HARRY POTTER AND THE SECRET ENEMY
Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
CHAPTER 8: The Birthday Party (Pt. 1)
After breakfast, the Potters gave Harry and the Longbottoms a tour of Potter Manor while they waited for the press to arrive. As it happened, the adults on both sides thought it best that Harry attend the "availability" but not participate unless one of the interviewers pushed for it. Today, the members of the press included two reporters from The Prophet (one of whom was the infamous gossip columnist Rita Skeeter) plus a photographer; Xenophilius Lovegood, owner and sole employee for The Quibbler, which was either a satirical magazine or the ravings of a madman depending on who you asked; a reporter for the Wizarding Wireless; three reporters from Teen Witch Weekly; plus another five from various foreign papers. When the time came, Harry accompanied the Potters to the parlor where the press availability was to be held, but he sat in the back and did little except smile winningly while James Potter provided an edited but plausible explanation of why no one had ever heard of him before. James also asked the assembled journalists to "respect Harry's privacy and that of the family during this challenging time."
Despite that admonition, Harry actually did get a few questions, but mostly innocuous ones. "How are you adapting to wizarding life?" "What was life like in the Muggle world?" A question from Teen Witch Weekly about what kind of hair-care products he favored (he name-checked Lavender Brown as having introduced him to Sleekeazy). Finally, a pinched-face woman in a horrific leopard-print outfit and pince-nez glasses who identified herself as Rita Skeeter asked about rumors that James had sent him a Howler on the first morning of classes out of anger over his Slytherin Sorting. James started to answer, but Harry interrupted with an answer of his own.
"As I'm sure you're aware, Miss Skeeter, the Howler was more than a rumor, seeing as how it went off in front of several hundred of my fellow students. However, that was nearly a year ago, and my father and I have worked diligently to move past it and rebuild our relationship." Harry turned towards James and smiled at him, and to his relief, the man at least had the good sense to smile back in front of the reporters. "While it was somewhat embarrassing at the time, I do understand that it was a great shock to everyone for me to be the first Slytherin Potter in over 200 years or more. Indeed, apparently the first Potter to go to any House other than Gryffindor in that time. However, my father has profusely apologized for sending it, I have accepted his apology, and together we've moved on. My goal now is to show the entire world that there's nothing wrong with being a Slytherin Potter. That I can uphold my family's traditions of honor and courage despite personally being more cunning than brave. And most importantly, that Slytherin House has more to offer Wizarding Britain than just the bigoted lackeys of a failed dark lord who was destroyed by my brother more than a decade ago."
"Well said, sir! Well said indeed!" exclaimed Xeno Lovegood, who started applauding, and several other reporters, after a moment of confusion, joined in. For her part, Skeeter just looked at Harry speculatively before writing something down on her pad. Harry wasn't sure, but he also thought she gave a quick glance in the direction of James and Peter while she was writing.
Soon after, the press conference ended with the remaining questions focused on how much money the Potters expected to haul in today and what were some of their proposed projects for the Charitable Trust. Afterwards, the group moved to the front lawn of the estate, where buffet tables were set up on one side (decorated in Gryffindor colors, naturally) with smaller tables arranged for people to sit and eat in the middle. On the opposite side was a single long table already covered in gifts from Jim's adoring fans, as well as from people who merely found it politically or socially expedient to act like Jim's adoring fans. Ginny was among the throng already surrounding Jim, as was a hyperactive young girl who looked like a slightly smaller Daphne Greengrass. There was another girl there with blonde hair and big blue eyes who caught Harry's attention, mainly because she kept looking back and forth between Jim and Harry with an increasingly perturbed expression. Beyond that group, James Potter was shaking hands with a group of older and more socially important well-wishers. Harry recognized Dumbledore, of course, along with Minister Cornelius Fudge, DMLE Director Amelia Bones, and Chief Auror Rufus Scrimgeour. Dumbledore noticed Harry looking in their direction, and he smiled and raised a glass of punch in salute. Harry nodded back at him respectfully.
