Back at Grimmauld place that night, it was not a pleasant scene.
Lupin and Tonks left to investigate the trap after making sure the teenagers were all right. In trying to comfort Harry over the near disastrous trip, Ron let slip that Winky now worked for Harry, immediately causing a confrontation with Hermione, who was probably just venting her emotions in the aftermath of the battle.
No matter what 'spin' (as Ron called it when they discussed it earlier) Harry tried to put on the Kreacher incident, it was always going to upset Hermione, so he just told her story exactly as it happened.
To say she was not pleased was an understatement, although not for the reasons Harry expected.
"Have you been to see him?" she yelled. "Have you done anything to help him recover?"
"Come on, Hermione," said Ron. "He attacked Harry, not the other way around. The place is better off without him anyway."
This was of course completely the wrong thing to say and, after a lengthy and at times quite lively discussion, Hermione refused to talk to either of them until they apologised to Kreacher.
"I am not saying sorry to that thing," Ron told Harry, once Hermione had retreated upstairs. "I don't care what she says - I don't owe it an apology for calling it the nasty piece of work that it is."
Harry tended to agree with Ron, but did feel bad never the less.
"At least she understood about Winky," said Harry.
Surprisingly, before stomping out of the room, she had accepted that taking Winky on had saved the deteriorating elf's life, so she stopped yelling at Harry for enslaving a free house-elf and started berating him for his callous treatment of them, simply because he had not gone to see or help either elf in their recovery.
"Dobby!" called Harry, soon after Hermione had made her dramatic exit from their presence.
Almost instantly, a loud crack rent the air of the room and the humble elf stood grinning from ear to ear in front of him.
Trying valiantly to explain Hermione's concerns to the confused elf, Harry finally gave in and asked Dobby if it was possible to get into Hogwarts to see the two elves.
"Oh no, Harry Potter sir," Dobby said sadly. "It is not good for you to be seeing nasty elf. He is still saying he killed his young master, and Dobby is afraid seeing Harry Potter alive and well will make him attack again."
"But Winky can be coming! She is doing much better without drinking and is ready to start working. Harry Potter just has to call her!"
When Winky appeared, Harry was amazed at how much better she looked. Gone were the layers of dirt and vacant expression, and in their place she looked almost as good as the first time he had ever seen her. She was wearing a plain blue pillowcase that had been tailored to fit, in much the same fashion as the Hogwarts elves coverings, and had obviously been eating well.
"How are you Winky?" he asked.
"Winky is ready to start work, master Harry," she said. "But I is not as strong as I used to be and might be taking longer to do things. Winky is sorry."
"Dobby is helping Winky here sir, until she is better!" chirped the excitable elf nearly losing one of the many hats still perched on his head.
Winky protested that she was able to do her own work and Dobby was a bad elf for suggesting otherwise, but it sounded weak to Harry.
"About that Dobby," he said. "If you are going to help Winky, I insist you let me pay you."
Dobby jumped up and down on the spot with excitement, but Winky suddenly looked scandalised, and quite sad.
"What is the matter, Winky?" Harry asked, realising he must have done something wrong.
"Master is thinking Winky is not being good enough elf to do all the work, Winky understands. Winky is sorry for looking sad master."
Despite his prior experiences with house-elves, Harry couldn't believe it. He could see the worry lines that had disappeared from her face start to reappear, as if she was already sinking into the pit of depression he had dragged her out of.
"Winky there is heaps of work!" he said quickly. "It's not just this house you have to take care of. There is my house in Godric's hollow, which is a complete ruin and will need to be rebuilt from scratch."
"Yeah," added Ron. "And you could always pop over to mum's place and give her a hand. I bet without us lot living there she could use a hand every now and then, de-gnoming the garden and such."
"And then there is the Shrieking Shack. Lupin might not live there, but I bet he would be happy to have it cleaned up."
It took a while longer before she was convinced there was enough work to keep both elves busy for a long time, but eventually she accepted Harry's claims and agreed to visit Mrs Weasley at least once a week to help out.
"Now there is just one more thing I need you to do please," said Harry.
An hour later Hermione re-entered the room where Ron and Harry were playing a game of chess. Trying to play really, since neither was concentrating. Harry was worried that Hermione was going to stay angry, but Ron already seemed to be angry and was silently fuming, although Harry wasn't sure why.
"I suppose you think you have done the right thing now and everything is better?" she asked Harry, completely ignoring Ron.
"Hermione, you were right," he said standing up to face her. "I was treating both Winky and Kreacher badly by ignoring them, and I am sorry for getting angry with you. I am not sorry for taking Winky as my elf, and I won't excuse Kreacher for the things he has done, but I will try to treat them both better. Okay?"
