He knew it was about to happen before the grate opened, before the lift even reached the right floor. There was something in the way Ginny shifted her weight. There was something in the way she looked away from him and held her breath.

There was going to be a party. A surprise party. He hated parties.

Not always, of course. He'd loved them at school, on his birthday, when he'd made auror, when Ginny announced she was pregnant with James and then Albus. But something had shifted with the party for their third pregnancy. Ron asked what they were going to name their daughter, and Harry had answered, and…

His mind went blank. It did that sometimes since the curse. His train of thought just crackled like brickle. Shards of memory fell apart. He could fumble around his dark mind for hours and never find the pieces. Eventually, he'd give up and ask Ginny.

"Did we have a dog?" "Yes. Knubberrub. He died three years ago."

"When did I become an auror?" "Four years after graduating. Well, when you would have graduated if you'd finished school."

"How long have we been married?" "Not long enough, my sweet."

He could just ask. He could just say to Ginny "Why did I stop liking parties?" Something told him it was a bad idea.

The lift stopped, and he shook himself to return to the present. The grate slid aside. He took a trembling step on to the floor. And the cheer started. Surprise parties always started with a cheer. They always started with Harry feigning surprise.

"Oh, my!" he said, practically shouting.

The entryway was filled with what looked to be the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Seventy witches and wizards crammed together in the alcove, standing behind a cake. There always had to be a cake.

This one was horrifying. It was giant, enough to feed a hundred people. It was oval, and at least two feet thick. Tiny candles danced above it. Frosting flowers ringed the outside; they closed into buds and reopened into a different color every few seconds.

None of that was what made it terrible, however. It was the face. In the middle of the cake was Harry's face, twice the size of his own. It was a giant, pink, cartoonish monstrosity. It leered at him through sugar-glass spectacles, beneath a lightning-shaped scar of pink fondant.

As he stared at it, a knife stabbed into his forehead. Then it stabbed again. A wedge was taken out of his skull and put on a paper plate. As it was passed around to him, he half expected it to spurt blood and drop brain matter. But it was chocolate.

"And what would you like, Ginerva?" the man with the knife said. "Fancy one of your husband's eyes?"

Everyone laughed. Harry clenched his fork hard.

The man with the knife was, of course, Mulciber. Nathan Mulciber the Third, to be exact. They called him "Nathan" to his face and "The Third" behind his back.

"I love my husband's eyes," Ginny said, "but I'll just take a flower."

Mulciber stepped sideways around the cake and cut a piece with a flower out of Harry's face. Harry winced and instinctively reached up to touch his cheek, nearly stabbing himself with his fork. He forced himself to eat, but he couldn't taste anything. The sight of Mulicber carving up his head made his stomach churn.

"Wait, shouldn't Harry make a speech?" someone said.

Harry glanced up at that voice. He knew it. He'd always know it no matter how cloudy his mind got. A few steps away, face already smudged with frosting, was Ron. He smiled at his friend, then frowned. Something had changed about him. He stared for a moment, then started laughing.

"What?" Ron said, fork halfway to mouth.

"You grew a beard!"

Ron smiled and turned his head from side to side as if showing off the majesty of it. His beard was a scraggly thing. It covered his cheeks but didn't extend far past his chin, ending in wispy threads that dangled down like red mist.

"What do you think?"

"It's absurd!" he said, and immediately regretted it.

Ron stiffened. Ginny elbowed Harry in the ribs.

"I think it's sexy," said another voice he recognized. A dark hand reached out and stroked Ron's beard.

"Thank you, dear," Ron said to his wife. "Your opinion is all that matters."

"Well said," Hermione said, turning dark eyes on Harry.

He quavered a little under that stare. Since Ron and Hermione married, she'd become strangely defensive of him. She could be downright vindictive at times.

"I think a speech is a great idea," Hermione said. "Say something, Harry."

The room went silent.

Harry's stomach sank. He wasn't used to speeches. People didn't usually ask the Head of the Department of Magical Law enforcement to speak. He'd managed to bow out the few times they'd requested it. This time, however, the Minister for Magic insisted.

He cleared his throat.

"Uh," Harry said. "Thanks everyone. I'm glad to be back. Really glad. This won't keep me from running an efficient department." He gestured at his cheek, the scar still swollen and red. "And… Uh… Enjoy your cake, but quickly please. There's a lot of bad people to catch!"

A few chuckles. A smattering of applause. Thankfully, everyone dispersed.

"Well done, Harry," Hermione said, sarcastically. "Really cheered the room up."

She and Ron stepped forward until there was just the four of them. They stood in a tiny circle, a knot of friends. Harry felt his shoulders relax.

"It got the job done," Harry said.

"Harry hates parties," Ginny said, turning to smile at him. Her smile was strangely tight.

"Did you pick Ginny, then?" a woman said behind Harry. "Are you gay?"

