Harry Potter and the Simulacrum Seal

Chapter Six: The Letter in Blood

Late that evening, with spell theory swimming in his head and his legs sore from disuse, Harry crawled into bed, determined that the next day he would move around in the backyard. He didn't think he could spend another moment with his nose in a book. Quidditch, he thought dreamily, wonderful Quidditch ... Hermione was terrible and would prefer to read, but maybe he and Ron and Ginny ... just for a short while ...?

The sound of a not-too-distant explosion jerked Harry out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open and his body automatically rose from bed as three more firework-like bangs crackled through the quiet night air.

Throwing his robe on over his boxers, Harry opened the door to his room and peeked out, bleary-eyed, into the hallway. Urgent footsteps were pounding nearby; Harry snapped his head around as Mr Weasley and Ron thundered forward, doing up the fastenings on their robes as they walked.

Mr Weasley saw Harry peeking out, and not breaking his stride, said, 'Stay inside, Harry.'

Harry blinked and the pair walked past. He moved to follow them, but didn't manage to take three full steps before Ron grabbed his shoulders and pressed him back. 'Stay here,' Ron insisted, his eyes giving the same command as they locked with Harry's. Harry was too surprised at Ron giving him an order to think up a protest before Ron released him and rushed to catch up with Mr Weasley.

He stood in place as Ron and Mr Weasley's footsteps banged down the stairs, looking fixedly in the direction in which they had descended. Harry could hear the front door collide with the wall as it was thrown open, followed by the shouting of unfamiliar voices and a few more explosions. I'm going out there, Harry decided, his hand closed tightly around his wand.

'Harry!'

He turned to see Hermione and Ginny, half-dressed themselves, heading toward him. 'What's going on out there?' Hermione asked.

'I don't know, but I'm going to find out,' he said darkly. 'You two stay here.'

Harry was almost at the stairs before Hermione grabbed him by the arm. He spun around. 'No, you stay here! I'm the one who can legally practice magic!' said Hermione in the same insistent tone and with the same pointed look Ron had used earlier. Hermione pushed past him and went down.

'This is ridiculous!' Harry grumbled.

'She's right,' Ginny stated matter-of-factly. Harry glowered at her. 'Don't give me that look,' she admonished. 'The two of us will just have to wait here.' She crossed her arms and glared back at him.

'It could be Death Eaters out there!' Harry argued, turning away from her and moving again to the stairs. Ginny grabbed him by the torso and pulled him back. She had a surprisingly strong grip, and Harry found his feet dragging across the carpet. 'Ginny!'

'You're being stupid!' she said through gritted teeth. Ginny was putting all her effort into stopping him from moving, and it was working.

Harry grabbed at her hands and tried to pry them off as he flung his body weight in the other direction. 'Ginny, let go!'

'No! You can't go out there!'

Harry was the stronger of the two and was making steady progress toward the stairs, but he realized that it would be hard to go down like this without tumbling and breaking both their necks. 'I can and I will!' he growled.

'What on earth!' They looked up to see a furious Mrs Weasley stomping toward them, glaring daggers at them both; their tug-of-war abruptly ended. 'Both of you get to your rooms this instant!'

'No way!' Harry protested. 'I have to go out there!'

'You most certainly do not!' Mrs Weasley said sternly as she herded them away from the stairs. 'Ginny, go upstairs. Harry, get back to bed.'

Harry was frustrated. How could they expect him to go back to bed when the Burrow was under attack? It was madness. 'Mrs Weasley,' Harry addressed, standing firmly and refusing to budge another inch. 'I am going down there. I won't let Ron and Hermione fight Death Eaters or Dementors or Inferi or whatever it is without me!'

'Oh Harry, it's nothing like that, I promise you.' Mrs Weasley sniffed and went a little teary-eyed. 'Just get back to bed. There's nothing either of you can do to help. Let Arthur and Ron and Hermione and me take care of things.'

Harry looked at her dubiously. 'It's not anything to do with Voldemort?'

Mrs Weasley shuddered, and Harry felt slightly guilty for saying his name because Mrs Weasley seemed worked up even before he was mentioned. 'No, thank Merlin, no.' She grasped her chest and closed her eyes. 'Please, just go.'