During the press conference, James had mentioned that this year's event was expected to bring in over 20,000 galleons for charity. As he took in the spectacle, Harry remembered his own previous birthdays and once more fought down feelings of bitterness. True, the past was past, and there was nothing to be done about it, but it still gnawed at him at times like this. Before James Potter showed up in Little Whinging the year before, it was the practice of the Dursleys to have him make breakfast on the morning of July 31st and then lock him in the cupboard all day while they left and did something enjoyable outside without him. When they returned, they'd all make a point of telling him how much fun they'd had. Then, they'd give him a gift. One year, it had been a coat hanger; another, a piece of string Dudley had found. For a moment, Harry wondered which was worse: to never have one's birthday celebrated at all except as a cruel joke or to have it coopted every year as a public relations event venerating a cultural myth instead of an actual human being. He concluded that even as staged and meaningless as the Boy-Who-Lived's Birthday Gala was, Jim still had the better end of the deal.
At 12:15 on the dot, Jim made a short and well-delivered speech welcoming everyone to the party, which was apparently bigger than in years previous due to the presence of a number of guest who would not have been invited in years past – mostly friends of Harry's, but also people like Arthur and Molly Weasley who did not normally travel in the Potters' social circles. Jim also introduced Harry to the assembled crowd, but mercifully, the older twin wasn't asked to give a speech himself.
After Jim finished, Harry made the rounds of guests, some of whom he knew quite well but most of whom he didn't know at all. He was pleased to note that everyone he'd invited had shown up, even if James, Jim and other Gryffindor types were giving some of his guests the stink-eye. Their loss, he supposed. He made a point of introducing himself to Scrimgeour, perhaps the highest-ranking official in the British wizarding government who was also a Slytherin alumnus. The older man shook his hand cordially and related the "hilarious" tale of the Howler Lily had sent to James that went off in the main office of the DMLE. Harry noted that the Scrimgeour, who had a reputation for being secretive and taciturn, today made a point of telling the story loudly enough for everyone (including James) to hear from across the yard. Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he could hear his father's teeth grinding from forty feet away.
Harry also took the opportunity to introduce Scrimgeour to Marcus Flint who happened to be walking by. Since his arrival, Flint had looked as nervous as a cat in a rabid dog factory, but he'd pulled himself together and made a decent impression on the Chief Auror. To Marcus's surprise, Scrimgeour had remembered his great-grandfather, Caractacus Flint, the same one who had been Prince of Slytherin in the 1870's, though there was no hint that Scrimgeour himself was aware of that title. Caractacus had been a legendary senior auror during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and he'd been Scrimgeour's mentor in his first days out of the academy before dying heroically in Spain in 1938 fighting against fascist wizards loyal to Grindelwald. The leonine auror encouraged Flint to keep his grades up and, if they were satisfactory, to come and see him after graduation. Then, he shook Harry's hand and moved on to other guests.
"Did Rufus Scrimgeour just ask me to come and see him after graduation?" Flint asked with a slight tremor in his voice.
"Yes. Conditional on good grades, of course," replied Harry as he took a sip of punch.
"I nearly threw up on his shoes."
"I'm glad you didn't. You never have a second chance to make a good first impression. By the way, how are your grades?"
Marcus exhaled. "I retook my Potions and Transfiguration OWLS last week. Those were the two I flunked the first time. I have another week before I get my results back, and I'm a complete wreck over it. How's your Quidditch training coming?"
"I played a pickup game against Cedric Diggory. He beat me to 7-4."
Marcus looked at him in surprise. "That's actually not bad for your level of experience. We might have just found our new Seeker."
Harry shrugged. "Actually, I think I prefer Chaser. Naturally, though, I'll take whatever position the Captain offers me."
The other boy rolled his eyes. "For Merlin's sake, Potter, stop trying to suck up to me. I'm already so deep in your pocket, I feel like yesterday's handkerchief." Harry laughed and then directed Flint's attention towards Ludo Bagman, the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, since professional Quidditch was Marcus's fallback plan if he didn't have the grades for a Ministry job.
After separating from Marcus, Harry made the rounds and eventually introduced himself to the parents of Justin Finch-Fletchley, mainly as an experiment. Both the elder Finch-Fletchleys were polite (naturally, as they were well-bred and it was an important social setting), but now that he knew what to look for, Harry could sense the barely concealed disdain that both of the Muggles had developed for him after just a few minutes. Harry quickly moved on, but he could hear Justin behind him whispering angrily to his parents about their rudeness. Harry shook his head sadly and headed for the punch bowl.
