Disclaimer: The following characters, settings and referenced events are, and always will be, the property of J K Rowling.

– CHAPTER THREE –

Discontentment, Desperation, Disintegration

Boy, I must have been tired, thought Harry when he finally woke up. A glance at his watch told him it was eight o'clock – in the morning, judging by the direction of the sun – so he had slept for almost a full day. No wonder he felt so hungry. Ron's bed was empty so, after Harry changed into fresh clothes (his trunk was standing at the foot of his bed), he headed down to breakfast, too.

He was halfway down when he saw Lupin coming out of the bathroom. Harry doubled back.

'Er … Professor … I was wondering if I could have a word. Please?'

Lupin responded by holding the door to his room open and waving Harry in with a toothbrush, comb and razor.

'What did you want to talk about?' Lupin asked as he packed his toiletries away.

'How does the Fidelius Charm work?'

Lupin clearly didn't expect Harry to ask that. 'That's not really my area of expertise.'

'Yeah, I know, but Flitwick isn't here. So …'

Lupin leant against the windowsill. 'Why do you want to know?'

'I need to go to Godric's Hollow.'

'Need?'

'OK, want But I don't know where it is. I know that, unless the Secret Keeper tells you, you can't find the secret thing, but what if the people being protected by the secret are dead? And what happens if the Secret Keeper dies?'

Lupin raised a hand to stem the flow of questions. 'Firstly, Peter isn't dead but, to answer your question, when a Secret Keeper dies, the secret dies with them. Those people whom they had already shared the secret with will still remember it themselves but they can't share it with anybody else.'

'And what if the Secret Keeper is still alive but the people in the secret are dead? Can the other people who were told tell anybody else?'

'In other words, can I tell you how to find Godric's Hollow?' Lupin guessed.

'You know where my mum and dad's place is?' asked Harry, surprised.

'Who else did you have in mind?'

'Hagrid,' replied Harry. 'I know he knows where it is because he was the one who got me out of there after …'

Lupin watched Harry closely. He looked like he was going to insist Harry tell him why he wanted to go to his parents' place. Harry's chest tightened with dread but Lupin merely sighed and said, 'Yes, Hagrid knows the location, as did Sirius. And yes, so do I.'

'And can you tell me or are you still bound by the Fidelius?' Harry held his breath.

'I can tell you. The secret wasn't "where James and Lily's house is" but "where they were hiding at the time". Since they're no longer hiding there, it's no longer a secret. And yes, I can take you there, but it will have to wait.' He gazed out the window. 'The full moon is next week, then it's your birthday and Bills' wedding. I should be right to take you after that. '

Harry's stomach dropped at mention of his birthday. 'That's if I'm not in Azkaban.'

'Don't worry,' Lupin smiled encouragingly. 'They don't have a case against you; your wand will prove that. Then there's the little matter of their own law-breaking.' (Harry frowned.) 'Unless I'm mistaken, that thing which took Yaxley's body away was a cross between a troll and a lethifold.'

'A Lethifold?' Harry remembered briefly coming across the murderous, shadow creatures in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. 'How …?'

'That's the question, isn't it? Very serious breach of Interspecies Cross-breeding laws. Who'd have thought Scrimgeour capable of it?' Lupin winked at Harry.

'And that's what attacked Mrs Figg?'

'Oh, no. No, that was a Boggart.'

Harry's jaw dropped. No wonder he had heard a Dementor and Ron, spiders. And Hermione's greatest fear would be forgetting everything she'd learned. Harry gave a nervous chuckle of relief.

'Now, if I were you,' continued Lupin as Harry's stomach rumbled loudly, 'I'd go get something to eat before breakfast gets cold.'

When Harry entered the kitchen, he walked into a war zone. Percy was leaning against the dresser with a smug, self-important look on his face. Mrs Weasley stood in front of him, like she was trying to protect him. On the other side of the table, Ron, Ginny and Mr Weasley were poised, tense as springs. Nobody seemed to notice Harry arrive, probably distracted by Fred and George slamming the door behind them as they stormed outside. ('Shut up, Weatherby!')

'Er …'

Everybody jumped.

'Harry, dear.' Mrs Weasley hurried over to him, fussing as always. 'Did you sleep all right?'

Harry nodded uncertainly, eyeing the others; the tension was still very thick.

'Come and sit down.' Mrs Weasley steered him over to the table. 'Hungry? Would you like some eggs? And you –' she snapped as Ron went to get up, '– can stay put until you've finished eating all of your breakfast. I mean it, Ron. All your breakfast or you don't eat for the rest of the day.' She glared at him as he seemed about to defy her, but then sank back onto his chair, muttering angrily under his breath; clearly the thought of no food was too much.

'And keep a civil tongue in your head, young man.' Mrs Weasley waved a spoon menacingly. 'Percy's not to blame for the situation you've found yourself in. You did that all by yourself.'

Ron opened his mouth, but judging by the way he suddenly snapped it shut, Hermione (who was sitting opposite him) kicked him under the table.

Deciding it was probably safer not to ask what had been happening until they were out of Mrs Weasley's hearing, Harry tucked into his eggs. With any luck, it would all blow over soon.

But not soon enough. Ron was still fuming when his mother shooed them outside. The sight of Mrs Weasley fussing over Percy, as well as Percy's reminder that they weren't to wander off, made him flare up again.