Harry was going to argue further, but Mrs Weasley was stricken enough, and if it had nothing to do with Voldemort, why add to their troubles with arguing? 'You're sure you can take care of it?'

He swore that he could feel Ginny rolling her eyes behind him. 'Come on, Harry,' she sighed. 'Good luck, Mum.' Mrs Weasley bit her lip and nodded; then she turned away and descended again down those seemingly impassable stairs.

'How can I sleep?' Harry asked bitterly.

'Just go to your room,' Ginny replied shortly. 'We can't help. We're not even allowed to cast magic.'

'The Ministry couldn't press charges in a situation like this,' Harry said weakly, realizing even as he said it that all prior evidence contradicted him.

'I trust my family,' Ginny said, sounding annoyed and looking flustered. 'If you can't trust them, you shouldn't be here.'

Harry cringed. 'I'm sorry,' he replied lowly. 'You know I didn't mean it like that.'

'I know,' she whispered, 'but you need to tone down your saving-people issues for a couple more weeks. You know the Ministry would love to have something to hold over your head.'

'Yeah,' he agreed. There seemed nothing more to say, so Harry crossed to his room and entered it, flopping onto the bed in resignation. He listened for any sounds of conflict, but could only hear a few raised voices outside. Sounds like the trouble's over, he thought hopefully.

Indeed, just a few minutes later, Harry heard the front door slam shut and footsteps moving up the stairs. His door opened; Ron entered and shut it behind him. The lights went on, and Harry waited.

Ron sighed. 'Sorry about that, Harry. It really wasn't anything much.'

'What was it, then?' Harry asked curiously.

'Arseholes,' Ron responded, shrugging his shoulders. 'They did this before, the night before I met up with you and Hermione in France. It was just Dad and me dealing with it then.' A ferociously gleeful expression on his face, Ron added, 'I bet they didn't expect Aurors backing us up this time!'

Harry's eyes widened. 'It sounds serious!' he protested. 'I mean, if Aurors were called in ...'

Ron rolled his eyes and smirked. 'They were around watching you, idiot. The Aurors were here when it started. They're from the Order. Tonks and Moody.'

'Oh,' Harry said, feeling out of the loop. 'So, uh, why were they here? The attackers, I mean.'

'Like I said, they're arseholes,' he muttered, moving to sit next to Harry on the bed. 'You know, 'Down with blood traitors!', 'You-Know-Who rules!', and stupid nonsense like that. Death Eater rejects. They'll be lucky not to get time in Azkaban, what with Scrimgeour so keen on making arrests.'

'I didn't realize Voldemort was picky enough to have rejects,' Harry quipped, thinking primarily of Wormtail. But then, he had something to offer, didn't he?

'They aren't so bad,' amended Ron. 'They're hung up on blood status, yeah, but I don't think that lot are killers. They were just flinging some noisy junk from Fred and George's joke shop at the house. Don't even know if they're of age yet; some of them looked pretty young.'

'Death Eaters in training, then,' Harry frowned.

'Maybe not. Dad says they're just scared kids trying to feel like they're powerful when they're not, and maybe trying to score some points with the bad guys so they don't end up on the hit list next. Happened all the time during the last war, he says. Anyway,' Ron continued, 'the last thing they needed to see out there was you. It would only have gotten them excited and scared enough to get themselves in more trouble.'

'Okay, fine,' Harry acknowledged. 'I guess you were right to stop me from going out there...and so was Hermione, and then Ginny...' Harry went on ruefully.

'Determined much?' asked Ron, grinning.

Harry made a short, embarrassed laugh. 'Yeah, I get it; I made an arse of myself again.'

'Nah,' Ron replied, pushing Harry on the shoulder, 'you were just being you.'

'Thanks ... I think.'

***

Hermione scanned the morning paper avidly for any news of the events of the previous night, but could turn up nothing. 'I guess it happened too late to be reported in the morning paper,' she explained to herself. 'We'll have to wait until the Evening Prophet.'

Mr Weasley shook his head as he poured himself his third cup of coffee. 'I wouldn't hold your breath, Hermione. It turns out that one of those pranksters was the Minister's nephew. I doubt he'll want news about last night to get out.'

