28th July

"Should I be worried?" George's voice woke me up. Fred and I were lying on the floor, cuddled into one another. We sat up talking for a few hours after everyone else went to sleep. We discussed the future, and how our lives were about to change dramatically, "I lose an ear and you jump ship?"

"Good morning!" I sat up and kissed him gently, "Nothing to worry about in the slightest. How are you feeling?"

George beamed at me, "Feeling much better, thanks." He said as he sat up gingerly, "I reckon I'm still better looking than him anyway."

Fred and I giggled, knowing it was only a matter of time before the statement was spoken. He got up and volunteered to make a pot of coffee as Ginny entered the room with Hermione.

"How are you?" she asked whilst opening the curtains.

"Still holey." He smirked.

"Kathryn, can I talk to you for a minute?" Hermione asked, jerking her head towards Ginny's bedroom, "I'll have her back to you in no time, George."

I grabbed a cup of coffee from Fred as we passed the kitchen. Hermione closed the door behind us, performing the muffliato charm on the door to prevent anyone from overhearing, "You-Know-Who invaded Harry's mind last night. He has Ollivander; he's been torturing him for information on wands. Harry said that Ollivander thought that using another wand last night would mean he'd be able to attack Harry…"

"But it didn't, like Harry said, that golden -"

"Exactly, and here's the thing – he was using Lucius Malfoy's wand last night and it was destroyed!" Hermione watched for my reaction, but she didn't get one. I knew when it came to the Malfoys, things were beyond complicated, "Ollivander thought that the connection between Harry and You-Know-Who was through their wands, but it seems to extend further than that… What do you think?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "I never understand things where Harry and Voldemort are concerned. Might've been Lily's charm working –" Hermione was about to speak, but I continued, "yes, I know it's supposed to have broken when Harry left Privet Drive – but there's bound to be a logical explanation and that's what's fitting right now."

She nodded, "I'm going to start packing up Harry's things today. Can I pack the medical supplies now, or does George need anything else?"

"I can always take things out; I'd rather they be packed in case Harry decides to do a runner." I looked down at yesterday's crumpled clothes, "I hope he doesn't make a move until after this wedding. Fleur will kill me if I skip."

She nodded, "Ron's speaking to him now. We need to make a plan before we go."

"Even if we knew where to find one. I'd feel more confident about leaving…" I paused before asking, "What else have you got packed for me?"

"One pair of jeans and a few t-shirts, but nothing else."

"I'll get everything else sorted today." I nodded, "Thanks, 'Mione."

"Kathryn? What are you doing?"

I had a bag full of clothes to bring up to Hermione for packing, and Molly Weasley had just caught me red-handed.

"For Ginny," I tapped the bag, "George is constantly badgering me about how full our wardrobe is. I was giving her first dibs."

Molly squinted at me as intimidatingly as she could muster, but unlike with her children, it didn't work on me, "You need to help prepare for this wedding, not clear out your wardrobe. There will be plenty of time for that afterwards."

"Of course." I knocked on the door into Ginny's room to find Hermione on her own, "You seen Gin?"

"She'll be back in a minute," Hermione responded quickly, and Molly carried on up the stairs, "I've got the medical stuff packed along with all of Madam P's books – are those?"

"Some of my clothes? Yeah." I dropped my voice to a whisper, "I'll get the rest to you when Molly is less -"

Ginny walked in, "I just heard from Remus that he and Bill didn't find Mad-Eye's body last night…" she looked at the bag of clothes Hermione was holding, "That's a nice scarf."

"It's yours." I said, hoping that it would distract Molly's suspicions, "I was looking for you – have you spoken to Fleur? I feel like I haven't a clue what's happening on Friday."

"Your guess is as good as mine." She shrugged her shoulders, "There's no talking to her anyway. Mum's worse, she's got all of us on schedules of cleaning and tidying."

"What's the situation with our bridesmaid dresses? Do you know what colour they're going to be? The style? Do we need to get our nails painted? Am I doing my own hair and makeup?"

Ginny rolled her eyes as she wrapped the scarf around her neck and glanced at herself in the mirror, "The sooner this wedding is over and done with, the better."

Hermione and I shared a glance. We both had the same suspicions of what was going through her head: Harry. Ginny was very like the twins when she got like this – there was no talking to her or comforting her until she was ready.

"What about Harry's 17th?" Hermione asked, "Are we able to do anything nice for him? Do you think we could bake him a cake?"

I wiped my face with my hands to rid myself of tiredness, "I guess I could? Or if you two want to escape the madness here for a while, you could come over to the apartment? I'll just be making all the profiteroles for Bill and Fleur, but I'm sure I could fit it in -"

"Mum's making him a cake," was Ginny's response, "she thought you'd have enough on your plate. Especially when the Delacour family arrive on Wednesday morning."

30th July

I was busy working in the kitchen, finalising my recipe for the croquembouche for the wedding. I had been experimenting with different flavours of crème patisserie and perfecting my caramel. Fred and George were only happy to taste test for me! I had realised early on that I could only make and assemble the centrepiece on the morning of the wedding to prevent the whole thing from going soggy and collapsing, which put a lot of pressure on me. But I was quickly learning how to make large batches of profiteroles using magic, which would help with time constraints.

