Hunn could hear feet shuffling around her. She could listen to that, along with their whispers and the sounds of doors closing and opening. She tried to open her eyes, but her lids were as heavy as a giant mug of tea.

Her head was pounding, and her body ached from head to toe. She tried to remember what happened before her head started to hurt. She thought back and remembered going to get Harry with Mad-Eye, Fred, and George. She remembered the bitter and disgusting taste of the Polyjuice potion before her body started to morph and grow into the young boy.

She remembered changing and hopping on a threstral with Bill before flying away with everyone in different directions. Her breathing stopped. She remembered flying with Bill and then being ambushed by Death Eaters and a flash of bright green light before everything went black.

"Mm..." she tried to speak, but no words would pass her lips.

A hand cupped her cheek and stroked her softly, "Hunn? Are you okay, baby? Please, can you open your eyes and say something."

It was from Fred. His voice was rough and ragged. He sounded tired, worried, and stressed. Her lips were numb, and when she tried to reassure him, all she could muster was a groan and a flutter of her eyelids before she fell back into sleep with her head pounding.

"George!" Fred screamed, holding Hunn's hand tightly, "George!"

He could hear him stomping up the stairs before the door on the fourth floor of the Burrow, where their room used to be located, flew open, and George stood there panting with bandages wrapped around his head and a steaming cup of tea in his hand, "What? Did she wake up?"

Fred nodded, "No, not yet, but she moved a little."

George plopped down onto the bed and handed Fred the cuppa before sliding in next to Hunn and wrapping his arms around her waist as she slept. It had been nearly two days since Bill carried her from the brush tightly in his arms as Hedwig flew protectively close to them before Bill collapsed.

Bill woke up a few hours later, still exhausted but not harmed in any way. On the other hand, Hunn had been unconscious on arrival and stayed as such for the coming days. They called a Medi-Witch to look her over, to no avail. Nothing appeared to be wrong with her inside or out upon inspection. She was just sleeping.

The Medi-Witch said it could be stress-related. She also said we were lucky she was alive at all. A fall from that height with a threstal so close should have killed her. Why Hunn was okay was a mystery, but they didn't question it. They thanked the universe and cleaned her up.

"She'll be okay, George."

"She has to be okay. We can't go on without her, Freddy."

Fred nodded, "I know we can't. She's a part of us."

George laughed softly, "I never thought we would meet anyone like her."

"I know what you mean. I never thought we would find anyone who fit into our world."

"Remember when we tried to date the Patil twins?"

Their groans of disdain filled the room, "That was not a good idea. It should have been the last time I listened to one of your ideas."

"My ideas are great," George insisted, "but Pamala and Parvati were not the right way to go."

"Why did you want us to date them again?"

"I thought another pair of twins would understand why we're so close."

Fred snorted, "Really? They were so eager to tear us apart that it was hilarious. Pamala screamed at me out on the lake one night because I wasn't spending enough time alone with her."

They burst out laughing, "Remember when we were sitting in the common room with them, and when you tried to kiss Pamala, Parvati tried to kiss you?"

"They couldn't tell who was who."

"Well, neither could we!"

They turned their gaze to their sleeping wife, filled with worry but also love, "She intruded into our little world, and we were stuck."

George propped himself up on an elbow and grinned, "She intruded? I remember us running to her rescue and pounding the living shit out of her asshole of a boyfriend."

"You're right. We intruded, but she needed us..."

"...but she didn't want us," George finished.

"She ran so fast when she thought we were making fun of her name."

"We couldn't catch up. She sprinted down the corridor and was gone."

"Like magic."

They looked down at their wife, who was now snoring softly, "No wonder she made the Quidditch team."

"And kicked out arses a few a time."

Fred narrowed his eyes and thought real hard, "I still don't know how she got into her common room so bloody fucking fast."

"That god damned bird gave us the hardest question possible."

"Damn right, it did. What was that riddle..."

Their thoughts drifted into space for a long moment, returning to that night.

The night they met their wife.

"Something about an eyeball."

"What about an eyeball..."

A ragged, tired voice broke through, barely audible, "What has an eye but cannot see?"

They looked down and saw Hunn's beautiful eyes looking up at them.

"Hunn... Baby, thank you..."

"...for waking up. We didn't know what to do."

She smiled and squeezed their hands, "Don't worry. I'll never leave you two."

"So what is it then?" Fred asked, stroking her hair back from her eyes

"A needle."

George furrowed his brow and frowned, "A needle doesn't have an eye..."