Harry was feeling sick to death of all the political manipulation. 'Great, just great. The real troublemakers get away with anything as long as they're well-connected, but innocent people like Stan Shunpike get time in Azkaban.' Harry scowled at his orange juice.

'He's only fourteen, Harry,' Mr Weasley explained. 'None of the lot was older than fifteen. I doubt it will happen again after their parents are through with them.'

'Arthur!' called Mrs Weasley from the hallway. 'Someone's at the door. Could you get it? I'm not decent!'

'Yes, dear!' Arthur shouted back. 'Poor Molly, hardly slept a wink last night ...'

Mr Weasley came back into the kitchen a few moments later with a questioning look on his face. 'Er, Harry, there's someone here who claims to know you ...?'

Mr Weasley then made way for one of the last people from Hogwarts that Harry ever expected - or wanted - to see again. 'Potter,' the young man boomed.

Resisting the urge to make a face, Harry replied, 'McLaggen.' What was Cormac McLaggen doing at the Burrow? He was certainly no friend of Harry's.

McLaggen sauntered into the kitchen, looking around with a sneer on his face that wouldn't have been out of place on Draco Malfoy. He then grabbed the empty chair next to Ron and dropped it down at the end of the table next to Harry.

'What're you doing here?' Ron asked, looking McLaggen up and down in disbelief at his presence.

'Potter,' McLaggen repeated, emphasizing Harry's name to clearly indicate to Ron that he was not talking to him, 'my little brother told me you were here. He said he was bawled out by some grouchy Aurors for hanging around here last night, and he's still in St Mungo's 'cause of some hex.'

'Yeah, well, tell your little brother that causing explosions outside the house of people not in Voldemort's good books isn't good for his health,' Harry countered. 'If that's all you came here for -'

'Don't be daft! I'm not here about that,' McLaggen replied. 'I'm here to join your team.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'My team? My team of what?'

McLaggen gripped Harry's shoulder as if they were old friends and shook him so hard that his teeth rattled. 'Your You-Know-Who fighting squad!' he said, a wide, stupid-looking grin on his face.

'My what?' Harry grabbed McLaggen's arm and forced it off his shoulder; then Harry shook his head. 'There's no such thing.'

'Yeah, right,' McLaggen snorted. 'I may not be part of your select group of friends ...' He glanced around the table with a look bordering on contempt, then turned back to Harry enthusiastically. 'But I'm the best dueller you'll find, and I want in on the action!'

'Join the Aurors, then,' Hermione said, not bothering to look up from her breakfast.

'And waste years in training while Potter's getting all the glory?' McLaggen nearly shouted. 'No way!'

Harry gritted his teeth. Even if he did have some elite anti-Voldemort fighting force - which he supposed he did, sort of, if Ron and Hermione counted - he wouldn't want McLaggen on it any more than he had wanted him as Keeper on the Quidditch team. 'I don't know what you've been told, McLaggen, but I'm not building up a private army.'

'Sure you're not. What about them, then?' He gestured around the table.

'They're called friends,' Harry replied coldly.

'Look, Potter, I'm wise to you. You don't have to put on an act for me.'

'Get lost,' Ron said shortly, glaring at McLaggen over Harry's shoulder. 'Seriously, it's my house, and I don't want you in it!'

'What's the matter, Weasley?' McLaggen asked mockingly. 'Feeling the heat of competition?'

'We already know who will win,' Ron growled, his eyes flashing with anger. 'Or do you not remember which of us was Keeper last year?'

McLaggen got up from his chair abruptly, his hands balled into fists, looking like he was ready for a fight. 'You want to try your luck?'

'Enough!' Harry ordered. 'Cut it out.' McLaggen sneered at him, and Harry was beginning to wonder if this might indeed come to blows when an idea popped into his head. 'All right, McLaggen,' Harry said, throwing up his hands. 'I'll give you what you want.'

'You will?' Ron choked, aghast.

Harry let out a mock sigh. 'It's not right for us not to include him.'

'But -'

Harry sent Ron a conspiratorial look, and Ron, though clearly not understanding where Harry was going, sent him back a trusting nod.

