The Book of Morgan Le Fey

Chapter Eighteen: The Book of Morgan Le Fey

'It's The Book of Morgan Le Fey,' said Harry.

Hermione, who was now standing next to the sofa and smoothing her hair, stared at him.

'The Book of...are you sure, Harry?'

'Uh, excuse me,' said Ron, pulling himself up off the floor and rubbing his sore backside. 'What's this--'

'I'm positive,' said Harry. 'Voldemort, he tried to get into my head again, but I blocked him, only this time I got inside HIS head just long enough to hear him thinking about this book. Those were his exact words. The Book of Morgan Le Fey.'

'And he thinks the book is here in Hogwarts?' said Hermione, amazed.

Ron stared back at forth at his best mate and his girlfriend and felt the growing frustration of not knowing what they were talking about.

'Hello, can anyone tell me--'

'Yes,' said Harry. 'I mean, I'm almost positive he does. My other vision, remember? He said the book is in Hogwarts.'

'But...but the book is supposed to be a myth,' said Hermione. 'There's no evidence it even exists anymore.'

'EXCUSE ME!' Ron practically shouted. 'Will you two please tell me what the bloody hell you're talking about?'

Harry and Hermione looked at Ron for a moment, then Hermione spoke.

'Don't swear, Ron. It's The Book of Morgan Le Fey,' said Hermione. 'It's supposedly a book that Morgan Le Fey wrote and left behind. The legend is that it contains some of the most powerful magical spells in the world. But nobody's ever been able to prove that it still exists. Or that it ever existed.'

'Oh,' said Ron. 'Wait, how do you know all this, Hermione?'

'It's in the History of Magic textbook, Ron!' said Hermione exasperatedly.

'Right,' said Ron. 'So I wouldn't have seen it.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'I can't believe you got an "A" on your History O.W.L.'

'I owe it all to you, 'Mione, and your brilliant note-taking,' said Ron, grinning.

'You're trying to flatter me,' said Hermione, blushing.

'Is it working?' said Ron.

'Oh, for god's sake,' said Harry, rolling his eyes. 'I think I liked you two better when you weren't snogging all the time.'

'Harry!' said Hermione.

'You should talk!' Ron protested. 'You're the one always running off with Susan.'

'As I was saying,' said Harry forcefully. 'About this book that Morgan Le Fey supposedly wrote--'

'Morgan, as in King Arthur's sister, Morgan?' said Ron.

'Half-sister,' Hermione corrected. She turned to Harry. 'We have to tell McGonagall about this, and Dumbledore.'

'What, now?' said Harry and Ron together.

'Yes, now,' said Hermione.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron, Harry and Hermione all stood stock still in Dumbledore's office. Professors McGonagall and Snape stood behind Dumbledore's chair, Bill stood to the left of the desk and Dumbledore himself sat there quietly, surveying the three of them but fixing his eyes repeatedly on Harry, who was still in his pajamas. He had calmed down significantly since telling Ron and Hermione about his vision. Ron was still a bit skeptical, however, that this Book of Morgan Le Fey Harry told them about was really the book Voldemort wanted.

'You are certain Voldemort named this particular book?' Dumbledore asked, looking at Harry very intently.

'Yes, sir,' said Harry, sounding a bit defensive. 'I'm positive.'

'This vision,' Dumbledore went on, 'you did not initiate it?'

'No, sir,' said Harry, 'it came on me. Voldemort was trying to get inside my head again, but I blocked him and--and I was able to get inside his own mind just long enough to hear him think about this book.'

Dumbledore nodded and sat back in his chair, closing his eyes. He looked incredibly old just then, old and tired. For a long moment nobody spoke; everyone seemed to be waiting for Dumbledore.

'I believe you, Harry,' said Dumbledore slowly. 'But I am concerned. I am aware that you have become very skilled at both Occlumency and Legilimency, but I wonder if perhaps you are using Legilimency too much.'

'What do you mean?' Harry asked, his voice rising just a bit.

Uh oh, Ron thought, don't lose your temper now.

'Harry, Legilimency is a very useful skill,' said Dumbledore. 'But you are not using this skill on just any wizard. Your connection with Voldemort runs very deep, far deeper than it does with any other wizard. Voldemort knows you are trying to use Legilimency on him. He is able to block your efforts much of the time but he knows by now that you have been successful on at least a few occasions. It would be in his character to allow you access to his mind, only to offer you false clues. He has done it before.'

