Chapter 8

COMING OF AGE

"That was probably the most harrowing hour of my life," Mrs. Weasley said later that day at the kitchen table back at the Burrow, after things had been sorted out at the Ministry.

"It wasn't much fun for us either, Mum," Ron said feelingly.

"So what's going to happen to ol' Dolores?" Fred asked his father. He and George had joined them for supper that evening to hear more of the details about the hearing.

"Probably not as much as should," Mr. Weasley said unhappily, passing his bowl to his wife for another helping of stew.

"She should be sacked," Mrs. Weasley said angrily.

"She should be hung," Ginny put in hotly. "What's with the Minister, anyway? If you'd done even half of what she got away with, Dad, you'd be thrown in Azkaban and the key melted!"

"It must be her connection with the Wizengamot," Hermione decided. She had hardly touched her own bowl so far. "Harry said when he was in court for his first meeting that some of them were siding with her even when the evidence clearly pointed elsewhere."

"That may be," Mr. Weasley said. "But some of them were also siding with Fudge at the time. As it is, Scrimgeour's demoted her to Junior Undersecretary to the Minister and suspended her for a month."

"Not much of a change," George sniffed, passing his now-empty bowl to his mother just as she picked up her own spoon again.

"But it is a change, at least," his mother said, scooping a ladleful of stew and plopping it into his bowl. "If you ask me it's all rubbish anyway! They need to clear that place out and start over again – here you are, George."

"Mr. Weasley," Harry asked, "Do you have any idea why Scrimgeour would suddenly act like –" Harry groped for the right word "– well, like he cared what happened to me, or Ron or Hermione?"

Mr. Weasley stared down into his bowl of stew for several moments, stirring it absently, seemingly lost in thought. When he finally looked up, his expression was quite serious. "I think Dumbledore's death scared him, Harry. Most of us have grown up knowing Dumbledore for all of our lives, even Scrimgeour. I think many of us expected him to live, if not forever, at least until this business with You-Know-Who was finished. I know I did," he admitted with a sad smile. "It's jarring to think we'll never see him again. I think Rufus has realized that as well."

"But he'd been trying to get me to go along with the Ministry's lies about Voldemort," Harry protested, ignoring the several winces around the table.

"Yes, I remember his visit here last Christmas, with Percy," Mr. Weasley said softly. "But he'd been Minister for only a few months at that point, Harry. Before that, he'd been an Auror, or in charge of Aurors, for most of his adult life. He was used to obeying orders that were given to him and to having his orders obeyed. The fact that Dumbledore normally acted autonomously put them at loggerheads quite a few times in the last year. And when you sided with Dumbledore, well…" Mr. Weasley gave a shrug. "Scrimgeour saw it as a rebellion against him rather than loyalty to your headmaster."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Harry said, sitting back in his chair and looking thoughtful.

"Is the Order thinking of making some sort of arrangement with him?" Fred asked shrewdly. Everyone's interest perked up with this question. Ron and Ginny leaned forward as did Harry, steepling his fingertips together in front of himself.

"Well," Mr. Weasley began, "That's not really –"

"Oh Fred, don't ask such rubbish," Mrs. Weasley cut her husband off, wagging an annoyed finger at her son. "And stop trying to poke your nose into Order business!"

Fred sat back, seemingly chastised, but Harry saw a quick glance between the twins that suggested they'd found out more than their mother had intended them to.

"She always does that," Fred chuckled later, in Ron's room, where he and George had joined Harry and Ron after supper. "Can't help herself, bless her. She's always afraid Dad'll spill the beans about Order business."

"Anyway," George added airily, "Who'd want to work for the Order when they can work for the 'Chosen One' himself?"

"Right," said Harry, chuckling in spite of being embarrassed. "I've been chosen to let the world's most dangerous Dark wizard or his Death Eaters have a go at me every year or so."