Harry turned back to McLaggen, who was looking down at Harry with smug satisfaction. 'Ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?' Harry asked.

***

'I can't believe you let him into the Order!' Ron protested. McLaggen had sauntered out several minutes before, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione had seated themselves in the living room to recover from his presence.

Harry shrugged. 'The Order needs all the help it can get, and he has connections in the Ministry that might be useful. Besides, the final decision is up to Remus, and McLaggen can always be Obliviated if he's too much trouble.'

'What if he's spying for Voldemort?' Hermione asked anxiously.

'He's too stupid,' said Ron.

'I'm on Ron's side on this one,' agreed Harry, laughing.

'But he could be under Imperius, or -'

'No one could pretend to be as annoying as McLaggen,' Ron replied, sounding disgusted. 'It's absolutely impossible. Well, maybe Malfoy on his worst day ...'

'McLaggen's an arse, Hermione, but he might be a useful arse. We may as well put up with him in the Order; we won't have to see him often. Remus will keep him busy. He can't be any worse than Mundungus.'

'True enough,' Ron acknowledged. 'Dumbledore wasn't overly picky about who he let in, was he?'

'Exactly,' replied Harry as another knock sounded at the door.

'I'll get it,' Ron growled as he pushed himself out of his chair, 'though it better not be bloody McLaggen again ...'

Ron returned shortly after with a thrilled grin on his face which was mirrored on Harry's own once he saw who their visitor was. 'Kingsley!' Harry greeted him. This was a much better surprise than McLaggen had been.

'Harry,' Kingsley said, smiling. 'I have what you wanted.'

'Great!' Harry pressed himself to the edge of his seat, his eyes fixed on Kingsley. Now we'll finally get somewhere with the Horcruxes!

Kinsley reached into his pocket and drew out a tiny cube of parchment the width of his thumb. Harry frowned, confused, until Kingsley tapped it with his wand and it became full-sized, growing so high that Kingsley's face was obscured by it. 'It's just a copy, so don't worry about returning it. Everything you need should be in here,' he said in his rich baritone.

'Thanks a lot!' Hermione said, smiling as she moved to take the pile of papers off Kingsley's hands.

'I'm glad to have been of assistance. I'm on a tight schedule, but if you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask.'

'We won't. Thanks,' replied Harry, echoing Hermione's sentiment. Kingsley nodded and left.

'This is great!' Hermione said happily. 'Now all we've got to do is single out information about any R.A.B.s.'

'Yeah,' said Harry softly, 'but let's do it upstairs, okay? I don't want anyone walking in on us.' The last thing he needed was for Ginny to get any more clues about what he, Hermione and Ron were up to.

Hermione blanched. 'Yes, of course,' she whispered. 'Sorry, I was just so excited.'

'No problem,' Harry whispered back with a grin on his face. 'I am, too.'

They went upstairs, shut the door, spelled it to repel Extendable Ears and other eavesdropping charms, and spent the rest of the morning taking down the names of any R.A.B.s who were living or killed by Voldemort or his Death Eaters. As it turned out, middle names were rarely listed, so it mostly came down to R.B.s.

'Roxanne Baddock, Rowan Bagman, Rue Bagnold ...' Hermione ticked off the names as she added them to their fresh list of people worth investigating. '... Reynard Belcher, Roderick Bletchley, Renata Branstone ...'

'How are we going to figure out which one is the real R.A.B., anyway?' Ron asked, his face scrunched in concentration.

'We're probably better off starting with the ones who are deceased,' Hermione said, her eyes focused on the list she was making. 'There are only two R.B.s suspected of having been killed by Death Eaters, and they fit the profile best, seeing as they're dead.'

'Which ones are those?' asked Ron.

'Raphasia Barkwith and Rick Bundy,' replied Hermione.

'I say we try Rick first. I really do think it's a bloke.'

Hermione glared. 'And why is that?'

'It just ... seems like a man would have written it. There's nothing girly about it,' Ron replied, shrugging his shoulders.

'Why does everything a girl writes necessarily have to be girly?' Hermione protested. 'It's not as though it's a love letter!'