'This isn't like last year!' Harry yelled. Ron gulped--he couldn't believe Harry was mouthing off to the Headmaster. But Harry didn't seem to notice anyone else was in the room, and he kept up his tirade. 'You think I don't know Voldemort isn't trying to trick me? I've worked my arse off trying to close my mind to him. Do you know what it's like always having to be aware of what you're thinking? I haven't even had two seconds to let my mind wander!'

Dumbledore did not seem perturbed in the slightest that Harry was giving him lip.

'That is my concern,' Dumbledore said. 'Part of the discipline of Occlumency is learning to let your mind rest. You have been concentrating so very hard on perfecting your skills that you are exhausted. No, let me finish,' Dumbledore continued, holding up his hands to head off another retort by Harry.

'As I said, I believe you,' said Dumbledore. 'I also believe that Voldemort is indeed looking for this book. He seems to think it is in this school somewhere. Of course we will begin a very thorough search for it, and we will increase security. But I also believe Voldemort wanted you to know about the book for some reason, Harry. Perhaps he means to use you to lead him to it. I cannot say. But I can and I shall order you not to engage in Legilimency any more without express permission from me, and then, only in my presence will you be allowed to use it.'

'But Professor--'

'That is my final say on the matter, Harry,' said Dumbledore in a firm voice. Harry nodded, looking down at his feet.

'That said,' Dumbledore went on, 'I will allow you three to continue your research into this matter. In fact I'd like to ask that you do so. As you can imagine, our own duties make such a job impossible for us to take on. I must ask, however, for your discretion in this matter. Do not let other students know what you are up to. We must not create a panic situation, and we must not let Voldemort become aware that we are on to him.'

'Sir,' Ron said very quietly, 'I, uh, well, I think my sister might--'

'You are not to tell your sister, Mr. Weasley,' said Dumbledore. 'Miss Weasley has a history with Voldemort, too. She barely survived being possessed by him. Voldemort could use her to his advantage as well. Indeed, if anyone is in as much danger as Harry, it is Ginny. Leave her out of it for now.'

'Yes, sir,' said Ron, nodding, not wanting to think about Voldemort hurting Ginny. He looked at Bill, whose jaw was set but whose face otherwise betrayed no emotion. Snape, meanwhile, was staring at a spot somewhere on Dumbledore's desk, seemingly determined to avoid looking at the three of them.

'You three are excused,' said Dumbledore. 'Try and get some sleep tonight. Minerva, would you be so kind as to escort them back to Gryffindor tower?'

'Of course,' said McGonagall, leading Ron, Harry and Hermione from Dumbledore's office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Here it is,' said Hermione, staring at a page in her book in The Great Witches of Early Britannia. They were all sitting in the common room, very early in the morning the next day, none of them having slept much. She paraphrased aloud.

'Morgan Le Fey. The most powerful and controversial woman of her time. Arthur's half-sister and sometimes his enemy. Some accounts say she spent her childhood in a convent and instead of absorbing lessons of Christianity she learned the Dark Arts. Others say she left the convent and joined an order of priestesses who were devoted to Goddess worship--a female-centered pagan religion. She was a shape-shifter and an Animagus; she could transform herself into any living animal or human form she chose. Some believed her to be an earthly representative of one of the three aspects of the Goddess herself--the Crone, the old wise woman aspect. Most accounts also show her as the most powerful healer of her day; she brought Arthur to the Isle of Apples to heal him after he'd been wounded in battle. She was such a powerful healer that most people feared her. She married a king named Uriens and had several children by him, mostly daughters; she took a lover named Accolon. She was considered alternately a witch, a goddess, a priestess, and a queen of the fairies (hence the name 'Le Fey'). Men seemed to fear her most of all because of her powers and her knowledge; the dictates of the times did not allow women to possess knowledge and power. But by all accounts the history is so obscured by legends and falsehoods that it is nearly impossible to determine who she really was.'

'Yeah, but what about this book of hers?' Harry asked impatiently.