That Saturday Harry, Ron and Hermione cajoled Mrs. Weasley into letting them go to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Ginny asked to go along as well, and no one objected (although Ron mumbled about her being a "tag-along" lately) , so shortly before eleven that morning the fireplace in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes burst into green flame, depositing Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry in the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' fireplace.

Instead of Fred or George being there to greet them, however, Verity, their assistant, was waiting for them in front of the fireplace as they arrived. "Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley are out front with customers at the moment," she said. "They asked me to make you comfortable in the office and get you something to drink if you like." Harry noticed her staring at his scar – he wondered if Fred and George had ever mentioned to her who he was.

Ron and Hermione asked for tea while Harry and Ginny declined anything. The office only had three extra chairs but when Verity said she'd find an extra one, Hermione said "Don't bother, I can whip one up," and waved her wand, producing an ornate sitting room chair complete with cushion, a definite improvement over the folding chairs the others were using. Ron went around and sat in one of the twins' leather desk chairs, leaning back and putting his feet on the desk.

"Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren't you?" Ginny said with a grin. "You don't even have a job here yet."

"It's a bit of a problem, really," Ron said airily. "I can't decide whether to start as President of the corporation or Director in Charge of Research and Development."

"Given your skill with a broom, little bro, we might let you sweep up someday," Fred said, walking into the office at that moment. "Out," he said, coming around the desk, and Ron hastily vacated the chair, mumbling about Fred's lack of humor.

"So how's business?" Harry said conversationally.

"Booming, actually," George said brightly as he joined them. "We've had stuff leaping off the shelves faster than we can make it, sometimes, even considering we've had to shut down some products because they were being used by Dark wizards."

"Like the Shield Hats and Cloaks?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," Fred nodded. "The Ministry doesn't want us selling those to anyone but them."

"But they wouldn't commit to buying any that we made past their initial order," George added. "So we had to shut down production."

"But we're coming up with new ideas so things are still going swimmingly," Fred finished.

"So what are we having for lunch?" Ron wanted to know.

"Whatever you're buying," George shot back. Ron made a rude gesture at him. Hermione frowned and pushed his hand down.

"We do have something new, just cooked it up last week," Fred grinned, looking at George, who nodded.

"Yes," Fred's twin said. "Efficient use of our inventory, that was."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Pygmy Puff Pastries," Fred said, turning his head so only Harry could see him wink. "They positively melt in your mouth."

"WHAT?!" Ginny cried, outraged. "PASTRIES!! HAVE YOU GONE MENTAL, FRED?!"

"Well, we have to make use with what we have, Ginny," George said mildly, seemingly oblivious to her shouting. He produced a box from a nearby shelf and held it out to her. Inside were a few small white powdery balls.

"Ick!" Ginny said disgustedly. "Get them away from me!"

"They're just powdered doughballs," Fred said, taking one and popping it into his mouth. "You didn't think we'd actually kill any of our precious Pygmy Puffs to make pastries, did you?"

Ginny, still annoyed at being tricked, said nastily, "You would if you could make a Galleon at it, wouldn't you?"

Fred and George looked at each other, then as one they clapped their hands over their hearts. "Aaah, she cut right to the quick with that one, didn't she?" Fred said, staggering back.

"Positively vicious, she is," George lamented, hanging onto Fred as if he might keel over otherwise. Harry and Ron were laughing, but Ginny just glared at them.

In mid-stagger both twins suddenly straightened up. "Right, who's ready for lunch, then?" Fred said briskly.

They settled on fish and chips, a rarity at the Burrow, and butterbeers for drinks. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked over to a nearby shop and picked up enough to feed them twice over – Hermione thought it would be a nice treat for Mrs. Weasley if she didn't have to cook for the evening. "You don't know her that well then," Ron told her. "Mum loves to cook."

"But not every day," Hermione insisted, so they picked up extra for later. Back at the shop, they piled the food and drinks on a counter near the back of the store and let Fred, George and Verity know that lunch was ready.