Along the way, Harry crossed paths with two more House-mates: Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis. After a year in the same House, the two were still a bit of a mystery to Harry. Individually, he thought he had them pegged: Daphne, the aloof raven-haired beauty who carried herself like a forgotten member of the House of Windsor; and Tracey, whose "ditzy blonde" persona was a calculated performance that caused less astute Slytherins to ignore her as a threat. The mystery was how the Heir Presumptive of House Greengrass and a Halfblood being raised by her Muggle single mom were already best friends long before arriving at Hogwarts, not to mention why Lord and Lady Greengrass would treat the apparently unrelated Halfbood practically like a third daughter.
"Thanks for the invitation, Potter, unexpected as it was," said Tracey.
"Well, there's safety in numbers, so I invited every Slytherin in my class who I didn't think was an aspiring Death Eater. Don't feel like you're obligated to me or anything over it."
"Don't be stupid, Potter," snapped Daphne. "You invited my family to the social event of the season, one my mother has wanted to come to for as long as I can remember. Of course you think we both now owe you an obligation."
He sighed in a long-suffering manner. "You wound me, Greengrass. But then, you're both good at that. Lots of people still refuse to speak to me on a first-name basis, but you two are the only ones who invited me to use your first names and then changed your minds for some frivolous reason."
"It wasn't frivolous, Potter," said Tracey angrily. Daphne tried to interrupt her, but she ignored her friend. "Draco and Pansy put pressure on Daphne to break ties with you. They threatened to make things difficult for me in the house because of ... you know." And he did – Tracey's status in the House was at that time even more precarious that his own. They were both Halfbloods, but he at least was the Potter heir. No one knew anything about Tracey's parentage except that her mother was a Muggle who had a liaison with an unidentified wizard.
"Well," said Harry, "Draco is no longer a concern of mine. Actually, he never was a concern of mine, but now he's ... I don't know. Is there such a thing as anti-concern? Anyway, I promise you both that you owe me no obligation for your invitation to this party." He smiled. "Of course, an invitation to the Potter New Year's Eve Ball is another matter."
Daphne's eyes lit up and then narrowed dangerously. "What do you want in exchange?" she practically hissed with eagerness.
"Nothing specific right now. Let's just say you'll owe me a favor to be repaid later ... Daphne."
"If you don't want anything, why did you invite us in the first place? Just to get on a first name basis?"
"Don't be silly. Your sister Astoria already told me I could use her first name, and after ten minutes of chatting, your mother adores me. I think she's looking for a son-in-law... not that I'm remotely interested in that right now, but give it three or four years and, eh, we'll see what develops. To answer your question, Daphne, I invited your family because I wanted to meet your father. And also to make sure your father met some other people."
Daphne looked around suspiciously and saw her father at a table some distance away talking animatedly with Augusta Longbottom and Madanapala Patil. "What are you scheming, Potter?"
"Not scheming, Daphne. Just ... building bridges. Your family is in the import-export business. The Longbottoms have magical plant nurseries and farms on three continents. The Patils have mining operations across India and Southeast Asia. If the three families pooled their resources, they could break the near-monopoly on imported potions supplies currently maintained by the Selwyn family. And for pity's sake, call me Harry."
Tracey gave him a concerned look. "The Selwyns are a powerful family, Pott– ... Harry. And they'll make dangerous enemies."
"Good. That's the only kind worth having," Harry said with a wink. Then, he gave a slight bow and left the two girls behind to whisper furiously about what he'd said. Tracey was right, of course. The Selwyns were powerful and dangerous. They were also flagrant supporters of Voldemort who had evaded prosecution with an Imperius claim even flimsier than Lucius Malfoy's and a much bigger pot of bribes. As far as Harry was concerned, it might be Jim's job to "fight the bad guys" with ridiculous heroics, but that wouldn't stop Harry from doing what preemptive damage he could before it ever got to that point. He had money, he had skilled political and legal advisers, he had the backing of House Longbottom, and in a few years, he'd have the status of Heir Apparent to House Potter. And he was of the strong opinion that the Death Eaters would be a lot less fearsome during the next War if they started off from a position of bankruptcy.
About half an hour later, Harry was standing by the punch bowl watching his brother still standing among a crowd of boys and girls. Jim's full attention was on Cedric Diggory, who was apparently talking about some Seeker tricks he'd picked up at a training camp. Neville, Ron and a few other boys were also listening intently, as was Ginny, but the other dozen or so girls clustered around them mostly seemed content to bask in the presence of the Boy-Who-Lived. In particular, Lavender Brown was standing at Jim's side in a somewhat proprietary manner. Gathered around were Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Astoria Greengrass, the pale blonde girl who Harry had identified as Luna Lovegood, Parvati Patil, and several others he didn't know.