She laughed and clutched her aching sides, "It does. The eye of a needle is where you put the thread."

"I think you're making it up," George whispered accusingly, "You just want to keep us guessing."

She kissed his fingers and said, "Never, go ask your Mum, she sews."

"I will!"

He jumped up from the bed and ran from the room, leaving the door gaping after him as he thundered down the stairs two at a time.

"Are you alright?" Fred whispered, placing light kisses on her face.

"Tired, but alright."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Not really. Just that the Death Eaters attacked and then a flash of green light before I fell," Her mind struggled to pull all the details together.

"Don't worr..."

"Wait!" she sat bolt upright, "Where is Hedwig? Bill? Oh my God, are they okay?" she panicked.

Fred pushed her down gently, "Yes. Bill carried you to The Burrow, and Hedwig flew around your heads until she saw Harry."

Hunn relaxed and closed her eyes, "Good, I'm glad."

They looked up when George sulked into the room.

"So what is it, George? Eye or no eye?"

"Fuck off... didn't know a needle had an eye," he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed, "Not even an eye, just a little hole."

Hunn laughed and gasped for breath. George turned and stuck his tongue out, showing off his lack of ear, when Hunn reached out to him, "What happened to you? I thought I said no bleeding?"

He shrugged, "Killing curse flew just before we entered the safe zone and took off my beautiful ear."

Fred pinched him, "Mum's pretty grateful."

"Though she won't admit it!"

"She can tell us apart now. Won't fall for any of our old tricks."

Hunn sat up again and looked around. She reached for her wand and gave them a wicked grin, "Quod occultari velit celare..." she whispered as she concentrated hard on Fred's remaining ear.

With a shimmer of light and a wave, George again had an ear.

"Bloody fucking hell, woman! Where in the name of Dumbledore did you learn that?" Fred asked, his eyes bugging out in shock.

George lifted his hand and tried to feel what she had done to no avail, "I don't feel anything."

"It's a special glamour spell. I created it while goofing around trying to hide my pimples in the fifth year."

They gave her a curious look, "We will never doubt your brilliance."

"You did before?"

"Never," They told her in unison.

...

She arrived with very little fanfare on Harry's birthday at his request. He did not want a party. He said it wasn't right to celebrate so soon after Mad-Eye's funeral, so the house was quiet, and Molly snuck around the house, making her preparations in secret.

Fred and George took Harry out to the fields with Ron and Ginny to play Quidditch, while Molly had convinced Hunn to help her bake a cake in the shape of a golden snitch. They worked for hours, and whenever Harry tried coming to the house, Hunn was told to meet him outside with a cuppa tea or lemonade and keep him out.

"Hunn, please just let me in. I am tired of playing Quidditch."

She huffed, "You can never be tired of Quidditch!"

"We've been playing since half-past eight this morning. Please just let me in for a quick nap."

"No way, birthday boy. You asked for no special treatment. So out!"

He turned away, groaning, but before he took more than five steps, he turned and gave her a look, "She's baking me a cake, isn't she? She's going to throw a party."

Hunn grinned and shot him a wink, "I don't know anything about a party or a cake, Harry."

"She is..." He said before sulking away into the blazing afternoon sunlight.

That had bought Molly and Hunn a few hours of peace, but nothing could last forever. The floo lit and sparked for their attention, brightly casting lights and shadows around the room before Bill and Fleur entered with a flourish of their robes, "Mum! Rufus Scrimgeour is coming."

She sputtered, "What? What do you mean he's coming? Here?"

He nodded and went to the garden door, "Surprised he isn't here already."

"Go tell your father!"

Hunn followed Bill out the door and into the garden before sprinting to find Arthur. When they approached, they could see Fred, George, Harry, and Ron helping to set up the marquee. Arthur walks around observing his boys and giving directions, "How's it look on your end, boys?"

Ron and Fred look at their father, bent and mangled, "Brilliant!" Fred calls back, trying his best to keep it together. Just then, the silk tie snaps, and the trees in the surrounding orchard shiver in a rush of wild wind that pulls the marquee down to the grass faster, pulling all the silken ropes.

Everyone steps clear of the marquee and turns to watch a tall wizard with ruffled dark hair and a wicked long and deep scar down his face materialize before them. Fred and George walk over to Hunn and stand close, "Bloody hell, what's the Minister of Magic doing here?"

Ron moves close to Harry and his father, "I dunno, but something tells me he didn't come for tea."

Rufus Scrimgeour waves and smiles politely, "Hello. I am so sorry to intrude upon your day. I am here to speak with a Mr. Harry Potter, a Ms. Hermione Granger, and Mr. Ronald Weasley."

