The crisp autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves as Harry Potter's Cottage glowed with warmth and laughter. Nestled in the countryside not far from The Burrow, Harry's home buzzed with celebration. It was his 24th birthday, and the years since Voldemort's defeat had been kind, allowing Harry and his friends to build lives filled with joy and purpose.
Inside the tented garden, long tables draped with colorful cloths stretched out under a canopy of twinkling lights. Enchanted lanterns floated lazily through the air, casting a warm glow over the festivities. The scent of blooming night jasmine mingled with the aroma of Molly Weasley's famous treacle tart.
Harry stood near a table, chuckling at one of George's outrageous stories, his arm draped comfortably around Ginny's shoulders. Ron and Hermione approached, grinning widely.
"Another year, another brilliant party," Ron said. "You've outdone yourself this time, mate."
Harry grinned back, giving him a hug. "I can't take all the credit. Ginny's the real mastermind behind these gatherings," he said, kissing Ginny's cheek.
Ginny playfully swatted his arm. "Don't sell yourself short, Potter. You did manage to hang those lanterns without setting anything on fire this year."
As they laughed, Harry's gaze swept over the scene. Hagrid occupied a reinforced chair in the corner, regaling wide-eyed children with tales of magical creatures. Andromeda Tonks sat nearby with little Teddy, his hair cycling through a rainbow of colors. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley were deep in conversation about Muggle politics. Even Fleur and Bill had made it, their children darting between the tables chasing a wheezing garden gnome.
Harry noticed Neville standing alone near the edge of the garden, his eyes fixed on something in the nearby shrubbery. Curious, Harry made his way over.
"Alright, Neville?" Harry asked, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder.
Neville turned, smiling broadly. "Harry! Happy birthday, mate. I was just admiring that rather impressive specimen over there." He gestured towards a large tarantula perched on a nearby shrub.
Harry blinked, surprised by the arachnid's presence. "Blimey, that's a big one. Is it magical?"
Neville shook his head, his eyes gleaming with the enthusiasm that always appeared when he discussed his areas of expertise. "No, just a regular Grammostola rosea – a Chilean rose tarantula. Fascinating creatures, really. Did you know they're actually quite docile? Perfect for beginners interested in keeping arachnids as pets."
Harry chuckled, remembering Ron's longstanding fear of spiders. "I'm not sure Ron would agree with you there. But what's it doing here? I didn't think we had tarantulas roaming wild in Britain."
"We don't," Neville confirmed, his brow furrowing slightly. "This little guy must be someone's escaped pet. They're actually quite popular in the Muggle world, believe it or not. This shrub here," he gestured to the plant the tarantula was resting on, "is a variety of Buddleja – butterfly bush. It's not their natural habitat, but the dense foliage provides good cover. She's probably feeling a bit exposed out here."
As they discussed the tarantula and the best way to capture it, Harry marveled at the change in Neville. Gone was the timid boy they had known at Hogwarts. In his place stood a confident, knowledgeable man – a respected professor and a hero in his own right.
"You know, Neville," Harry said, his voice taking on a serious tone, "I don't think I've ever properly thanked you for everything you did during the war. Leading the resistance at Hogwarts, standing up to Voldemort... you were incredible."
Neville's cheeks reddened slightly. "We all did what we had to do, Harry. You more than anyone."
Luna Lovegood drifted over, her radish earrings swinging gently as she moved.
"Oh, have you found a new pet, Neville?" she asked, her dreamy voice filled with curiosity.
Neville shook his head, smiling fondly at their eccentric friend. "Just a visitor, Luna. We're not sure where it came from."
Luna's eyes widened slightly. "How interesting!"
At that moment the tarantula scampered off into the depths of the bush away from their peering eyes.
"Perhaps the party was not to it's liking," Harry said with a wry smile.
Luna shrugged. "You know, tarantulas are often drawn to areas with high concentrations of Wrackspurt activity. Perhaps it was following their trail?"
Harry and Neville exchanged amused glances. "Could be, Luna," Harry said diplomatically. "By the way, I heard you were looking for your... what was it again?"
"My Blibbering Humdinger," Luna supplied helpfully. "He's been missing for a week now. I do hope he hasn't wandered too far. They're dreadfully prone to getting lost, you know."
As Luna launched into a detailed description of her missing pet and its peculiar habits, Harry caught Ginny's eye across the garden. She raised an eyebrow, silently asking if he needed rescuing. He shook his head slightly, smiling. These moments – the odd, the mundane, and everything in between – were what made life worth living.