Padma Patil was not among Jim's groupies, however – Harry had noticed her across the lawn, sitting at a table with Olivia Kolumbiko, Margaret Bulstrode (Marcus's opposite number among the Slytherin Seventh Year Prefects) and Percy Weasley. Presumably, Padma was grilling the three about strategies for becoming a prefect. He'd been surprised the previous Christmas when Percy had mentioned that he thought Olivia should have been Head Girl. The older boy almost seemed to have a crush on the aloof Slytherin prefect. Harry was scanning the crowd looking for Hermione when she came up right behind him and said his name, causing him to jump and spill some punch.
"Gah! Don't do that! I swear, Jim Potter has an invisibility cloak and he's not as stealthy as you are!"
Hermione laughed. "Speaking of Jim, have you had a chance to talk with him yet?"
"Yes, we had a lovely family reunion when I arrived this morning," he replied.
"No, I mean one-on-one." Harry noticed that his friend had grown serious.
"Not yet. I wasn't really planning on one either. Why do you ask?"
She hesitated and then leaned in so they wouldn't be overheard. "He pulled me aside earlier to talk to me in private. He wanted to apologize for arguing with me last September and calling me a 'Mudblood.'"
Harry sniffed. "Really?! He's just now apologizing for that?!"
"Shh," hissed Hermione, not wanting to make a scene. "He apologized the day after it happened, but it was the sort of mealy-mouthed apology one might expect from a sulking boy whose parents made him give it. The apology he gave today seemed sincere. A bit too sincere, actually."
"How can an apology seem too sincere?" Harry asked in confusion.
Hermione hesitated. "Maybe I'm just being overly dramatic but from the way he talked ... it felt like ... well, like the sort of apology you might give to someone you felt you'd wronged and wanted to make amends to while you were in the process of putting your final affairs in order."
Surprised at that morbid description, Harry looked back towards Jim. Although it was too far away to hear clearly, it seemed like Cedric must have mentioned their Quidditch match at the Burrow. Harry noticed Cedric pointing at a blushing Ginny and then towards him. Jim looked over in his direction and frowned. Apparently, he was not pleased at the thought of his twin playing Quidditch for Slytherin. Suppressing a smirk, Harry headed over to the group of children along with Hermione. As he approached, the Lovegood girl looked back and forth between the two of them with a slightly nauseous expression. Finally, she focused her full attention on Jim, literally turning her body so she couldn't see Harry at all. Jim could still see Harry's approach, and his expression darkened.
"Are you feeling okay today, Jim?" Luna suddenly asked with some concern. "The wrackspurts and fury-flies in your head have all suddenly grown unusually aggressive." Several of the people around the girl groaned or rolled their eyes. Jim was one of them.
"Luna, I'm fine. And I don't have wrackspurts in my head because, as I've said a dozen times, they don't exist."
"Well, if you don't have wrackspurts in your head, silly, why did you feel the need to tighten down your Boy-Who-Lived mask before the party even started?"
Lavender made a face and muttered the word "Looney" under her breath. Luna didn't seem to hear it, but Ginny did, and she narrowed her eyes at the other girl menacingly.
"Luna," said Jim in annoyance, "I don't know what the heck that is supposed to mean, and I still say there's no such thing as wrackspurts. Or nargles. Or Crumple-Horned ... whatever they are."
"Snorkacks," Luna said cheerfully.
"Which. Still. Don't. Exist!" snapped Jim. "Although if wrackspurts can explain the headache you're giving me right now, maybe there's something to them." He turned towards Harry who had walked up to stand beside him. "But it's more likely my headache is simply because I sensed my brother's approach. What do you want, Harry?"
"To wish a happy birthday to my little brother?" Harry said smugly. "That's what this shindig is for, I suppose. Also, I wanted to introduce myself to this charming young woman and maybe hear more about ... rocksports and niggles? Harry Potter, at your service." He held out his hand towards Luna, but at this point, the girl seemed almost in shock as she looked back and forth between the Potter Twins in mounting horror. Then, she drew a breath as if to scream before abruptly fainting. Only Jim's Seeker reflexes allowed him to catch the girl before she collapsed, and he lowered her carefully to the ground before sending Neville and Cedric off to look for the girl's father.