"Kat!" Ginny hurried through the fireplace, "Help me!"

I dropped the spatula, immediately turning off my radio, "What's wrong?"

"Mum's completely insufferable now that the Delacours are here." She glanced in the direction of the twins, who'd jumped to seek cover, "She's looking for you two, she's got jobs for everyone."

"But we're here to help Kathryn!"

Ginny placed her hands on her hips and imitated her mother impeccably, though I don't know if she is aware of this trait, "Kat will be coming home to try on her dress. Fleur's parents have asked to see you."

"Oh. What's it like?"

"I have no idea." Ginny answered, "They want the two of us to be there when we try them on."

The two of us shared a look. It was exasperating being Fleur's bridesmaid; everyone is so secretive and we have no clue what we're supposed to be doing, except I'm to make a croquembouche, "Gosh I hope it's nice." I said, imagining a thin piece of silk and how I'll freeze half to death in British summertime weather.

"So… are you lot coming?"

"You'll have to give me a few minutes… I should bring samples to Fleur's parents to taste. They're the ones who're probably most familiar with French patisserie. You know with them being French and all."

Ginny raised an eyebrow and stared at me with a deadpan expression, "I'd never have guessed."

"You looked just like Fred when you said that."

"Thank you…?" she picked up some of my discarded cooked choux pastry buns, sniffed and took a bite, happily enjoying the dessert. I busied myself around the kitchen with different flavours of crème pat which were magically filling the batch of cooled buns which then packed themselves away into boxes.

As the work was ongoing in the kitchen, I packed a few more things for Hermione's beaded bag – underwear, socks, a jacket, jumper, trainers, chocolates and a few of Fred and George's surplus products. With everything ready, I grabbed my travelling cloak and arrived at the Burrow with Fred, George and Ginny.

What we met when we arrived was organised chaos. Wedding decorations were piling up in the living room making it difficult to get around. Ginny directed me outside where everyone was gathered to discuss the placement of the tent. The garden had never been tidier – the wellington boots were put away, the rusty cauldron was gone, the chickens were locked up, the greenery was impeccably pruned… When I spotted Harry, Ron and Hermione, they all were looking resentfully at the back of Fleur's family's heads. Things have clearly been going well.

"Ah! Maman! Papa! C'est Kasrine!" Fleur forced her parents' attentions upon me.

A short plump man, with a little pointed black beard, dressed in high-heeled boots approached me and kissed both cheeks twice, taking me aback. Fleur's father was a cheerful-looking man, walking with a bounce in his step. Without a second to breathe, I was approached by the woman I recognised as Fleur's mother, having seen her at Hogwarts before the third Triwizard Task. She was a head taller than her husband and a bit of a blonde bombshell, like her daughter. Dressed in leaf-green robes, she kissed both of my cheeks twice as well, but at least this time I was prepared.

"Bonjour Monsieur et Madame Delacour! Comment ça va?"

"Ah!" Fleur's mother threw her hands up into the air in delight, placing her hands on my hips, and looked me up and down, "Très bien, merci!" she then spoke very quickly and I was completely lost in translation. I glanced to Fleur for help.

Fleur laughed, "Ma mere is commenting on 'ow you are ze real woman, with curves, and she loves your curly hair."

"Oh!" I felt my cheeks redden, "Merci beaucoup, Madame Delacour!"

A short giggle escaped Madame Delacour's mouth as she took my hand in hers, "Apolline, s'il vous plait."

"Salut Gabrielle!" I saw Fleur's little sister appear from behind her parents, she gave me a huge smile. I heard in the background Molly spouting instructions to the remainder of the family members.

"Shall we 'ead upstairs so zat you can try on ze bridesmaid dresses togezzer?" Fleur asked, bringing us upstairs into Percy's room, which had now been taken over by Fleur and Gabrielle's belongings.

Hanging up were four long grey bags protecting each of the dresses and two boxes at the foot of each bag. I had never intended in all my days to get undressed in front of Fleur Delacour, or any of her family members, but they instructed me, Ginny and Gabrielle, to do so as Apolline carefully revealed our dresses. I was not as forthcoming with stripping off my clothes as the other two, instead gawping at the dress revealed.

It was what Ginny and I described as our worst nightmares.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Fleur asked, "Go on, try it on."

I glanced at Ginny who tried to hide the expression I was doing better at concealing. She took my hand and whispered, "Don't you think it's a bit… low cut?" she asked me and me only.

"George is going to love it, that's for sure."

"Yeah, along with every other straight man at the wedding." Ginny glanced at me with a smile on her face to prevent any of the Delacours from discovering our distaste, as Gabrielle donned her dress first, taking up her mother and sister's attention, "At least you've got boobs to fill it, I've got these pancakes."

I stifled a laugh, "Look, your dress is different to mine. It might look nicer on." I nodded positively, "But I swear if I put this on and it's got a slit up the thigh, we're going to have a problem."

It did.

