(Y/N)'s POV

Whenever Mrs. Weasley wasn't giving us tasks to do we were given a few minutes to sit down and relax with some home cooking. It was easily the best part of the day.

We were often joined by other Order members for dinner now, because the Burrow had replaced number twelve Grimmauld Place as the headquarters. Mr. Weasley, Kingsley, and Bill joined us today.

Mr. Weasley had explained that after the death of Dumbledore, their Secret-Keeper, each of the people to whom Dumbledore had confided Grimmauld Place's location had become a Secret-Keeper in turn.

"And as there are around twenty of us, that greatly dilutes the power of the Fidelius Charm. Twenty times as many opportunities for the Death Eaters to get the secret out of somebody. We can't expect it to hold much longer."

"But surely Snape will have told the Death Eaters the address by now?" asked Harry. "Well, Mad-Eye set up a couple of curses against Snape in case he turns up there again."

"We hope they'll be strong enough both to keep him out and to bind his tongue if he tries to talk about the place, but we can't be sure. It would have been insane to keep using the place as headquarters now that its protection has become so shaky."

"Any news about Mad-Eye?" I asked Bill. "Nothing." We had not been able to hold a funeral for Moody, because Bill and Lupin had failed to recover his body. It had been difficult to know where he might have fallen, given the darkness and the confusion of the battle.

"The Daily Prophet hasn't said a word about him dying or about finding the body," Bill went on. "But that doesn't mean much. It's keeping a lot quiet these days." I nodded sadly

"And they still haven't called a hearing about all the underage magic I used escaping the Death Eaters?" Harry called across the table to Mr. Weasley, who shook his head.

"Because they know I had no choice or because they don't want me to tell the world Voldemort attacked me?" "The latter, I think. Scrimgeour doesn't want to admit that You-Know-Who is as powerful as he is, nor that Azkaban's seen a mass breakout."

"Yeah, why tell the public the truth?" said Harry, "Isn't anyone at the Ministry prepared to stand up to him?" asked Ron angrily.

"Of course, Ron, but people are terrified," Mr. Weasley replied, "terrified that they will be next to disappear, their children the next to be attacked! There are nasty rumours going around; I for one don't believe the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts resigned."

"She hasn't been seen for weeks now. Meanwhile Scrimgeour remains shut up in his office all day: I just hope he's working on a plan." There was a pause in which Mrs. Weasley magicked the empty plates onto the work surface and served apple tart.

"We must decide 'ow you will be disguised, 'Arry," said Fleur, once everyone had pudding. "For ze wedding," she added, when he looked confused.

"Of course, none of our guests are Death Eaters, but we cannot guarantee zat zey will not let something slip after zey 'ave 'ad champagne." She still suspected Hagrid.

"Yes, good point," said Mrs. Weasley from the top of the table, where she sat, spectacles perched on the end of her nose, scanning an immense list of jobs that she had scribbled on a very long piece of parchment.

"Now, Ron, have you cleaned out your room yet?" "Why?" exclaimed Ron, slamming his spoon down and glaring at his mother. "Why does my room have to be cleaned out? It's fine the way it is!"

"We are holding your brother's wedding here in a few days' time, young man —" "And are they getting married in my bedroom?" asked Ron furiously. "No! So why in the name of Merlin's saggy left —" "Don't talk to your mother like that," said Mr. Weasley firmly.

"And do as you're told." Ron scowled at both his parents, then picked up his spoon and attacked the last few mouthfuls of his apple tart. "I can help, some of it's my mess," Harry told Ron, but Mrs. Weasley cut across him.

"No, Harry, dear, I'd much rather you helped Arthur muck out the chickens, and Hermione, I'd be ever so grateful if you'd change the sheets for Monsieur and Madame Delacour; you know they're arriving at eleven tomorrow morning."

I went to help Ron, knowing he'd moan about doing it alone otherwise. But truth be told, I barely did anything to help, I kept getting distracted by all the cool stuff I kept finding. The Chudley Cannons were actually a lot more interesting then I gave them credit for.

Hermione came into the room, explaining that her task was complete and she still had packing to do, Bones was accompanying her because she was wearing a jumper which she likes to dig her claws into.

Crookshanks came skittering up behind them, his face extra smushed today. After greeting us she sat down beside me and got to work sorting books into piles.

Soon to fill the silence Ron struck up conversation about the possibility of Moody surviving the Death Eater ambush, I thought that the topic was a little insensitive, but I bit it back, figuring this was his way of venting.

But I didn't add to the conversation, instead I flipped through some old magazines and papers and occasionally gave one of the cats a scratch, this went on for a few more minutes, meaning I eventually had Crookshanks purring on my chest as Bones tried to scale Hermione.