Harry and Hermione knelt next to the stricken girl. "Okay, whatever that was, I didn't do it," Harry said.
"Shush, you," said Hermione as she patted the semiconscious Luna's hand. The girl stirred. Then, she suddenly leaned forward and began whispering into a surprised Hermione's ear.
At that point, one of the other girls who Harry didn't know spoke up in a snotty voice. "Humph. Well, that's Looney Lovegood for you! Always making a scene of some kind."
"Be nice, Marietta," warned Ginny in a low but surprisingly dangerous voice.
"Ginny, dear, I know you haven't had the chance to make very many friends living out in the sticks in Ottery St. Catchpole, but you're starting Hogwarts in a month, and you can do better for yourself than Looney Lovegood."
Ginny started to retort, but before she could, Harry stood and moved towards the other girl excitedly. "Hey, I know you! I should have recognized you from the start! You must be Vincent Crabbe's little sister. He's told me so much about you! Harry Potter, delighted to meet you!" He held out his hand eagerly as if waiting for her to produce her own for a gentleman's kiss. The girl looked back at him in horror.
"My name is Marietta Edgecombe, and I am not related to Vincent Crabbe in any way!" she sniffed angrily.
"Really?" asked Harry in apparent surprise. "But the resemblance is just so ... uncanny!"
Marietta's eyes flashed furiously, and then she turned and stormed away, followed by several of the other girls who Harry neither knew nor cared about. Jim turned towards Harry in annoyance.
"What was that about? She doesn't look anything like Crabbe."
"I know, Little Brother, but this is a formal garden party. I couldn't very well come right out and say that I thought she was a boorish little snob, now could I?" Behind him, Ginny openly laughed at that. Ron gave her an angry look but said nothing.
At that point, Xeno Lovegood ran up and helped his daughter to her feet. Luna still seemed distraught and actively avoided looking at either of the Potter Twins. She whispered something to her father who turned towards Jim. "I do apologize, Mr. Potter, for all this drama. I think my Luna has had enough excitement for one day. I'd best get her home." Then, he led the still shaken girl away.
Jim shook his head. "Marietta was right about one thing. She does like to cause a scene."
Ginny turned towards him angrily. "That's not fair, Jim. You know it hasn't been that long since her mother died! And right in front of her, no less!"
Jim blushed, while Ron stepped forward. "Ginny, that's enough. We're guests here."
"Yes," said Harry with asperity. "Specifically, Ginny is my guest to this party, seeing as how Jim only invited you and the Twins. And personally, I'm not at all offended by Ginny standing up for her friend."
Jim held up a hand to stop Ron from responding. Then, he looked at Ginny who seemed to be seeing the Boy-Who-Lived in a new light. "Ginny, I'm sorry if you were offended by what I said about Luna. And I'm sorry for her loss. I'm just a bit stressed out. It's been a long day, and it will be a while before I'm done. Everybody, if you'll excuse me, I need to go freshen up a bit. In about half an hour, we'll be opening the gifts. I'll see you all then." With that, Jim quickly left the group. Ron gave Harry an angry glare and then wandered off to scarf some more appetizers. Harry shrugged. His relationship with Ron had apparently moved past overt hostility, but that didn't mean he cared very much about the boy's feelings. Instead, he moved over to Hermione.
"What was that she whispered to you?"
"Well, it was a bit odd, even for wizards. According to her, it seems that everyone has tiny little invisible firefly creatures called nargles which float around our heads and infest the brains of anyone with whom we interact and successfully confuse in some manner. But that's not the odd bit."
"It's ... not?" said Harry, who thought the idea of nargles was quite odd indeed. Hermione just turned to look at him with an peculiar expression.
"No, the odd bit, assuming that what she said wasn't complete nonsense, is that the nargles that float around your head and the ones that float around Jim's head don't like each other, and when you get too close to one another, they go into a cannibalistic frenzy and start eating one another."
Harry blinked. "Ooookay, you're right. I guess that is the odd bit." As he spoke, Harry glanced over Hermione's shoulder and noticed Blaise standing alone near the door to the manor house aggressively not looking in his direction in a manner that would alert any competent Slytherin to the fact that he urgently wanted to talk. "There are times," he thought to himself, "when the Slytherin need for misdirection is just ... tiring."
"Would you excuse me for a minute, Hermione," he said. "Blaise is over there pretending he doesn't want to speak to me. I better go see what he doesn't want me for."