31st July

I jolted awake. The clock said it was 2am. George was lying sound asleep beside me, having taken medication with drowsy side effects. He was fine, breathing rhythmical, his hands warm, and his ear not infected. I rolled over and closed my eyes.

Crash. The noise came from the shop.

Sliding my feet into my shoes, I scurried out of the room, into the shared living space. It was clear. I popped my head into Fred's room.

"Fred!" I called in a stage whisper, "Fred, are you there?"

"Wha-?"

"Freddie! Wake up!" I hurried over to him and shook him awake, realising we had an intruder in the shop, "There's someone downstairs. George is out for the count; can you cover me?"

Fred swung his legs out of bed in a flash, grabbing his wand, I took his hand to bring him through the apartment door invisibly. With interlocking fingers, the two of us headed down the staircase on high alert. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and could see the fear in Fred's eyes as we approached the perpetrators.

"If there was anyone here, they'd be here by now. We've been making enough noise." A male hooded Death Eater spoke, parading around the shop like he owned it, searching every nook and cranny for hiding spots.

Fred raised his wand, and I quickly signalled for him to stop, "If they don't think anyone's here, they might just leave."

"Potty Potty Potter?" the second and far shorter Death Eater called out, "The trace is gone now, come out and fight us. Or maybe Miss Pinky can come out of hiding? Missy is you here too? Mummy wants to see you. Daddy's escaped from Azkaban. Yous can all be a happy family now."

Fred squeezed my hand, not that I would dare react. The tall Death Eater then knocked over another display, causing Fred to squeeze my hand even harder to stop himself from stunning the man, "We always knew he was a coward anyway," he carelessly walked around in anticipation.

"Look what he's about to knock over." I raised my eyebrows at Fred who knew exactly what product I meant and what needed to be done, "I'll let you do the honours..."

I led Fred over to the display of Decoy Detonators where he was able to activate one of the tiny devices just as the Death Eater knocked the display over. A loud bang sounded, and smoke was emitted into the air, causing the Death Eater to jump in fear and send a red bolt of light toward the collection of Fireworks -

The single firework left on display caught a spark.

"Run." Fred dragged me towards the staircase at top speed.

Sizzling, we knew it was only a matter of time before carnage and there wasn't a thing we could do to stop it. The firework zoomed with a 'Wheeeeee' in the air at speed, directly towards the two oblivious Death Eaters who were frantically trying to deal with a display case full of activated Decoy Detonators.

BOOM.

The ear-splitting explosion left a ringing in my ears as Fred desperately tried to communicate with me. He was pointing towards the Death Eaters, who were running out of the shop, letting out what must have been horrified screams of pain, closing the doors behind themselves to contain the chaos.

After a few minutes of all-picture-and-no-sound, my hearing resolved itself, "Freddie?" I heard myself say.

"I can barely hear you," he shouted, pointing at his ears, "are you okay?" he placed his free hand on my face, checking to see if I was injured.

"George." I said, letting go of his hand to pound up the stairs to check on him, "Check for fire." I shouted instructions.

Throwing open the bedroom door, I saw a very dazed George sitting up in bed, scratching his head, "Wha-?" he tried to take a step, but the medication made his limbs heavy and he nearly collapsed onto the floor as I scooped him up under his arm.

"Death Eaters, in the shop." I said quickly, "They're gone now. They –"

Fred entered the bedroom, keen to check on his twin, "I've locked the front door again, all the Decoy Detonators have run out of magic and there's no sign of any fire damage. Though I imagine those Death Eaters have third-degree burns."

George murmured something.

"Yes, I've even used our own spells, there's nothing." He looked at me, "I think we should get out of here – just in case. We can come back to assess the damage in the morning."

"Maybe you should send a message to your employees due to be working tomorrow? Tell them what to expect? Or -?"

"I think it's time we closed the shop." Fred said sorrowfully, "We both knew the time would come, custom just isn't the same with people too afraid to go into Diagon Alley. We can keep up the order service."

I placed a hand on his arm and sighed, "If you're sure?"

"Positive."

"Alright," I put my shoulder under George's arm, "let's get you to The Burrow."

"Two Death Eaters?" Arthur questioned, "Who were they? What did they look like?"

"It was dark Dad and they were all gowned up."

I had been pondering the identity of the two Death Eaters for quite some time, "One was the height of Yaxley and the other was much taller, maybe someone like Selwyn or Travers?"

Kingsley nodded, "And what exactly did they say?"

"They wanted Potty Potter and Miss Pinky." Fred said, "Sounded like Londoners."

I continued, "Rumours are going around that I'm alive, but there has yet to be an actual sighting -"

"Probably best you three stay here at night for the foreseeable and do not open the doors of the shop for anyone." He warned, standing up from the kitchen table, "Arthur, I must be off now, thanks for the tea. If anything else comes to mind -" he nodded to Fred and me before leaving.

Arthur kissed Molly on the cheek and departed for work moments later. Bill and Monsieur Delacour descended the stairs, seemingly in deep conversation. Molly busied herself with the preparation of everyone's breakfasts, not that she would accept any of my offers of help despite the fact I had finished eating and she was yet to stomach a morsel. I made my way back to the twins.