Ron slammed the door so hard it made the house shake. Harry thought, not for the first time, that the house might fall down, but Ron seemed not to notice. He just strode angrily through the garden, swearing loudly as he went; Harry had to run to catch up. Even when he did manage to grab his friend's shoulder to stop him, he found himself on the receiving end of a colourful diatribe, through which he caught a distant shout of 'Look out', followed by something whizzing past Ron's nose. With reflexes born from years as a Quidditch Seeker, Harry had the errant object in his hand before Ron had a chance to do more than jump backwards.

Ron turned on the two red streaks bearing down on them at top speed.

'OY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? TRYING TO KILL US OR SOMETHING? WHY DON'T YOU WATCH WHERE YOU'RE HITTING THOSE THINGS, YOU –?'

'Now, now, bro', are you sure you want to finish that sentence?' Fred cut in.

'Yeah, we know you were getting in some practice with Harry just now, but –,'

'– You surely love your own brothers more than your mate, so –,'

'– You don't need to continue your practise on us,' finished George.

As usual, Harry felt like he was watching a tennis match.

The mention of brotherly love made Ron flare up even more. 'Love my brother? That's what I was mad about! I wasn't mad at Harry! It was that –' His shouting suddenly turned to sputtering as an envelope hit him squarely in the face. Looking around, Harry saw a grey owl flying towards him. Holding out his arm, it landed gently and waited patiently for him to remove the envelope tied to its leg; in the background, Ron was shouting at another owl swiftly retreating towards the horizon. Ignoring him, Harry opened his envelope.

'Ron!' he shouted excitedly, making Ron jump. Even Fred and George tore their attention back to Harry. 'It's our Apparition tests!' He waved the letter in Ron's face.

'What?' yelped Ron, snatching the letter from Harry. He scanned the page with an increasingly alarmed look on his face, then ripped open his own letter. 'Oh no!' he groaned, and slumped to the ground.

Harry, Fred and George exchanged puzzled looks. Ron just sat at their feet, rocking back and forth, clutching his head and moaning, 'I'm gonna fail again, I'm gonna fail again.'

Fred and George looked like Christmas had come early. Harry frowned at them disapprovingly.

'You're not going to fail. You've Apparated before. You just have to make sure you don't get nervous, like with Quidditch.'

Ron was still panicking. 'But I haven't been practising!'

'So practise!' said Harry.

Ron looked up, his eyes wide with desperation. 'How?' He waved a hand around. 'With all the security on this place? I'm gonna fail again.' He went back to his rocking.

Fred and George looked at each other for a minute, then nodded. Harry wondered, for the millionth time, if the twins were telepathic.

'OK, little brother; your needs are greater than ours, so we'll help you out,' offered George.

Ron forgot his dilemma long enough to look up, suspicious. 'You'd help me?'

The twins nodded.

'Why?'

Fred and George regarded him with mock-hurt expressions on their faces.

'Always so ready to doubt our good intentions.' Fred shook his head.

George tsked. 'You'd think he'd be more grateful. Though, I suppose we have brought it on ourselves a bit, what with –,'

'– The time we turned his feet to ice so he could go skating in summer –,'

'– Or when we set his underpants on fire –,'

'– While he was still wearing them –,'

'– Because he said the toilet seat was icy cold in winter –,'

'– Or the Boggart we gave him for his sixth birthday, which turned into a giant spider –,'

'– No, hang on; that was a giant spider.'

Ron looked at Harry. 'You see?'

Harry tried to look serious, but it wasn't easy with a wide grin on his face. 'Ron does have a point, you two.'

This sobered the twins up, whose hurt expressions looked a little more genuine when they realised that even Harry didn't trust them.

Glancing around, Fred checked for eavesdroppers. 'OK, if you must know, we're not doing this for your sake, we're doing it for ours.'

'Yeah,' said George. 'It has become pretty obvious to everyone that you intend to traipse around after Harry, trying to defeat You-Know-Who –'

'– So you just might find yourself in a position where you need to Disapparate in a hurry.'

Ron looked confused. 'So how is that helping you?'

'Because,' George explained, 'if you can't Apparate–,'

'– You'll be stuck in a very sticky spot –' (Harry grinned again; he was pretty sure what was coming next.)

'– And,' both brothers spoke together, 'Mum would use every curse she can get her wand around on the two of us.' They looked down at Ron as if nothing else could be plainer.

Ron looked like he was about to blow up again. Harry thought it wise to step in. Addressing the twins, he asked, 'So, exactly what did you have in mind when you said you'd help?'

'Well, Harry,' Fred seemed thankful for the diversion, 'we thought you could practise in the flat over our shop.'

Now Harry was confused. 'How? We're not supposed to leave here.'

'You're not allowed to leave,' George poked a finger in Harry's chest, 'but –'

'– We can. So, all we need to do is –,'

'– Swap places –,'

'– As each other –,'

'– And nobody will be any the wiser.'

'You can both practise to your hearts' content –,'

'– And even the Ministry won't notice.'

'They'll just think we're testing something,' completed Fred, as both twins looked expectantly down at their brother.

Ron looked slightly ill. 'You mean, drink Polyjuice Potion?' Harry didn't blame him for his reaction; Polyjuice Potion tasted disgusting.

