"Happy birthday," Sirius said as Harry entered the kitchen.

"Happy birthday, Harry dear," Mum echoed from over where she was helping Kreacher with breakfast. Harry smiled a little at both of them, not as bright as he might have, before everything, but genuine.

"Happy birthday," Ginny said, and Bill, Percy, and Dad—all up early and ready for work—added their birthday wishes too.

"Breakfast for the brat," Kreacher said, bustling over with a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, and a cup of juice floating in his wake.

Harry settled at the long table beside Sirius, a little ways down from Ginny.

"Er… thanks, Kreacher," Harry said, looking a bit awkward, and then stared at the plate on the table before him and blinked. He looked a bit embarrassed, but mostly relieved and grateful and pleased. Ginny leaned forward a little and realised why; the eggs and bacon had already been loaded onto the toast, and the toast itself had already been cut into quarters. Harry opened his mouth but Kreacher was already bustling back to Mum and the stove, a satisfied smile on his old face.

Sirius had noticed too, and wore a soft look as he glanced between Harry and Kreacher. Ginny was sure Harry could see or smell it, but he ignored Sirius and tucked into his breakfast with an enthusiasm Ginny hadn't seen for a while.

"Happy birthday!" Dora said, tripping a little down the stairs. Ron, who was trailing after her, lifted his hands as if ready to save Stella, but Dora righted herself with a grin.

"Mmmm!" Stella proclaimed from her arms.

"Mmmhmm," Dad said, and rose from the table. He gave Harry a light pat on the back, kissed Mum goodbye, waved at the rest of the table, and disappeared through the Floo.

Breakfast—as it always seemed to be at Grimmauld—was a busy, noisy affair; Bill and Percy left not long after Dad, and slightly before the twins wandered in. Fleur and Hermione were the last to enter; Hermione's hair was still damp from the shower, and Fleur looked perfectly put together, though her face fell a little when she glanced over the table.

"Happy birthday," Hermione said, smiling at Harry.

"Oui," Fleur said, brightening again at once. "Joyeux anniversaire." She leaned down to kiss Harry on the cheek, and smiled when his face turned pink.

"Birthday kiss," George said, "not bad, Fleur."

"But ours is better, Harry," Fred said, and pulled a wrapped parcel about the size of a bread roll out of his pocket. He tossed it over the table to Harry, and there was a general intake of breath from around the table, but Harry snatched it out of the air as swiftly and easily as he ever had.

"From me and Fred, and Hermione," George said with a grin.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, looking bemused. She smiled mysteriously and Harry returned his attention to the present, visibly curious.

A little awkwardly, he used his left wrist to hold it still and then unpeeled the spellotape and paper with his right hand. Out of the paper tumbled a single Quidditch glove, made of what looked to be extremely rigid leather. Ginny knew what it was, though she hadn't seen it yet.

"A Seeker's glove?" Harry asked, voice flat. He didn't look at any of them, but Ginny saw him swallow. "And just the one—"

"Well you're only missing one hand," Fred said, and a hush fell over the table; Harry flinched a little, and Sirius straightened, seeming ready to intervene.

"Pull the straps out, Harry," Hermione said gently. Harry looked at her then and seemed reassured by whatever he saw there. He looked back at the glove, then frowned and tugged a pair of long, leather straps out of the inside of the glove. Harry stretched them out, seeming bewildered.

"Close," Fred said, and the glove curled into a fist. Harry went still.

"Open," George said, and the glove opened again.

"Oh," Dora said, and Sirius looked like he might cry.

"It's a left-handed glove," Harry said faintly, staring at it.

"The straps buckle at your wrist, forearm, and elbow," Hermione said. "That should be enough to keep it pretty firmly in place. Open and close is the best we could do, so it probably won't help much with things that need dexterity, but it'll be enough to let you hold a broom." She smiled, and when Harry didn't say anything, chewed her lip. "And it's perfectly legal to use during matches. I've done a lot of reading, and then I got in touch with the International Quidditch Association—"

"I didn't know that part," Ron said, gaping at her. "How'd you manage that?"

"Viktor," Hermione said, flushing a little.

"You—"

There was a soft squeak of leather as the glove's fingers curled again, though no one had spoken. Ron and Hermione fell silent at once.