"I can't believe I was so useless…" George said gloomily, his shoulders slumped, head hanging low.

I stood and massaged his shoulders, kissing the top of his head gently, "It's about time I took care of you after you doing such an excellent job of keeping me alive all these years."

He glanced at me, uncomforted by the statement, "Oh hey Harry… Happy birthday, mate."

"Arthur told me to wish you a happy seventeenth, Harry." Molly said, beaming at him over the frying pan, "He just left for work, he'll be back in time for dinner. That's our present on top."

Harry sat down in the seat between Fred and Bill, grabbing the square parcel Molly indicated and opened it. Inside was a gold watch with stars circling the face instead of hands. Molly explained that it was tradition to give a wizard a watch as he comes of age. It was her brother Fabian's watch, so it had sentimental value, which Harry showed his appreciation for by hugging Molly tight and clasping the watch to his wrist immediately after.

"What happened?" Harry asked, sensing something was wrong.

I yawned, "I had a bit of a rude awakening in the early hours of this morning – two Death Eaters were looking for you and me in the shop."

"No way." Ron gaped, "I thought they thought you were dead?"

I sighed, "I think there have been some rumours. Nothing concrete."

"How's the shop?" Ron asked Fred and George.

"We're going to see what damage was caused after breakfast," Fred said, eating a slice of toast, "Your present from the three of us is that box," he indicated the biggest box in the pile. It was an assortment of Weasley Wizard Wheezes products designed to get the four of us out of any tight spots. No expense had been spared.

George turned to me, as Hermione entered the kitchen, "I think it would be best if you didn't come to the apartment straight away… Just in case anyone has returned."

I opened my mouth to retaliate but knew it was better not to. I chose to wrap my hands around my coffee mug, nod and tell the boys to be safe. There was a Fidelius Charm on the apartment, so I knew I'd be able to go back, at the very least during the daytime. The question on my mind was: is there even enough room for three more people in The Burrow?

"I'll pack all of these for you," Hermione indicated Harry's gifts, keen to get the Joke Shop products safely stored away in case we ever needed them. The four of us escaped up the stairs, "I'm nearly finished, I'm just waiting for the rest of your pants to come out of the wash, Ron -"

Ginny's door creaked open, "Harry, will you come here a moment?"

Ron didn't have time to react as Hermione and I took him by his elbows and forced him up the stairs. He was not easily encouraged after we climbed the next flight; in fact, he was desperate to escape our grips. He was too strong for us to overpower without magic and he evaded us with ease, pounding down the stairs, throwing open Ginny's bedroom door, interrupting a sweet kiss between Harry and Ginny.

"Oh," Ron said pointedly, "sorry."

"Ron!" Hermione chided as I gave him a whack across the head with today's copy of the Prophet.

There was a strained silence, "Well, happy birthday, Harry." Ginny said before turning her back on everyone.

Ron's ears were scarlet. I was suffering from second-hand embarrassment, too. Wanting nothing more than to give Ginny this moment, but I could see things from Ron's perspective too, and he was only protecting his little sister from heartbreak.

Harry left the room. Through facial expressions alone, I told Hermione to make sure the boys don't murder each other and I would see to Ginny. She quickly agreed and I stepped into Ginny's room and closed the door, "I'm sorry." I sighed.

"I just wanted five minutes alone with him."

"I know," I said comfortingly, offering a hug which she accepted with gladness. She didn't cry, Ginny wasn't like that, but I knew she was hurting and just needed tea and sympathy, which I was prepared to offer by the bucketload.

Around lunchtime, Fred and George returned from the shop to report minimal damages and that they were now a delivery-only service for the foreseeable. George had gathered the rest of my essentials for an overnight stay at The Burrow and placed them in their old bedroom, where he was planning for me to sleep.

"Why are Kathryn's things in your bedroom?" Molly confronted George.

"Because she's going to sleep in there with Fred and me?" George said, "I've already asked her, and she's okay with it. So is Fred, it's just a temporary thing – there's more room for 3 people in here than there is for an extra person in Ginny's room."

"And did you ask if I was okay with it, George Weasley?"

It was at that point that I was very glad to be invisible, a fly on the wall if you may.

"Mum, it's not like we haven't been sleeping in the same bed back in Diagon Alley." He said, "And we're both consenting adults."

"If you are sleeping under my roof, you live by my rules." Molly had her hands on her hips and her cheeks were pink with building rage, "I do not want you and Kathryn to be sleeping together here."

George breathed heavily, "Oh Merlin's Beard, mum! I plan on marrying the girl -" he lowered his voice, hoping that no one would hear, not knowing that I was listening in, "- I want to spend every minute I have with her by my side because I don't know how long we've got left before -"

Molly put her hand up in the air and silenced him, "I will speak to your father about this."

Gratefulness swept over me at the arrival of Charlie mid-afternoon, who managed to break the awkwardness. He hadn't changed much, he was still short and stocky, his muscles were larger than before and he'd the remnants of a healing burn on his arm. But the child within him had yet to disappear as Molly fussed over him, "Oh Charlie dear, we will need to do something with your hair, I'll give you a proper haircut this evening."