She looked sullenly at him, and he knew he had won, without having to resort to his puppy dog eyes. Dobby and Winky must have successfully done what he asked and made sure she understood their happiness at the arrangements they had with him.
"All right, Harry," she said. "I accept you weren't trying to do anything wrong this time, but you had better try a bit harder."
"Or what, Hermione?" snapped Ron, rather aggressively. "Are you going to turn your back on him because of some bleeding house-elves? How does that ugly little git get to mean more to you than Harry?"
Harry was shocked at Ron, who was outright provoking a serious argument with Hermione, and not a quarrel like they often had. Her face reddened at Ron's words, but he didn't give her a chance to say anything in reply.
"You know we would never treat anybody the way Malfoy treated Dobby, so why are you always so quick to get on our case. Eh? Personally I think you are right out of line and acting like a spoilt brat. Just because you want house-elves treated a certain way, IT DOESN'T MEAN YOU ARE RIGHT AND EVERYBODY ELSE IS WRONG YOU KNOW!" Ron shouted, standing up.
Harry didn't know what was going on in Ron's head, but this was going too far.
"No, Harry, you stay out of it," Ron snapped, as Harry opened his mouth to say something. Hermione was staring at Ron, speechless.
"I am sick and tired of you and Spew. I never want to hear about bleeding house-elf rights again. You want Harry to apologise to Kreacher for hurting him, well I want Kreacher to cut his own bloody head off and stick it on the wall – how's that for you? I can't believe you can even think about not talking to us because of that - that thing."
Hermione's eyes were teary, but held a dangerous glint in them.
"If you are sick and tired of me, Ronald, why don't you just keep away?" she asked in a level voice.
With that she turned and marched out of the room, leaving a still fuming Ron and a very confused Harry.
"What the hell was that about?" he asked Ron.
Ron slumped back in his chair before answering. "It's about time she grew up," he said, not enlightening Harry at all.
Harry searched the house and found her in the drawing room. She was standing quietly looking at the Black Family Tapestry. Tear tracks were visible on her face and a crumpled hanky was crushed in one hand.
He knocked on the open door without entering. "Can I come in?" he asked her.
She hastily wiped her face and blew her nose before nodding. Harry walked in and stood besides her.
"Why did you fix it up?" she asked him.
For a second, Harry was stumped at her meaning, then he realised she meant the family tree tapestry.
"I hadn't been able to get it off the wall," he answered, "and it, well, actually I don't really know."
She sniffed.
"Listen, Hermione-"
"Don't, Harry. Don't say anything."
They stood quietly, and Harry decided to leave. He was not doing any good, and may have been making her feel worse. This was what he was scared of; his two best friends breaking up and leaving him in the middle. He wanted to hug her or something, but those sorts of things didn't come naturally for him, and he was worried about somehow doing it wrong and making things even worse.
"Harry," she said, as he turned to leave. "I'm sorry."
"What for?" he asked.
"I'm sorry for doing what we promised not to. I'm sorry for jumping on you about Kreacher. I'm sorry I didn't trust you."
Harry shook his head.
"I don't accept your apology, because it is not needed," he said, as he left the room.
-
Ron had calmed down a bit by the time Harry got back down to him.
"How is she?" the redhead asked.
"Do you really want to know?" Harry shot back. "Because if you care, you need to go up there and apologise to her."
Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on between the two of you, or more to the point, what your problem is?" Harry asked.
Ron shifted again and refused to meet Harry's eyes.
"I just - I just, I dunno," he said, shrugging dejectedly. "I just want to stop being scared of arguing all the time. I just want to know she is not going to go off in a huff every time I make a stupid mistake or say something daft, which is probably going to be fairly often. The way she started in on you about that stupid elf really got up my nose, you know?"
"It's like she thinks we are children, and she is an adult or something. I am sick of it."
Harry was even more confused and had no idea what Ron was going on about, but Ron seemed to be really trying, so he nodded in agreement. "Well, I think," he said. "I think you need to go up there and apologise for yelling, sit down and try to talk about what ever is your problem without getting angry. I think you owe her that, at least."
Ron nodded, but didn't move for a minute.
"Go on, Ron. Just go up there and talk to her, without shooting your mouth off," Harry prompted.
Ron nodded again, and finally stood up.
"She's in the drawing room," Harry told him.
Left alone, Harry shook his head and gave a rueful laugh. It was definitely going to be difficult with the two of them together, but it would be impossible with them apart.
This wasn't shaping up to be a great birthday, and knowing his luck, it was probably going to get a lot worse.