'Can you think of a better way?' asked George.

Ron didn't look very happy with the way things had developed, but he knew he didn't have much choice. 'OK, fine,' he agreed grudgingly. 'So when do we do this?'

'Would one hour a night do?' asked George.

'One hour?' Ron sounded panicky again.

'Each night for – how many weeks?' Fred looked across at Harry.

'Hang on –,' Harry picked up their letters, 'um, the day before my birthday – that's two weeks.'

'Good!' George clapped his hands together. 'Fourteen hours should be plenty.'

Harry looked at Ron. 'You'll easily master it in that amount of time, won't you?'

Ron thought this over. 'Hmm, probably.' He looked a bit more hopeful. 'Yeah, should do.'

'Right.' Fred conspiratorially waved them closer. 'We shut up shop at five each day, so if we switch then –,'

'– You can practise till six –,'

'– Then get back just in time for –,'

'Supper.' Ron licked his lips. 'But how do we swap?'

'We're getting there,' said George.

'Now, if you two can arrange to be practising Quidditch at the bottom of the garden–,'

'– Nice and low –,'

'– We'll be able to sneak in quickly from the wood.'

'Then we swap –,'

'– You race down to the wood –,'

'– And go to the shop –,'

'– Practise for an hour –,'

'– Then come back to the wood –,'

'– And we swap back.'

'You'll need to run pretty fast to get across the lane without being seen –,'

'– But we've got a Hotfoot Jinx which might help'. George grinned wickedly at them.

Harry grinned back. 'No need,' he said, with a glance at Ron. 'I've got something even better.'

The twins looked intrigued.

'Yeah,' said Ron gloatingly. 'You two haven't got anything like this.'

'What?' The twins' curiosity was getting the better of them.

'An Invisibility Cloak,' Harry replied.

The twins' jaws dropped. 'Where'd you get one of those?'

'Where'd you get a ready supply of Polyjuice?' countered Harry.

'We made it ourselves,' Fred explained.

'We thought we'd brew it and try it.'

'Yeah, thought it might be handy to sell it to the Order –,'

'– Especially since they don't have Snape around to mix it for them any more.'

'Who'd you change into?' Ron was curious.

'Each other,' replied the twins. Ron looked more confused than ever.

'Anyhow, Harry,' said George, 'you were going to tell us where you got your Invisibility Cloak.'

'My dad. He gave it to Dumbledore before he died, then Dumbledore passed it on to me my first Christmas at Hogwarts.'

Both Fred and George looked heartbroken.

'Just think of all the fun we could have had,' said Fred.

'Yeah,' moaned George. 'After all, we shared the Marauders' Map with you.'

'Mind you, it does explain a lot –,'

'– Like how you were able to get around so much without Umbridge seeing you.'

'The Marauders' Map was Harry's anyway – OW!' Ron rubbed his ankle where Harry had kicked him.

The twins frowned. 'We would have thought it would be Lupin's or Sirius's,' said George.

'How do you figure that it was Harry's?' asked Fred.

'How did you know about Sirius and Lupin?' Harry threw back.

'They kept calling each other Moony and Padfoot when we were at Headquarters,' said Fred.

'Now, how do you fit into the scheme of things?' The twins gazed at Harry, who debated whether or not to explain. Oh, why not!

'Prongs was my dad.' (The twins were predictably astounded by this revelation.) 'Mind you, technically the Map belongs to Lupin – he's the only one of them left - but he said I could keep it.'

'Wormtail's still alive,' Ron pointed out.

'He doesn't count!' said Harry shortly.

Fred and George had been watching this with increasingly curious expressions. 'You know Wormtail?'

Harry nodded his confirmation.

'Who is he?' the twins wanted to know.

'Peter Pettigrew,' said Harry shortly. 'So when do we start our practising?' he continued before the twins could get distracted any further.

'Tomorrow,' replied George.

'We'll Apparate here right after we shut up shop. So –'

'– Make sure you're in position, ready.'

'Now, Harry –,'

'– How about us getting that Cloak.'

As Harry led the others back towards the house, he said, 'The only thing we have to watch out for is Ginny wanting to join in our Quidditch practice.'

'She won't,' said Fred.

'She'll be too busy helping Hermione help Mum with all the wedding preparations,' George explained.

x

Five o'clock the next afternoon found Harry and Ron at the bottom of the garden. Harry was tossing an old basketball at Ron, who was doing a very good job catching it, whilst employing various acrobatic turns, when something small circled Harry's head. Catching it, he realised it was a paper aeroplane, on which were written the words, Look down.

He grinned down at Fred and George's heads as they were briefly revealed. Signalling to Ron, they landed.

While Fred held the Cloak like a tent, George opened a picnic basket. Inside were four goblets, a jar of sweets, and a flask.

Opening the jar, Fred removed two of the sweets, then passed the jar to Harry as he and George began sucking.

Harry looked at the jar, puzzled.

'Well go on, hab one.' Fred sounded like he had a very bad cold.

Not sure what was going on, Harry tentatively took one, then handed the jar to Ron, who looked even more reluctant than Harry.

'These aren't Puking Pastilles or anything, are they?' he asked, watching Harry nervously.