He knew better than to argue, "Yes, mum."

He made his rounds to greet his siblings, clapping Bill's shoulders and greeting Fleur like they knew each other well. Fred and George showed him their most recent dragon-related, fire-breathing joke product which they allowed him to keep. Naturally, Charlie asked about the gaping black hole on the side of George's head to which he responded, 'It does look quite ear-y doesn't it?' Ginny ran into the kitchen and threw her arms around Charlie's neck. Ron and he shared a few words of conversation before reintroducing him to Hermione.

"Hello, George's Kathryn!" Charlie grinned as he approached me.

I opened my arms to embrace him, "Hey Charlie! Long time no see – Quidditch World Cup, wasn't it?"

"And you weren't even George's Kathryn then!" he smiled, "All of you have grown up since. I hear you're one of Fleur's bridesmaids?"

I lowered my voice, "For my sins, yeah."

"I'll have to catch a dance with you, we might actually have time to discuss how mad you are to have stayed with George all this time." He waved his wand to send his bags upstairs, "Best man stuff awaits."

"I hope he was nice," George said, placing his hands on my shoulders, "but not too nice, of course."

I looked up at him and kissed him gently, "He was perfectly lovely. Wondered how you've managed to keep me around all these years."

"I keep asking myself the same thing."

I put my arm around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder for a second. The two of us went upstairs to get changed, ready for Harry's party. George put on a nice shirt, and I felt obligated to wear a summery dress but paired it with boots and a chunky cardigan as it was a little on the chilly side. Through the bedroom window, I watched as Bill, Charlie and Monsieur Delacour erected several tables in the back garden and we headed downstairs to the kitchen to offer Molly a hand, "Fancy helping me set the table?"

"Anything to get out of here," George answered and the two of us climbed out of the window in the sitting room to avoid having to push past the havoc between us and the back door.

As George and I worked in tandem, we had tablecloths on the tables to make it appear like one long table for Harry's birthday gathering. A flick of my wand had the cutlery fly from the kitchen drawers and placemats were set. Hermione joined me and had all the glassware on coasters. Fred and George started decorating the place with several purple lanterns emblazoned with a large number '17' to hang in mid-air over the guests.

As I stood back to admire their handiwork, he embraced me from behind, "Do you come ear often?"

I gave him a gentle shove, "Har-har. We're practically married, George."

"Doesn't stop me from admiring my lady." He kissed my cheek gently, taking my hand, he played with my rings as I watched Hermione produce purple and gold streamers from the end of her wand. Draping them artistically over the trees and shrubbery, the back garden was fit for a party.

"You alright?" George asked, giving me a gentle squeeze in our lasting embrace.

I took a deep breath of his scent, "Yeah, it's beautiful, isn't it?"

Hermione had charmed all the leaves on the crab-apple tree to glow gold. Ron must have paid Hermione a compliment because her cheeks went a little pink and Harry had a huge smile on his face. This may also be explained by the arrival of Hagrid, Remus and Tonks who had appeared with Fred who had waited for them at the end of the lane.

"Hey Sis!" a radiant-looking Tonks greeted me with a huge smile and a hug, "Loving the boot and dress look, very… bohemian-country-gothic!"

I laughed, "How are you? Both keeping well?"

She nodded enthusiastically, her hair changing from pink to turquoise, "Eight weeks pregnant today."

"No way!" I said in shock, counting the weeks on my fingers since the day and hour we saw that positive pregnancy test together.

"I went for another appointment this morning and I think Remus is feeling the reality of becoming a father." She dropped her voice to a whisper, "The Healer offered me a termination when I told her that Remus is a werewolf. I've told him time and time again that I don't care, that I love him and I will love our child if they have wolfish qualities or not… Maybe he just needs time to process everything? The Healer was rather abrupt which didn't exactly help."

"Oh…" I sighed, glancing at Remus who did indeed look like someone who had a lot on his mind, "Well that's certainly not ideal… But you both have the full support of everyone here."

She smiled and took my left hand, "What's this?" she hinted at the new ring.

"George and I got 'married' by Fred the other night," I used air quotes, giggling at the memories of that evening, "Fred reckoned that it should be George and me getting married tomorrow, not these other two." I nodded towards Bill and Fleur who were standing talking to Hagrid and Charlie.

Tonks nodded excitedly, "Definitely true," she inspected the ring a little closer, "I wish I was there. I bet it was a lot of fun!"

"Aw!" I wrapped my arms around her, "It was a spur of the moment thing – don't worry, you'll be right beside me when we get married for real. And this little one can be a flower girl or page boy."

"I'm sure peanut will love that." She smiled widely before nodding to Molly, "We should go over to the table."

She must have felt a wave of nausea, as she linked her arm in with mine and leaned on the back of the seat. Molly appeared from the kitchen presenting Harry with his cake – a beachball sized Snitch floated in the air. It landed in the middle of the table right in front of Harry as we sang to him. He was clearly delighted with the effort that went in and was humbled by the love from those standing around.

