mr. Weasley pulled everyone to order and told them they were to ask one question at a time starting, with the oldest. Everyone else groaned. He just smiled and looked back at his wife.
"How are you, Harry dear? You've been away so long," Mrs. Weasley asked.
"I am very well," he responded with a slight New York accent. "It's an adjustment to be back among the civilized public though." The questions continued, asking him about every aspect from his time away: what he did, where he went, what the other cultures were like, and so on. He told as much as he was allowed to. That MACUSA had requested outside help in dealing with the muggle mafia and him and Pansy had been selected to go undercover to do what they could. He spared them the more grisly details about his assignment, or those that he simply wanted to keep to himself.
The interrogation lasted for nearly an hour. Harry had visibly relaxed with his arms behind his head. Finally, as people were starting to run out of questions, the intended order long forgotten, George grinned.
"So, Harry, have you just been living the bachelor life these last five years, or have you found yourself a nice witch?"
If anyone's attention had wandered during his story, it returned to him in full force. He kept a blank face and let them stew for several moments. Then he smirked and flashed a plain titanium band that was nestled on his left hand.
"While I wouldn't call her nice, we celebrated five years last month."