The Vanishing Act
Ginny, despite her sadness at the quarrel with her son, turned back to the others. Mrs Weasley had since gone inside to make a cup of tea and sit down.
"What are we going to do?" asked Ginny, switching panicked eyes onto Hermione.
"I could bake Harry's birthday cake," said Luna.
"Have you ever baked a cake before, Luna? Have you ever baked anything?" Ginny asked warily. Although she loved her eccentric friend, she could do without the hassle.
"No," said Luna. "Rolf always makes the twins' birthday cakes." She smiled and turned to walk up the path into the kitchen.
"Oh, help," breathed Hermione. "This should be interesting."
"You can say that again," said Ginny. "Al, I need you to set the furniture up in the marquee. We need tables and chairs around the side. I need to somehow create an entire stage for the musicians."
"I'll do that," said Hermione. "Why don't you decorate? Lily can help Albus."
Everyone had a job to do and they busied themselves with it in peaceful harmony for the next hour or so. Hermione was creating wooden blocks out of thin air and transporting them under the floating marquee roof to make a stage. Albus and Lily were moving chair after chair out of the house and into the garden; every single one they could find. Ginny, after sticking little flickering lanterns into the ground all around the garden and draping every tree and bush with strings of little golden lights, Levitated the heavier furniture out of the house.
As she walked past the kitchen with her wand in the air, supporting a rather old flowery armchair, she heard her mother shouting, "No, you only need one egg in that! One egg!"
Ginny poked her head into the doorway to see the very peculiar scene of a flour-smeared Luna happily stirring all manner of ingredients into a mixing-bowl with Mrs Weasley running to and fro and lamenting over Luna's attempt to improve the homemade jam. Her magical alarm was going haywire; it couldn't seem to decide on what to announce, and was hopping up and down, screaming at the top of its voice. Icing dripped from the counters and Ginny saw what looked like an entire block of butter sliding down one of the cupboards. She bit her lip, torn between amusement and anxiety, and moved away from the kitchen.
"Hello!" someone called through the house.
"Ron!" said Ginny, as her brother came into view.
"I found these wizards at the door, so I let them through," he said, looking slightly bemused.
Behind him, two ginormous sacks were hovering in the air with legs sticking out from beneath them.
"The balloons," said Ginny. "Come through to the garden."
It was a struggle getting the sacks out of the conservatory door as they were even bigger than the armchair Ginny was Levitating. Hermione laughed at the weird procession coming towards her, and then greeted her husband.
"Did you pick up the kids?" she asked, looking around.
"No," said Ron, his smile fading.
"You didn't listen this morning when I said I was taking them to my parents then," said Hermione, exasperated.
"It's hardly my fault," Ron said. "I was given so many instructions this morning, it was hard to take them all in."
"Ron!" said Hermione. "You act like I was nagging you nonstop through breakfast-"
"I'll just go and get them," said Ron huffily. He marched back up the path. Hermione sighed.
The two delivery men had dropped the sacks where Ginny had directed and one was already following Ron out. The other lingered to take their payment, and then followed his colleague. Albus and Lily were falling over themselves to open the sacks.
"Careful," said Ginny. "We don't want them all floating away."
"Do you have a giant pump or something?" asked Hermione, surveying the enormous amount of birthday balloons which had just been dumped in the garden.
"They're the self-inflating variety," said Albus. He plucked a loose balloon from the top of the sack and gave the end a gentle tug. The balloon immediately inflated, and he grinned, holding it by its long string as it pulled against him, catching the breeze.
"Great," said Ginny.
"For heavens' sake!"
The cry wafted through the open kitchen window and Hermione hurried inside to soothe Mrs Weasley's nerves and reign in Luna's crazy creativity. Ginny, Albus and Lily got to work with the balloons, tying them onto strings and securing them in bunches around the garden.
Ron reappeared with his son and daughter, twelve and fourteen years old respectively, who ran ahead of him to see their cousins.
"Cool!" said Hugo, as Lily showed him the self-inflating balloon in her hand.
Rose said hi to Albus and immediately enquired after the Transfiguration essay they had been set over the summer holiday.
"Wonderful. Two extra helpers," said Ginny, standing up from where she was kneeling on the grass and leaving the kids to do the balloons. She hugged Ron and looked at him with all her sisterly candour. "Why have you got such a sulky look on your face?"
"I haven't," said Ron.
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "That's just your normal face then, is it?"