"Thank you," Harry said hoarsely. He was looking at Hermione, but turned to Fred and George a moment later. Ginny didn't think she'd ever seen either twin as simultaneously pleased and uncomfortable with open sincerity before:

"Can't be without our Seeker," George said.

"Figured the least we could do was lend a hand," Fred said, then froze.

There came a muffled choking sound from Sirius, who looked appalled with himself or Fred or both—Ginny couldn't tell—but then there was a snort and a rather wet laugh from Harry, and everyone relaxed.

"From me and Arthur, dear," Mum said, and slid a parcel over the table. Harry opened it and smiled as several pairs of socks tumbled out; there were a pair with snitches, a pair with stags and does, one with twinkling golden stars, and one with Gryffindor lions. There was also what looked like a bag of Mum's fudge.

"Thank you," Harry said, and Mum beamed.

"This is ours," Ron said a few moments later, sliding a piece of parchment over the table. Harry picked it up and gave it a blank look. "Mine and Malfoy's, I mean," Ron said, producing a quill as well. Ginny leaned forward, curious; where Hermione and the twins had been fairly open about their plans for Harry's present, Ron had kept his to himself.

Now, he wrote, rather sloppily on the bottom of it.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Draco's familiar writing appeared on the parchment, as if written by an invisible hand:

Happy birthday, Potter.

Ginny shuddered, felt panic crawl up her throat and lodge itself there. She shoved back from the table and took her plate to the sink. Kreacher held out an expectant hand, but Ginny turned the tap on herself and scrubbed until it was spotless and the ringing in her ears had stopped. She took a deep breath, and let her attention move back to the table.

Harry's eyes flicked away from her—he'd noticed, it seemed—but no one else was looking her way:

Fred and George were leaning over the parchment, laughing at whatever Draco had written, and Ron had procured a second piece of parchment—one Ginny'd noticed him with several times that summer, actually—and was writing something on it. He nodded at Harry's.

"... See? So once we get one for Hermione, too, then we'll all have them and be able to talk wherever we are, or in private in less—" Mum cleared her throat, and Hermione looked both intrigued and disapproving. Ron's eyes flicked from one to the other and then he backtracked: "—er— yeah, we just thought it might be useful."

"You've been using one for a while now," Hermione said, frowning.

"Had to test it out, didn't I?" Ron asked, shrugging.

"You could've said that you had a way to talk to Draco," Hermione huffed.

"It was a secret," Ron said, shrugging. "'Til now, anyway."

Morbidly curious, Ginny leaned forward, shivering a little as Draco's words inked themselves onto the page; he appeared to be giving Harry a serve for having not written at all that summer.

"Deal with that, maybe," Sirius said to Harry, who was watching with mingled panic, amusement, and trepidation. "We'll do our present later anyway."

"Remus is hoping he and Matt can get away tonight for the meeting, and he'll stay for dinner, too, if he can," Dora said.

"Moo?" Stella asked, perking up.

"Yeah, Moony," Sirius said, running a hand through the tuft of dark hair on her head. Stella gurgled happily, caught his hand, and promptly stuck it in her mouth. "Ew—ow!"

"Teething," Dora sighed, as Sirius prised his hand free with a grimace.

"I've got a potion for that," Mum said, and Dora turned toward her with interest, while Stella whined and reached after Sirius who scowled and then relented and scooped her up. He turned toward Harry, grinned, and then deposited her in his arms.

Harry went very still again, eyes wide, and both arms wrapped around her. Ginny suspected he was worried she might wriggle free now that he only had one hand, but he looked to be holding her so securely there was no chance of that happening.

"That's not what you wanted," Sirius said, sounding a little confused, and reached out, but Harry shuffled away from him, still holding Stella. "What then?" Sirius asked, a faint smile hovering around the corners of his mouth.

"It's nothing," Harry said.

"It will be if you don't ask," Sirius said, arching an eyebrow.

"I already know the answer," Harry said, shaking his head. "We have to stay here, inside the Fidelius' protection."