There was a knock at the door that was met by Ron darting up from the bed he was lying on to say "I'm doing it, I'm doing-! Oh, it's you," he said in relief, as Harry entered the room.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione said as he sat down on his camp bed. I just waved in his direction. "We were just talking about Mad-Eye," Ron told Harry. "I reckon he might have survived."

"But Bill saw him hit by the Killing Curse," said Harry. "Yeah, but Bill was under attack too," said Ron. "How can he be sure what he saw?"

"Even if the Killing Curse missed, Mad-Eye still fell about a thousand feet," said Hermione "He could have used a Shield Charm-" I got fed up of his ridiculous argument

"He didn't know the only spell that'd work, I haven't been able to teach it properly yet." I said, trying not to get involved in the conversation and instead focusing on reading.

"Fleur said his wand was blasted out of his hand," said Harry. "Well, all right, if you want him to be dead," said Ron grumpily, punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape.

"Of course we don't want him to be dead!" said Hermione, looking shocked. "Can we stop talking about this please..." I said quietly, trying not to think about it.

"It's dreadful that he's dead! But we're being realistic!" "The Death Eaters probably tidied up after themselves, that's why no one's found him," said Ron wisely.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Like Barty Crouch, turned into a bone and buried in Hagrid's front garden. They probably transfigured Moody and stuffed him —"

"Don't!" squealed Hermione. "Yeah guys, shut it would you its not-" I was going to say funny, but I turned my head slightly at a sniffling noise and noticed Hermione had tears streaming down her face.

My heart jumped into my throat and I jumped with it, springing off the bed like a man possessed, I wrapped my arm around her and glared daggers at Ron and Harry, who looked rather shocked at the outburst.

"Oh no," said Harry, struggling to get up from the old camp bed. "Hermione, I wasn't trying to upset you" Ron's eyes were bulging out of his head, "Yeah, sorry, we were just joking, I didn't think..." he trailed off.

She blew her nose and hiccuped. "It's just so awf-ful, isn't it? R-right after Dumbledore . . . I j-just n-never imagined Mad-Eye dying, somehow, he seemed so tough!" "Yeah, I know," I said, remembering my own thoughts on the matter and giving her a squeeze.

Ron nodded and got a little smile on his face, he said "You know what he'd say to us if he was here?" " 'C-constant vigilance,' " said Hermione, mopping her eyes.

"That's right," said Ron, nodding. "He'd tell us to learn from what happened to him. And what I've learned is not to trust that cowardly little squit, Mundungus." Hermione gave a shaky laugh and leaned forward to pick up two more books.

"What are you doing with all those books anyway?" Ron asked. "Just trying to decide which ones to take with us," said Hermione. "When we're looking for the Horcruxes."

"Oh, of course," said Ron, clapping a hand to his forehead. "I forgot we'll be hunting down Voldemort in a mobile library."

"Well, can't hurt" I shrugged, "And if he ever finds us we have loads of books to lob at him" I chuckled, imagining hitting him where his nose should be with one of Lockhart's books.

"Ha ha," said Hermione, looking down at Spellman's Syllabary. "I wonder . . . will we need to translate runes? It's possible. . . . I think we'd better take it, to be safe." She dropped the syllabary onto the larger of the two piles and picked up Hogwarts, A History.

"Listen," said Harry in a tone that made me roll my eyes, I didn't even need to guess what was coming next, I could basically mime the words he was going to say I'd heard it so many times.

Ron and Hermione looked at him with similar mixtures of resignation and defiance. "I know you said after Dumbledore's funeral that you wanted to come with me," Harry began.

"Here he goes," Ron said to Hermione, rolling his eyes as well. "As we knew he would," she sighed, turning back to the books. "Is that another five sickles I hear?" I said, smirking at Ron, who didn't think he'd do this again.

Hermione kept talking with a small smile on her face. "You know, I think I will take Hogwarts, A History. Even if we're not going back there, I don't think I'd feel right if I didn't have it with —" "Listen!" said Harry again.

"No, Harry, you listen," snapped Hermione. "We're coming with you. That was decided months ago — years, really." "But —" "Shut up," Ron advised him.

"— are you sure you've thought this through?" Harry persisted. "Let's see," said Hermione, slamming Travels with Trolls onto the discarded pile with a rather fierce look.

"I've been packing for days, so we're ready to leave at a moment's notice, which for your information has included doing some pretty difficult magic, not to mention smuggling Mad-Eye's whole stock of Polyjuice Potion right under Ron's mum's nose."

Then I said my piece, "So don't you dare try to say were not going with you, not after what me and Hermione have done!" I said to him half angrily half sadly, he looked to Hermione, who explained what she had to do to her parents earlier in the year and her plan to get them back.