Harry glanced away back towards the party tent.
Percy stood near his father, Arthur, both deep in conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry couldn't help but notice the serious expressions on their faces, a stark contrast to the jovial atmosphere around them.
Curiosity piqued, Harry excused himself from Luna's monologue and made his way across the garden. As he approached, he caught snippets of their conversation.
"...can't ignore the signs, Arthur," Kingsley was saying, his deep voice low and concerned. "We've worked too hard for too long to let it all unravel now."
Arthur Weasley nodded gravely, his usually cheerful face creased with worry. "I understand, Kingsley. But surely it can't be as bad as all that? After everything we've been through..."
"What's going on?" Harry asked as he joined the group, keeping his voice low to avoid alarming the other partygoers.
Kingsley turned to him, a weary smile on his face. "Ah, Harry. Just the man I wanted to see. We were just discussing some... concerning developments."
Percy, looking more serious than usual (which was saying something), glanced around before speaking. "There have been whispers, Harry. Nothing concrete yet, but enough to raise alarm bells at the Ministry."
Harry felt a familiar tension creep into his shoulders. "What kind of whispers?"
Arthur sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Talk of the old ways, I'm afraid. Pureblood supremacy rearing its ugly head again."
"But that's impossible," Harry protested, though a part of him knew better. "We ended all that. Voldemort's gone, the Death Eaters are in Azkaban or..."
"Dead?" Kingsley finished for him, his expression grim. "Not all of them, Harry. And ideas... ideas are harder to kill than Dark Lords."
The four men stood in silence for a moment, the sounds of the party suddenly seeming very far away. Harry's mind raced, memories of the war flooding back – the losses, the pain, the sacrifices made to bring about peace.
"What do we do?" Harry finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kingsley placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "For now, we stay vigilant. We watch, we listen. And if necessary..."
"We fight," Harry finished, a familiar determination settling over him. "Again."
As they rejoined the party, Harry's eyes swept over his gathered friends and family.
Ginny appeared at his side, slipping her hand into his. "Knut for your thoughts?"
Harry smiled, pulling her close. "Just thinking about how lucky we are. To have all this, to be here together."
Ginny rested her head on his shoulder. "We've earned it, Harry. All of us."
The sound of music filled the air as Hermione and Ron made their way over to Harry, each holding a fresh drink in hand.
"To another year of you being older than me," Ron said, grinning as he clinked his glass against Harry's.
Harry laughed. "You'll catch up in a few months."
"Never gets old, though," Ron replied, and they all shared a warm chuckle.
As they talked, Hermione glanced toward the garden's edge, where shadows danced just outside the circle of light cast by the lanterns. She frowned slightly, nudging Harry. "Do you see that?"
Harry followed her gaze, but all he saw was the garden's dark boundary, where the light didn't quite reach. He shrugged. "Probably just some garden gnomes running around. They do seem drawn to the commotion."
Hermione didn't seem entirely convinced, but before she could say more, George appeared beside them, pulling them into a conversation about the latest Wheezes products he was working on.
The cake was brought out shortly after, a massive, multi-layered confection that Molly Weasley had undoubtedly spent the entire day preparing. Harry grinned as everyone gathered around him, singing the familiar birthday tune at varying degrees of enthusiasm. He could feel the warmth of the moment, the love in the air, and as he blew out the candles, he made the simplest of wishes: that this peace, this moment, could last forever.
But as the cheers died down and the first slice of cake was passed around, Harry felt it—the old familiar tingle at the back of his neck. The sense of something wrong. He instinctively reached for his wand, which was tucked safely in the pocket of his jacket draped over the back of a chair.
Just as his fingers brushed the handle, the first flash of light streaked through the air.
"DOWN!" Harry shouted, his voice cutting through the merriment like a blade. He grabbed Ginny, pulling her behind the table just as a second spell exploded against the side of the tent, sending sparks and fabric flying in all directions.
Screams filled the garden as guests scrambled for cover, diving behind tables and chairs. Harry's heart raced as he scanned the darkness beyond the glow of the lanterns. Figures were emerging—cloaked figures, masked in grotesque skull like façade concealing their true identities.
Death Eaters.
"Harry!" Ron yelled, ducking beside him. "What the bloody hell—?"
"I don't know!" Harry replied, his wand now firmly in his hand.
One of the tall Death Eaters caught his eye. This one had a silver mask molded into a sinister skull, which glinted in the moonlight.