"We could do a day trip," Sirius said slowly, and his eyes landed on Harry's new glove at the same time as Ginny's. "I took today off, and Dora doesn't go into work until after the meeting tonight… That's a couple of Aurors. And Molly and Fleur and Fred and George are all Order members and of age…"

"Even then, is it a good idea, Sirius?" Mum asked, anxiously. "If something happened…" But Ginny could see that talking Sirius out of it now would be a lost cause; Harry was expressing an interest in something fun and Ginny suspected there was no length Sirius wouldn't go to to make it happen.

"I'll see if Marlene's around," Sirius said, mostly to himself. "And if we can get in touch with Cedric… I'll have to think about whether Moony's or the Burrow is going to be a better option… Give me an hour?"

"Sure," Harry said, looking surprised.

"Brilliant," Ron said, beaming.

"Ze Burrow ees your 'ouse, oui?" Fleur asked George, who nodded. "I would like to see eet. 'Arry always spoke fondly of eet and 'is time zere." Mum beamed at Harry and Ginny knew then that she'd be on board too.

"I'm going to take this upstairs," Harry said, and Dora leaned over to take Stella back so that he could gather everything up into his good arm. "And maybe write back to Draco, and then we'll go?"

"Sounds good, kiddo," Sirius said, ruffling his hair.

Ginny waited until Harry had left the kitchen, counted to ten, and then followed, passing briefly by the room she shared with Hermione.

She caught up with him just as he was stepping into his bedroom, and he gave her a distinctly wary look.

"I didn't give you my present," she said, and held it out to him. He relaxed slightly, and led the way into his room so that he could deposit his current bundle of things carefully onto his bed and take what Ginny was offering him.

He opened the folded bit of parchment first, and spluttered a laugh. She grinned:

Go away, Ginny, it said in Ginny's best—which was not very good—calligraphy. She thought he understood the sentiment, though.

"We used them growing up," Ginny said. "It started as a bit of a joke between Fred and George and Percy, but we've all used them at various points if we've needed a bit of space. Big family, you know." She smiled. "I think this is only the second or third one I've ever given out, though, so count yourself lucky." Harry frowned at her and she sighed. "I'm— not really sorry," she said. "You've been doing better since… But I was probably a bit unfair and insensitive. So…" She nodded at the parchment in his hand.

"Does it expire?" Harry asked.

"No," she said. "But once you've used it, that's it."

"That's disappointing," Harry said, and then grinned at the face she made. He fiddled with the paper on the rest of Ginny's present and then, at her nod, braced it against his body with his left arm and opened it with his right. "Oh."

"To keep, this time," she said.

She knew he recognised it; she'd loaned the dreamcatcher to him temporarily a few months back when he was struggling to sleep. It hadn't worked then, but that was because Voldemort had been forcing the dreams through their connection. If he tried that again, it still wouldn't be of any help, but it would stop memories of the graveyard from surfacing while Harry slept, or any other nightmares his own mind could conjure.

He was silent for a long time, frowning, and Ginny was a little worried she'd overstepped, was thinking that she should just have tried to scrounge for the money to go in on the glove with Hermione and the twins somehow, or maybe knitted him something instead.

"You don't need it any more?" he asked, tracing the small, stone runes with a gentle finger.

"I don't think so," she said, and his expression cleared. She'd been trialling nights without it and so far, it seemed like she'd been all right; if she'd had dreams about Tom or the Chamber, she hadn't remembered them come morning, and Hermione hadn't said anything to her about being woken through the night.

"Thanks, then," Harry said, curling his fingers around it. He went to tuck it under his pillow and then paused and sputtered a laugh.

"What?" Ginny asked. He lifted the bit of parchment from Ron and Ginny was too far away to make out words, but she could see that whatever was written there had been done in capital letters. She laughed too and retreated to the door: "Have fun with that," she said, and left him there grumbling.

"Brother," Greentooth said, and since that was the way she addressed all of them, Remus, Matt, and Ethan all turned to look at her. Her eyes, though, were fixed on Remus, and he couldn't say he was pleased to have her attention; according to Matt, she'd asserted herself as alpha of the pack on the first day of the summer holidays and Nancy and Richard—who'd lead since Greyback's death—hadn't disputed it. Though she was only a year above Harry at Hogwarts, Greentooth was already seventeen because she'd started late. Additionally, she'd completed her O.W.L.s in June which meant she was now qualified to use magic whenever she wanted to by both the law and her level of education.