This retelling of what she's been through was too much to bear and she started sobbing into my chest again as I lightly pat her head, glaring at Harry for the second time. He looked utterly dumbfounded.

He seemed to come to his senses when he saw Hermione's eyes were swimming with tears again "I-Hermione, I'm sorry...I didn't-"

"Didn't realise that (Y/N), Ron and I know perfectly well what might happen if we come with you? Well, we do. Ron, show Harry what you've done." "Nah, he's just eaten," said Ron. "Go on, he needs to know!" "Oh, all right. Harry, come here."

Ron stumped over to the door. "C'mon." "Why?" Harry asked, following Ron out of the room onto the tiny landing. "Tell him I said Hi!" I called after them.

"You doing ok?" I asked her as they left, she gave me a little nod, I kissed her forehead. "I promise you; we're going to find them and then we can tell them about the brilliant adventure we went on" I said finally, she didn't seem convinced.

"But what if we die? What if we cant reverse the spell?" she said, tears almost forming again, "If we die, they live their lives in blissful ignorance and stay happy as Larry for the rest of their lives,"

"As for the charm, if St. Mungo's can't help them or we can't do it ourselves just remember, if we can stop the Killing Curse in a couple of months, I reckon we'll have the memory charm cracked in about four days don't you?"

She giggled a little, "Five at a stretch." She joked weakly, still trying not to sob, "Exactly." I rubbed her back as she regained a little spirit.

"We better get packing, before Mrs. Weasley finds us" she nodded. So as Ron showed Harry the Ghoul in his pyjamas we got to work making sure everything was packed.

As we sorted through all our bags and our equipment another topic came in as I was packing my belt. "What are these?" Hermione asked as we checked through the bags, she was indicating to some lavender vials I had in my bag. "Sleeping Potions" I answered, she raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

I flushed a bit, "Well, I know it's silly, but since we can't take Bones, I still need them to help me sleep sometimes. Slughorn made them for me, it's only a few, just in case I get really bad." She gave me a sympathetic look and nodded. Checking it on her list.

As Harry and Ron returned from the attic, they didn't say a word, meaning there was silence in the room, broken only by gentle thuds as Hermione continued to throw books onto one pile or the other.

After some chatting about the wedding Hermione cleared her throat, "What we really need to decide," she said flatly "is where we're going after we leave here."

"I know you said you wanted to go to Godric's Hollow first, Harry, and I understand why, but . . . well . . . shouldn't we make the Horcruxes our priority?"

"If we knew where any of the Horcruxes were, I'd agree with you," said Harry, "Don't you think there's a possibility that Voldemort's keeping a watch on Godric's Hollow?" Hermione asked.

"He might expect you to go back and visit your parents' graves once you're free to go wherever you like?" "Didn't think of that," I muttered "But I wouldn't be surprised."

Ron spoke up, "This R.A.B. person," he said. "You know, the one who stole the real locket?" Hermione nodded. "He said in his note he was going to destroy it, didn't he?" Harry dragged his rucksack toward him and pulled out the fake Horcrux in which R.A.B.'s note was still folded.

" 'I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can,' " Harry read out. "Well, what if he did finish it off?" said Ron. "Or she," interposed Hermione. "Whichever," said Ron, "it'd be one less for us to do!"

"Yes, but we're still going to have to try and trace the real locket, aren't we?" said Hermione, "to find out whether or not it's destroyed." "And once we get hold of it, how do you destroy a Horcrux?" asked Ron.

"Well," said Hermione, "I've been researching that." "We've...." I corrected "How?" asked Harry. "I didn't think there were any books on Horcruxes in the library?"

"There weren't," said Hermione, who had turned pink. "Dumbledore removed them all, but he didn't destroy them." Ron sat up straight, wide-eyed.

"How in the name of Merlin's pants have you managed to get your hands on those Horcrux books?" "It — it wasn't stealing!" said Hermione, looking from Harry to Ron with a kind of desperation. I was already laughing, "If you have to say that, I kind of doubt that"

She turned to me defensively, "They were still library books, even if Dumbledore had taken them off the shelves. Anyway, if he really didn't want anyone to get at them, I'm sure he would have made it much harder to-"

"Get to the point!" said Ron. "Well . . . it was easy," said Hermione in a small voice. "I just did a Summoning Charm. You know — Accio. And — they zoomed out of Dumbledore's study window right into the girls' dormitory."

"But when did you do this?" Harry asked, looking both shocked and impressed "Just after his — Dumbledore's — funeral," said Hermione in an even smaller voice.

"Right after we agreed we'd leave school and go and look for the Horcruxes. When I went back upstairs to get my things it — it just occurred to me that the more we knew about them, the better it would be . . . and I was alone in there . . . so I tried . . . and it worked. They flew straight in through the open window and I — I packed them."