'I'm getting to that,' Hermione said. 'According to this, Morgan assembled a magical book of spells. The spells were supposedly so powerful that if anyone other than Morgan tried to perform them, he or she would die. Only Morgan herself was strong enough to make the spells work--'

'If that's true then Voldemort won't get any use out of the book,' Harry interrupted. 'Why bother with it if he can't even use it?'

'There's more,' said Hermione. 'Only Morgan herself was strong enough. Or Morgan's direct female descendants.'

Ron and Harry looked at one another, then at Hermione.

'And not just any female descendants. The oldest living direct female descendants, on Morgan's side, and they had to be witches,' said Hermione, her eyes riveted to her book. 'Morgan enchanted the book with a sort of beacon so that the oldest living witch in her bloodline always knew where it was, and the book itself could seek out its owner. Some sort of ancient magic having to do with blood ties.'

'What, it has some kind of magical radar on it?' Harry asked skeptically.

'It looks that way,' said Hermione. 'Morgan didn't want it to get lost, it looks like. So she charmed the book to ensure that its rightful owner finds it, or won't stop looking until she's found it.'

'Why the oldest witch in the bloodline?' said Ron. 'Why not a wizard in her bloodline, too?'

'Probably she only wanted women to use it,' said Hermione. 'It makes sense; men persecuted her, why give them something so powerful? It's like she was, I don't know, striking a blow against the medieval patriarchy or something.'

'What sort of spells are supposed to be in this book, anyway?' said Ron.

'Nobody knows,' said Hermione. 'Just that they're more powerful than anything on earth.'

'Dark magic?' said Harry. 'Well, it would be, if Voldemort wants it.'

'Some of it, yes,' said Hermione. 'But not all of it. Morgan knew the Dark Arts but she was also a healer. It's likely that the book contained powerful spells for both sides.'

Ron's eyes widened. 'You mean, like, "poison and cure"?'

Hermione beamed at him. 'Exactly.'

'So, this book...it could have a spell in it that would make a deadly poison but it would also have the antidote,' said Ron slowly. 'And Voldemort, he could use the poison on whoever he wants to kill but...but he can give the antidote to his cronies?'

'Theoretically, yes,' said Hermione. 'But there is the wrinkle that only a female descendant of Morgan, a witch, can perform the spells.'

'Right,' said Ron.

'You said that nobody has proof the book ever existed, though,' said Harry doubtfully.

'That's true,' said Hermione, looking down at her own book, 'but legendary accounts do trace the book up to...oh my.'

'What?' Ron and Harry said, now rapt with attention.

'The book seems to have disappeared in 1350. Right at the height of the Black Death,' she said. 'Listen to this.

'In that same year, a young woman named Elaine-- interesting, some legends say Morgan had a sister named Elaine, but this would obviously be a different Elaine--was accused of witchcraft and arrested. The local priests and authorities thought she had brought the plague on their village. They burned her at the stake. History suggests that she was a direct descendant of Morgan.'

'But, if she was a witch,' Harry said, 'why'd she burn at the stake? Real witches didn't burn at the stake.'

There was a brief silence as they mulled this over.

'She could have been a Squib,' suggested Ron suddenly.

'That's as good an explanation as any,' said Hermione. 'All wizard families have a Squib somewhere in them. Morgan was married to a Muggle, so her daughters were half-bloods, which makes it even more likely. If she was a Squib, she couldn't have used the book. It says here that Elaine left behind a daughter, but nobody knows who she is or if she was a witch or not.'

'But the book disappears after that?' said Harry.

'Looks that way,' said Hermione. 'But if it's charmed to seek out its owner, surely it didn't stay lost. And then there's the magic Morgan used, the blood ties. A witch who's the direct descendant of Morgan would know about the book somehow, just by virtue of her blood tie to Morgan.'

'Back up,' said Ron. 'So, if only a witch can use the book, does that mean if a descendant of Morgan doesn't have a daughter in there, the book stays hidden--'

'Until the next witch in the blood line comes along and is old enough to claim it, yes,' said Hermione. 'The book gets passed down, apparently. But never to a son. Only a daughter.'

'So...Voldemort doesn't just want the book,' said Harry. 'He wants...whoever this witch is. Because without her he can't use the spells in the book.'

Ron and Hermione looked at him, and Hermione nodded, and the realization of just what they had learned sank in for Ron.