She was younger and better educated than Greyback had been, but shared a lot of the same mindsets—including her opinions about Remus—and so having her attention when he hadn't sought it out was less than ideal.

"Your presence has been requested," she said. Matt's scent grew uneasy. Remus gave him a little nudge under the table. Greentooth held out her hand. There was dirt beneath her long fingernails.

"Thank you, but I can manage," Remus said, starting to rise.

"It wasn't a hand up," she said irritably; she knew he knew that. "I want your wand. You're not to take it with you."

Remus raised his eyebrows and sat back down.

"In that case, I think I'd prefer to stay put," he said. Greentooth's expression hardened and she turned her head slightly. Bluefoot and Yellowpaw began to move over towards them. At nineteen or twenty, Bluefoot was taller even than Remus, and broad, and Yellowpaw, though a bit younger and not particularly tall or broad, had a feral sort of air about her that seemed dangerous all the same. Neither were magical, which gave Remus a significant advantage, but Greentooth was, and she drew her own wand.

It was still a fight he could win, Remus knew, especially with Matt as a contingency plan, but he was here to win the pack over and gather information, not start duels in the middle of the main hall.

Remus sighed and drew his own wand, which he offered to Matt, then pushed himself off the bench.

"Now I'm unarmed," he said. Greentooth didn't look particularly happy—Remus was sure she'd have liked his wand in her possession—but she'd ultimately got what she wanted; she gave a nod and the other two slunk off. "Where are we off to?" he asked, as she led him through the rows of tables.

"Silverhand wants to meet with you," she said, and glanced over her shoulder at him, smiling when she smelled his shock, anger, and worry.

"He's back?" He stopped walking and looked toward Matt, who was wide eyed and worried:

Silverhand, best any of them had been able to tell, was the pack's name for Peter.

"He is." She sounded rather pleased about it, all things considered; it was clear she preferred Silverhand to Macnair—who'd been the Death Eater representative since Remus arrived, and who didn't have a pack name. Remus knew why, too; last full moon Silverhand had given them names and the pack had expanded for the first time since Greyback's death.

Remus wasn't sure if Greentooth herself had bitten either of their new 'siblings' herself, but she'd certainly condoned it; he would be advocating for her expulsion from Hogwarts the next time he saw Dumbledore, not only because he no longer believed she was safe around other students, but because it was best not to give her another two years of magical education if this was what she was going to use it for.

"This is a bad idea," he said. He didn't know what Peter might want with him, but Remus didn't trust him—certainly not well enough to go to him unarmed—but he also didn't trust himself. If he had a chance at Peter… Since the camp hadn't formally chosen a side, it remained neutral territory; Matt and Remus hadn't been able to tip the scales in the Order's favour yet, but they'd managed that much, at least. So far the Death Eaters had respected that, though Remus privately thought it was because they'd been kept separate and so could more or less pretend he and Matt didn't exist. Silverhand had been away since the moon which had made it easy for Remus to do the same, but if he was back and wanting to see Remus...

Greentooth shrugged. That was bad; either Silverhand had that much influence now—in which case Remus might as well give up on trying to keep the werewolves neutral—or it meant that Greentooth considered Remus expendable.

"Do you want to walk there yourself, or are you going to make us drag you?"

"Let me take my wand," Remus said curtly.

"No," she said.

"Then I'm not going," he said. Greentooth glanced pointedly over at Bluefoot and Yellowpaw. Remus took a second to weigh his options, then took a wooden step forward. She smiled, though not particularly nicely, and gestured to them. Remus stiffened, but the other two stayed away, splitting off to do something else.

The Death Eaters had been given an embassy of sorts, within the boundaries of the camp—which was to say, past the sentries—but separate from the main camp building. It was to this that Greentooth led Remus, past the gardens and chicken coops. Debbie was on guard at its entrance, and Richard, and Remus couldn't work out if they were protecting whoever was inside from the likes of Remus, or if they didn't entirely trust Voldemort's envoys.

When they reached the door, Greentooth didn't knock or otherwise announce herself, just strode right by, leaving Remus little choice but to trail after her.