"I've never been prouder, Hermione you really do amaze me sometimes. Every time I think you've blown my mind you one up yourself. It's why I love you."

She swallowed and then said imploringly, "I can't believe Dumbledore would have been angry, it's not as though we're going to use the information to make a Horcrux, is it?" "Can you hear us complaining?" said Ron.

"They have explicit instructions on how to make a Horcrux. Secrets of the Darkest Art — it's a horrible book, really awful, full of evil magic."

"I wonder when Dumbledore removed it from the library. . . . If he didn't do it until he was headmaster, I bet Voldemort got all the instruction he needed from here."

"Why did he have to ask Slughorn how to make a Horcrux, then, if he'd already read that?" asked Ron. "He only approached Slughorn to find out what would happen if you split your soul into seven," said Harry.

"Dumbledore was sure Riddle already knew how to make a Horcrux by the time he asked Slughorn about them. I think you're right, Hermione, that could easily have been where he got the information."

"And the more I've read about them," said Hermione, "the more horrible they seem, and the less I can believe that he actually made six. It warns in this book how unstable you make the rest of your soul by ripping it, and that's just by making one Horcrux!"

"Isn't there any way of putting yourself back together?" Ron asked. "Yes," said Hermione with a hollow smile, "but it would be excruciatingly painful."

"Why? How do you do it?" asked Harry. "Remorse," said Hermione. "You've got to really feel what you've done. There's a footnote. Apparently the pain of it can destroy you. I can't see Voldemort attempting it somehow, can you?"

"No," said Ron, before Harry could answer. "So does it say how to destroy Horcruxes in that book?" "Yes," said Hermione,  "because it warns Dark wizards how strong they have to make the enchantments on them. From all that I've read, what Harry did to Riddle's diary was one of the few really fool proof ways of destroying a Horcrux."

"Well, technically, I was the one who destroyed the diary. With the sword, cut it right in half" I defended, they looked at me, "But who's counting right?" I raised my hands. "What, stabbing it with a basilisk fang?" asked Harry.

"Oh well, lucky we've got such a large supply of basilisk fangs, then," said Ron. "I was wondering what we were going to do with them." "It doesn't have to be a basilisk fang," said Hermione patiently.

"It has to be something so destructive that the Horcrux can't repair itself. Basilisk venom only has one antidote, and it's incredibly rare — "— phoenix tears," said Harry, nodding. "Exactly," said Hermione.

"Our problem is that there are very few substances as destructive as basilisk venom, and they're all dangerous to carry around with you. That's a problem we're going to have to solve, though, because ripping, smashing, or crushing a Horcrux won't do the trick. You've got to put it beyond magical repair."

"But even if we wreck the thing it lives in," said Ron, "why can't the bit of soul in it just go and live in something else?" "Because a Horcrux is the complete opposite of a human being." Seeing that Harry and Ron looked thoroughly confused,

Hermione hurried on, "Look, if I picked up a sword right now, Ron, and ran you through with it, I wouldn't damage your soul at all." "Which would be a real comfort to me, I'm sure," said Ron. Harry laughed.

"It should be, actually! But my point is that whatever happens to your body, your soul will survive, untouched," said Hermione. "But it's the other way round with a Horcrux. The fragment of soul inside it depends on its container, its enchanted body, for survival. It can't exist without it."

"That diary sort of died when I stabbed it," said Harry, "And when I cut it in half" I said bitterly remembering ink pouring like blood from the punctured pages, and the screams of the piece of Voldemort's soul as it vanished.

"And once the diary was properly destroyed, the bit of soul trapped in it could no longer exist. Ginny tried to get rid of the diary before you did, flushing it away, but obviously it came back good as new."

"Hang on," said Ron, frowning. "The bit of soul in that diary was possessing Ginny, wasn't it? How does that work, then?"

"While the magical container is still intact, the bit of soul inside it can flit in and out of someone if they get too close to the object. I don't mean holding it for too long, it's nothing to do with touching it," she added before Ron could speak.

"I mean close emotionally. Ginny poured her heart out into that diary, she made herself incredibly vulnerable. You're in trouble if you get too fond of or dependent on the Horcrux."

"I wonder how Dumbledore destroyed the ring?" said Harry. "Why didn't I ask him? I never really . . ." His voice tailed away.

The silence was shattered as the bedroom door flew open with a wall-shaking crash. Hermione shrieked and dropped Secrets of the Darkest Art.

Crookshanks streaked under the bed, hissing indignantly as Bones hissed and spat at the door, clawing her way up to Hermione rather roughly.

