The Proud Man's Contumely

Chapter Four: Flashes of Merriment

Mrs. Weasley did indeed have something planned for that evening; much more than just a 'bit' if their scant lunches were any indication. She limited them to one sandwich apiece, and Harry almost choked on his twice, as Mrs. Weasley seemed inclined to deliver spontaneous, rib-cracking hugs without warning whenever she passed within three feet of him as she bustled around making preparations. By their sympathetic though wary expressions, Harry had the feeling both Ron and Hermione had been through a similar ordeal upon their respective arrivals.

When she wasn't testing the integrity of Harry's ribcage, Mrs. Weasley chatted compulsively, coming near to tears several times for, as far as Harry could tell, no apparent reason at all. The three bolted down their sandwiches and were not disappointed in the least when she shooed them from the kitchen, informing them it was off limits until she came to fetch them later that evening.

The afternoon passed lazily. Ginny popped up now and again though generally made herself scarce. Harry got the distinct impression this had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Ron and Hermione. When she did surface she was brief, and before leaving she would fix them with a knowing look, smiling teasingly at her brother (which never failed to make him blush) and throwing Hermione an encouraging wink.

"She stays in her room all day," Ron informed him sulkily, "writing to boys. Gone absolutely nutters about them. She won't tell me their names, but when I find out...." Ron looked positively murderous.

"She's not a little girl anymore, Ron," Hermione chastised. "You can't keep her from them forever."

"Can't I? I know how boys are. Only after one thing, and they aren't getting it from my little sister. Not if I can help it."

"Only after one thing are you?" Hermione asked, eyebrows raised. "Then maybe I should leave you two to plot the desecration of young girls' innocence and go help Mrs. Weasley."

"Well, not all boys," Ron whined. Which translated to: 'Well, not me'.

"But most of us, y'know," Harry said teasingly, watching Ron and winking at Hermione. "It's a pretty dangerous game, Hermione. Maybe you should think about playing for the other team," he suggested. Ron threw him a 'who's side are you on?' look.

Hermione scoffed and shook her head. But then looked thoughtful and said, "Not that there's anything wrong with it, mind you." She then expressed her advocation of gay rights and her admiration of the courage possessed by those openly homosexual. Ron was looking absolutely frantic. Harry was about to explode trying to hold back his giggles. Finally Hermione took pity on Ron and added, "But that's just not my cup of tea," and patted him lightly on the knee as she graced him with an indulgent smile. Harry could hear Ron's sigh of relief from across the room.

They passed the time alternating between Exploding Snap and wizard chess, trying to ignore Hermione who insisted on reading aloud from the many books she'd pilfered.

"Ooh! Listen to this," she exclaimed as Harry's knight took one of Ron's pawns. "Did you know thestrals can live to be over three hundred years old?"

"Isn't that fascinating?," Ron deadpanned, clearing what was left of his chess piece from the board. Thestrals were indeed not Ron's favourite subject, though Harry found Hermione's trivia rather interesting. He hadn't whole disliked their flight from Hogwarts to London. But then, he'd been able to see what he was mounted upon.

"They were considered bad luck," Hermione continued, "as they were most often seen after great battles, scavenging the fallen. They were associated with unicorns of all things, considered to be their darker counterparts. It was thought that they were attracted to death, evil, and treachery as unicorns are attracted to youth, innocence and goodness." Ron grumbled. Whether it was because of the thestral lesson or because Harry took another of his pawns, Harry couldn't tell. Most likely a combination of the two.

"There are all sorts of things about magical attraction in here," Hermione continued, ignoring him. "Virgins have been used for centuries to lure certain monsters, or else act as sacrifice. Muggle priests and nuns were believed the most efficient vampire hunters because it was once thought vampires craved only virgin blood."

"Hermione," groaned Ron finally. "Harry's about to have plenty of this stuff crammed down his throat on a daily basis. You think you could give it a rest and let him enjoy what may be his last day of freedom?"