Sucking slowly, Harry's eyes suddenly popped wide open in surprise. 'I can't dasde or sbell anyding,' he tried to say with a very numb tongue. Fred and George grinned at him.

Harry nodded encouragement at Ron. 'Go on, id's ogay.'

Looking doubtful, Ron finally began to suck his sweet.

George returned his attention to the basket. Pouring the flask's contents into the goblets, he plucked a hair from his head. The others followed suit.

'You doo had bethd gib uth thum egdrath, in gathe you ged bag lade,' said Fred.

Harry shrugged at Ron. 'Vair enouv,' he concurred, and began plucking.

Once the hairs were added, they swapped drinks – Harry with George, Fred with Ron.

Ron screwed up his face, then gulped; but Harry was already drinking his as if it was water. As he had guessed, the Polyjuice Potion was tasteless, no doubt thanks to whatever those sweets were; but he was suddenly more concerned with some very familiar sensations: writhing insides, burning, and melting skin. It didn't feel any more pleasant second time around. And he had to go through this every night for a fortnight?

Once the transformation had stopped, he looked around at the others. Fred and George were already removing their shirts.

'Gum on, hurry ub and swob, you're wathding dibe.' Fred threw his shirt at Ron. Quickly, Harry and Ron obliged.

'How are we thubbothed do ged do the shob?' asked Ron as Harry picked up his Cloak. 'I gan'd Abbarade!'

'Hab no vear, liddle brudder,' George explained, pulling a rusty old pillbox out of his back pocket.

'Dudge dad,' Fred pointed to it.

'You bean –' Ron looked worriedly at it. The twins grinned. 'Ith dad legal?' Ron wanted to know.

Harry snorted. 'Ith any ov dith legal?' he pointed out. 'Gum on, our hour'th running oud.'

Donning the Cloak, Harry and Ron held the pillbox between them as Fred touched his wand to it and mouthed 'One, two, three-'

With a jerk, the garden vanished in a swirl of colours and rushing wind.

Landing with a thud, they found themselves in a living room, obviously in Fred and George's flat above Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes; there were boxes of their products stacked against the walls.

Tossing the Portkey and Cloak onto an armchair, Harry looked at Ron. 'I thubbose we'd bethd ged thdarded, den.' And with a shrug, they started moving the furniture back to create a large space.

x

They had been practising for about twenty minutes. Harry was doing pretty well, consistently Apparating from one side of the room to the other, but Ron was still having trouble. He had only succeeded in Apparating twice – once into the bedroom, and once into a horizontal position balanced on the back of one of the armchairs – but neither time to a standing position on the other side of the room like he intended. Most of the time he just stood against the wall, his face turning red with pent-up concentration.

'I'm never going to get this,' he complained after the umpteenth failed attempt.

'You are,' said Harry. 'You've done it before. Just think back to the time you did do it, and try to remember what you were thinking about, how you concentrated, all that sort of stuff.'

Ron looked dubiously at Harry.

'Go on,' Harry encouraged. 'Shut your eyes, relax, and think.'

Still looking sceptical, Ron closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. Harry watched as his brow creased slightly in concentration then, with a slight turn and a crack, Ron disappeared - and didn't reappear anywhere in the room.

Harry thought perhaps he had Apparated into another part of the flat, but Ron didn't call out 'OK' like he did last time. Feeling a few prickles of anxiety, Harry started to search.

Three minutes later the prickles had turned to panic. Harry had checked everywhere – the bedroom, toilet, even downstairs in the shop – but Ron was nowhere to be found. He was wondering if it might be best to Port back to the Burrow and enlist the twins' help, when he was suddenly knocked to the floor by something heavy, which was putting up a pretty good fight. Trying to turn, he caught a glimpse of red hair.

'Fred, I mean Ron, get off – it's me, Harry.'

Ron's struggles lasted half a second more before he finally collapsed back onto Harry and just lay there.

Bucking slightly, Harry managed to wriggle out from under him, then looked at his friend.

Ron was a sight. His shirt was covered in a foul-smelling liquid, as well as being torn and missing two buttons, there were some nasty welts on his left arm, and a bruise starting to darken on his cheek. But probably the worst injury was the massive bump and cut on his forehead, right on the hairline, which was bleeding furiously, starting to stain the rug.

Harry looked around desperately. He needed to get to the twins – and fast. He dragged his friend over to the armchair, wrapped the Cloak around Ron's unconscious form then, gripping his wrist tightly, Harry picked up the pillbox and they were hooked into a swirl of colour.

Landing hard near the edge of a mass of trees, Harry dropped Ron and ran across the lane towards the Burrow. The twins spotted him immediately and began to descend, worried looks on their faces.

'What happened?' asked George.

'Yeah, why are you back early, and –'

'– Where's Ron?'

Harry felt strange talking to himself. 'Back there.'

Dropping their brooms, the twins raced across the lane.

Harry had barely caught up with them when he heard Fred yelp; Harry supposed it would be a bit of a shock to see your bleeding head and arm lying disembodied on the ground before you. George pulled the Cloak back to reveal the rest of the damage.

'What happened?' Fred sounded like he didn't want to believe what he was seeing.