Ron jumped off the bed, skidded on a discarded Chocolate Frog wrapper, and smacked his head on the opposite wall; Harry instinctively dived for his wand as I placed myself in front of him and Hermione and pointed my wand to the door defensively.

But what I saw scared me more then Voldemort ever could. It was Mrs. Weasley, whose hair was dishevelled and whose face was contorted with rage.

"I'm so sorry to break up this cosy little gathering," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm sure you all need your rest . . . but there are wedding presents stacked in my room that need sorting out and I was under the impression that you had agreed to help."

"Oh yes," said Hermione, looking terrified as she leapt to her feet, sending books flying in every direction, "we will . . . we're sorry . . ."

With an anguished look at Harry and Ron, Hermione hurried out of the room after Mrs. Weasley. "The sooner this wedding's over, the happier I'll be." Grumbled Ron

"Yeah," said Harry, "then we'll have nothing to do except find Horcruxes. . . . It'll be like a holiday, won't it?"  Ron laughed and I couldn't help but join them. "Wicked, I'll pack my floaties"

The Delacours arrived the following morning at eleven o'clock. We were feeling quite resentful toward Fleur's family by this time. It was with ill grace that Ron stumped back upstairs to put on matching socks, and Harry attempted to flatten his hair.

As they did Mrs. Weasley attacked me with Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and several other products that I would have sworn doubled as torture devices as I squirmed and try to wriggle free. 

As the solutions and concoctions got in my eyes and removed just about every trace of dirt from my face I screamed "This is your fault Potter, your fault!" blaming Harry for the sins of his grandfather, he looked utterly confused.

Nevertheless, by eleven I was sparkly clean and freshly groomed, feeling like a showdog. Once we had all been deemed smart enough, we trooped out into the sunny backyard to await the visitors.

I'd never seen the place looking so tidy. The rusty cauldrons and old Wellington boots that usually littered the steps by the back door were gone, thanks mostly to my efforts.

They were replaced by two new Flutterby bushes standing either side of the door in large pots; though there was no breeze, the leaves waved lazily, giving an attractive rippling effect.

The chickens had been shut away, the yard had been swept, and the nearby garden had been pruned, plucked, and generally spruced up. Personally, I preferred it how it was before.

It was no longer possible for anybody to travel by magic directly into the place. Mr. Weasley had therefore gone to meet the Delacours on top of a nearby hill, where they were to arrive by Portkey.

The first sound of their approach was an unusually high-pitched laugh, which turned out to be coming from Mr. Weasley, who appeared at the gate moments later, laden with luggage and leading a beautiful blonde woman in long, leaf-green robes, who could only be Fleur's mother.

"Maman!" cried Fleur, rushing forward to embrace her. "Papa!" Monsieur Delacour was nowhere near as attractive as his wife; he was a head shorter and extremely plump, with a little, pointed black beard.

However, he looked good-natured. Bouncing toward Mrs. Weasley on high-heeled boots, he kissed her twice on each cheek, leaving her flustered. "You 'ave been to much trouble," he said in a deep voice.

"Fleur tells us you 'ave been working very 'ard." "Oh, it's been nothing, nothing!" trilled Mrs. Weasley. "No trouble at all!" Ron relieved his feelings by aiming a kick at a gnome who was peering out from behind one of the new Flutterby bushes.

"Dear lady!" said Monsieur Delacour, still holding Mrs. Weasley's hand between his own two plump ones and beaming. "We are most honoured at the approaching union of our two families! Let me present my wife, Apolline."

Madame Delacour glided forward and stooped to kiss Mrs. Weasley too. "Enchantée," she said. "Your 'usband 'as been telling us such amusing stories!"

Mr. Weasley gave a maniacal laugh; Mrs. Weasley threw him a look, upon which he became immediately silent and assumed an expression appropriate to the sickbed of a close friend.

"And, of course, you 'ave met my leetle daughter, Gabrielle!" said Monsieur Delacour. Before I could even process these words, I was slammed in the chest by an eleven year old French girl with a very enthusiastic hug.

She was talking in increasingly fast and excitable French and giggling in between every rushed word. Looking down at her and smiling I realised, Gabrielle was Fleur in miniature; eleven years old, with waist-length hair of pure, silvery blonde, she gave Mrs. Weasley a dazzling smile and hugged her, then threw Harry a glowing look, batting her eyelashes.

Ginny cleared her throat loudly and I tried my absolute hardest not to scoff in amusement, which led to me making an awkward breathing noise that sounded as if I had been punched in the gut.

"You there...take our bags" said Fleur's dad and I tried my hardest not to cringe in discomfort as he pointed a stubby little finger towards Winky. I gritted my teeth as she went to take a step forward.

"I'll do it Wink, you go inside" I said, picking up the bags manually to fill my hands and stop me from throttling a Frenchman. "I is wanting to help the guests" she insisted and took the smallest of the three bags, Gabrielle's, in the house after me.