Arthur steps forward with a slight frown, "What do you need with my family?"

"Arthur, I am here to speak with the young people about what was left to them from Albus Dumbledore's estate."

Harry sticks his hand out, "Pleasure to meet you."

Scrimgeour takes his hand and shakes it firmly, "Is there anywhere we can go to sit and chat?"

"Please go into the drawing room, Harry. You can talk there," Arthur tells him, "Fred, George, Bill, come help me with the marquee."

Hunn follows Harry and Scrimgeour down to the house and, feeling mischievous as ever, tiptoes behind them, casting an illusion charm to hide her against the bookcase in the corner so she can watch the events unfold with her wand ready.

Scrimgeour gestures the trio to the sofa.

Hunn watches as Harry eyes Scrimgeour with thinly concealed contempt, "To what do we owe the pleasure, Minister?"

"I think we both know the answer to that question, Mr. Potter," He pitches a red and brown patterned bag onto the table before them.

"And this would be...?"

"Don't be coy, Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley. Would you say you were close to your former Headmaster?"

"Dumbledore? And me? I don't know. I reckon I was just another Weasley to him. He was always polite..."

"And you, Miss Granger? How would you characterize your relationship?"

"We were friendly, not close like Harry, but..."

Hunn could see the anger in Harry's eyes, "What's this all about?"

"This. Even though neither of your friends appears to have been particularly close to their recently deceased Headmaster, he saw fit to remember them in his will. Now, why do you suppose that would be?" The atmosphere was thick as stew, and Scrimgeour would not break eye contact with Harry as he waited for an answer.

"No idea," Harry told him before leaning back and giving Hermione and Ron a look that said, 'Don't let him know.'

"Come now. You don't expect me to believe that when..." he reached into an inner pocket of his robe and pulled out a fresh roll of parchment, "' Herein is set forth the Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," Scrimgeour let his gaze rest on the three individually, no doubt trying to intimidate them, "First, to Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, a device of my own making, in the hope that... when things seem most dark... it will show him the light.'" Scrimgeour removed a small and intricately carved silver flask from the bag before them and held it out to Ron, who took it gingerly.

"Dumbledore left this? For me? Brilliant. Er... what is it?" He clicks it, and all the light rushes from the lamps in the small room into the Deluminator, throwing the room into total and complete darkness. He clicks it again, and the small balls of light fly back to the lamps, "Wicked."

Scrimgeour rolls his eyes and begrudgingly continues, "To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, hoping that she will find it entertaining and instructive."

Scrimgeour again reaches into the bag and retrieves a small and rugged book. Its binding is stained and peeling in places, barely held together.

Ron gasps and grins wickedly, "Mum used to read me those!" when Harry and Hermione don't react, he trails off, "The Wizard and the Hopping Pot, Babbitty Rabbity and her Cackling Stump..."

They stare blankly at him, "Oh, c'mon! Beedle's stories are famous! Babbity Rabbitty? No...?"

Scrimgeour eyes Ron with mild annoyance but continues nonetheless, "To Harry James Potter, I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill."

The snitch is pulled out of the bag wrapped in an old rag, and as Harry studies it, a faint glimmer shines, "That's it then?"

"Not quite. Dumbledore left you a second bequest, The Sword of Godric Gryffindor. Unfortunately, the Sword of Gryffindor was not Dumbledore's to give away. As an important historical artifact, it belongs..."

"To Harry! It belongs to Harry! It chose him! It came to him in the Chamber of Secrets when he most needed it!" Hermione interrupts her words, filled with anger.

"The sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor, Miss Granger. That does not make it that wizard's property. And in any event, the current whereabouts of the sword are unknown."

"Excuse me?"

"The sword is missing," Before Harry can speak, "I won't pretend to be your friend, Mr. Potter. But I assure you I'm not your enemy."

"You'll forgive me, Minister, but it's a little hard to tell the difference these days."

The minister smiled lightly, "Dumbledore said something very similar the last time we spoke." He gazes out the window, eyes haunted and dark.

Hermione, ever curious, "Where is your guard, sir?"

The dark and haunted eyes turn to her, "I came alone. I don't need them anymore..."

Scrimgeour leaves without another word through the garden door. He walks into the orchard, and with a gust of wind, he is gone.

Harry is rushed upstairs by Hermione, and Ronald follows them obediently. When the room is clean, Hunn waves her wand again and leaves to find Arthur and tell him what she witnessed.