'I don't know,' Harry tried to explain. 'He Disapparated – I don't know where – and then came back like this. He was struggling against something like he was being attacked, then he lost consciousness.' He looked helplessly at the twins. 'I didn't know what else to do.'

'No, you were right to come here,' George assured him. 'The next question is – what to do?'

Fred was sitting on the ground looking horrified. 'I'm going to look like Bill.' He looked up at them. 'You don't suppose he was attacked by a werewolf, do you?'

Harry shrugged. 'I told you, I don't know what happened; he just disappeared.' He looked at George. 'Do something. Conjure up some bandages or something.'

'We can't do anything until we change back. And that's not for –' he checked his watch '– eight more minutes.'

Harry stared at him. 'Eight minutes? But he's bleeding!' And he began taking his shirt off to press against Ron's head wound.

All three of them stared helplessly at Ron. It was probably the longest eight minutes Harry had ever lived through, waiting for the Polyjuice potion to wear off but, finally, Fred's face on the ground before him began to alter slightly, and his body lengthened from a stocky frame to Ron's lankier one.

Glancing at Fred and George, Harry saw they had also returned to their proper selves, and Fred looked fine – shocked, but healthy. Looking back down at Ron, Harry realised the wounds were still very much there. How were they going to explain this to Mrs Weasley?

As if on cue, he heard her voice calling from up at the house.

'Uh oh,' muttered George and, grabbing Harry's Cloak, headed towards the lane. A few moments later, he reappeared with the picnic basket. He hurriedly poured another goblet of potion and added one of Ron's hairs. Screwing up his face, he downed the brew, then spoke quickly.

'Fred, you get under the Cloak and get Ron up to his room. I'll try to eat dinner quickly and join you. Harry, you get upstairs when you can without rai –' He was silenced for several moments while his body bubbled until he was Ron again.

Mrs Weasley's voice called again.

'Get moving,' urged George as he grabbed Harry's wrist and dragged him back to the garden just as Mrs Weasley appeared around the corner of the house.

'There you two are – didn't you hear me calling you? Aren't you hungry?' she fussed, not seeming to notice their anxious faces.

Trying to steady his breathing and hoping that Fred was managing to successfully get Ron up towards the house, Harry followed Mrs Weasley inside.

x

'Are you all right, Ron?' asked Mrs Weasley as George started to leave the table. 'You've hardly eaten a thing.'

George shrugged at his mother. 'I'm not very hungry, that's all.'

Mrs Weasley's eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'You haven't been getting into any of the stuff for the wedding, have you?'

George donned a guilty look whilst sparing Harry the briefest of glances.

Harry nodded his understanding - nick some food from the pantry. After all, they needed something to feed Ron. He just hoped he would get a chance before Mrs Weasley checked her supplies. Watching George escape his mother's beady look, Harry tried to finish his own supper quickly without looking too suspicious.

Twenty minutes later, feeling very full after a large serve of pudding, Harry excused himself and casually began to make his way upstairs. Once he was out of sight of the others, he quickened his pace, his heart racing faster than his feet until he was knocking on Ron's door.

'It's OK, it's me,' he whispered loudly, glancing around nervously in case anyone else came upstairs.

George (back to himself) let him in.

Fred was sitting beside the bed, holding a clean cloth to the bump. The bruise on Ron's cheek was vanishing before Harry's eyes, but the welts were still on his arm. 'Let's hope they lighten enough to match the scars that brain made,' said Fred, nodding at the light marks on Ron's arms, souvenir of his foray into the Department of Mysteries.

'And what did you do to his cheek?' asked Harry.

George picked up a tub of the bruise-remover they had used on Hermione a year ago. 'I snuck downstairs before and nipped back to the shop to get it while Mum was arguing about the bridesmaids' dresses with Fleur and Ginny.' He handed the Invisibility Cloak to Harry. 'Oh, and you don't have to worry about raiding the pantry – I've done that too.' He grinned at Harry.

Harry returned the grin half-heartedly. 'What happens now?'

Fred stood up. 'You can play nursemaid for a while; I'm hungry.' And without any further ado, he helped himself to a drumstick on the tray by the door.

Seating himself in Fred's place, Harry gingerly lifted a corner of the cloth. The cut was still bleeding.

'Yes,' George commented, 'that one's proving to be a real problem.' He was leafing his way through The Healer's Helpmate. 'The bruise should be gone within the hour, and if you two get up early enough, you can be out practising Quidditch before Mum notices anything. Then fake him crashing and hitting his head on a rock or something –'

'– Maybe even scratching his arms in that blackthorn bush near the vegie patch. That should cover up for how he really got –' Fred stopped abruptly as Ron groaned.

Racing to Harry's side, George felt for Ron's pulse.

'Er – my ...' Ron's eyes flickered open, then screwed tightly shut at the brightness of the room. Fred extinguished several candles, reducing the room to almost complete darkness. Ron tried again. Reaching up, he grabbed a fistful of George's shirt and pulled him down towards him. Harry thought perhaps he wanted to whisper something to George; then suddenly he heard a soft sound and George had jumped back from the bed as though he had touched a light socket, wearing a decidedly revolted look on his face.

'He thinks you're Hermione,' chuckled Fred, earning a scathing look from his twin.

'He could just as easily think you're Hermione,' countered George. 'You look the same as me.'

Fred quickly lost his grin.