"MOVE INTO THE HOUSE AND FIND IT!" rasped the voice from behind this Death Eater's silver mask.
At that moment, out of the corner of Harry's eye, three Death Eaters rushed into Harry's house throwing jets of light at the windows, shattering them.
Harry quickly cast a Shield Charm as another jet of red light hurtled toward them. Across the garden, he saw Hermione helping an elderly Mrs. Weasley to safety while Kingsley and Bill were already firing back at the attackers. The Death Eaters darted in and out of cover, firing off bright jets of stunning spells. Luna, who had somehow remained calm through the chaos, ushered a group of children inside Harry's garden shed.
"They're coming for you," Ginny said, her voice low but fierce, as she pressed herself against Harry's side, her own wand drawn.
"What on earth would they want from me now?" Harry muttered, his mind racing. The Death Eaters moved fast, spreading out and surrounding the garden. Harry's heart pounded as he fired off a series of Stunning spells, as they scampered to cover behind the overturned tables. He could see the familiar flashes of spells being cast by his friends—Hermione's signature blue, Ron's bright red, Kingsley's golden jets of light.
But there were too many of them.
Harry ducked as a curse narrowly missed his head, the heat from the spell singeing the air above him. He had faced worse odds in battle before, but not here, not like this, not at a party meant to celebrate the very peace they had fought for.
In the corner of his vision, Harry saw Neville. He was standing defiantly, his wand raised, casting Shield Charms to protect the others. Luna was beside him, her eyes wide but steady as she fired hexes toward the advancing attackers.
Suddenly, the silver masked figure appeared out of the darkness, rushing Neville with terrifying speed. Before anyone could react, the attacker raised their wand and sent a Killing Curse straight toward him.
"NO!" Harry screamed, but the green light hit Neville squarely in the chest.
Time seemed to slow as Neville's body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
For a brief, heart-wrenching moment, there was nothing but silence. Harry's mind screamed in disbelief—Neville, one of his oldest friends, the boy who had stood by him in the darkest of times, was gone.
Luna let out a choked sob, rushing to Neville's side, but Harry knew it was too late. His vision blurred with rage as he turned back to the Death Eaters, his wand shaking in his hand. They had taken so much from him already—his parents, Sirius, Dobby, Fred. And now Neville.
Something inside him snapped.
With a roar, Harry leapt to his feet, his wand slashing through the air as he unleashed a torrent of spells, no longer caring about restraint. His magic flowed freely, fueled by his grief and anger. Stunning Spells, Blasting Curses—he didn't even register what he was casting, only that he needed to make them pay.
The masked figures scattered under his onslaught, running away and apparating as they reached the boundaries of the yard's anti-apparation protections.
Harry could feel the darkness pressing in on all sides, suffocating the light of the lanterns, choking the life from the garden.
They were losing.
In the midst of the chaos, Harry caught sight of something—movement near the house. Three of the attackers had broken away from the main fight and was heading toward the back entrance of his house.
Glass shattered as spells hit Harry's house windows
"Ginny, cover me!" he shouted, sprinting toward the house. He could hear the sounds of spells being cast behind him, but he didn't look back. His focus was on the figure ahead, who had almost reached the door.
Just as the attacker's hand grasped the doorknob, Harry lunged forward, tackling them to the ground. They struggled beneath him, their masked face twisted in frustration, but Harry was stronger. He pressed his wand to the figure's chest, ready to cast a Stunner, when suddenly, the mask slipped away.
Harry froze.
It wasn't a stranger beneath him. It was Draco Malfoy.
For a heartbeat, the two men stared at each other, breathless and wide-eyed.
"Malfoy?" Harry whispered, shock and confusion flooding his senses. "What—"
Before he could finish the question, Draco raised his wand, his expression hard. "They want the Cloak, Potter. But this isn't about you."
Stupefy!" Draco yelled.
A jet of red light pummeled Harry's chest throwing him backwards.
Harry head snapped back hard on the grass. He groaned as white specks enshrouded his vision.
Two Death Eaters scrambled down the stairs their boots thudding heavily. "We found it!" a growling voice yelled. "We have the cloak! Let's go!"
The loud cracks of people disapparating filled the air, almost as if it was a creshendo to a firework display.
Harry stumbled to his feet, his mind reeling. He didn't have time to process what had just happened—Malfoy, the Death Eaters, Neville's death—it was too much, too fast.
Why would Malfoy be working with Death Eaters? And why now after all this time, did they want his Invisibility Cloak?