"Found him," she announced to an empty room. Remus heard movement somewhere else in the building, and he got a brief glimpse of a small man—

"Expelliarmus!"

The spell hit Remus who stumbled backward, rubbing his shoulder, eyes seeking cover, a weapon—

"Good. Can't be too careful." Peter lowered his wand. He looked… well all things considered. His hair was thin and oddly colourless but clean, and though he'd lost weight since Sirius' trial—likely in Azkaban—his cheeks had some roundness and colour, and his eyes were sharp. The most startling difference, though, was his gleaming silver hand. The smell of it stung Remus' nostrils. "Thank you, Greentooth, I've got it from here."

Greentooth was oddly unbothered by being dismissed by a non-wolf in her own camp. She didn't frown, or protest, or pout. Her scent held anticipation. Remus eyed her as best he could without taking his eyes off Peter and she studied him back.

After a moment, she said, "Enjoy," and turned and strode out. An uncomfortable dread settled over Remus.

Peter tucked his wand away and Remus briefly considered his chances of managing to get it off him before Peter could stop him. He doubted it; even without his wand out, Peter was certainly not defenceless; Remus wondered if Voldemort had had werewolves in mind when he'd given him that hand.

"Thank you for coming," Peter said, almost pleasantly, as if Remus had had a choice. He gestured for Remus to follow. He led him into a small kitchen and waved Remus into a seat at a small table.

It was surreal and overwhelming.

This was the man who'd spied on the Order for Voldemort, who'd orphaned Harry and was responsible for Lily and James' deaths. This was the man who'd framed Sirius, condemned him to what would have been life in Azkaban if Sirius hadn't escaped himself. This man had blown up part of Hogsmeade, had kidnapped and tortured Ron and Hermione, had almost got Harry Kissed, had attacked Sirius with that awful curse and done his best to murder Dora and Harry and Mad-Eye with Fiendfyre. He'd been involved in the attack at the World Cup, had likely murdered Bagman, and then had made Harry bleed to bring Voldemort back, had wanted to kill Cedric, and now he was here, sitting across from Remus, calm as anything, as if they'd simply lost touch after school and were now reconnecting. As if they were old friends not former friends.

"It's been a while," Peter said at last. Remus clasped his trembling hands, atop the table so he wouldn't lunge across it and attack him. It was incredibly appealing, but it would likely end with him dead. Remus might have considered that a decent trade once, but not now, not when Dora and Stella were waiting for him back at Grimmauld, and so were Harry and Sirius. Peter made a pleased sound, likely able to smell Remus' decision not to pursue violence. "I knew you'd be sensible," he said.

"What do you want?" Remus asked, and almost didn't recognise his voice for how sharp it was, how cutting.

"I know you're here for Dumbledore and the Order."

"I'm not—"

"Don't bother, Remus," Peter said, waving his silver hand. He spoke with more authority than he ever had at school. "You hate it here—I know that from the last war."

"It doesn't matter how I feel about it," Remus said. "I belong here."

"You might believe that," Peter said slowly. "But I doubt very much S-Sirius does, and I don't think he'd let you stay if there wasn't a reason. Besides, aren't you married? I saw your wife's name on the Map last year. Nymphadora, wasn't it?" Remus discovered he did not like Dora's name in Peter's mouth. "And I've seen the baby with you both at the tasks." Remus' hands curled into fists. Peter eyed them with some amusement and Remus bared his teeth. "Exactly," Peter said.

He hadn't stuttered once so far except for on Sirius' name, Remus realised. It wasn't a constant thing, but it was something that came out when he was nervous, or scared—had since their school days. Remus didn't know what to make of the fact that Peter felt neither around him, but he wasn't sure he liked it.

"You asked what I want," Peter said, after a moment. "I want you to leave. You're not accomplishing anything here; the pack's ours—giving them names to bite at the last moon secured it." Remus' lip curled:

"You seem pretty sure of yourself, given nothing's been announced."

"Not formally." Peter almost looked amused. "They've got us offering them things they want—resources, more names, a place in the world… and then they've got you showing up for the first time in who knows how long, offering them nothing, and telling them to stay out of it, or maybe to pretty please consider joining Dumbledore."