"Cheers," Verity said with a smile as she drank deeply of the butterbeer, but only picked at her fish and chips. "I'm watching my figure," she said apologetically to Harry.

"So am I," Fred said, taking a swig of his own butterbeer. Ron looked the other way, but Hermione said reprovingly, "Fred! That's so sexist!"

"It's alright," Verity smiled. "I know Fred's in love with me. Or is it George?" she added with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh, we think you're the best," George beamed at her. "Finest employee we've ever had."

Verity laughed. "I'm the only employee you've ever had!"

George smiled. "Well, we're both right then, aren't we?"

The bell on the door tinkled and Verity jumped up to help the customer. She returned a few moments later.

"Fred – sorry – Mr. Weasley," she said with a teasing smile on her face. "There's a Mr. Longbottom to see you."

"Longbottom?" Ron said, trying to look out the door. "Is that Neville? Here?"

"Something wrong with that?" George looked coolly at his younger brother. "If we'll sell to you, we'll sell to anybody, you know."

"Get stuffed," Ron muttered. He turned to Harry. "I never thought of Neville coming in here, did you?"

"Maybe he's tired of having jokes played on him all the time," Harry said, wondering. "He might want to turn that 'round a bit."

Harry got up and walked out of the office, curious. He didn't walk straight over, but approached in a roundabout way. Fred was walking over to where a new line of security measures for wizards' houses was being displayed. Creeping around carefully behind them, Harry saw that Neville wasn't alone – Luna Lovegood was with him. And they were holding hands. That was interesting!

Harry walked up behind them and said, "Hello, Neville, Luna."

Neville jumped but was beaming as he turned around. "Harry! Hi, how are you? What are you doing here?"

"We're just having lunch with Fred and George," Harry said. He looked at Luna, who had turned to smile dreamily at him.

"Hello, Harry," she said softly. "How have you been this summer – apart from losing Professor Dumbledore, that is?"

"Er – fine, thanks," Harry said. Luna's penchant for making uncomfortable statements could be disconcerting at times. "What brings you and Neville to Diagon Alley?"

"Gran wanted me to look into some security for the house," Neville said, indicating the Weasleys' array of devices. "I read that Fred and George had a new line of security stuff and we thought we'd come down and look it over."

"I've been staying at Neville's house for the past week," Luna said abruptly. "His grandmother is ever so nice, although she's a little too domineering of Neville for my taste."

"Well, I hope you're having a nice time there," Harry said, covering his surprise; he spared a momentary glance at Fred, who had a most wicked smile on his face since neither Neville or Luna were looking at him. "I met his grandmother a few years ago and she was very nice," Harry told Luna.

Neville looked embarrassed, but he still hadn't let go of Luna's hand, nor she of his. Harry stepped back from them, preparing to leave them alone. "I just wanted to say hello to you both," he said to them. "See you."

"We'll see you at Hogwarts!" Neville called as Harry walked away. Back in the twins' office, Harry shared the news of Luna being at Neville's house and them being a couple with Ron, Hermione, Ginny and George.

"I wondered about those two," Ginny said, bemused. "They did seem to be a bit chummy at the funeral."

"Well, they were made for each other," Ron observed.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Hermione said, looking at him.

"Just that they're both sort of – you know, weird."

"People probably would think that us being together would be weird too, don't you think?"

"That's not the point, Hermione! We're not weird!"

"You're half-right," George said, just loud enough to be heard.

"Nose out, you."

Fred came back into the office. "That was a sweet sale, Neville bought one of everything. Bright lad, that one."

"I never heard about that security line," Harry said. "When did you start it?"

"We just brought them out a couple of weeks ago," George said. "Been working on them for a few months now, very hush-hush."

"You wouldn't believe how lax some of the security is in shops around here," Fred said, a perfectly innocent expression on his face.

