AN: Thanks to all you wonderful reviewers: TroyWeb, JM0RIARTY, Little Yellow Sunshine, JanusGodOfPossibilities, Guest, ReadPaxJoy, Samsonkeezo, Akuma no Amy, Stargon1, urs-v, ILoveGeorgeEads, Firenze Fox, LadyKnightofCelestia, ultima-owner, Majerus, Fibinaci, KKK3, Ari989, Narcissa-Weasly, MaeSilverpaws1, MuggleCreator, Venquine1990, magitech, elmoryakhan, Proud To Be A Gryffindor, Tellur, MariusDarkwolf, Sunshine72, serialkeller, Wonderbee31, and Codename Jellybean. Sorry I was so terrible about responding! I'm getting right on it, I promise.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise.

"You're sure you want to do this?" Sirius cast him a sideways glance as they marched past the perfectly manicured lawns of Privet Drive.

"Positive," Harry replied firmly. It wasn't so much that he wanted to to do this as it was he felt a sense of duty. Though he'd never quite gotten on with the Dursleys as well as he would've wished, they were still his only remaining relatives. And some part of him—some small, stupid, hopeful part—couldn't help but yearn for answers. Why had they disliked him so?

"If you're sure," Sirius acquiesced. After less than a month together, the pair hadn't gotten used to each other. Harry wasn't quite sure how to treat Sirius; he was a friend, a brother, a fun uncle, and a concerned father all in one. Sirius still locked and silenced his room at night, and he was always up before Harry in the morning. Remus lived with them as well, but he insisted on taking the couch.

"You're too young," He had told Harry. "You need your sleep. And Sirius is still recovering."

Harry didn't exactly know how one recovered from a twelve year stint in Azkaban. For Sirius, it seemed to consist of a lot of food and little rest, along with a slew of Healing Potions to be taken every twelve hours like clockwork.

Burbage often dropped in to make sure they were muddling along. She occasionally reminded Harry to do his summer homework. Harry especially dreaded writing his Potions essay for Snape. Whenever he mentioned the subject, all three adults scowled and changed the topic quickly. Harry wasn't looking forward to Potions class at all.

But his other homework came along quite nicely, for Burbage, Remus, and Sirius were all rather intelligent and helped him. Remus would sometimes go off onto a tangent during History, and Sirius liked to tell him how different spells could be incorporated into pranks, but Harry still learned a lot. Harry had already seen his friends a few times this summer, and each time they expressed their happiness at getting him away from the Dursleys. At first, Harry had vehemently agreed, but after a short time, he began to have a few doubts. While he definitely didn't want to go back to the Dursleys, he did feel rather odd just leaving them without a word. There was no love lost between him and Uncle Vernon, but Aunt Petunia had been his mother's sister! Surely they must've gotten along at some point, at least before Lily's magic had been revealed. And Dudley…Harry shook his head. Dudley was just a bit stupid, believing everything his parents told him.

"This it?" Sirius whispered from the corner of his mouth, shifting his eyes doubtfully.

Harry blinked up at Number Four, Privet Drive. "Yeah. This is it."

Aunt Petunia answered the door, staring down at him with surprise and alarm. She glanced at Sirius fearfully before stepping back and ushering them in without a word. Harry, for his part, was shocked. Where was the reprimand for coming over unannounced? Where was the scolding for his untidy hair and unkempt godfather?

She gestured for them to sit while she poured tea and brought out biscuits. Harry sat awkwardly, observing the kitchen with great interest. While it stayed sparkly clean, the many sweets lying around had disappeared. Aunt Petunia's biscuit tin was now kept behind the cleaning supplies. She put a few biscuits onto her good plates and set them on the table. Sirius reached forward and snatched on. Harry hesitantly followed.

"They're sugar free," Aunt Petunia said quietly, not looking at them. Her hands shook as she picked up her teacup. Harry nodded politely. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

For a few minutes they sat in silence, munching on hard biscuits and sipping cold tea. Harry hadn't felt so uncomfortable in a long time. The smell of lemon cleaning product permeated the air. Harry squirmed in his seat.

"Dudley is at a friend's house," She broke the silence.

"Where's Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked.