Harry decided to break in before a full-fledged argument started. 'We can do men and women at once. There are three of us.'

Ron and Hermione both gave him a skewed look. 'What?' Harry wondered.

Hermione's face screwed up into a pained look. 'It's just that most of the investigating will have to take place outside the Burrow, Harry, and you can't cast magic yet. There's no way Ron and I can bring you along.'

'The Order would go nuts,' Ron added. 'Sorry, mate, but you'll have to stay here.'

'That's not fair!' argued Harry. 'If anything awful happens, I could -'

'You'll use magic and get yourself in trouble,' Hermione finished.

'The Ministry can't afford to put me in Azkaban. They think they need me as a symbol of ... something or other.'

'But why put yourself in a situation where you might be forced to break rules? Ron and I can handle this on our own. All we're going to do is track down their graves or their relatives and try to squeeze out their middle names, and maybe some information if they happen to fit our profile.'

'I know where the Barkwiths live,' Ron piped up, grinning at Hermione. 'That's one down.'

'So what am I supposed to do?' Harry demanded.

Ron cringed in sympathy. 'Sorry, Harry. I really am. But I don't see anything else for you to do right now.'

'You can study more of those books that Remus brought,' Hermione said encouragingly, patting him on the shoulder. 'That will keep you busy.'

Harry let out a growling breath in frustration. 'Fine, whatever.' He couldn't stand to look at either of them. Sincerely, he added, 'Be careful.' Harry didn't like having his friends do all the dirty work while he did nothing of value; as far as he was concerned, his birthday couldn't come fast enough.

***

Eleven failed days later, Hermione reluctantly scratched the last name off their list. 'We've hit a dead end,' she sighed. 'None of these people fit.'

'Twenty-three people with the initials R.B. and not one of them has a middle name starting with 'A',' grumbled Ron, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and glaring at the floor as if it were conspiring against them.

'There was Rue Annabelle Bagnold,' Hermione reminded him.

Ron gritted his teeth. 'She's twelve.'

'And I'm the only one who makes Voldemort's mortal enemies list that young,' Harry joked. Then, returning to the seriousness the situation warranted, he said, 'So we're back at square one.'

Ron strode to the other end of the room. 'It must be a ruddy nickname!'

'Or maybe the wizard or witch in question isn't English,' Hermione said sadly. 'Either way, yes, we're back at square one.'

'This is so frustrating!' barked Ron. 'Hermione and I have talked to so many people and it's all been pointless.'

'That's not true,' Harry said. 'You and Hermione have been really helpful. Even if none of those people turned out to be the R.A.B. we're looking for, at least we know who he's not. That's something.'

'You just said we're back at square one,' Ron muttered. 'No need to spare our feelings, Harry.'

'I was being hasty,' Harry assured him. 'We're all frustrated, but we'll work it out eventually.'

On a normal day, Harry would have been just as angry as Ron was, but he couldn't manage it when there were only thirteen hours and forty minutes to go before he finally came of age. Only thirteen hours and forty minutes until he could cast magic, until he could do something to battle Voldemort instead of sitting around being useless while his friends did all the legwork. He was so close he could taste the freedom. Harry's left hand felt around in his pocket until it grasped the fake locket; he didn't carry it with him always, but he usually kept it in the pocket of these robes.

'Mrs Weasley is getting suspicious,' voiced Hermione. 'She knows we're up to something.'

'Don't worry, she thinks you and Ron are dating,' Harry said, grinning from ear to ear. Mrs Weasley seemed quite happy about the prospect, too, from the way she hummed to herself every time she saw them leave together, but Harry wasn't about to share that little tidbit; Hermione and Ron looked embarrassed enough as it was.

'What?' Ron said, his mouth hanging open. He and Hermione competed for who could turn the deepest shade of red.

'She doesn't really think ... ? What does she think we've been doing while we were out for several hours a day?' Hermione cried, her face expressing her alarm.