He turned to look at who'd said it, but there was no one there. He turned in a circle, shooting glances at every corner of the room. Mulciber was still there, handing out cake to the few who hadn't gone back to work. They were all at the other end of the room, too far away to have said it. He looked at the lifts moving up and down and side to side behind him. Maybe someone on one of the elevator cars had said it as they passed by.

"Something wrong?" Ron said, frowning.

As always, Ron was instantly aware of Harry's discomfort. More than anyone, he could sense Harry's feelings. More than anyone, Harry didn't want Ron to know he was hearing things.

Hearing voices was never good. He remembered that well.

Besides, Ron would only worry, sending owl after owl to check on him. After Harry's hospitalization, Pigwidgeon was worked to exhaustion. The poor thing had to be nursed back to health by Lily, who cried when he flew back to Ron.

"It's nothing," Harry said. "Just a little paranoid."

"Can't blame you," Ron said. "If it was me, I'd get right back out there and catch the guy who did it."

Ron yelped suddenly and paled. Hermione's hand had clamped down on Ron's arm in a punishing grip.

"Harry is smarter than that," Hermione said, pointedly. "He knows he hasn't fully recovered. He will return home and rest while the other aurors find the wizard who cursed him."

"Of course, of course," Ron whimpered, pulling his arm free.

Harry scowled, but quickly hid it. He knew he wouldn't be able to get back to work right away, but he'd hoped to sneak off after the party and take some files home. The dark wizard who'd cursed him was still out there. Still inventing new spells, new jinxes, new evils to unleash on the world.

Harry knew he'd be the one to catch him, if only he could remember anything about the attack. But there was nothing in his head, just that black void in his memory. He couldn't even remember what led him to his attacker.

Still, even with no memory, he still had records. He'd gotten better at keeping files over the years. There were stacks of parchment in his office. One of them would describe what he'd been working on.

It would have to wait. Hermione and Ginny were already steering him back to a waiting lift.

"Don't worry, Harry," Ron said. He was back to stuffing his mouth with cake between sentences. "I'll keep the department going while you rest."

"No!" Harry said with mock horror. "Don't do anything. I'll get better. I'll be back soon!"

The grating closed. The lift began to sink.

"Can I have your office?" Ron said and was gone before Harry could think of a retort.

Harry and Ginny stood in silence as the lift changed direction, zigzagging back towards the entry to the Ministry.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ginny said. "It's just Mulciber insisted you—"

"Mulciber is evil," Harry said.

"He's not!" Ginny said. "You can't hold is lineage against him. It's not his fault his father was a Death Eater."

"His grandfather was a dark wizard, too."

"So? That doesn't make him evil. He's an auror. He fights the good fight just like you."

Harry stewed in silence, trying to hold his tongue, but he was never good at that.

"Did you see how he cut the cake?" he said.

She stared at him, blankly.

"First piece," he said, dangling a finger down over the scar on his forehead. "Second piece," he said, pointing at the new scar on his cheek.

Ginny snorted with laughter, then stopped herself. "You're serious! You can't be serious."

"He's taunting me. When I'm back to full strength, I'm going to check up on him. I bet he was involved in my attack."

Ginny stared at him, stunned, and he lapsed into silence. They stood as the elevator whirred.

"I told them you hate parties," she said, so quietly he almost didn't hear her.

"I like parties," he muttered to himself.

He did like parties. He'd always liked them. He and Ginny just stopped having them one day. Something bad had happened at one.

They'd had a party to announce Ginny's third pregnancy. Ron had asked something… If only he could remember. Ron had asked… Ron had asked…

And it came to him. Ron had asked what the child's name would be.

Ginny had always let Harry pick the names. He spent days thinking about the right ones, writing them down on scraps of parchment then crossing them out. He'd talked to her about the boys' names before they announced them, but that pregnancy was a surprise. That party was a surprise. That question was a surprise.

"Lily Luna," Harry had said.

A few clapped. Some muttered their approval. Luna Lovegood, standing in the back as always, flushed a little and smiled. And Ginny…

Ginny, a grin fastened carefully to her face, had leaned over to him and whispered into his ear.

"Maybe I'd like to name a child for once," she snarled. "Didn't you ever think of that?"

And she'd stormed out of the room. They'd never had a party since then. A few friends over here and there, but nothing big. He'd offered to have more parties over the years, but she'd always said no or made an excuse.

He didn't hate parties. She did.

"Did you pick Ginny, then?" a woman said behind him. "Are you gay?"

This time, he was leaning his back against the wall of the elevator. There was no one behind him who could have said it.

Ginny coughed, and he forgot about the voice. She coughed again and then again. Her face turned pink, and he clapped his hand on her back, helplessly. She covered her mouth with a handkerchief and got herself under control. Then she nodded, looked at her handkerchief for a moment, then quickly folded it up and put it away.

The elevator continued down into the darkness.