"He's at work." The benefits of visiting Privet Drive at half past two on a Wednesday afternoon. Harry had chosen this time because he believed Vernon would be out, but he hadn't realized Dudley wouldn't be here. Maybe it was best to patch things up with Aunt Petunia before moving onto his cousin. Dudley tended to follow his parents' example anyway.

Sirius polished off his biscuit and rose shakily. "Well, I feel like a bit of fresh air. Harry, I'll be back in a bit." He flicked his eyes over at Aunt Petunia pointedly. She gave a small, tight nod, standing to put away the biscuits. Harry felt curiously out of the loop.

"Harry." Aunt Petunia cleared her throat.

Harry jerked back in surprise as the front door swung shut behind Sirius. Aunt Petunia didn't refer to him by his name—not ever. He was always "the boy" to her, and to Uncle Vernon. Dudley liked to make up disparaging nicknames for him, but as his cousin lacked creativity, he usually gave up on those. "Er, yes, Aunt Petunia?"

She wrung her hands a bit before lowering her gaze to the ground. "Shall we take this into the living room?"

"Erm…sure." Harry trudged behind her warily, wondering where her sanity had gone. He paused before taking a seat on the wing-backed chair in the corner, closest to the front door. If she suddenly had the urge to shriek at him, at least he could make a quick getaway. She turned to him and seemed to realize what he thought, for she gave a tiny, sad smile and perched herself on the couch.

"I wanted to tell you that I—I have a few things for you." She pulled a medium-sized box into her lap. Black marker on the outside indicated that it contained cooking supplies, but she opened the box to reveal a few books, plus a jewelry box. "These were Li—these were…your mother's," She said finally, pulling out one of the books.

Harry leaned forward eagerly. Aunt Petunia had some of his mother's things? He had thought she must've gotten rid of them all, but it made sense that she hung on to a few important mementos.

"These are mostly baby photos; I don't remember her being so young." She passed him an album with a shiny red leather cover. He carefully thumbed through it, taking in the tiny girl with strawberry blonde curls and bright green eyes. "Her hair got darker as we grew older," Aunt Petunia explained. "Here, this one's of her while we were in primary school." Again, Harry accepted a thick album, this time noting the well-worn pages. Someone had looked at these often.

"Aunt Petunia, why—"

"Hush." He fell silent. "This one has pictures she brought home from that school." Her voice took on a hint of bitterness, and she practically shoved the next album at him. "She left some of her jewelry behind for…for me, when she moved in with your father. I'm sure you don't want to wear it, but perhaps if you find a girl?"

Harry kept his mouth closed, unwilling to share his nonexistent love life with Aunt Petunia. Instead, he reached for the delicate silver chain dangling from her fingers, with a small heart-shaped pendant. There were other necklaces and a few rings, mostly costume jewelry, but this piece stood out to him. He cautiously put it in the jewelry box.

Aunt Petunia stopped breathing, cradling an album with an emerald green cover. Her face twisted as she struggled to stay quiet. She took a deep, shuddery breath before turning to look at him once more. Her mouth quivered while she grappled with her tears. "This one has pictures of her after school. We…we didn't speak anymore, but she still sent me them every few weeks."

Aunt Petunia made to give it to him, but when he reached out, her hands clamped around his wrists. He started and tried to pull away, but she kept a firm grip until he met her watery eyes.

"Listen to me." He stilled. "You be careful with this, you hear me? Their house got destroyed after what happened, and this…this is all anyone has left of her. This is all that's left of your—of my sister."

Harry reluctantly accepted the album. "But Aunt Petunia, if this is all you have, then maybe you should keep it. I don't want to take away—"

"No!" She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "No," She continued, gentler. "I had Lily for so many years, and I threw that away with both hands. I've held onto her for so long, but I always forget that you didn't have her at all. These are yours now, Harry. Be careful," She repeated.

"I will be," Harry promised.

She leaned back, satisfied with his answer. Another silence stretched over them, this one not entirely uncomfortable. Harry allowed his body to relax, though his mind whirred frantically over this new information. He had pictures of his mother! He had some of her things!

The doorbell chimed loudly, causing Harry to jump up. Aunt Petunia stood as well, carrying the jewelry box to the front door while Harry gathered the photo albums in his arms. Sirius waited on the other side of the door, a tentative smile on his face. Harry shrugged at him. Aunt Petunia gave Sirius the jewelry box and retreated back into the house.

"Aunt Petunia!" Harry called quickly, inserting his foot in the doorway.