'The book seeks out its rightful owner,' said Harry.

'And Voldemort is convinced the book is here in the school,' said Hermione.

'Which means--' said Harry.

'--if Voldemort's right--' said Ron.

'--then the oldest living female descendant of Morgan Le Fey is here at Hogwarts,' said Hermione.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later the three of them sat in the common room with stacks of genealogical charts they'd checked out from the library. McGonagall had given them access to the Restricted Section, and they were poring over everything they could get their hands on, searching for a clue as to the identity of the oldest living female descendant of Morgan Le Fey.

'Here's something,' said Ron. 'Looks like Rowena Ravenclaw was a descendant of Morgan.'

'So maybe we should start looking at Ravenclaws,' Harry suggested. 'Makes sense, doesn't it? Ravenclaws are supposed to be the house where all the smart ones end up.'

'Hermione's a genius and she's a Gryffindor,' said Ron, glancing at Hermione. She didn't look up at him, but she blushed and seemed to be trying not to look too pleased with the compliment.

'Thank you, Ron,' she said, still not looking at him. 'But the Ravenclaw connection could be just a coincidence.'

'True,' said Ron, and as he looked over the charts in his pile he realized that Hermione was probably right. The records simply didn't show any evidence of a strong connection between Ravenclaw the house and Morgan Le Fey.

'Damn,' said Harry. 'These charts don't show anything after 1350. The year Elaine died.'

'Neither do mine,' said Hermione in frustration.

'Nothing here, either,' said Ron.

And for the next week, while they were able to trace descendants of Morgan prior to 1350, they could find nothing to indicate who the descendants were AFTER 1350. It was as if the bloodline itself died out.

In the meantime, Ron nearly forgot about his birthday, until Harry woke him up on the morning of the first of March and said, 'Happy Birthday, mate,' and presented him with a handsome broomstick case.

'Thanks,' said Ron sleepily, rubbing his eyes and getting out of bed. 'Blimey, I almost forgot.'

'Damn,' said Harry. 'Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. Then I could have returned your present and gotten my money back.'

'Ha ha,' said Ron.

So, I'm seventeen, he thought. It didn't feel all that different from being sixteen, and yet the very word seventeen made him feel a lot older.

He and Harry went down to breakfast and surprisingly, Hermione wasn't there. Ron quickly became inundated with birthday mail: cards and notes from his family members, along with a few simple gifts from his family. He was just finishing his breakfast when Hermione came into the Great Hall. She looked tired and apprehensive.

'Hey, 'Mione,' said Ron. 'What's up? You look knackered.'

'I'm fine,' she said, and she smiled weakly at him. 'Happy Birthday.'

'Thanks,' said Ron, grinning. 'So, what'd you get me?'

Hermione blushed. 'Oh, well. Um, I thought I'd give it to you later.' She didn't look at him as she poured herself a glass of orange juice.

'Okay,' said Ron lightly. Harry glanced at Hermione, then at Ron, and smirked.

'What?' said Ron. Hermione was blushing deeper now and staring resolutely at her cereal as she ate.

'Nothing,' said Harry, finishing off his eggs.

The day went on and Hermione still hadn't given Ron his birthday present. He spent the whole day wondering just what it could be. It would be the first time she'd bought him a gift since they started dating. He remembered her telling him that he was difficult to shop for, and he wondered if in fact she hadn't actually found him a gift yet at all. He even wondered, for a whole horrified minute, if she hadn't in fact forgotten his birthday altogether, but then he dismissed that idea. Hermione was practical and organized; she never forgot things like birthdays. Ron would just have to be patient. But later on that night, as he and Hermione sat once again in the common room poring over more genealogical charts and research books, Ron was still without his gift from her. Being the proud sort he was, he didn't say anything, but he couldn't help feeling a bit resentful.

'There has to be SOME record of it somewhere!' Hermione said angrily as she slammed yet another book shut. Harry was taking a walk with Susan. 'Morgan Le Fey is the most famous witch who ever lived, for heaven's sake! There has to be a record of her descendants!'

'Maybe there is but it's not in the school,' Ron suggested, a bit timidly, for he was always a bit afraid of her when she got into one of her tempers. And by the way, he thought, where's my bloody birthday present?