Ignoring the twins, Harry focused his attention on Ron, who was struggling to open his eyes again. He squinted at Harry, then the twins. 'How did I get here?'

'I brought you back,' Harry explained.

Ron winced as he tried to sit up. 'What happened?'

'We were hoping you could tell us,' George seemed to have gotten over the shock of Ron kissing him.

Ron gazed uncomprehendingly at the three of them for a full minute, then reached up and gingerly felt his head. Groaning, he closed his eyes. 'That bloody bird!'

Harry, Fred and George exchanged glances.

'What bird?' asked Harry.

Ron swore under his breath.

'Ron –' Harry pressed (if Ron was well enough to swear, then he must be getting better); 'where did you Disapparate to?'

Ron groaned again. 'Some shop,' he muttered. 'It looked like a junk shop; I remember there was stuff everywhere. I only got a quick look at it though, because some weird sort of alarm went off and suddenly everything was jumping off the shelves and attacking me. I tried to fight it all off; I know I was casting Reducto a lot; but mostly I was trying to concentrate on getting back to the flat. Then this stupid bird flew at me and hit me with its beak and …' He drew a breath. '… And then I was here.' He looked up at them uncertainly. 'Are you sure I didn't Apparate here?'

Harry waved his hand. 'With all the security on this place?' he quoted Ron's words from yesterday.

Ron looked uncertain. 'I really Apparated back to the flat?'

Harry nodded. 'You landed right on top of me.'

'I Apparated to where I meant to?'

All three of them nodded.

Ron's expression changed to awestruck. 'I really did it,' he breathed.

Fred finished the chicken. 'Well, at least now we know what to do to get you to pass your test – get an angry bird to attack you.'

It was a good thing Mrs Weasley wasn't around to hear Ron's retort.

The twins left at about ten, once more employing Harry's Cloak and slipping out as their mother unlocked the kitchen door to allow Arthur admittance upon his return from work. They had agreed to return the next evening, but only to check on Ron's progress, not to switch places. 'You can afford to miss one hour,' George had told Ron as they stood up to leave. 'You just concentrate on getting better without making Mum suspicious.' And with bids of good luck, they were gone.

The next morning, Harry drank some of the Polyjuice Potion the twins had left behind, having added one of the hairs Ron had contributed before he was injured, then went downstairs.

Mr Weasley, Bill, Fleur and Hermione were already halfway through breakfast when he entered the kitchen, Bill hidden behind a copy of The Daily Prophet.

'…very strange business that,' Mr Weasley was telling Bill (Harry noticed the headline on the Prophet – BREAK IN AT BORGIN AND BURKES). 'They can't quite work out how it happened. There was no sign of forced entry and nothing seems to have been taken; mind you, I doubt old Borgin would admit it even if something was missing, with all the dodgy stuff he likes to deal in. The shop was an absolute shambles though; half the contents disintegrated. About the only thing which wasn't touched was a gold statue of a hawk high up on a top shelf … sapphires for eyes … be worth a bit. Borgin got real touchy when they said they wanted to inspect it more closely. They thought it might have been planted by whoever broke in – well, the whole thing did look rather like a warning – but Borgin was adamant it was one of his things and that he'd had it for years. Oh, hi Ron, you're up early.'

Harry muttered greetings to everyone as he sat down.

He let Mrs Weasley think he (Ron) had gone to sleep soon after leaving the table the night before (earning a telling-off for the food he had stuffed himself with from the wedding supplies), then wandered outside to get in some Quidditch practise before 'Harry', who had gone to bed much later, woke up.

An hour after he had drunk the Polyjuice, he flew cautiously around the orchard, coming up on the far side of the house where Ron's bedroom window was. Balancing carefully and trying not to knock the broom against the house, he swapped places with Ron, tossed his shirt at him, and then headed downstairs, pulling his own T-shirt over his head and yawning as he went. He was a little unsure how he was going to get through another of Mrs Weasley's breakfasts, but she helped him out by telling him that Ron was already out and about.

Harry jumped up quickly. 'I'd better join him; I don't want him to get too much better than me; McGonagall might make him captain instead.'

Mrs Weasley looked like she would be delighted at this development. 'What about breakfast?' she called, a frying pan in one hand, teapot in the other.

Harry raced back and began ladling scrambled eggs and bacon between two slices of toast, shoved another couple of pieces of toast in the back pocket of his jeans, and went racing out the door before Mrs Weasley could raise any more objections.

Harry and Ron had decided an hour before lunch would be the best time for Ron to 'crash'; Ron had even gone one further than Fred and George and suggested he fly through the blackthorn bush and hit his head on one of the old wooden fence posts which had splintered and rotted with age so that it almost resembled a spear. With the enchantments on the boundary, it would cause a magical injury and go towards explaining why his head wouldn't stop bleeding. Ron's only concern was whether or not he could last that long. Having missed supper and most of breakfast, as well as all the blood he had lost since yesterday, he was feeling very weak.

Hiding in the orchard where they wouldn't be seen so easily, they passed the morning discussing the break-in at Borgin and Burkes (Ron agreed that was probably where he had wound up), punctuated by occasional cries of, 'Oh, well done, Ron,' from Harry and tossing tennis balls so that they soared just above the trees.