She turned back, tilting her head to the side. "Yes?"

"Aunt Petunia, I was wondering if…if maybe I could come back sometime, to talk about my mum. Would that be okay?" He added, hoping fervently that it was.

"I—yes, I suppose that would be alright." She attempted a smile. "Goodbye, Harry."

He swallowed hard, taking a step back. "Goodbye, Aunt Petunia."

Percy brushed off a bit of ash from his robes as he gracefully exited the fireplace. Making his way up to the counter at the Leaky Cauldron, he moved with purpose and excitement. At last, he could see Penny and Oliver again. New jobs had kept the three apart for a while, but they'd lined up their schedules in order to give themselves an hour for lunch together. Percy had struggled with requesting a specific lunch hour, for Mr. Crouch preferred him to work straight on through, eating as he went. But he'd mustered up his courage and stared Bartemius Crouch right in the eyes and done it.

He readjusted his glasses and scanned the tables, studiously avoiding the eyes of a few scantily clad women and what appeared to be a hag. Oliver would almost certainly be tardy, per usual, but Penelope would most likely arrive five minutes early. He slipped his hand into his pocket and felt for the small, velvet box, breathing in deeply. His new job didn't possess a very generous salary, but he had a little pocket change, and he was used to saving up.

"Percy!" Penny waved at him. "Over here!"

His lips spread into a grin. He probably looked like a fool, but it was just so nice to lay eyes upon Penelope Clearwater again, the girl he'd fancied since fourth year. She beamed back at him and gestured to the seat next to her. He slid in and prepared himself.

"It's so great to see you again." Penelope leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I haven't ordered yet, I was waiting for you two."

Percy willed the color in his cheeks to fade away. He'd never been very good with public displays of affection, though surely no one here cared. Still, he took it as a good sign. At least she wasn't trying to break things off before he could even give it to her. Two years of dating and he'd never been able to afford a decent present for his girlfriend! He only hoped things went well.

"Oliver'll probably be late," He muttered, glancing around for his burly friend. The new Keeper for Puddlemere United was nowhere to be found, which helped greatly. "Hey, Penny, I got you something."

She tilted her head to the side. "Oh, Percy, you didn't need to get me anything."

"I know," He insisted. "I wanted to. Er, here." If he'd been more focused on her face, he might've noticed her widening eyes and growing happiness as he pulled the tiny box out of his robes. Instead, he concentrated on keeping his hands from trembling. He opened the box to show a sparkling silver bracelet, with amethyst jewels.

She let out a little gasp before smiling shakily. "Oh…Percy, it's beautiful! Um, could you put it on for me?"

He nodded quickly. Success! He'd done well on his first real gift for Penny! Of course, now he had set the bar for all future presents, but he'd just have to save up more for next time. Perhaps he could be the sort of powerful, wealthy man a girl like Penny deserved, instead of poor, nobody Percy. He could be someone great, someone wonderful. "Do you like it, then?"

"Oh, yes, of course," She assured him hastily. "Y'know, when you first brought out that box, I thought it would be a ring. Because of the size, and everything," She added.

Percy furrowed his brow. "Would you like a ring better? Because I can get you a ring next time—I mean, I will get you a ring next time," He promised her. A ring—of course she wouldn't want a bracelet, it would interfere with her writing! How stupid, giving a secretary a bracelet. Rings were much more convenient in her line of work.

"No, no, you really don't have to Percy. I wasn't expecting you to get me anything at all."

"I know," He said again. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

She pulled away and studied the bracelet. "Well, I was definitely surprised, that's for sure."

"Surprised about what?" Oliver enquired, dropping down into the seat across from them. "Hey, where'd you get that?"

"Percy got it for me," She told him. Percy glowed happily. He'd gotten Penny a gift that she was proud of, even if it wasn't the most practical. Next time he'd get her a ring, and the time after that, and the time after that….

"Whoa, really?" Oliver's eyes bugged out of his skull. "Merlin, mate, you might be getting paid more than me!" Somehow, Percy highly doubted that. Oliver played for a professional Quidditch team, and even if it was just his first year, he was still an excellent Keeper, and his salary more than likely reflected that. Percy couldn't find it in him to be bitter, though. Oliver was too nice of a guy for that.

"How's your mum taking your new job?" Percy asked, switching the topic abruptly.