"Well, come in, do!" said Mrs. Weasley brightly, and she ushered the Delacours into the house, with many "No, please!"s and "After you!"s and "Not at all!"s.

The second we got inside, I explained to them that Winky was family and had no obligation to help them and that she would be treated fairly and kindly.

To my surprise, they all apologised profusely and seemed perfectly fine with the situation. It turns out, the Delacours, were helpful, pleasant guests.

They were pleased with everything and keen to assist with the preparations for the wedding. Monsieur Delacour pronounced everything from the seating plan to the bridesmaids' shoes "Charmant!"

Madame Delacour was most accomplished at household spells and had the oven properly cleaned in a trice; Gabrielle followed her elder sister around, trying to assist in any way she could and jabbering away in rapid French.

She had also taken quite a liking to what she called the 'keetans' and was carrying Bones and Crookshanks around with her whenever she went, not that they minded. Both of them loved the attention and the excuse to be lazy as she paraded them around the Burrow.

On the downside, the Burrow was not built to accommodate so many people. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were now sleeping in the sitting room, having shouted down Monsieur and Madame Delacour's protests and insisted they take their bedroom.

Gabrielle was sleeping with Fleur in Percy's old room, and Bill would be sharing with Charlie, his best man, once Charlie arrived from Romania. Opportunities to make plans together became virtually nonexistent, and it was in desperation that we took to volunteering to feed the chickens just to escape the overcrowded house.

"But she still won't leave us alone!" snarled Ron, as their second attempt at a meeting in the yard was foiled by the appearance of Mrs. Weasley carrying a large basket of laundry in her arms. "Oh, good, you've fed the chickens," she called as she approached us.

"We'd better shut them away again before the men arrive tomorrow . . . to put up the tent for the wedding," she explained, pausing to lean against the henhouse. She looked exhausted.

"Millamant's Magic Marquees . . . they're very good, Bill's escorting them. . . . You'd better stay inside while they're here, Harry. I must say it does complicate organising a wedding, having all these security spells around the place."

"I'm sorry," said Harry humbly. "Oh, don't be silly, dear!" said Mrs. Weasley at once. "I didn't mean — well, your safety's much more important! Actually, I've been wanting to ask you how you want to celebrate your birthday, Harry. Seventeen, after all, it's an important day. . . ."

"I don't want a fuss," said Harry quickly, envisaging the additional strain this would put on them all. "Really, Mrs. Weasley, just a normal dinner would be fine. . . . It's the day before the wedding. . . ." "Oh, well, if you're sure, dear. I'll invite Remus and Tonks, shall I? And how about Hagrid?"

"That'd be great," said Harry. "But please don't go to loads of trouble." "Not at all, not at all . . . It's no trouble. . . ." She looked at him, a long, searching look, then smiled a little sadly, straightened up, and walked away.

On the day of Harry's birthday I was woken at an ungodly hour early in the morning by the two prats beside me, Harry had almost poked his eye out with his glasses and Ron had woken Pig who was going absolutely mental. I was considering double homicide.

"Would. You. Shut. Up" I whispered, flipping my pillow to the cool side and trying to chase the dream I had just been ripped from. That was when I heard Ron's gift and couldn't stop my interest from being peaked.

"Here's your present. Unwrap it up here, it's not for my mother's eyes." "A book?" said Harry as he took the rectangular parcel. "Bit of a departure from tradition, isn't it?" "This isn't your average book," said Ron.

"It's pure gold: Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches. Explains everything you need to know about girls. If only I'd had this last year I'd have got with Lavender much sooner. Well, Fred and George gave me a copy, and I've learned a lot. You'd be surprised, it's not all about wandwork, either."

At this turn of phrase, I couldn't hold it back and began chortling into my refreshingly cool pillow. "You might need to keep reading Ron, or wandwork's all you'll ever need." Harry snorted loudly and Ron threw his pillow at me, which was fine because now I was even more comfortable.

When we arrived in the kitchen they found a pile of presents waiting on the table. Bill and Monsieur Delacour were finishing their breakfasts, while Mrs. Weasley stood chatting to them over the frying pan. "Arthur told me to wish you a happy seventeenth, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley, beaming at him.

"He had to leave early for work, but he'll be back for dinner. That's our present on top." Harry sat down, took the square parcel she had indicated, and unwrapped it. Inside was a watch very like the one Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had given Ron for his seventeenth; it was gold, with stars circling around the face instead of hands.