Hermione opened her mouth to yell but then stopped and looked at Ron. 'Of COURSE!' she said, smacking herself on the forehead. 'I'm an idiot. Of course Hogwarts doesn't have every genealogical chart in the world! I'll write to Longbottom Library, they'd probably have it.'

'Longbottom Library?' Ron asked. 'As in NEVILLE Longbottom?'

'Naturally,' said Hermione, as though this were common knowledge. 'If you EVER got around to reading Hogwarts, a History you'd know that half the collection in this school was once housed in that very library, or that it was founded by Septimus Longbottom over 500 years ago, who's Neville's great great great-well, however many 'greats' it is--grandfather. It's right in Diagon Alley, haven't you ever seen it?'

'Why do I need to read Hogwarts, a History when I can just rely on you, love?' Ron asked, chucking her gently on the chin, momentarily forgetting about his missing birthday present. He always found it amusing when she got all worked up over books. 'And why would I know about a library in Diagon Alley? When have you ever seen me go a library unless I absolutely had to?'

'Did you just call me "love?"' Hermione asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

'Oh,' said Ron, realizing what he'd just said. 'I guess I did. Sorry.'

'No, it's sweet,' said Hermione. 'I like it. But you still should read Hogwarts, a History AND you should really take a look at Longbottom Library.'

'Whatever you say, love,' Ron said, grinning. Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes.

The portrait hole opened and Harry clambered into the common room.

'Hiya, Harry,' Ron said, looking up from the genealogy chart he was studying.

'Hey,' Harry called, crossing to them and sitting down. 'No luck on finding this mystery witch, eh?'

'Nah,' said Ron. 'Bloody charts are incomplete. Hermione's going to write to...hey, did you know Neville Longbottom's family founded this big library?'

'No,' said Harry. 'Lemme guess; that little factoid can be found in Hogwarts, a History.'

'Right you are, mate,' said Ron, rolling up the chart he was studying and heaving a sigh. 'Nothing here that's useful. So far everything dries up when that Squib Elaine died. 1350. That's a hell of a lot of missing years and missing descendants we need to find.'

'Well, I can tell you Susan definitely isn't it,' said Harry. 'Not directly descended anyway.'

'What?' Hermione said, sitting up sharply and staring at him. 'You didn't tell her about what we're doing, did you?'

'Yes,' said Harry defiantly. 'She's my girlfriend, isn't she?'

'Harry, I don't think--'

'Hermione, if he can't trust his own girlfriend, who can he trust?' Ron asked. 'Susan doesn't strike me the type to go blabbing, anyway.'

'Exactly,' said Harry, sounding a bit defensive. 'Look, Hermione, Susan knows to keep this quiet, okay?'

'How does she know she's not related to Morgan Le Fey?' Ron asked.

'She's got her own family chart,' said Harry. 'She showed it to me in the Hufflepuff common room, actually. Her mother's family is distantly related to yours, though, Ron. Did you know?'

'You're kidding,' said Ron.

'Nope,' said Harry. 'But it's like Sirius said. All the pure-blood families are interrelated somehow. She's also related to the Malfoys, but that's going way back.'

Ron nodded; he just realized that Harry had said Sirius's name for the first time in months without looking as though he were trying not to cry.

'Well, that rules Susan out,' said Hermione. 'But we're still talking hundreds of girls in this school, not to mention the possibility that it's a professor, although I asked McGonagall and she said she's definitely not it and she'll ask the other professors. But we can't go around asking to see everyone's family trees. Not if we hope to find out who this girl is in a span of less than a century and not if we hope to keep this quiet.'

The portrait hole opened again and Neville Longbottom entered. He was carrying his mimbulus mimbletonia plant. It was larger than it had been a few months ago but Neville still managed to carry it under one arm.

'Hi, Harry!' he called, smiling brightly at them. 'Ron, Hermione.'

'Hiya, Neville,' said Ron. 'Uh, why are you carrying that around? We finished those things in Herbology ages ago.'

'This?' Neville asked, setting down his plant on a nearby table. 'Well, actually, I'm helping Professor Sprout do a few experiments with it. You know, herbal remedies, that sort of thing. Anyway, it's my own plant, but you knew that. I like having it around. I mean, as long as you don't poke it, it's a pleasant thing, isn't it?'