"I don't think I want to know," Harry said, giving him a sidelong glance. Fred and George glanced at each other and chuckled softly.

Mrs. Weasley expected them back by two. About 1:45 Hermione and Ginny began packing up the rest of the food to head back to the Burrow. They lined up in front of the fireplace, each throwing in a handful of Floo Powder and shouting "The Burrow!" so the emerald flames would whisk them back there.

Harry had expected the next dozen days until his seventeenth birthday to drag excruciatingly slow. However, with Ron and Hermione's hearings canceled and plenty of activites around the Burrow, like two-player Quidditch with Ron, Ginny and Hermione, nosing through Fred and George's boxes and the odd chore or two around the house and garden, waking up one morning to discover all his favorite breakfast foods waiting for him, prepared by a beaming Mrs. Weasley came almost as a shock to him.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley hugged him as he stood, almost embarrassed, in front of the table where plates of eggs, sausages, toast and porridge was waiting for him. Opposite the plates were a pile of wrapped birthday presents.

"I – I don't know what to say," Harry stammered.

"You don't need to say anything," Ron said, punching him lightly in the arm. "Except – let's eat!"

After breakfast, Harry went through the pile of presents, finding gifts from all of the Weasleys (except for Percy, of course). Notably, Harry pondered, gifts from Ron and Hermione were missing from the pile. The final one he opened was a small, square package from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. It was a gold watch, very much like the one Ron had gotten for his seventeenth birthday. Harry stared at it; then, feeling something on the back, turned it over to see a small dent in the casing.

"It was my brother Fabian's," Mrs. Weasley said softly. "I'm sorry it's not a new one but –" She stopped because Harry had stood and hugged her tightly.

"It's the best present I've ever gotten," Harry told her as he let her go. She smiled shyly, her eyes bright, then turned and began bustling about the kitchen.

That afternoon, Hermione and Ron led Harry into the Burrow's sitting room where they each gave him a birthday present. Harry had awakened that morning, knowing he was now seventeen and of age, but it seemed very much like nothing had changed at all except the day. He didn't feel more like a man now. He wondered, perhaps, if somehow they could be wrong about his age and he was only sixteen instead of seventeen. But that was silly.

"Happy birthday, mate," Ron said, bringing out a wrapped present from behind him and handing it to Harry. It was flat and fairly large. Harry took it and tore the wrapping off. It was a framed front page of the Daily Prophet from July 31, 1980, with the headline "HARRY JAMES POTTER BORN!!" where the original headline would have been. Below that was a picture of a smiling, waving Harry. Harry looked at the various stories on the front page. It struck him how the news of that day paralleled recent editions of the Prophet, with speculations on the whereabouts of You-Know-Who, the Minister of Magic advising calm and to report any suspicious behavior to the Ministry straightaway.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry smiled. "But I don't remember anyone taking that picture of me."

"Thank Fred and George for that," Ron said lightly. "They got it for me."

"Here's my present," Hermione said, handing him a package that was the shape and weight of a medium-sized book.

"I wonder what this could be," Harry said with a smile. He tore open the wrapping and looked at his present, which was indeed a book: Beyond NEWTS: A Compendium of Advanced Spells, by Rheingold Ubermann, and as Harry flipped through it he saw advanced Charms, Transfiguration and Defense magic, spells well beyond anything in their normal magic books, the Standard Book of Spells series.

"Wow, Hermione, thank you!" Harry looked at her, very humbled by her faith in him. It would be a wonder if he ever learned a tenth of these spells. "You know I may need your help with some of these."

"Oh, do you think?" Hermione arched an eyebrow at him, and all three of them laughed.

Another couple of surprises awaited Harry; the first came before dinner as Fred and George showed up with a present as well, although Fred suggested he open it when Mrs. Weasley wasn't around. Harry put it in his trunk for safe-keeping until he could get to it.