"It's traditional to give a wizard a watch when he comes of age," said Mrs. Weasley, watching him anxiously from beside the cooker. "I'm afraid that one isn't new like Ron's, it was actually my brother Fabian's and he wasn't terribly careful with his possessions, it's a bit dented on the back, but —"

The rest of her speech was lost; Harry had got up and hugged her. "Happy birthday, Harry!" said Hermione, hurrying into the kitchen and adding her own present to the top of the pile. "It's not much, but I hope you like it. What did you get him?" she added to Ron, who seemed not to hear her.

This set me off again and I started giggling into my breakfast. "Come on, then, open Hermione's!" said Ron. She had bought him a new Sneakoscope. I chucked him over his gift, "This is from me and Winky"

"I was going to buy you some Thunderbirds, but they were sold out, so I got this instead" I had a friend help me with it and I sent a letter to Flitwick to make sure I got the charm right. I remembered the gift Hagrid got him in our first year and thought he might like something similar.

Of course I added some extra flair, It was a crystal about the size of an apple, but it had a funny little enchantment on it, from each angle you looked at it, a different image appeared. A different portrait or photo.

I had a few of my favourites of Colin's pictures in there, the one of the DA, the one we took at the train station, there was one for almost everyone, Ron, Hermione and me of course, Neville, Luna, Ginny, the twins, Hagrid, all the Order members. The Weasleys, even Dumbledore and McGonagall with magical trickery and some excellent photography on Colin's part.

But what I was most proud of was that I even managed to snag some old pictures of Sirius and his parents to use from Lupin, letting him keep the originals of course.

The images shone on the surface of the stone like a glimmer or a reflection. I must say, I think I had outdone myself this time. "My only regret was not getting one of Snakeface for you, or our dear Malfoy"

The reason I wanted to give him it now was the same reason I had for keeping pictures of my parents and my brother in a pouch on my belt, It was easy to miss people and it always helped to see their faces if things got tough.

The other packages contained an enchanted razor from Bill and Fleur "Ah yes, zis will give you ze smoothest shave you will ever 'ave," Monsieur Delacour assured him,

"but you must tell it clearly what you want . . . ozzerwise you might find you 'ave a leetle less hair zan you would like. . . ." chocolates from the Delacours, and an enormous box of the latest Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes merchandise from Fred and George.

"I'll pack these for you," Hermione said brightly, taking Harry's presents out of his arms as the three of them headed back upstairs. "I'm nearly done, I'm just waiting for the rest of your underpants to come out of the wash, Ron-"

Ron's splutter was interrupted by the opening of a door on the first-floor landing. "Harry, will you come in here a moment?" It was Ginny, waiting in the doorframe to her room.

Ron came to an abrupt halt, "C'mon" I said, practically shoving him up the stairs. He was content to stay there until I made a very poorly timed jokes about Harry getting wandwork tips for his birthday.

This caused him to storm downstairs with a level of determination I'd never seen on his face before. "No don't go in-" I started but didn't get to finished before he pushed open the door abruptly and Harry and Ginny broke apart. "-there"

Realising what he barged in on, he got flustered, "Oh," said Ron pointedly. "Sorry." "Ron!" Hermione was just behind us, slightly out of breath. There was a strained silence, then Ginny said in a flat little voice,

"Well, happy birthday anyway, Harry." Ron's ears were scarlet; Hermione looked nervous, I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me so I wasn't here anymore. "I'll see you later," Harry said rigidly, and followed us out of the bedroom.

Ron marched downstairs, through the still-crowded kitchen and into the yard, and Harry kept pace with him all the way, Hermione trotting along behind them looking scared. "Here we go..." I said, rolling my eyes at Ron's angry face.

Once he reached the seclusion of the freshly mown lawn, Ron rounded on Harry. "You ditched her. What are you doing now, messing her around?" "I'm not messing her around," said Harry, as Hermione caught up with them. "Ron-" But Ron held up a hand to silence her.

"She was really cut up when you ended it-" "So was I. You know why I stopped it, and it wasn't because I wanted to." "Yeah, but you go snogging her now and she's just going to get her hopes up again-"

"She's not an idiot, she knows it can't happen, she's not expecting us to — to end up married, or-" "If you keep groping her every chance you get-" "It won't happen again," said Harry harshly "Okay?"

"Right then, well, that's . . . yeah." Hermione looked to me to help, I shrugged, I tried to keep out of it, she's a big girl, but she's Ron's sister, he had every right to be mad, and if Harry ever hurt her, that will be when I intervened. Violently.

Ginny did not seek another one-to-one meeting with Harry for the rest of the day, nor by any look or gesture did she show that they had shared more than polite conversation in her room.

Nevertheless, Charlie's arrival was a constant source of hilarity, watching Mrs. Weasley force Charlie into a chair, raise her wand threateningly, and announce that he was about to get a proper haircut.