Oliver started, running a hand through his hair sheepishly. "Yeah, about that…"

Penelope scowled. "She's not still upset that you accepted, is she?"

Oliver shrugged. "Dunno. I haven't spoken with her since she kicked me out."

"What?" Penny shrieked. Percy silently agreed. Annabelle Wood was one of the kindest women he'd ever met, though she occasionally had a bit of a temper. He couldn't believe that she'd kick her only son out of her home.

Oliver shifted in his seat. "Alright, so she didn't exactly kick me out," He confided. "But she said that I couldn't live under her roof and play Quidditch professionally. So, I solved that problem and left."

Penny rolled her eyes. "You are such a moron," She stated flatly. "Where are you even living now?"

"Er…" He shifted again. "Here?"

Percy snorted. "You're staying in the Leaky Cauldron? Won't that get kind of expensive?"

Oliver pretended to busy himself with the menu. "A bit, yeah. Speaking of which, how would you like to share a flat with a world famous Quidditch star?"

"Viktor Krum's taking roommates?" Percy deadpanned, lifting an eyebrow.

"Ha, ha," Oliver grumbled.

Tom strolled by and dropped off their food. Percy acted normal around him, although the barkeeper sent strange shivers down his spine. Perhaps it was the way he always seemed to know precisely what went on in every corner of the Wizarding world—maybe he should file that away for reference. Yes, if he ever needed to know something for work, he could just ask Tom.

"But seriously," Oliver persisted, "wouldn't it be wicked to live together? I'd have somewhere to crash that wouldn't take all of my money, and it's not like you want to live at the Burrow forever, right?"

Percy hesitated. Of course he didn't want to live at the Burrow, but all the money that would normally be spent on rent went towards his savings fund for Penny. If he moved out, then he might not make enough to keep up with his promise of a ring. He wilted for a moment before shaking himself. He'd just have to buy her things less often, that was all. This was easily doable. "Did you have a place in mind?"

Oliver grinned triumphantly. "Nah, not yet. Figured I'd want to look with you."

"How did you know he'd say yes?" Penny challenged, taking a sip of her lemonade.

"I know Percy's thinking patterns, s'all." Oliver pushed his chair back onto two legs. "He weighs the pros and cons for a bit before eventually deciding that the chance of living with a world famous Quidditch star is too great an opportunity to pass up, and he gives in."

"Again, who is this world famous Quidditch star?" Percy poked at his fish and chips and smothered a smile. Oliver really was too easy to rile up sometimes. Unfortunately, Penny decided to take on the role of peacekeeper and quickly interrupted.

"How's your new job going?" She turned to look at him, innocent blue eyes peering up at him.

He directed his attention to his food. "Uh, it's going, er, well, I guess." Percy cursed himself for sounding so unsure. Truth be told, he hated his new job. He hated writing about the thickness of cauldrons, and he hated the endless pile of work he was buried under, and he hated Mr. Crouch, for while the man was extraordinarily intelligent, he had little to no personality. Was that who Percy would become after years behind this desk, doing nothing of consequence? Would he become another dull, lifeless drone, working from sunrise to sunset with little to show for it?

It was, to say the least, a far cry from the engaging, important life he had always imagined. His father had a more interesting job than he did, working in a tiny department with one other man, finding misused muggle items and setting them back to rights. Would things improve as he moved up in the ranks? Mr. Crouch had been hinting at possible overtime in the future, and Percy's exhausted body protested at the very idea. But what could he do? He needed the money, and if he kept his head down and did as he was told, maybe he'd get a raise, perhaps even a promotion.

Percy said not a word of this to his friends, or to his family. He had chosen his career years ago, and to back out now would seem foolish. He had it better than most, after all. His decision had been made, as had his mistake. He had no chance of leaving now, not without sacrificing his dignity. He had to live with it. "How's it going at Puddlemere? Do they treat you differently now that you're no longer on reserve?"

Oliver traced the rim of his mug with his finger. "Yeah, it's…it's a little different," He said noncommittally. "Got my new broom though. Fancy new Firebolt and everything." He perked up a bit more at this, his eyes glazing over as he pictured it. "Anyway, what about you, Penny? How's being a secretary?"

