"Anyone want another bit of Treacle Tart?" Molly asked.

"No," replied the overstuffed witches and wizards.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry extricated themselves from the crowded table.

"We really need to be getting on home, Molly," Hermione said, giving the matriarch a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I've got to edit this research paper on house elf trauma to Cresswell, since no one else seems to care that so many of their kind are drinking themselves to death with butterbeer because it's so much more important to keep a status symbol around…" Hermione's face flushed into a bright pink at her outburst. She quieted down and took an awkward, slow step toward the door. "Well, anyway, I've got a lot to do."

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley responded kindly. She gave the other members of the trio hugs as well and told Harry, "Say hi to Ginny for me, love. And congratulations on her wonderful match!"

"Sure thing, Molly," Harry replied. With that, Harry, Ron, and Hermione apparated back to their house in London.

The fact that people wanted to live with Harry still gave him a warm glow in his stomach, and the memory of signing the renter's contract a bit over a year ago held enough strength, he knew, to produce a good Patronus. Even at Hogwarts, Harry had struggled to feel completely "at home," despite being among his kind of people. Of course, the majority of the wizarding world once again loved The Boy Who Lived (or, as Harry was now called, The Vanquisher of the Dark Lord). But fewer people liked and respected…just Harry. That desire to be more than a name had led him to become an Auror. Although, at times, Harry would rather face down the Hungarian Horntail again if it exempted him from participating in any more Poisons and Antidotes field tests, he knew the job—the calling—offered him fulfillment. Sure, he'd briefly considered taking the opportunity to play for England's national team as a Seeker, but Quidditch had always been a release for him, not a job.

The trio arrived at the doorstep of their home—Harry's Auror training had put a bit of Mad-Eye Moody's "constant vigilance" into his head, and he didn't want anyone to be able to Apparate directly into the house. However, per usual, there was nothing to worry about—Neville and Susan were doing work in the studying nook just past Hermione's bedroom.

"Hi guys!" they greeted.

"Neville, how are you doing work right now?" Ron asked. "Hogwarts is on vacation!"

"Well, even though I'm only an assistant professor at the moment, it's not like I can just lay around all summer, mate," Neville laughed. "Professor Sprout wanted me to review the curriculum for fifth years…apparently our standards could be a bit higher, according to the Department of Education."

Susan, meanwhile, had taken up half a table and two chintz armchairs with paperwork on her various clients. Normally, her housemates left her alone when she was working, but tonight, Hermione approached her immediately. "Susan, do you have a minute?"

The redhead put her coffee back down on the table. "Sure."

"I was wondering if you could give me a couple of quotes to include in my piece on the mental health of house elves." That was Hermione—no qualms about jumping right into something when it needed to get done.

"Erm…why?"

"Well, seeing as you're a therapist who talks to people about traumatic experiences, I figured maybe you'd have some insight on what a house elf feels like," Hermione argued.

"Well…well, I don't." Susan replied curtly. "Not that I don't want to help your cause, Hermione, but I'm only just finishing up my Muggle schooling now, and I'm hardly an expert on my own subject. I wouldn't want to put any inaccurate information into your article."

"Okay. Do you know anyone who could help me?"

"I'll see. I've got to get back to work now, though." Susan added, "But really, good luck with your fight. I know it's important."

Hermione managed a small smile. "Thanks." She retreated to her room and closed the door with a snap.

Ron sighed as he put down a spell book he was reading—he and George had failed to find a good way to make cough drops that actually induced coughing as part of the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes "medicine" line, and the book apparently offered no answers. Suddenly, he glared at Susan. Feeling his eyes upon her, she looked up.

"Yes?"

"Couldn't you have been a bit nicer to Hermione? You know how much the house elf rights thing means to her!" Ron argued.

"Don't we all," Susan remarked dryly. "Look, I have nothing against Hermione, but she sometimes comes off as a bit…brash. Like what you're doing isn't that important if it's not for a noble cause."

"Well, can't disagree there. It's just…" Ron sighed again. "Sorry, she's just been nagging me about being supportive, and I'm trying, but it's difficult since…well, who really cares that much about house elves besides Mione? Not that I don't, but the people she needs to convince are set in their ways."

"Well, maybe we need to convince them they're wrong," Harry suggested. Susan and Ron looked up—he'd been silent til then, and they'd practically forgotten he was there.

"I mean…Dobby got us out of Malfoy Manor," he continued. Though Harry did privately agree with Ron that Hermione's fight probably wouldn't end well, he could relate to house elves in some way: he'd been one to the Dursleys for nearly five years. When he was seven, he'd been asked—ordered, more like—to take responsibility for most of the household chores, and had been driven mad by the sight of Dudley lolling around on summer holiday while he, Harry, vacuumed the living room and cleaned the kitchen and…

"She's right, you know." The memories brought the words out of him.

"Of…of course she is, Harry," Susan said gently.

"We all want this paper of hers to go over well with the department. It would be a good first step," Neville chimed in.

"And it could happen. She's brilliant," Ron said proudly. Then his voice lost its happy tone. "It's just…there's more important things she could be doing. Things that the Ministry would take…more seriously."

"I s'pose," Harry conceded. "Well, I've got to review some stuff for my field test tomorrow, so I'll see you all later."

They nodded, and he tried not to appear too irritated with the lot of them as he left the room.