When the time came, they mounted their brooms (Ron on Harry's Firebolt), and took off towards the vegetable patch.

Ron pulled up right at the fence then, as Harry landed beside him, he gritted his teeth and thrust his arms into the blackthorn bush, moving them back and forth a couple of times.

As he fell back onto the ground, Harry removed the bandage stuck to Ron's head, dragged him over to lie next to the guilty fencepost, dropped Ron's Cleansweep on the orchard side of the blackthorn bush, then stood back to survey the scene. Nodding his satisfaction, he grabbed his Firebolt and quickly flew back to the house.

'I really don't know why you boys can't play something a little less dangerous,' Mrs Weasley complained as she dabbed at Ron's head as he sat at the kitchen table. 'You'll be the death of me one of these days.'

Ron winced. 'You had no objections to us staying out of your way.'

'Well, from now on, I want Percy to play with you, so he can keep an eye on both of you.' She glared at Harry as if it was somehow his fault that Ron had crashed his broom. Both Harry and Ron fought very hard not to exchange panicked looks (what about their Apparition practice?) while Ginny begged her mother to let her play with them ('No, I need you here to help with the wedding preparations.') and Percy indignantly claimed that he had far more important things to do than look after disobedient teenagers.

'How are we disobedient?' Ron tried to dodge his mother's ministrations. 'We were only practising Quidditch!'

Percy puffed up like an owl. 'According to Ministry records, both of you crossed the boundaries of this property several times late yesterday afternoon.'

Mrs Weasley spun around to look at Percy. 'What are you talking about, Percy? They were down at the bottom of the garden all afternoon; I saw them when I went to get the washing.'

Percy continued to stare importantly at them. 'I have it from the Minister himself. He's been keeping a close watch on this place,' (Mrs Weasley went very still), 'and he is most displeased with Harry's behaviour. If you ask me, he won't be getting off so lightly at his hearing this time.'

'Do you mean to tell me that Rufus Scrimgeour has people watching this place for purposes other than to ensure Harry's protection?' Mrs Weasley's voice had started dangerously quiet but had risen to a very loud shriek by the time she had finished. Harry was reminded of Mrs Black.

Percy seemed to realise he had said more than he should have; he scurried outside as his mother gave chase, shouting that she wanted to know exactly what Scrimgeour was up to.

Ron looked around at the others. 'At least Mum won't be trying to pretend everything's fine with Percy around anymore.'

Hermione sat on the now-vacant chair and began dabbing at Ron's arms.

Ginny rested her chin in her hands and asked, 'So what were you two doing outside that fence yesterday?'

The following afternoon, their routine was back to normal. Both Fred and George seemed to think that the Ministry was actually watching the place, not monitoring it so, unlike the Marauders' Map, which showed who a person was, regardless of what they looked like, the Ministry only went on looks, not what a person was inside.

'Look at their attitude towards Hagrid and Lupin,' George pointed out.

They decided to test the theory by making certain that the only people who crossed the lane (invisible, of course) looked like Fred and George at the time, no matter who they really were.

No further accusations were forthcoming from Percy.

By the time the afternoon before their tests arrived, Ron was consistently Apparating to any place in the flat that he wanted. When he said he was going to Apparate back to the Burrow, Harry had to hastily step in and tell him it might be tempting fate a little; after all, he wouldn't need to Apparate halfway across the country for his test. (Ron didn't know that it was impossible to Apparate into or out of the flat and shop between five and six each evening – Fred and George had placed a special ward on the place to prevent a repeat of Borgin and Burkes.)

'Let's just get your licence first, then you can go berserk.'

x

The day before Harry's birthday dawned clear and sunny, promising to be yet another warm one. Harry had forced himself to eat breakfast so Ron wouldn't realise he was worried; it would only make Ron nervous and, for once, he didn't seem perturbed by the upcoming test. Harry's main concern, as they left with Mr Weasley to catch the Knight Bus to London (with wishes of luck from Hermione, Ginny and Mrs Weasley) was that he would be turned away before he could take the test – after all, he was still only sixteen. Would one day make a difference? He felt for the notice in his pocket. It had definitely said today's date.

His finger lightly brushed the locket he and Dumbledore had retrieved, and which had cost Dumbledore his life. No! Snape had cost Dumbledore his life! Harry felt his emotions bubbling deep inside him and struggled to keep them down there. The last thing he needed right now was to lose his focus. First, pass his Apparition test, then worry about Snape and the Horcruxes.

He was concentrating so hard, he barely noticed the trip to London which, given Ernie Prang's driving skills, was amazing in itself. Before he knew it, they were pulling up in front of a driving school in Islington. Harry looked at Mr Weasley, confused.

'It's all right, Harry, the office we want is through there.' Mr Weasley pointed past the reception area. The receptionist gave them a knowing wink as they passed, then her jaw dropped slightly as her eyes fell upon Harry's scar. Slightly disconcerted, he scurried after Mr Weasley, who led them into the men's' bathroom.

Even more puzzled, Harry watched as Mr Weasley tapped the door to the third cubicle five times with his wand, then the entire room began to slowly sink like an elevator. If Harry hadn't gone through a similar experience getting into the Ministry of Magic, he would have been terrified.

'Er, Mr Weasley?' Harry asked tentatively.