"Oh, it's…well, there's a lot of parchment." Penelope worked as a secretary for the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee. Percy hadn't heard a lot about them during his time at the Ministry, but he did know that Mr. Crouch didn't think all that highly of anyone who worked there. Mr. Crouch didn't think particularly highly of anything having to do with Muggles, which was why Percy took care to never bring up his father. "I don't really get to do much except sort papers and mail memos."

A heavy silence fell on the trio, munching on their food and anxiously checking the time every few minutes. At last, Penny stood and announced that her lunch break was over. Percy hurriedly agreed and left. Oliver mentioned something about owling him later to look for flats, but Percy had already mentally tuned out. He had to get back to work before Mr. Crouch yelled at him. Though he was sure it wouldn't matter if he yelled at 'Weatherby' again, since hardly anyone in the Ministry knew he was talking about.

Percy stepped back into the fireplace and wished he were back at Hogwarts, stressing over mass murderers and Basilisks.

Remus woke up to the sound of someone choking. "Wha?" He jolted straight up, fumbling for his wand and glancing around wildly. "Charity? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry…ahem." She crept into the room, massaging her throat. "Dust clouds popping up everywhere, s'all." She smiled brightly at him, wiping a tear away from her eye. "Did you actually manage to fall asleep on that lumpy old thing? You must be more tired than I thought."

"Oh…" Remus felt his face redden slightly. "No, that's not…I mean—I have to take the couch at the flat," He blurted out finally, shifting his weight. "Not that I mind. It's only temporary. Though, to be honest, I'm not sure how this place is supposed to be much better."

They stood in a small room in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, one of the few completely safe and sanitized areas in the whole house. Most of the furniture in the home had been sold or tossed out, and only the incredibly uncomfortable couch was left. Charity planned to paint the walls a soothing blue soon, and had happily dragged Remus to the Muggle hardware store in London to buy some. Because, she informed him cheerfully, they would be fixing up the house the Muggle way.

Now, Remus didn't have any problems with Muggles. On the whole, he found them to be just like wizards, with some bad and some good. But he definitely didn't like everything taking so long, especially home improvements. Of course, certain things could only be done with magic, such as getting rid of Doxies, but Charity firmly believed that a little elbow grease would help her Gryffindors build character, and she insisted on him being a part of this exercise as well.

He only hoped the smell wasn't too bad.

"I'm positive that as soon as we fix this place up, it will be absolutely gorgeous! Can't you just imagine it, Remus?" She gave a little twirl about the room, the hardwood floor creaking underneath her. "We'll have photographs in the hallway—Sirius said he'd let Harry decide which ones—and hopefully we can shine up the flooring, it looks rather dull—"

"Filthy blood traitors," A voice interrupted from the doorway. Remus turned and barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. He had been privy to many of Sirius' rants at school, and while most of them had centered around his family, he had usually dropped a line or two about Kreacher. Remus would willingly admit that he had hardly believed a word of it, but he had to concede that Kreacher was a mean little ball of spite.

Charity drooped slightly upon his entrance before forcing a bright smile onto her face. "Hello, Kreacher. I was wondering if you might like to help us with the floors—"

"Kreacher doesn't have to obey blood traitors," The old elf told her, turning away. "No, no, Kreacher only has to listen to the Master, nasty Master he is, always breaking the Mistress' heart…" He shuffled back to his cupboard, shaking his head.

Remus frowned after him, wrapping an arm around Charity's waist as she sighed. "It was worth a shot," He comforted weakly.

"I suppose. Anyway, we really do need to hurry. Sirius wanted to have the first floor and a few bedrooms finished by Harry's birthday so we could have a party here, instead of at your tiny flat. Speaking of Sirius, where is he?" She glanced around as though expecting him to pop out from behind a door.

"He took Harry to go see his aunt. Something about him needing family time." Remus left the room and moved into the parlor, surreptitiously vanishing a few messes with his wand before Charity could spot them.

"Family time?" Charity followed in after him. "I don't know that I've ever heard Harry talk about his family…"

"Lily didn't say much about her sister either," He acknowledged. The smudge marks on the glass cabinets on the other end of the room taunted him. "But Sirius thought he might like to see his aunt again, and Harry's the one who brought it up in the first place. They'll probably be back soon. Here, can you take this box? It should be pretty light." Remus handed it to her, thinking to himself that a simple levitation charm would've sufficed.