As Harry's birthday dinner would have stretched the Burrow's kitchen to breaking point even before the arrival of Charlie, Lupin, Tonks, and Hagrid, several tables were placed end to end in the garden.

Fred and George bewitched a number of purple lanterns, all emblazoned with a large number 17, to hang in midair over the guests.

Hermione made purple and gold streamers erupt from the end of her wand and drape themselves artistically over the trees and bushes while I chatted with the twins as George defended his material.

"-It was a rubbish joke!" I turned to his mother, "You should check his brain again Mrs. Weasley. His sense of humours broke" His brother jumped to his defence, "Says you, Mr. 'lend me a hand.'" I frowned, "That's a classic, Holey. Really? That barely even makes sense."

"Out of the way, out of the way!" sang Mrs. Weasley, coming through the gate with what appeared to be a giant, beach-ball-sized Snitch floating in front of her. 

Harry's birthday cake, which Mrs. Weasley was suspending with her wand, rather than risk carrying it over the uneven ground.

When the cake had finally landed in the middle of the table, Harry said, "That looks amazing, Mrs. Weasley." "Oh, it's nothing, dear," she said fondly.

By seven o'clock all the guests had arrived, led into the house by Fred and George, who had waited for them at the end of the lane. Hagrid had honoured the occasion by wearing his best, and horrible, hairy brown suit.

Although Lupin looked rather unhappy. It was all very odd; Tonks, beside him, looked simply radiant. "Happy birthday, Harry," she said, hugging him tightly. "Seventeen, eh!" said Hagrid as he accepted a bucket-sized glass of wine from Fred.

"Six years ter the day since we met, Harry, d'yeh remember it?" "Vaguely," said Harry, grinning up 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. "All righ', Ron, (Y/N), Hermione?" "We're fine," said Hermione. "How are you?" "Ar, not bad. Bin busy, we got some newborn unicorns, I'll show yeh when yeh get back-"

My stomach did a little lurch, but Hagrid moved on quickly, fuelled by wine, "Here, Harry, couldn' think what ter get yeh, but then I remembered this."

He pulled out a small, slightly furry drawstring pouch with a long string, evidently intended to be worn around the neck. "Mokeskin. Hide anythin' in there an' no one but the owner can get it out. They're rare, them."

"Hagrid, thanks!" " 'S'nothin'," said Hagrid with a wave of a dustbin-lid-sized hand. "An' there's Charlie! Always liked him. Hey! Charlie!" Charlie approached, running his hand slightly ruefully over his new, brutally short haircut.

He was shorter than Ron, thickset, with a number of burns and scratches up his muscley arms. "Hi, Hagrid, how's it going?" "Bin meanin' ter write fer ages. How's Norberta doin'?"

He smiled widely, "Brilliantly, though she flinches whenever we go near her with a wand" he winked at me. "What? I panicked, she's a bloody dragon, I wasn't gonna let her chew lumps out of me for old times sake" I defended.

He shrugged and changed the subject "Wish Dad would hurry up and get here. Mum's getting edgy" We all looked over at Mrs. Weasley. She was trying to talk to Madame Delacour while glancing repeatedly at the gate.

"I think we'd better start without Arthur," she called to the garden at large after a moment or two. "He must have been held up at — oh!"

They all saw it at the same time: a streak of light that 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 Mr. Weasley's voice.

"Minister of 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," said Lupin at once.

"Harry I'm sorry, I'll explain another time-" He seized Tonks's wrist and pulled her away; they reached the fence, climbed over it, and vanished from sight. Mrs. Weasley looked bewildered.

As was I, I didn't know a Patronus could talk. I wondered what my Bones Patronus sounded like? Oh, me I suppose. Never mind, bit was still impressive though.

"The Minister- but why? I don't understand-" But there was no time to discuss the matter; a second later, Mr. Weasley had appeared out of thin air at the gate, accompanied by Rufus Scrimgeour, instantly recognisable by his mane of grizzled hair.

"Sorry to intrude," said Scrimgeour, as he limped to a halt before the table. "Especially as I can see that I am gate-crashing a party." "Many happy returns."

"Thanks," said Harry. "I require a private word with you," Scrimgeour went on. "Also with Mr. (Y/N) (L/N), Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger."

"Us?" said Ron, sounding surprised. "Why us?" "I shall tell you that when we are somewhere more private," said Scrimgeour. "Is there such a place?" he demanded of Mr. Weasley.

"Yes, of course," said Mr. Weasley, who looked nervous. "The, er, sitting room, why don't you use that?" "You can lead the way," Scrimgeour said to Ron.

"If we get put in Azkaban I'm gonna be so annoyed" I muttered to Hermione as she hurried along beside me, either way, just from his one glance towards us, I could tell Scrimgeour was not happy.