'Yes, Harry.' Mr Weasley was very chipper.

'Aren't the Apparition tests done at the Ministry?'

'Normally.' Mr Weasley grinned smugly. 'But they've moved the office for the moment for security reasons.' He gave Harry a conspiratorial wink. Harry had no idea what he meant by it.

He pressed on. 'And the woman on the front desk – is she one of us?'

'Who, Mildred? A Squib. Can't levitate a feather with her own breath, but she's a brilliant typist; does an excellent job here.' And he started bouncing up and down on his toes, glancing from Harry to Ron, a silly grin on his face.

Without so much as a jolt, the bathroom came to a stop. Mr Weasley opened the door which would normally have led back to the reception desk of the driving school and Harry found, instead, that he was facing a large room filled with a variety of sectioned areas: some were filled with cushions, some with mirrors, some with different coloured circles on the floor. One even seemed to house a lake with numerous stepping stones and giant leaves floating on its surface.

'Hello Harry, Ron,' said a voice to their left.

Turning, Harry saw fellow Hogwarts students, Neville Longbottom and, behind him, Ernie Macmillan. Of course – Ernie Macmillan had been in Potions the day Harry finally succeeded in procuring the Horcrux memory from Slughorn; as well as …

'I don't think he's coming,' said Neville, a slightly nervous quaver starting to creep into his voice.

'Who?' asked Ron.

'Malfoy,' replied Neville. 'No one's seen or heard of him since …' His voice died away as a squat, bald man approached, holding a clipboard.

He frowned when he spotted Mr Weasley. 'Hello Arthur. Why are you here? I thought the Ministry had approved our security; they were here just the other –'

He froze as he spotted Harry. His eyes did the familiar flick up to Harry's forehead, then he quickly consulted his clipboard.

'Ah, yes,' he muttered. 'Special case.'

Looking up at them with a gruff expression, he said, 'Well, shall we begin?' and waved for Ron to follow him.

'Good luck,' Mr Weasley called, giving the air a punch.

Ernie stood to take Ron's place twenty minutes later.

Ron was grinning from ear to ear, waving a ribbon-tied scroll. 'I did it – no problems. You'll do fine, I know it!'

'But what about me?' Neville's melancholic voice asked from Harry's other side. 'My gran won't let me go back to school if I'm gonna be the only one in the class without a licence.'

'You'll be fine,' Harry tried to encourage him. 'I mean, you were always hopeless at Defence, but you ended up being one of the best in the DA, so you can do stuff you don't think you can when you put your mind to it.'

Neville still didn't look convinced.

Harry thought a moment. 'OK, just think of your destination as being a sick Mimbulus Mimbletonia and you're the only one who can help it.'

Neville looked towards the test area as if trying to picture sick plants there. He shook his head hopelessly.

Harry took a deep breath, crossed his fingers and hoped he wasn't going too far. 'Imagine that it's Bellatrix Lestrange standing beside your parents' beds at St Mungo's.'

Harry heard Ron gasp. Bellatrix Lestrange was one of the Death Eaters who had tortured Neville's parents into insanity. Neville stared open-mouthed towards the test area for several moments, then his back seemed to straighten and his face hardened into a stoic expression as Ernie came striding towards them, beaming and waving his scroll.

Standing, Neville walked past Mr Weasley like a gladiator marching into an arena, without so much as a backwards glance. Fifteen minutes later, Harry was surprised to see him walking back towards them and feared that Neville had failed; his face certainly didn't display the elation which Ron and Ernie's had.

The examiner came striding along in his wake, a look of pure amazement on his face. 'Never, in all my years of testing, have I been witness to such a test. He's definitely his father through and through. They're the only two people I've ever tested who have scored higher than four hundred. You,' (he pointed at Harry) 'have got quite a mark to try to measure up to.' And he beckoned for Harry to follow him.

Glancing nervously at Ron and Mr Weasley, both of whom looked stunned by Neville's performance, Harry suddenly felt like he was walking to his death.

x

'I told you you'd do it!' Hermione wrapped herself around Ron, who was still grinning broadly. Harry noticed Ginny glance towards him and thought for one panic-filled moment that she would offer him a physical token of appreciation as well, but she just muttered, 'Congratulations,' and hurried upstairs.

Mrs Weasley watched her leave, then looked at Harry, frowning. Harry decided it would be prudent to seek the privacy of Ron's room before she could ask what that was all about.

Ten minutes later, she knocked on Ron's bedroom door and pushed her way in.

'Are you going somewhere?' she asked, glancing at Harry's half-packed trunk. Her eyes narrowed. 'You're not thinking of running away, are you?' She glared disapprovingly at Harry.

'No, Mrs Weasley,' Harry sighed. 'I just want to be prepared, in case … well … you know …' He couldn't finish.

Mrs Weasley looked at him. 'You don't know what will happen, dear,' she said gently. 'No one does. All you can do is show them your wand, and prove you didn't do anything.' Her expression hardened. 'And if they abide by their own laws, they'll have no choice but to let you off – despite what Percy says.'

Harry blinked. It was the first time in two years that he had heard Mrs Weasley mention her third son without bursting into tears. He didn't know what to say. He just stood there, watching, as she laid his and Ron's freshly-laundered robes on their beds, then she picked up the laundry basket and left.