"Remus? Do you think Harry's been settling in well so far?" She took the box in her arms. "I'm just worried that if he doesn't like it here, he's not going to say anything about it."

Remus paused. "What's not to like? Sirius practically spoils him rotten. D'you know what I caught him doing the other night? He tried to give Harry ice cream before dinner! And apparently, he tries that sort of thing often. Lucky Harry's not the type to go for that a lot." He gathered up a few more boxes and wondered if he might be able to slip in a cleaning charm on the cabinets before Charity noticed.

Charity set down her box in the hallway and puffed out a breath, sending her blonde bangs flying up. "Well, yes, he's good at providing the material things, but do Harry and Sirius have a strong relationship?" She leaned her body against the wall.

Remus put down his boxes as well and wiped some sweat off his brow. "It certainly seems so. Harry's not so shy that he doesn't speak up when something displeases him, Charity. He's polite about it, but he's rather vocal, too. They spend most of their time trading stories, I think. Sirius will tell him about his parents when they were in school, and Harry talks about his time at Hogwarts so far. The other day they got into a heated argument over Quidditch, and which teams are the best!"

She nodded, propping up a foot on the stack of boxes. "And what about Sirius? How's his recovery going so far?"

Remus blinked at her. "What are you talking about? You're over nearly every day, haven't you been seeing any improvement?"

"Um…" She chewed her bottom lip. "We…we don't talk much. I don't know, he doesn't seem to like me very much." Charity avoided his eyes, bustling into the dark, dreary kitchen. "What do you think about yellow in here? Not too bright, sort of a butter yellow. Wouldn't that look nice? Oh, and we could paint the cabinets white—"

"Wait, wait, wait." He held up his hand, moving in front of her.

She fiddled with the clasp on her robes. "Not white, then? You're right, that would get dirty awfully fast—"

"Charity," He spoke firmly. "What do you mean, Sirius doesn't like you very much? Of course he does, you helped him prove his innocence, you're decorating his house, Harry practically adores you!"

"Isn't that just it, though?" Two spots of bright pink appeared on her cheeks. "He tolerates me because…because Harry likes me and because you like me, and because he doesn't want to seem ungrateful, and—oh, I shouldn't have even said anything!"

"I'm glad you did." He gently eased a shiny, copper pan out of her grasp and set it on the counter. "Don't worry, we'll get this all sorted out. I'll go talk to Sirius—"

"No!" She cried, snatching the pan back from him. "You can't do that, Remus, I—everything's fine the way it is, he doesn't have to like me."

"Of course he does," He retorted, taking the pan again. "You're…you're the most wonderful woman I've ever met, Charity, and you're so important to me—"

"But he's important to you, too," Charity interrupted. "And I don't want to make you choose between us, Remus, you only just got him back. No, no, it's fine. Don't say anything. As long as we're both civil in front of the children, then it won't matter. I appreciate the offer though."

Remus said nothing as she took the pan for the last time and set it on the stove. What was he to do? Sirius was his best friend. He had already failed him once, and the man had ended up in Azkaban for twelve years because of it! But Charity had believed in him when no one else would. Hadn't he vowed to be the right man for her? No matter what he did, he would betray someone.

"Now, why don't you go finish up the parlor while I make something for lunch? I know you're absolutely hopeless in the kitchen." Charity banged a pot on the counter loud enough to start off Walburga Black's portrait again, and Remus moved to shut the curtains without even thinking about it.

As he moved back into the parlor, Remus Lupin's mind was on the fork in the road.

Dear Sir,

By now, I'm sure you've heard the news. Sirius Black has been declared innocent. You must've known that he was my godfather. One thing the papers didn't say was that I've now moved in with him, along with our old Defense teacher, Remus Lupin. Professor Burbage drops by sometimes too, just to make sure we're getting enough to eat.

My friends have been coming to visit a lot lately. I don't know if you've heard, but Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater both got jobs working for the Ministry of Magic. Oliver Wood was signed to Puddlemere a little over a year ago, but he's off the reserve team now. They all seem to like their new jobs a lot.

I know you don't work at Hogwarts anymore, but I was wondering if you had any idea who the new Defense teacher might be. Professor Burbage said she doesn't get to find out until a week before term starts. You can send your response back with Hedwig, but she might need to rest a little bit, since I don't know how far away you are.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

P.S. Sirius wants me to tell you hi.