'Uh, yeah,' said Ron, trying to sound enthusiastic about Neville's obvious delight over his rather ugly plant.

'Neville,' said Hermione, 'do you think it would be all right if I owled your grandmother about getting something from the Longbottom Library?'

'Uh, sure,' said Neville, a little uncertainly. 'What do you need?'

'Just a genealogical chart,' said Hermione. 'The ones here don't have what I'm looking for and I thought the library would.'

'I could owl her if you like,' said Neville. 'I'm just on my way up to do that anyway. I went and melted my cauldron again, so I need a new one.'

'But...your cauldron was fine in Potions!' Hermione said.

'This was just now,' said Neville miserably. 'With Professor Sprout. Apparently if you mix stinksap with Echinacea leaves and eucalyptus oil, it becomes really acidic and eats through stuff.'

'Sorry to hear it, Neville,' said Harry, but he was struggling not to smile. Neville had gone through at least a dozen cauldrons by now.

'All right, then,' said Hermione. 'Thanks, Neville.'

Neville gave her a wide smile and he trooped up the stairs to the boys dormitory, carrying his mimbulus mimbletonia under his arm.

'You'd think that thing was a dog or a cat or something,' Ron noted. 'The way he dotes on it. What are you doing?' he added, noticing that Hermione was now writing what looked like a letter.

'Writing to Neville's grandmother, of course,' said Hermione. 'You think Neville is really going to remember to do it?'

'True,' said Ron. Neville's forgetfulness was by now legendary.

'I'm beat,' Harry announced. 'I'm turning in. G'night.'

'Good night, Harry,' said Hermione absently.

'G'night, mate,' said Ron, giving Harry a wave as the other boy started climbing the stairs.

Ron was alone with Hermione now, and at once his curiosity over his as yet to be had birthday present flooded his mind.

Hermione sighed and rolled up the last of the genealogical charts she was studying.

'I give up,' she said. 'I'm exhausted.'

'Me, too,' said Ron. Where's my present? he thought.

'Oh!' said Hermione. 'I almost forgot. Your birthday present!'

Ron blinked. It was as if, on occasion, she could read his mind. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or disconcerted by this. But at the moment he was just happy she hadn't forgotten.

She was rummaging in her school bag. 'Got it,' she said, and she pulled it out.

'It' turned out to be a small teddy bear with a red and gold tie round its neck. In its 'paws' was a rolled up piece of parchment, like a small scroll.

'Happy birthday,' she said, handing him the bear. Ron took it and tried to hide the confused and slightly disappointed look on his face.

'Thanks,' he said. A teddy bear? What in the name of Merlin would a seventeen year old boy want with a teddy bear?

'It's to replace the one Fred turned into a spider,' said Hermione, smiling and looking a quite satisfied with herself.

'Oh,' said Ron, studying the bear. It was cute, he had to admit, but still. A teddy bear?

Don't be a prat, he thought. Pretend you like it.

'It's great, love,' he said, and he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

'Ron,' said Hermione. 'You're not done.'

'Done with what?' said Ron.

Hermione blushed again and waved a hand at the bear. 'You're...you're supposed to read the parchment.'

'Oh,' said Ron. 'Right.' He slipped the parchment from the paws of the stuffed bear and unrolled it and began to read.

His eyes went wide, and he was quite sure had he not blinked, that his eyeballs would have fallen out of his skull. He read the note again and almost pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. A grin spread across his face.

'Whoa,' he said, and he looked at Hermione.

She was so red she looked like a tomato wearing a bushy brown wig.

'You, uh, you...you mean it?' said Ron, filling a thrill rush through his veins.

'Yes,' said Hermione.

'Now?' said Ron eagerly.

'It's still your birthday for the next--' she looked at her watch, '--twenty-six minutes. Just...no funny business, all right. Nothing more than what's in the note. You have to promise to behave yourself.'

'Do I have to?' said Ron, pouting. 'It's my birthday.'

'Ron.'

'I'll behave,' said Ron. 'I swear. Just get over here.'

She giggled as he pulled her close and kissed her and in a matter of seconds they had moved to the sofa, and for the next twenty-five minutes and forty-five seconds Ron enjoyed the best birthday present of his entire life.