Hermione shook her head in amusement. "Slytherins," she said.
Five minutes later, Jim was in a ground floor bathroom slashing some water on his face. He'd tried to do something with his unmanageable hair and for once was jealous of Harry's styling skills. Briefly, he thought about getting Lavender to do a "make-over" on him as she and Parvati had done for his brother. Then, he shook his head. At this point, the last thing he wanted was to be accused of following his Slytherin twin's lead even on something as inconsequential as hair style. As Jim studied his own face in the mirror, he shuddered briefly and wondered if there was anyone else capable of seeing the emotions he saw reflected in his own eyes. Probably not. People saw what they wanted to see, and everyone wanted to see him as the Chosen One, the Savior of the Wizarding World, instead of what he was: a drowning twelve-year-old boy. "Heh. Or maybe that's just the wrackspurts talking," Jim said to himself with a snort as he thought back over his strange encounter with Luna. Then again, all of his encounters with Luna were strange ones, so that was nothing new. The boy took a deep breath and exited the bathroom. Then, he immediately jumped when someone called out his name. He quickly relaxed, though, as it was one of the few people in the world he still trusted completely.
"Oh, hey Uncle Pete," Jim said to his godfather, Peter Pettigrew.
"Are you okay, son? You seem ... upset. Is it because he's here?"
"No, it's okay. Like it or not, this is Harry's birthday too, and he deserves to be here."
Peter snorted softly at Jim's sentimentality, as if he didn't believe Harry deserved to share anything at all with Jim. "Well, whatever happens, always remember that your parents love you. And while your dad may have some ... paternal obligations towards Harry, I'll always have my godfatherly obligations to you and that will never change. Got it?"
The boy smiled. "Sure thing, Uncle Pete."
With that, Peter looked around carefully to make sure they were alone. "And speaking of which, since I've got you here away from everybody, I have something for you. Your 'official' gift is out on the table, but I wanted you to have something a bit more personal. One of my more disreputable clients told me where to find it in Knockturn Alley. Do not let anyone know I gave it to you, okay?" Jim was surprised by his Uncle Pete's forcefulness and nodded seriously. From inside his coat, Pettigrew produced a small and rather battered-looking pocketbook bound in red leather. "Hide this away when you're not reading it and don't get caught with it, or neither of us will ever hear the end of it."
The front cover was blank, but when Jim opened the book up to look at the title page, he gasped. It was Occlumency: A Beginner's Guide, with the author identified only as "Nemo." The boy looked up at his godfather with a delighted and grateful smile. "Oh my ... wow. Thank you so much for this, Uncle Pete. I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything. Really. Say absolutely nothing! Your mom is scary when she gets angry, and anyway, I could get into a lot of trouble for giving this to a minor, but I know how much you want to learn this. Please be careful with it, though. You'll be entirely self-taught, so go slow. The guy I got it from said to be sure you've mastered the exercises in each chapter before you move on to the next one."
"I will, I promise. And I won't tell a soul where it came from." Impulsively, he stepped forward and hugged the man. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Uncle Pete."
"Hush, now. That's what godfathers are for – to indulge their godsons. Now go and hide that and then get ready to open your presents. I'm eager to see what sort of cool swag you've gotten this year that your parents will fob off on some unworthy orphans."
Jim laughed and ran up the stairs with his new book. Peter watched after him with an indulgent smile and then took a sip from his punch glass. To be honest, he really was looking forward to the ceremonial opening of the Boy-Who-Lived's birthday presents. Well, one present, anyway. This annual Birthday Celebrationhad become a beloved tradition in Wizarding Britain, but Pettigrew suspected that today's festivities would be one for the history books.
The next chapter will be uploaded on Monday, September 21, 2015. "The Birthday Party (Pt. 2)." Harry reunites with Blaise and then meets the mysterious Countess Zabini. Then, Jim opens his birthday presents ... with shocking results.
AN: The Harry Potter Wiki is vague about what year Marietta Edgecombe was in beyond the fact that she was friends with Cho Chang and is therefore usually presumed to be a year ahead of Harry. However, it's possible that she was Sorted after that and anyway there's a huge lack of characters in Ginny's year, so I made the authorial decision to say that she gets Sorted in 1992. For the same reason, Astoria Greengrass will get Sorted this year as well, even though there's a fanon consensus that she didn't get Sorted until 1993.