"Seventeen, eh?" a seated Hagrid said from the top of the table where there was most room for him to manoeuvre, "Six years ter the day since we met, Harry, d'yeh remember it?"

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

"I forge' the details." Hagrid chortled along with the rest of us, before making conversation with Ron and Hermione who were sitting to his right. From what I could hear, they were talking about Unicorns and going back to school again.

Fred and George were speaking with Fleur's parents, who had enquired about George's ear, "Yeah, I was hit by a sectumsempra curse, it was a near deaf experience." George said.

Fred added, now that George had managed to get a few laughs, "If you ask me, Snape deserves the deaf penalty."

"Katy deserves a medal for being such a superh-ear-oh." George winked at me from afar.

"You heard it ear first, folks." I said sarcastically, "Listening to all these jokes, anyone else might find it ear-itating."

George blew me a kiss and grinned.

In the meantime, Charlie had made his way over to us and started a conversation with Tonks. They had been in the same year at school together after all, so they undoubtedly had a few classes together over the years and a bit to catch up on. Molly had given him a brutally short haircut, and he was touching the back of his head as though feeling a draft.

"Wish Dad would hurry up," he said, looking down at his watch, it was nearing 1930, "Mum's nearly at her wits end." My eyes found Molly, who was talking with Apolline and glancing nervously at the garden gate.

Remus approached me, "I'm assuming Dora told you about our appointment this morning?"

I nodded, "Look, that Healer had no right. T is literally glowing with happiness at the knowledge of carrying your child."

He sighed, "But what if they're like me?"

"What if they are?" I questioned, "It's not going to matter in the slightest, not to me and not to anyone here. I have so much love for your baby and they're not even born yet! They're going to be a perfect little bundle of joy and I will be only delighted to offer kisses and cuddles."

"I think we'd better start without Arthur," Molly announced, "He must be held up at – oh!"

A streak of light 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 Arthur's voice.

"Minister for 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, "Harry – I'm sorry – I'll explain another time." He seized Tonks' wrist and pulled her away in a rush. Once they were beyond the boundary of the house, they disappeared.

"The Minister – but why – I don't understand -" Molly spoke aloud.

George caught my eyes and there was a flash of panic as he rushed over to my side. There was no time to discuss; a second later Arthur appeared with Rufus Scrimgeour. The two men marched across the yard towards the garden and the lantern-lit table. No one dared utter a word. George took my hand and squeezed tight.

"Sorry to intrude," said Scrimgeour as he limped to a halt before the table, "Especially as I can see I'm gate-crashing a party." He nodded towards Harry, "Many happy returns."

"Thanks," Harry said.

"I require a word with you," Scrimgeour continued, "also with Mr Ronald Weasley, Miss Hermione Granger and…" his eyes scanned the group and landed on me, "with Miss Kathryn Pink."

I let out a very slow breath.

"Us?" Ron questioned, "Why us?"

"I shall tell you that when we are somewhere more private," Scrimgeour indicated, "is there such a place?" he demanded of Arthur.

Arthur was pale and his eyes darted to Molly before answering, "Yes, of course – the, er – sitting room, why don't you use there?"

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

George reluctantly let go of my hand, his eyes filled with fear as I walked towards The Burrow. I took out my wand and hid it up my cardigan sleeve as I walked. I did not like this man, nor did I trust his motives. Not a word was spoken as we passed through the messy kitchen and into the sitting room until the door was firmly closed, the windows shut and lamps on. The four of us squeezed onto the sofa and stared at the Minister for Magic.

"I have some questions for the four of you; I think it will be best if we do it individually. If you three don't mind," he indicated Harry, Ron and Hermione, "I will start with Kathryn, or do you prefer Katy?"

"We're not going anywhere." Harry said, placing his hand on mine protectively, "You speak to all of us together, or not at all."

Scrimgeour gave Harry a very cold look, probably wondering if it was worth arguing with four seventeen-year-olds with reputations.

"You wished to speak to me?" I asked as though I couldn't care less what he had to say, "You may refer to me as Miss Pink."

Scrimgeour nodded, his jaw clenched, clearly not amused by my response, "Very well. I am here, as I'm sure you know, because of Albus Dumbledore's will."

The four of us blinked at each other. Why would the Minister for Magic wish to discuss Dumbledore's Will with us? Unless…

"A surprise, apparently! You were not aware then, that Dumbledore had left you anything?"

"A – all of us?" said Ron, "Me, Hermione and Kathryn, too?"

"Yes, all of -"

Harry interrupted, "Dumbledore died on the 14th of June. Why has it taken it this long to give us what he left us?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione asked before Scrimgeour could answer, "They wanted to examine whatever he's left us. You had no right to do that!" her voice trembled slightly.

"I had every right," Scrimgeour said dismissively, "the Decree for Justifiable Confiscation gives the Ministry the power to confiscate the contents of a Will -"

Hermione scoffed, "That law was created to stop wizards from passing on Dark artefacts," Hermione rhymed off, "and the Ministry is supposed to have powerful evidence that the deceased's possessions are illegal before seizing them! Are you telling me that you thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?"

"Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?"

"No, I'm not," Hermione retorted, "I'm hoping to do some good in the world."

Ron laughed. I stifled a laugh. Scrimgeour's eyes flickered towards him as he said, "Would you say you were close to Dumbledore, Ronald?"

"Me? Not – not really … it was always Harry who …"

Ron looked around at the three of us for help.

"Oh, Ron," I laughed, "says the guy who had plenty of conversations with Dumbledore! He personally awarded you House points; you can't say you weren't close!"

Scrimgeour ignored my statement, "If you were not very close to Dumbledore, how do you account for the fact that he remembered you in his Will? He made exceptionally few personal bequests. The vast majority of his possessions – his private library, his magical instruments and other personal effects – were left to Hogwarts. Why do you think you were singled out?"

"I dunno…" Ron said, "I … when I say we weren't close … I mean …"

"Stop being modest, Ron!" Hermione said, "Dumbledore was very fond of you."

We were stretching the truth to breaking point. Chances are, Ron had never been alone with Dumbledore. I doubt they've spoken more than a few words beyond niceties. Scrimgeour wasn't listening to us anyway. He pulled out a drawstring pouch from inside his cloak and pulled out a scroll of parchment, which he unrolled and read aloud.

"The last will and testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore" Scrimgeour's eyes searched the text, "ah yes, here we are… to Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it."

Bit weird, Dumble. Not going to lie.

Scrimgeour passed the Deluminator to Ron, who turned it over in his fingers looking stunned.

"That is a valuable object," Scrimgeour said, eyes watching Ron's every move, "It may even be unique. Certainly, it is one of Dumbledore's own design. Why would he have left you an item so rare?"

Ron shook his head, looking bewildered.

"Dumbledore must have taught thousands of students," Scrimgeour persevered, "yet the only ones he remembered in his will were you four. Why is that? To what use did he think you would put his Deluminator, Mr Weasley?"

"Put out lights, I s'pose." Ron mumbled, "What else could I do with it?"

Scrimgeour had no suggestions. He stared at Ron for a few uncomfortable seconds in the hope that he would spill all our darkest secrets. He had no such luck, and so continued…

"To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive."

Scrimgeour now pulled out a small ancient-looking book from the bag and handed it over to Hermione. Its binding was stained and peeling in places. Hermione took it from Scrimgeour without a word. She held the book in her lap and gazed at it. Her eyes welled up with tears and sitting on the other side of Harry, I couldn't reach her to comfort her. The greatest gift to a girl like Hermione is a book recommendation.

"Why do you think Dumbledore left you that book, Miss Granger?" Scrimgeour asked.

"He… he knew I liked books," Hermione said, her voice thick with emotion, she mopped up her tears with her sleeve.

Scrimgeour persisted once again, "But why that particular book?"

"I don't know, he must have thought I'd enjoy it?"

"Did you ever discuss codes, or any means of passing secret messages, with Dumbledore?"

"No, I didn't," Hermione responded in the same emotional voice, "and if the Ministry hasn't found any hidden codes in this book, I doubt I will."

Ron leaned awkwardly to put an arm around Hermione as she sobbed. The four of us were so tightly packed onto the sofa it was difficult to move, especially as we all sat forwards in anticipation of the unknown. Scrimgeour gave up on Hermione's interrogation and moved on to me.

To Miss Kathryn Pink, previous Katy Belle Lestrange, I leave my copy of Rare Magical Abilities and Powers in the hope that she finds it interesting and informational."

Again, Scrimgeour handed over a book from the sack under his robes. This one was bigger than Hermione's, and newer, too. The four of us knew why Dumbledore had left me this book but Scrimgeour didn't. I took it in my hands and smiled widely.

"And why do you think Dumbledore left you this bequest?"

I smiled at him, "I remember having a conversation about this with Dumbledore, he said he had a book about magical abilities that he thought I'd enjoy. As I grew up with Muggles, I've always found the study of wizarding abilities fascinating." I lied through my teeth as convincingly as possible.

He furrowed his eyebrows, "But why leave this particular book to you? Couldn't you have purchased this book for yourself?"

I sat forwards, knowing that my fuse was getting shorter by the second, "And why are you here today, Minister? I'm sure you have plenty of more important jobs to be managing than to be handling Dumbledore's bequests. Isn't there a war going on?"

Scrimgeour stared at me, his jaw tense. I could see the decision-making process going on in his mind. He concluded that further questioning would be wasted on me.

"To Harry James Potter," he read, "I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill."

Scrimgeour pulled out the tiny, walnut-sized golden ball, its silver wings fluttered rather feebly, "Why did Dumbledore leave you this Snitch?"

"No idea," Harry said, "For the reasons you just read out, I suppose… to remind me what you can get if you … persevere and whatever it was."

"You think this a mere symbolic keepsake, then?"

"I suppose so," Harry answered, "what else could it be?"

Scrimgeour moved the chair closer to the sofa, "I'm asking the questions. I notice that your birthday cake is in the shape of a Snitch," he said to Harry, "why is that?"