"Yes," said Ron. "No! I-"
"I'll shut up then," smiled Ginny, wandering away.
Hermione crossed her arms but if she was waiting for an apology, it was instantly clear that she wasn't going to get one. Ron looked stressed, his brow furrowed and mouth turned down at the corners. He was avoiding his wife's eye.
"Tough morning at the shop?" Hermione asked.
"Maybe," said Ron curtly and he marched away to the other side of the garden where he stood, watching the balloons being inflated with a surly expression on his face.
"Are you okay?" Ginny asked Hermione in a low voice.
Hermione nodded and smiled. "We'll talk about it later. Today is Harry's day, not mine or Ron's, no matter what he seems to think."
Ginny glanced at her watch and made a face. "I had meant to make a picnic lunch for everyone but," she glanced in the direction of the house, "the kitchen currently seems to be out of bounds. Maybe I could go to the shop-"
"I'll go," Hermione volunteered. "You're more useful here than I am."
"Are you sure?" said Ginny gratefully.
"It's really no trouble, I'll take Ron with me," Hermione said.
"Thank you," Ginny smiled, clasping her friend's hand for a moment. "I couldn't do without you."
Hermione kissed the top of her son's head before going over to Ron to give him the unwelcome news that they were the designated food-purchasers. He nodded curtly, and the couple departed from the Potters' Godric Hollow house, Apparating into the nearest town.
Ron pushed the trolley as they went round the little Muggle supermarket on the high street. Hermione grabbed picnic things off the shelves as they went round; sausage rolls, crisps and two bottles of fizzy drink followed biscuits and a punnet of strawberries. Whilst she was concentrating on choosing things for lunch, not much conversation was exchanged between them but as Hermione neared the end of the shop, she grew sick of Ron's snide and snarky comments and words quickly became heated.
"Why are you being like this?" she hissed, keeping her voice down for other Muggle shoppers. "I don't understand."
"I'm not being like anything," snapped Ron.
Hermione shook her head. "You're behaving like a child having a tantrum. It's Harry's birthday."
"I know it's Harry's birthday," Ron almost snarled. "All I've heard for the past month is how it's Harry's birthday. The entire wizarding world has sent him cards and gifts, it's a surprise their house isn't swamped. Rita Skeeter even wrote an article celebrating Harry's 40th-"
"Merlin's beard," said Hermione, gaping at her red-faced husband. "You're jealous."
"I am not," said Ron. "It's his surprise party, not mine, and I'm perfectly aware of that."
Hermione sighed. "I know you and George are going through a rough patch with the shop. I know you're stressed and you miss working with Harry in the Auror Office, but your best friend's birthday party is not the place to manifest your feelings."
"Well," said Ron, looking to deliver a sharp blow. "You've completely missed the point." He marched off angrily, straight out of the shop.
Hermione was left with the trolley and a whole pile of shopping to pay for. Going over the argument in her mind, she wondered if she had miscalculated what Ron had said but couldn't think of anything. She sighed.
"Are you going to be alright carrying those, love?" the Muggle shopkeeper asked, as she took hold of the five heavy plastic bags.
"I'm fine, thanks," Hermione smiled.
She didn't have to carry them for long, as she disappeared down an alley hidden away from prying Muggle eyes, and Disapparated back to Godric's Hollow. Ginny rushed out and almost flattened Hermione.
"Are you okay?" she asked. "Ron came back without you and isn't saying a word."
"It's nothing," said Hermione, smiling so hard she thought her face might split in two. "Just a silly little disagreement."
Ginny was tactful enough not to ask further questions and gave Hermione a hug instead. "Thank you for this," she said, grabbing three of the bags. "Mum desperately needs a sit down."
"I bet," said Hermione, following Ginny through the front door of the Potters' house. Immediately Mrs Weasley's voice could be heard from the kitchen.
"Don't take it out of the oven! You can see the raw ingredients!" she shrieked, then in a higher pitch; "Stop! Wait until it's cooked properly!"
This shouting was accompanied by Luna's loud, happy singing, and Ginny turned to make a bug-eyed face at Hermione. She poked her head into the kitchen. "Mum, Luna, we have a picnic lunch," she said. "Do you want to come outside, sit down and relax?"
"How can I relax-?" shouted Mrs Weasley.
"Mum," Ginny said pointedly. "The kids are watching. They want to eat lunch with their granny."