-
Harry's premonition about the upcoming anniversary of his birth was soon borne out in horrific detail. The feeling of impending trouble returned in full force as he had gone to bed, making it difficult to sleep. As the clock moved steadily forward, Harry cast his mind back to a time many years before, when he had watch his sleeping fat cousin's watch mark off the minutes until the most monumental birthday he had ever had – his eleventh.
At exactly midnight, in the very second his birthday was considered to start, Voldemort attacked Harry through his scar.
The waves of pain were excruciating, his scar feeling like it had been torn apart to expose his skull to red hot pokers and vials of acid. Vaguely, Harry was aware of Ron and Hermione desperately trying to help him, eventually putting him into a body bind to stop him from tearing at the flesh of his forehead with his hands, and somehow forcing vial after vial of potions down his throat.
He thought he saw Lupin and Tonks both there at some point too, although the pain was making Harry delirious. He knew they were talking to him, but he could not make out a single word.
In a far corner of his mind, Harry wondered why he had not gone mad. People exposed to the Cruciatus curse for too long went insane, Neville's parents were proof of that, but Harry saw himself as if he was watching from far away as his body bent and twisted and his voice cried out in agony for what appeared to be hours.
It felt as if a massive battering ram was pounding on the doors of his mind. He resisted with a futile attempt to clear his mind and push Voldemort out, but the pressure continued unabated. He continued to fight though, forcing himself to stand the pain and not to give in. Over and over again he was taken to the edge of defeat, to a point where he was sure he was going to crack and his head was going to burst open, but each time he managed to hang on, to push it aside just enough to last another second, and the wave of agony would recede a bit before returning again.
He tried remembering things, calling up vision of himself flying and feeling of love and joy he had when with his friends. He tried concentrating on a single happy memory, like he needed to do to conjure a Patronus. He even desperately tried to summon the feelings for Sirius he had used to break Voldemort's possession in the Ministry of Magic. Nothing was completely successful, although everything helped.
Finally, after a seemingly endless torment of agony, the pain disappeared as suddenly as it had come. Just before it stopped, in a spilt second, Harry had a vision of a dark stone room, something like a Hogwarts dungeon. Glowing patterns and symbols covered the floor and walls, patterns drawn in what Harry later realised were blood. Strangely glowing and smoking candles cast their eerie flickering light over everything, making the markings to look like they were moving. His line of sight seemed to be too low, as if he was lying on the ground, and Harry realised he was seeing through Voldemort's pain blurred eyes, and the creature had collapsed onto the floor. An overwhelming sense of defeat flooded his mind as the vision faded and Harry felt himself and Voldemort both give in to unconsciousness.
When he awoke, it was with a headache that felt as if a dragon was rampaging in his temples. A thick cloth was strapped to his forehead with several layers of bandages; easing the pain he could still feel in his scar with a magically induced coolness. On the bedside table he could dimly make out a glass of water and several bottles of pain relieving potion. He resisted immediately gulping down another bottle of the less than tasty fluid and settled for water to ease his sore throat until he knew what he could drink.
"Easy there, lad," said a gruff voice as he shakily raised the glass to his lips. A rough, weather beaten hand grasped his weak one in a firm hold and gently helped him pour some welcome relief into his mouth.
"Moody," he said, once the glass was removed from his grip. "What happened?"
"Was sort of hoping you could tell us that," the old Auror said, sounding like his ever suspicious self.
Harry dug deep into his memory and the facts of what had happened came flooding back, causing the headache to ignite in a new blaze of fury.
"Voldemort!" Harry said, struggling to sit up. "He tried to do something. I saw him in a room covered in runes. He collapsed from the effort, but I don't know what he was trying. Merlin my head hurts."
"Did he try to take over your mind?" Moody asked.
"No," answered Harry, closing his eyes against the pain. "It was different. I think he was trying to do something to the scar link itself, but not me directly.
Moody grunted.
"Why would you think that? Can you tell what he is up to can you?"
"No," he admitted, tiredness starting to overwhelm him again. "Just a feeling. It was different to when he possessed me at the Ministry – I could feel him in my mind. This was outside of me – I can't explain it."
The door to the room opened as another person entered.
"Harry, you're awake!" cried Hermione, rushing over to the bed and wrapping her arms around him. "Thank goodness. We were all so worried."
Harry winced involuntarily in pain at the movement. Seeing his discomfort she creased her brows in confusion and looked at the potion vials.
"Why haven't you taken your potion?" she asked, but then before he had a chance to answer turned on Moody. "Didn't you give it to him immediately like Remus told us to?"
"Relax lass, I was just making sure he was himself, if you take my meaning. No harm done getting some answers straight away without giving him a chance to recover. Better safe than sorry," answered Moody, causing Hermione to puff in annoyance before she grabbed a vial and offered it to Harry while mumbling something about torture, under her breath.