The second surprise came after dinner when Mrs. Weasley brought a birthday cake to the table with Happy Birthday, Harry! written in colored icing on top and seventeen candles in a lightning bolt pattern across its top. Harry laughed delightedly as he saw it; Mrs. Weasley stared at the candles, then at Fred and George, and sighed heavily, but she didn't say anything.

Mr. Weasley, relaxed and enjoying an after-dinner butterbeer, said "Happy seventeenth birthday, Harry! Will you do the honors, my dear?"

Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand and with a flick all seventeen candles lit at once. "All together now," she said, and they went into a hearty rendition of "Happy Birthday," both embarrassing and cheering Harry.

After they finished Mrs. Weasley said, "Make a wish and blow them out, Harry."

Harry stared at the candles for a moment, thinking, I wish my entire life could have been like this, and blew out the candles. Everyone applauded and with another flick of her wand Mrs. Weasley removed all the candles and a cake knife floated out of a drawer and began cutting pieces of cake by itself.

"Fred, get the ice cream, will you?" Mrs. Weasley asked the twin nearest the counter, and added sharply, "Not that way, you've got two feet!" as Fred began to draw his wand.

"I have been practicing, Mum," Fred said, sounding mildly annoyed but he leaned over in his chair and grabbed the carton of ice cream off the counter, depositing it on the table by the cake.

Soon everyone was enjoying birthday cake and ice cream. It was quite delicious, Harry thought, as were all Mrs. Weasley's dishes. Ginny asked, "Is the cake good, Harry?"

"Yes it is," Harry said, nodding as he swallowed the mouthful of ice cream he'd just taken. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Thank Ginny," Mrs. Weasley beamed. "She made it this morning." Ginny smiled proudly.

"It's very good, Ginny," Harry said, giving her a smile, which she returned.

After the cake and ice cream was finished Mr. Weasley announced, "Harry, we have something for you as well, since you've come of age." He produced an envelope from his robe and handed it to Harry with a small flourish. "From Mrs. Weasley and myself, as a token of our appreciation for your friendship and for all of the help you've given this family."

Harry looked at the envelope, which had his name, "Mr. Harry Potter," spelled out in ornate script on the front. Opening it, he found a certificate which read:

The Ministry of Magic

Apparition Test Center

Hereby Certifies that:

Harry James Potter

Shall be admitted, upon presentation of this certificate, to test for application for a license to Apparate with all benefits, duties, and conditions pertaining thereto.

Present this Certificate to the Examiner when called for redemption.

No. 80731Wilkie Twycross

Dept. of Magical Transportation

"Wow," Harry said breathlessly, stunned. He'd completely forgotten about being able to Apparate once he turned seventeen. "Thank you! Thank you very much," he said earnestly, looking at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in gratitude.

Mr. Weasley smiled benevolently at him. "There happens to be a test coming the second Saturday of next month, if you're interested in taking it then."

Harry nodded vigorously; there were a few chuckles around the table at his enthusiasm. He looked around the table. Everyone was enjoying his reaction – except Ginny, who'd run into the living room, apparently having heard something.

"You should be able to pass that test in one go," Ron said. "What with all the Apparating you've done, even before you took the course last spring."

"We can take it together," Harry said suddenly, remembering that Ron had just failed the test when he took it earlier in the spring.

Ron shrugged and looked away. "We'll see," he mumbled. "Maybe I can scrape together the gold in a few weeks."

Harry started to say, "I can loan you the application fee," then remembered Ron was likely to be touchy about taking money from him, in front of his parents or not.

Ginny ran back into the room. "Dad, there's someone in the fire for you," she said. "I think it's Professor McGonagall."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and chuckled.

"What?" Ginny asked, wondering what she'd said that was funny.

"Nothing," Harry and Hermione both said at the same time.

"McGonagall?" Mr. Weasley said, puzzled. "Wonder what she wants with me at this hour?" He went into the living room.

"Where would you like to Apparate to, Harry," Fred asked. "If you could go anywhere you wanted?"

