AN: Once again I am not JK Rowling.

As the day wore on Mrs Weasley was doing everything she could to keep Ron and Harry busy. I tried a couple of times to get them alone but it never worked. Charlie's arrival came as a relief to everyone. It provided a distraction, watching Mrs. Weasley force Charlie into a chair, raise her wand threateningly, and announce that he was about to get a proper haircut.

Harry's birthday dinner would have stretched the Burrow's kitchen to breaking point even before the arrival of Charlie, Lupin, Tonks, and Hagrid, several tables were placed end to end in the garden. Fred and George bewitched a number of purple lanterns all emblazoned with a large number 17, to hang in midair over the guests. Thanks to Mrs. Weasley's ministrations, George's wound was neat and clean, but I was not yet used to the dark hole in the side of his head, despite the twins' many jokes about it. If only Severus could have told me the counter curse to fix it.

When Mrs Weasley wasn't looking Fred and George slipped handfuls of different things from their pockets into my little bag that I kept on me at all times. Better safe than sorry. I had already sneaked Harry's invisibility cloak into the bag earlier today.

When Mrs Weasley turned back to me I made purple and gold streamers erupt from the end of my wand and drape themselves artistically over the trees and bushes. They looked perfect and I smiled at my work.

"Nice," Sirius said, as with one final flourish of my wand, I turned the leaves on the crabapple tree to gold. "You've really got an eye for that sort of thing."

"Thanks Hun." I said smiling.

"Out of the way, out of the way!" Mrs. Weasley sang, coming through the gate with what appeared to be a giant, beach-ball-sized Snitch floating in front of her. Seconds later I realized that it was Harry's birthday cake, which Mrs. Weasley was suspending with her wand, rather than risk carrying it over the uneven ground.

When the cake had finally landed in the middle of the table, Harry said, "That looks amazing, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it's nothing, dear," she said fondly.

By seven o'clock all the guests had arrived, led into the house by Fred and George, who had waited for them at the end of the lane. Hagrid had honored the occasion by wearing his best, and horrible, hairy brown suit. Although Lupin smiled as he shook Harry's hand. Tonks stood next to her husband a huge smile on her face. She almost looked to be glowing with happiness.

"Happy birthday, Harry," she said, hugging him tightly.

"Seventeen, eh!" Hagrid said as he accepted a bucket-sized glass of wine from Fred. "Six years ter the day since we met, Harry, d'yeh remember it?"

"Vaguely," Harry said, grinning up at him. "Didn't you smash down the front door, give Dudley a pig's tail, and tell me I was a wizard?" I snorted and Sirius barked a laugh.

"I forge' the details," Hagrid chortled. "All righ', Sirius, Hermione?"

"We're fine," I said smiling "How are you?"

"Ar, not bad. Bin busy, we got some newborn unicorns. I'll show yeh when yeh get back–" Harry avoided Ron's and Hermione's gazes as Hagrid rummaged in his pocket. "Here. Harry–couldn't think what ter get teh, but then I remembered this." He pulled out a small, slightly furry drawstring pouch with a long string, evidently intended to be worn around the neck. "Mokeskin. Hide anythin' in there an' no one but the owner can get it out. They're rare, them."

"Hagrid, thanks!" Harry said his eyes bright.

"'S'nothin'," Hagrid said with a wave of a dustbin-lid-sized hand. "An' there's Charlie! Always liked him –hey! Charlie!"

Charlie approached, running his hand slightly ruefully over his new, brutally short haircut. He was shorter than Ron, thickset, with a number of burns and scratches up his muscley arms.

"Hi, Hagrid, how's it going?"

"Bin meanin' ter write fer ages. How's Norbert doin'?"

"Norbert?" Charlie laughed. "The Norwegian Ridgeback? We call her Norberta now."

"Wha – Norbert's a girl?"

"Oh yeah," said Charlie.

"How can you tell?" I asked.

"They're a lot more vicious," Charlie said. He looked over his shoulder and dropped his voice. "Wish Dad would hurry up and get here. Mum's getting edgy."

They all looked over at Mrs. Weasley. She was trying to talk to Madame Delacour while glancing repeatedly at the gate.

"I think we'd better start without Arthur," she called to the garden at large after a moment or two. "He must have been held up at – oh!"

We all saw it at the same time: a streak of light that came flying across the yard and onto the table, where it resolved itself into a bright silver weasel, which stood on its hind legs and spoke with Mr. Weasley's voice.

"Minister of Magic coming with me."

The Patronus dissolved into thin air, leaving Fleur's family peering in astonishment at the place where it had vanished.

"We shouldn't be here," Remus said at once glancing at Tonks' stomach. "Harry – I'm sorry – I'll explain some other time–"

He seized Tonks' wrist and pulled her away; they reached the fence, climbed over it, and vanished from sight. Mrs. Weasley looked bewildered. Sirius looked torn between looking over Harry and running after Remus and Tonks.

"The Minister – but why–? I don't understand–"

But there was no time to discuss the matter; a second later, Mr. Weasley had appeared out of thin air at the gate, accompanied by Rufus Scrimgeour, instantly recognizable by his mane of grizzled hair.

The two newcomers marched across the yard toward the garden and the lantern-lit table, where everybody sat in silence, watching them draw closer. As Scrimgeour came within range of the lantern light. Harry saw that he looked much older than the last time that had met, scraggy and grim.

"Sorry to intrude," Scrimgeour said, as he limped to a halt before the table. "Especially as I can see that I am gate-crashing a party."

His eyes lingered for a moment on the giant Snitch cake. "Many happy returns."

"Thanks," Harry said.

"I require a private word with you," Scrimgeour went on. "Also with Mr. Ronald Weasley and Mrs Hermione Black."

"Us?" Ron said, sounding surprised. "Why us?"

"I shall tell you that when we are somewhere more private," Scrimgeour said. "Is there such a place?' he demanded of Mr. Weasley.

"Yes, of course," said Mr. Weasley, who looked nervous. "The, er, sitting room, why don't you use that?"

"You can lead the way," Scrimgeour said to Ron. "There will be no need for you to accompany us, Arthur, Mr Black."

I watched as Mr. Weasley exchanged a worried look with Sirius as Harry, Ron and I stood up. As we led the way back to the house in silence, I knew that we were all thinking the same thing; Scrimgeour must, somehow, had learned that the three of us were planning to drop out of Hogwarts. And he was going to put a stop to it at once.

AN: Please Review!