As the foul tasting liquid filled his mouth, Harry wondered just how much they could have left from the bag Slughorn had given him. It couldn't have been a lot, not at the rate he was going through it.
Suddenly the door opened and a flood of people entered the room. Harry nearly spat potion out at the unexpected invasion and, for the first time in his memory, he actually understood and appreciated why Madam Pomfrey always insisted on only a few visitors at a time in the hospital wing at Hogwarts.
The noise alone as everybody tried to speak at once nearly sent him back into unconsciousness.
Eventually the pain potion took effect, taking more than just the edge off his headache, and everybody calmed down. Surprisingly, it was only four people in addition to Moody and Hermione. Lupin, Ron, Tonks and Arthur Weasley had all come bustling into the room, having heard Hermione. His overly sensitive ears and lack of glasses had, for a second, made it seem like twice that many people.
"What's going on?" Harry asked.
"You have been in and out of it for half the day, mate," Ron told him. "It's after lunch."
"When Ron and I heard you last night and couldn't wake you up, we called Remus and Mr Weasley straight away," added Hermione
"Hermione figured it was you-know-who, and Arthur got in contact with Madam Pomfrey, but that elf of yours refused to tell anybody else the secret," Remus said.
"Good elf that one, Potter," said Moody. "I thought you were insane for making him your secret keeper, but he refused to bend and disappeared without a trace when I tried to pressure him. Smart, if a bit inconvenient at the time."
"She told us not to move you and to just keep feeding you pain and strengthening potions," said Hermione, almost crying at the memory. "Oh, Harry it was horrible. It looked like he was using the Cruciatus on you."
"Trust me, Hermione, it felt like it. Strange thing is that he was getting it just as bad."
The confused babble that comment evoked didn't hurt Harry's head much, but it did nothing to make him feel better either, and neither did Ron's next statement.
"Oh, by the way, Happy Birthday, Harry."
-
Harry slept for a few hours more, but was soon wide awake and eager to get out of bed, despite his protesting muscles. Ron and Hermione had not planned to have a party for him, honouring his wishes to keep it quiet, but Mr Weasley returned from a quick visit home with several presents, a banquet and a massive birthday cake Mrs Weasley had made for him, and Harry found himself the centre of an impromptu party.
The twins had sent him a massive box of their latest fireworks, including a magical rocket they labelled 'Do not use where anybody might know it was you', and a full range of their protective clothing items.
Hagrid had sent, via Mrs Weasley, a box of his inedible scones and a short letter wishing Harry the best and telling him, in badly worded and quite obvious code, about his latest thankfully unsuccessful efforts to find Grawp a lady-friend.
Ginny had sent him a new photo album, one that contained photos of his time at Hogwarts. Harry recognised a few of the photos as Colin Creevey's work, but was surprised and a little worried at just how many the boy had managed to take without his knowledge. There were happily smiling pictures of virtually every person at Hogwarts, including many of Headmaster Dumbledore and the other staff, excluding Snape of course. Harry's favourites were several he would probably have murdered Colin for taking, if he had known at the time. They were of the brief period he had spent with Ginny as his girlfriend and showed the two of them in various poses around the castle and its grounds, looking very happy and comfortable. Inside a small home made card she had simply written 'Yours forever, Love Ginny'. It gave Harry a very special feeling inside his stomach that had nothing to do with the excellent cake.
Ron and Hermione gave him a new updated copy of Quidditch through the Ages, since his old one was falling apart due to the number of times he had read it, and another pair of very comfortable looking boots that had all sorts of charms on them.
Remus and Tonks combined their gifts, somehow managing to get the knife Sirius had given him and he had melted in the Department of Mysteries fixed, and also finding some photos for his album. One was of a pre-Azkaban Sirius astride his famous motorcycle and another was of the destroyed Godric's Hollow house when it was in its prime.
Mad-eye looked at the cake suspiciously before casting several elaborate detection charms on it, much to the amusement of the others present, especially Tonks who accused the surly ex-Auror of counting its calories. Once he was satisfied it was not poisoned or cursed, and did not contain any hidden Death Eaters, he dug in with gusto, stating that Mrs Weasley's cooking was the only food he had not prepared himself that he would consider worth the risk of eating. In place of a gift he gave Harry the news that over twenty real Death Eaters had been recently killed or captured and sent to Azkaban with only five Aurors killed doing it. He seemed to think Harry would like that better than anything bought in a shop.
The short lived party did wonders for Harry's moral, which had taken a battering from Voldemort's attack, despite Moody's morbid present. He was physically a wreck, but when he slid off to sleep on a lounge surrounded by his chatting friends, he almost felt contented.