"Hello!" came the greeting.
"Happy Christmas, Bill. Come in," Hermione said, seeing the rogue-looking Weasley with his fang earring and long hair. He never wanted to get rid of his old look.
He walked in and behind him were his wife, Fleur, and his two kids, a girl, about five years old, and a boy, about three. "Happy Christmas, Hermione. This is Gabriella and Jacques. And you know Fleur," Bill introduced.
"Yes, I do. Happy Christmas," Hermione said to Fleur.
"Joyuex Noelle," Fleur replied, flipping her silver hair back.
"Where's my youngest brother?" Bill asked.
"He's upstairs. Make yourselves comfortable. I'll get him," Hermione informed as she went to walk up the staircase.
"Ron!" she called. "Bill's here and he's asking for you!"
"Be right down," Ron replied.
Him and Harry were setting up a room on the top floor so that people could play quidditch inside. It was bitterly cold outside.
"Bill! Happy Christmas," Ron said on seeing his brother. They embraced and Ron said hello to Bill's family.
After awhile, the people started practically pouring in.
Everyone laughed and joked until Mrs. Weasley came with an extra guest.
"Ron, Hermione, Harry, Elizabeth, can you come in here, please?" Mrs. Weasley called.
The four of them walked into the front room from the den, where everyone was talking and reminiscing about old times (but being careful to not talk about Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts…).
With Mrs. Weasley was a tall bleach blonde woman with warm brown eyes.
"Everyone, this is Jean Eros. She's one of our cousins. My cousin, Gregory, died about a month ago, and Jean's got no family except us Weasleys, now," presented Mrs. Weasley. "Jean, this is Ron, his wife, Hermione, Harry, and Elizabeth."
"Are the four of you two couples?" Jean asked in a sweet voice.
Elizabeth flushed and muttered something about, "um…not me…no."
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I embarrass you?" Jean asked like she was talking to a little child.
"No. I don't think you did. She's lost her memory a while back and she's a bit emotionally degraded, if you know what I mean," Harry explained.
Now, more than before, Jean sounded like she was talking to a small kid when she inquired, "Will you ever forgive me?"
"I hope you'll forgive me for this, but as much as I'm not at the emotional state of a twenty-one year old, I am at the mental. I'm not retarded, you know," Elizabeth explained bluntly.
Jean looked appalled for about a minute, but then regained her composure. "My apologies. I just assumed…"
"I know what you assumed. Assumptions don't sit well with me or on me. I'm not who I seem," Elizabeth stated.
"Well, I can't say I'm who I seem, either. I hope we could be friends overtime," Jean muttered.
Everyone went into the den and acquainted Jean with the rest of the Weasleys, and James. James took to her immediately.
At about four, Hermione wanted to start cooking. It took the five of them about three hours before it was done. Hermione, who was the chef of the day, assisted by Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Jean, and Elizabeth, yelled out to everyone, "Food's ready!"
They had about three tables. Two for the adults, and one for the kids.
Charlie had his twin daughters, six years old. Percy's wife had her son, who was about two. Add Bill's children sitting at the table, and two adults had to sit with them so they didn't cause any unnecessary problems.
"So, Harry, how are things going with you and Elizabeth?" George asked quietly.
"I'm not sure. We're friendly, but I don't think she's secure enough to be more until she thinks she's completely over my 'death,'" Harry whispered.
"That has got to be some test of will power," Fred commented. "I don't know if I'd last this long if I were you."
"Well, Dumbledore told me that whatever happens, will happen in any matter of time. She will remember, soon, and when that time comes, I'll welcome her back with open arms," Harry promised, feeling like he was promising it more to himself than to Fred and George.
Everything went smoothly, and soon, it was time for the kids to go to sleep, and the adults to play card games.
Early in the morning, people started drifting out. Harry and Ron were disappointed that none of them wanted to play quidditch, but everyone was much too tired.
Elizabeth considered that if that Christmas party didn't cheer the four of them up, nothing ever would. Well, it did cheer them up, and soon, Harry and Ron's partnership was over.
They had to go back to regular work two months after the Christmas party. Since James wanted to be an Auror, too, Harry became his Mentor, though Harry was only almost one year out of Auror training. Harry's old mentor, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had been proud to teach Harry everything he knew after he aced all the classes, all though, he really disapproved of Harry's lifestyle. That didn't stop until the day before Ron and his partnership started.