"Huh, I dunno," Harry shrugged. "Haven't thought about it."

"Maybe we should put an Anti-Apparition jinx in Ginny's room," George said with a wink.

"Ha-ha, aren't you hilarious?" Ginny snorted. "You'd think I turned all your Pygmy Puffs into Blast-Ended Skrewts or something."

"No more talk like that," Mrs. Weasley warned. "No one makes fun of your love life, George."

"He does," George said, jerking a thumb at Fred. "But then, I know he's just jealous."

"Ha," Fred said coolly. "You make Percy look like Myron Wagtail by comparison."

"Who?" Harry said, confused.

"Lead singer for The Weird Sisters," Hermione said. "Very handsome, very popular with witches all over England and even in Europe." She smiled absently. "He is very good…"

"You fancy him, then?" Harry grinned.

Hermione's reverie evaporated immediately. "Don't be silly, Harry! He's just a popular singer." But her face had gone bright red.

"She fancies him," Ginny said with a grin. Hermione looked at her, aghast, as if Ginny had just divulged one of her darkest secrets.

There was a cacophony of voices as Hermione and Ginny begin threatening to tell each other's secrets, and Ron began egging them both on; meanwhile Fred and George were discussing their (apparently wildly speculative) love lives; Mrs. Weasley, wearied by the uproar but deciding not to interfere, began gathering up empty plates and silverware and preparing to wash them.

Mr. Weasley appeared at the doorway of the kitchen. He looked pale; his expression was one of both heavy grief and utter amazement. "Listen, everyone. Listen! LISTEN!"

Finally the room quieted down and Mr. Weasley threw himself back into his chair, staring at the scrubbed tabletop for several moments before beginning to speak.

"That was Professor McGonagall," he said slowly, looking around the room. "She had just gotten word that there'd been trouble up in Lancashire."

"That's where Neville lives," Hermione said. Mr. Weasley nodded at her, and at the expression in his eyes she went pale, gripping Ron's arm beside her in apprehension.

"Yes," Mr. Weasley continued, now almost straining to talk. "There was an attack on his grandmother's house earlier tonight."

"Oh no!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "Arthur, not –"

"Yes, it was," Mr. Weasley said. "Death Eaters," he finished, confirming their worst fears.

Harry was horrified. Why would Death Eaters attack the Longbottoms? Were they trying to finish the work that Bellatrix Lestrange had begun all those years ago, when she tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom, Neville's parents, into insanity? The others around the table were equally appalled: Hermione was near tears, and Ginny was staring at the floor, shaking her head. Fred and George were exchanging hard looks with each other and Ron.

"Is – is anyone – dead?" Ron finally asked into the silence.

"There were several casualties," Mr. Weasley said as Mrs. Weasley came over to stand beside him, her arm across his shoulders. He put an arm around her waist.

"Both Neville and Luna Lovegood, who was staying at the Longbottom house, were taken to St. Mungo's for injuries sustained during the fight. As near as the Aurors could tell, at least three Death Eaters were involved in the attack.

"Augusta Longbottom was killed by the Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse. It was apparently performed by – by You-Know-Who himself."

"Voldemort!" Harry shouted. There were several winces, though by now it was almost expected for Harry to use the Dark Lord's name. "Why would he want her dead? Why would he even care –" he stopped, wondering if there was a connection between Augusta Longbottom and Voldemort's Horcruxes.

"No idea, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, ignoring Harry's clipped remark. "But it gets even stranger. There was a final casualty."

"A Death Eater snuffed it?" Ron said eagerly.

"Actually –" Mr. Weasely stared around the table at each of them before he said, quite clearly, "Lord Voldemort is dead."

No one spoke. No one breathed. They all looked at each other in disbelief. Finally, Harry spoke, almost convulsively. "Who – who did it."

Mr. Weasley's eyes bored into Harry's as he said, "Neville Longbottom."