The 'grandkid' card was one she had played many times with her mother, and it worked without fail. Molly Weasley was the proudest grandmother in England, likely the world. As Ginny predicted, Mrs Weasley tore herself away from the kitchen and the shambles of the cake, and shuffled outside. Old age had definitely affected her physique, but her maternal heart was something that could not be ravaged, or even touched, by time.
Ginny beamed at her children, niece and nephew when she followed her mother out into the garden. The balloons had been inflated beautifully by Lily and the boys, and Rose had artfully tied them to the sides of the marquee, cutting off their long strings. Albus had collected together a large bunch of golden balloons and weighted them down with a stone. He had strategically placed the balloon-bouquet on the corner of the lawn to mask their shabby little shed, which Harry had been planning to repair for nearly a year.
"Nice," she said appreciatively, high-fiving Hugo.
The only downside to the aesthetic was Ron, who was sat in one of the armchairs under the marquee, looking angry and obstinate. He was forced to brighten up at the appearance of his mother, who held out her arms as her grandchildren came running. She was indeed popular.
Ginny and Hermione deposited the shopping bags on the grass and began doling out picnic food. Ginny took a paper-plateful of food to her brother, who accepted it with a grunt.
Mrs Weasley seated herself next to him and began to display her knack of cheering people up. Rose and Albus retreated under the porch to eat and chat leisurely together, and Lily, Hugo and Luna spread themselves across the grass. Luna began telling them a story about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack that came across a giant one day.
"Should I take a plate of food to James?" asked Hermione.
"Yes, I don't know what to do about him though," said Ginny. "Actually, no, he can come down for it and eat with the family."
"I'll just pop up and get him then," Hermione said. "Back in a second."
"Okay," said Ginny, taking her own plate of food and joining Ron and Mrs Weasley.
Two minutes later, Hermione flew back into the garden. "Ginny!" she shouted. "James is gone!"
Ginny dropped her plate on the grass. "What?!"
"James isn't in his room. He's not in the house," Hermione repeated.
Ron, Albus and Rose had leapt to their feet too; they followed Ginny into the house and there commenced a thorough search of the house, in case Hermione had missed something. But he was nowhere to be found.
"Where would he go?" asked Ron, as the adults congregated in the front room. Luna had returned to the kitchen and to her cake.
"The party," said Ginny, looking aghast.
"Party?"
"All he was talking about this morning was wanting to go to a party with Amir Thomas, Dean and Parvati's son," said Ginny. "Oh, what was his name again?"
"Clive Hopkins," said Albus, sticking his head round the door.
"He's angry with me," said Ginny, looking ashen-faced. "He's only gone because he's angry with me."
"You weren't being unreasonable," said Hermione, putting her arm round her friend. "It's Harry's 40th birthday, not just an ordinary day."
"There's no need to fuss so much. He's sixteen," said Ron. "He can take care of himself."
Both his wife and sister turned to glare at him.
"What?" shrugged Ron. "When we were sixteen, we were fighting Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries."
"Shut up," said Ginny. "This is my son, and these are different times. It's not just about the danger he could be in. He needs to be here for his father's surprise party."
"Mum," Albus said, walking into the room. "Why don't we try and find some more clues he may have left? Then we can begin to look for him further afield." He always knew exactly what to say to make her feel better.
Ginny nodded, and the search for James continued. It wasn't long before Albus found traces of Floo powder in the grate of the fire (which was never lit in July).
"Could this be James?" he asked.
"I cleaned that fireplace out yesterday ready for Harry's birthday," said Ginny. "No one's used it since."
"His wand is gone," Hermione confirmed.
"His broomstick is still in the shed," said Rose, reappearing from the garden.
They were interrupted by a hammering on the door.
"James?" said Hermione, and Ron and Ginny flew to open the door.
It wasn't James. A rather dishevelled bearded man in the black-and-silver robes of the Auror Office stood there, red-cheeked. "Mrs Potter!" he gasped.
"Jenkins? What are you doing here?" Ginny asked. He was a work colleague of Harry's who she had met several times at various office parties.
"I was reporting to his office earlier and he made a complaint about forgetting his lunch," gabbled Jenkins. "I think he was planning to come and collect it – said he was glad for the excuse to go home."
"What? Now?" gasped Ginny.
Harry was bound to notice the enormous marquee floating a few feet above his garden and suspect something was up from the amount of people in his house.
"He's coming here?"
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