Harry actually had been enjoying himself, until Ron reminded him of his imminent doom that is, though he didn't say anything. Slightly affronted, but giving Harry a pitying look, Hermione stowed the stolen books and joined in a round of cards; which was slightly less enjoyable because of it, as she insisted on contesting every card Ron lay down and citing rules every play. This soon incited an ugly argument and the game was abandoned. The rest of the afternoon was spent in near silence with Ron and Hermione pointedly ignoring one another.

At six o'clock sharp, Mrs. Weasley rescued them with a summons to the basement where there was assembled enough food to feed two armies. A shiny red and gold banner, very similar to the one hung to celebrate Ron and Hermione's being made prefects the year before, was strung across the far wall. Beneath it were what appeared to be all those associated with the Order who could spare the time. The twins pulled Harry into back to back noogies, releasing him just in time to receive a clap on the back from Hagrid that sent him staggering. A chorus of 'Happy Birthday's greeted him. He smiled gratefully back at Ginny, Tonks, Mundungus Fletcher, and even Percy, who rose from his chair and shook Harry's hand as if they were old war buddies. "Dad couldn't make it, what with the election," he said importantly. "He's asked me to pass along his well wishes."

Harry searched the assembly, but there was nary a sign of either Remus or the Headmaster. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit dejected, despite the sea of good cheer through which he presently waded. Mrs. Weasley stood behind the crowd, smiling hopefully at Harry, and he forced himself into an approving smile and nodded. She practically burst with gratification.

"Now Harry dear, you sit right here at the head of the table and we'll fetch the cake," she said as she stepped forward to seize him and steer him to the seat of honour where he was to be doted upon and generally embarrassed for the rest of the evening. Though, between Mundungus' anecdotes of capers gone awry and the antics of both Tonks and the twins, Harry found himself enjoying the evening despite himself. It was, after all, his very first birthday party.

Hagrid was the first to leave. As soon as the candles were blown out he gave Harry another hardy slap on the back that almost sent him face first into his cake, and then disappeared. Percy, who was a bit quiet though otherwise his pompous self, was next. He became uncomfortable at any mention of the Ministry, and was particularly insulted when Tonks, during a series of requested impressions, morphed into Fudge, insisting adamantly that her pumpkin juice was in fact only water, and then that is most certainly did not exist at all ("Harry, how dare you spread such wild and unfounded rumours! Why, they haven't made pumpkin juice for years.") as she sought to dispose of it 'nonchalantly' into Harry's goblet. Percy finally stormed off when his very loud, and equally pathetic, defence of the former Minister was drowned out by a chorus of snorts and giggles.

During the lull, after the cake had been cleared and Hermione and Ginny were chatting idly with a now 'normal' Tonks; and Mundungus had left on some important business for the twins who Harry noticed were being cornered by a near frantic Ron as they tried to make their own exit, Harry shuffled over to an ever-busy Mrs. Weasley to thank her for the party.

"My pleasure, dear," she beamed, eyes moist again. "My pleasure."

"Er. You don't happen to know where Remus is off to?" he asked hopefully.

"Why yes. He's gone to Surrey to collect your things. The poor dear," she said sadly. "He felt it was the least he could do, not having much else to give you for your birthday." But as the subject of poverty disquieted her, for obvious reasons, Harry quickly thanked her again and, despite the resultant groans and pleading, bid everyone a good night.

Harry drug himself, tired and satiated, upstairs. It had been a considerably eventful day, and the next (he shuddered) promised to be as well. He certainly did not look forward to his Occlumency lesson with Snape. The man seemed put on this earth expressly to make Harry miserable. He half wondered that Snape hadn't shown up tonight, just so he might sour the celebrations. Still, despite Snape's blessed absence, the evening had indeed been tainted. As he crawled into bed, Harry couldn't help thinking, sadly, that as nice as the gesture was, he'd much rather have had Remus there himself than the entire contents of Privet Drive.

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