Hermione and I laughed derisively, "Oh, it can't be a reference to the fact Harry's a great Seeker, that's way too obvious." Hermione said.

I continued, "There must be some secret message from Dumbledore in the icing!"

"I don't think there's anything hidden in the icing," Scrimgeour said dismissively, "but a Snitch would be a very good hiding place for a small object. You know why, I'm sure?"

Harry shrugged. My knowledge of Snitches isn't great, but I looked to Hermione, who could hardly resist the temptation to win some points from the Minister, "Because Snitches have flesh memories. A Snitch is not touched by bare skin before it is released, not even by the maker, who wears gloves. It carries an enchantment by which it can identify the first human to lay hands upon it, in case of a disputed capture."

Scrimgeour nodded, "This Snitch," he held up the tiny golden ball, "will remember your touch, Potter. It occurs to me that Dumbledore, who had prodigious magical skill, whatever his other faults, might have enchanted this Snitch so that it will open only for you. Take it."

I didn't know what to do. If I should take the Snitch, hit it out of Scrimgeour's hands or just await fate. My deliberation saw Scrimgeour slowly and deliberately place the Snitch into Harry's palm. Nothing happened. As Harry's fingers closed around the Snitch, its tired wings fluttered and were still. I stared in disbelief, bracing myself for the unexpected.

"That was dramatic," Harry said coolly.

The three of us laughed.

"So, is that it, Minister?" I sat on the edge of the sofa, ready to guide him straight out of the house and send him on his merry way. Hermione even stood to open the door.

"Not quite," he said with a hint of a temper, "Dumbledore left you a second bequest, Potter."

"What is it?"

Scrimgeour did not read from the will this time, but answered, "The sword of Godric Gryffindor."

The sword was nowhere to be seen, "So where is it?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Unfortunately," Scrimgeour said, "that sword was not Dumbledore's to give away. The sword is an important historical artefact and belongs -"

"It belongs to Harry!" Hermione spoke hotly, "It chose him, he was the one who found it, it came to him out of the Sorting Hat -"

"According to reliable historical sources, the sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor," Scrimgeour said, "that does not make it the exclusive property of Mr Potter, whatever Dumbledore may have decided," he scratched his cheek roughly, "why do you think -?"

Harry interrupted, his temper, like mine, was on the rise, "Dumbledore wanted to give me the sword? Maybe he thought it would look nice on my wall."

"This is not a joke, Potter." Scrimgeour growled, "Was it because Dumbledore believed that only the sword of Godric Gryffindor could defeat the Heir of Slytherin? Did he wish to give you that sword, Potter, because he believed, as so many, that you are the one destined to destroy He Who Must Not Be Named?"

"Interesting theory," Harry said, "Has anyone ever tried sticking a sword in Voldemort? Maybe the Ministry should put some people on to that, instead of wasting their time stripping down Deluminators or covering up breakouts from Azkaban. So, this is what you've been doing, Minister, shut up in your office, trying to break open a Snitch? People are dying. I was nearly one of them. Voldemort chased me across three counties, he killed Mad-Eye Moody, but there's been no word about any of that from the Ministry, has there? And you still expect us to cooperate with you!"

Scrimgeour jumped out of his seat and yelled, "You go too far!"

The four of us jumped to our feet too, wands drawn as Scrimgeour poked Harry in the chest with the point of his wand: it singed a hole in Harry's t-shirt like a lit cigarette.

"Get. Out." I said in a deadly tone, trying to force myself in between Harry and Scrimgeour, "GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW."

Ron too had yelled his objections, including a string of profanities, raising his wand.

"No!" Harry forced Ron to lower his wand, "D'you want to give him an excuse to arrest us?"

"Remembered you're not at school, have you?" Scrimgeour said, breathing hard onto Harry's face, "Remembered that I am not Dumbledore, who forgave your insolence and insubordination? You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It is time you learned some respect!"

"It's time you earned it," Harry said.

There was a rumble, and the floor trembled as Arthur and Molly bust the door open and barged into the room, "We – we thought we heard –"

The alarm on Arthur's face at seeing Harry and Scrimgeour basically nose to nose with me trying to break them up, Ron pointing his wand at the Minister for Magic and Hermione looking terrified summed up our meeting perfectly.

"– raised voices." Molly panted.

Scrimgeour took a few steps back, glancing at the hole he'd left in Harry's t-shirt.

"If there is nothing else Minister, I will see you out," I said, directing him towards the door with my wand-less hand.

"It – it was nothing," Scrimgeour growled, "I … regret your attitude." He said to Harry, "You seem to think that the Ministry does not desire what you – what Dumbledore – desired. We ought to be working together."

I scoffed.

"I don't like your methods, Minister," Harry said, "Remember?" Harry raised his right fist and displaced to Scrimgeour the scars still showing white on the back of it, spelling I must not tell lies. Scrimgeour's expression hardened. He turned away without another word and limped out of the room. I glanced to Hermione to get her to take my new book as I followed the Minister, walking by his side, as he exited the back door. I even powered on ahead of him and opened the gate.

"Take care," I said in the sweetest of voices waving him off.