"What about the Lestranges? Are they still at large?" Harry asked the main secretary, Willa Freedman, who was reading over the memos the department accumulated over his leave of absence.
Harry revolutionized the way this office was run. He was part of Tracking and Location. Every witch and wizard in this office knew how to use a phone and a computer, and because of it, the department was the most efficient of Auror sections.
"There's nothing in here that suggested they are or not, and I've looked over these about five times each while you were gone," she replied. She pushed her slim cat-eye glasses up her bulb-like nose while she looked over a few notes, once again.
"Thanks, anyway, Willa," Harry said.
She nodded her thin face and went back to organizing the files.
Harry looked at his inbound tray and winced. There was quite a pile. As he picked up a sample of 'Norwegian Finest Dragon Manure Plant Food, courtesy of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes,' from his tray, Willa's phone rang, and she picked it up.
"Department of Tracking and Location, how may I help you?" A minute of silence as the person on the other side of the line replied. "Are you sure you don't want me to direct you to the head of our division? Alright then, one moment, please." She paused for a minute.
"Harry, there's a man on the phone, he says he's got something you might want to know about," Willa informed.
Harry nodded and picked up his phone.
"Harry Potter?" an elderly voice asked.
"This is he," Harry answered.
"There are rumors, here in Dublin. An odd man is walking about, and no one knows who he is. He doesn't talk to anyone. Ever since he's been here, real strange things have been happening. My neighbor said she saw her dead son strolling in the park in the moonlight. Now, I understand her eyes are not so good, but you can't mistake that boy for anyone else if you've seen him. A couple more people have talked to me in my shop, telling me how they've seen dead people that are up and about, and one of them even said they saw a young, dead woman around Diagon Alley, in London. I don't know if this has anything to do with the odd man, but I'd like to talk to you to see what you make of this, Mr. Potter," the old man said.
"Sir, I'm sorry, but this is Tracking and Location, not…"
"But, Mr. Potter, are you not a dark wizard catcher?" the man interrupted.
"Yes, I am, but that's besides the point…"
"Well, us here in Ireland have reason to believe that this odd man is a dark wizard."
He sighed as he thought about what to do. "If you can get his name and his appearance, owl them to me and I'll see what I can do," Harry promised. He wiped his face as a sign of exhaustion as the man sent his gratitude and hung up.
'When are people ever going to learn,' Harry thought as he started to work on his inbound tray, 'That just because someone's not real talkative or optimistic doesn't mean that they're dark wizards.'
Harry finished his paperwork and looked at his watch. 'Twelve-thirty…blimey! I was supposed to meet Ron at the Leaky Cauldron a half hour ago…'
He got up and apparated to the little pub that was the Leaky Cauldron.
"Where've you been, mate?" Ron asked worriedly as Harry sat down across from his old friend.
"One word," Harry sighed.
"Paperwork," Ron finished for him. He handed him one of the mugs that was set on the table.
"Besides that, some loon wants me to go to Dublin to check out this 'odd man.' Probably just a tourist who doesn't like to chat…"
"You got one of them, too?" Ron interjected.
"What do you mean? Too?"
"Someone owled Azkaban. Asking if their were any breakouts. Said that there was this bloke in Ireland that seemed real shady. They mentioned the fact that dead people seemed to be—"
"Walking about, as though alive."
"Right," Ron affirmed.
At the same time, Harry and Ron blurted out the same question. "Do you know if anyone else except us knew about Elizabeth coming back from the dead?"
"So, they told you about that, too?" Harry inquired.
Ron nodded, and went back to his drink.
"How are things at Azkaban?" Harry asked, changing the subject.
"Same as ever. We've got little ones on the way, you know," Ron informed. He was talking about dragon eggs.
"Again? Honestly, if dragons weren't so big and scaly, I'd call them rabbits," Harry joked.
"I know. I had to transfer one of them back to their original herd. She never guarded the prison. She just went around, doing her thing, then had to take care of the eggs," Ron laughed.
Then, as if all the problems of the adult life slipped away, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley joked around like they were thirteen, once more.