The Order had given them things, though Remus didn't say so to Peter; Wolfsbane potions—courtesy of Snape and Dora, and mostly funded by Sirius—healing potions, and new plants both for eating and for brewing. But none of that really compared with Peter giving them the chance to expand the pack.

"So this is what... a warning?"

"If you'd like," Peter said.

"Why bother?" Remus scoffed. "You've tried to kill Sirius multiple times, and you might as well have killed Lily and James—" If Peter'd twitched a little at Sirius' name, he flinched at James'. "—so why not just off me and complete the set?"

"Do you want to die?" Peter asked, lifting his silver hand, and then smiled a little; Remus had baulked. "Don't bother with the bravado, Remus, you were never as good at it as the others." He looked down at his hands. "The camp's neutral ground right now," Peter said. "I'm not going to be the one to break that, not if it's not necessary. At this stage, killing you isn't."

"I'm flattered," Remus said flatly.

"Don't be," Peter said. "It's because you're not important." Peter believed that—Remus could smell it. He sighed. "Go home, Remus. Tell Dumbledore you've lost the camp."

"And if I stay?" Remus asked.

"Then you die as soon as the neutrality is lifted," Peter said. "Maybe I'd get the dubious honour, or maybe the pack'll do it." He shrugged. "Once they side with us, they'll be against you, you realise. I expect that'll happen in the next few hours—" Peter glanced out the window at the thick trees. "—if it hasn't already; I'd do it while you were occupied if it was me, avoid that disappointed look you've always been so good at." A chill settled over Remus and he was suddenly even gladder he hadn't given Greentooth his wand, but that was very quickly consumed by worry; Matt was back in the camp's main building, and if Greentooth had just made an announcement and the camp turned on him and Ethan while Remus was gone… Matt could apparate them away, Remus knew he could, but Matt wouldn't, not when he had Remus' wand and only way out.

Peter could be lying, Remus told himself. Exaggerating how close the Death Eaters were to winning the camp over as a means to get Remus out of the way. Only Peter's scent was honest, sure enough for Remus to believe that Peter believed what he was saying, and unfortunately, Remus had no trouble believing him in turn.

What he was having trouble with was Peter… warning him, or whatever it was that was happening here. If the neutrality was ending so soon and Peter was so sure it was, then he had nothing to lose by breaking it. Greentooth wouldn't see Remus as any great loss. So why?

Could it be residual loyalty or a gesture made for the sake of a schooldays friendship? Surely not—otherwise, where had that been for James and Lily, or for Sirius? So perhaps Peter was manipulating him—he had before, had turned Remus and the rest of the wizarding world against Sirius after James and Lily's deaths. But to do what this time—survive?

Why would Peter want that? Because Peter was not the man Remus had thought he was, not the one he'd thought he'd known, but he did know that Peter wouldn't do something unless it benefited him in some way.

"I don't understand why you'd care," Remus said stiffly.

"About you?" Peter asked, tilting his head. "I don't." He wasn't lying; there was no fondness in Peter's scent, no regret. "Like I said, I just want you gone."

An end to the neutrality means you can go after Peter, a voice that sounded like Sirius' said. It was true. But Remus was wandless and Peter had his silver hand. Then there was Matt inside, and Dora and Stella and Sirius and Harry back at Grimmauld...

It was not a pleasant feeling to know he was making the best, right decision and still hate himself for it; Remus shoved his chair back and stood.

"Good choice," Peter said. His expression hadn't changed, and he was still seated. He hadn't even reached for his wand when Remus stood. Was Remus that predictable, or was Peter just that sure of himself?

Remus wanted to punch him, wipe the calm look off his face.

He didn't.

He turned to the door, his thoughts already on Matt and his wand, about getting them both out and Ethan too. He might not want to come but Remus thought it was for the best that he did if the camp was about to side with the Death Eaters. It was probably the only way he'd get to keep his place at Hogwarts.

"Oh, and Remus?" Peter said, when he reached the door. Remus didn't stop—he could hear a distant commotion that he was almost sure was coming from the camp's main building—but Peter spoke anyway, knowing he'd hear, even as Remus started to run, heart pounding: "Wish Harry a happy birthday for me, would you?"