'She thinks we've been at Grimmauld Place, remember?' Ron said. 'That's where we told her we were going whenever we went out. Tonks told her that the Order had some protection spells for the house that we could help out with ... though I guess that was a pretty weak excuse to use for so long,' he added, seeming to realize where his mother's misconception about his and Hermione's activities had come from. 'Mum would be livid if she knew we've been Apparating around England ... well, that Hermione has been Apparating us around England, anyway.' He rubbed his neck as though his sensitivity about not being able to Apparate was a physical itch.

'And Tonks covered for us -'

'She thinks you're going out, too.' Harry explained. 'I told her you were going to Hogsmeade. She figured you were both safe enough there.'

'We would be,' Ron nodded. 'Dad says Hogsmeade is crawling with MLE people, even Aurors. The shops are still dead, though. Who would go there?'

'It's not as if we were in any more than the usual amount of danger,' Hermione reminded them. 'We didn't go out after dark.'

'Mum would have murdered us if we weren't back by five.'

'And - ' Hermione's mouth clamped shut as they heard a soft knock on the door; she scrunched their useless list of names up into a ball and threw it into a corner. Harry frowned; that wasn't Ginny's knock, or Mrs Weasley's. He had come to know their ways of knocking all too well over the past several weeks.

'Come in,' Hermione called. Then, as the door opened, she cried, 'Neville!'

'Hey,' Neville greeted, grinning bashfully as he walked in. 'I figured you would be here, Harry. It's my birthday!'

'Awesome! You hit the big one-seven, eh, Neville?' Ron said, elbowing him good-naturedly.

'Yup,' Neville said proudly. Guilt pinched Harry; he had completely forgotten about Neville's birthday. How could he when it was only one day before his own? Harry was reminded, sadly, that Neville didn't have any very close friends; it was likely that no one had thought to get him a present but his relatives.

'Harry's turning seventeen tomorrow,' Hermione informed Neville.

'Yeah, I know,' Neville replied. 'The Daily Prophet has a countdown on the front page.'

'Er, right,' Harry muttered, feeling uncomfortable.

'I thought I'd spend the day here with you guys,' Neville said, looking hopeful as he sat awkwardly down on the bed next to Hermione. 'I know I wasn't invited or anything, but ...'

Harry could only imagine what else Neville had to look forward to. His grandmother's gushing, for one. 'Sure,' Harry replied, smiling widely to indicate to Neville that he was perfectly welcome. It meant that he, Hermione and Ron wouldn't be able to get any work done, but it was only for one day, and they didn't have any leads to follow.

'Of course, Neville!' Hermione agreed, smiling. 'We should all go to Hogsmeade ...' Then she looked at Harry meaningfully, biting her lip, and amended, 'or maybe we could just stay here.'

'I understand,' Neville assured her. 'It's better here than ... well, you know.' Harry looked at Neville's hand and thought he saw the corner of a silver piece of paper peeking out from his fist. He drew a hissing breath in sympathy, realizing where Neville must have spent his morning.

***

It ended up being the most pleasant day of Harry's summer thus far. Free of worries for once and devoted to Neville's pleasure, they spent much of their time outdoors for the first time in ages. Neville pointed out several interesting herbs in Ron's garden and managed to make an odd paste that turned everyone's hair purple when it touched their skin. The gnomes in the Weasley's garden found it delicious, and the four of them (even Hermione) laughed as the gnomes ate it and their entire bodies shifted colours to purple, to green, to orange, and to all the other colours of the rainbow. The gnomes were having fun as well (which, Harry supposed, was why Hermione wasn't bothered), and were tricking each other into eating it; soon the garden was full of several dozen gnomes of all colours running after each other. They came up with a good game of tag in which they caught gnomes of a particular colour, and Harry was thrilled just to be running around instead of reading quietly.

Mrs Weasley managed to put Neville's grandmother off his trail when she arrived to fetch him for dinner (she, too, felt sympathy for Neville's home situation) so he stayed long into the night. Mr Weasley got off work early and brought a few cases of Butterbeer with him, and the twins arrived with all sorts of chocolate and candy and fireworks that they set off inside the house; even Mrs Weasley didn't chastise them too much. Eventually it got so late that Neville ended up calling his grandmother through the fireplace to tell her that he was staying overnight to celebrate Harry's birthday, too. She was livid with him for having missed her plans for his birthday, but he held his own with unusual aplomb, and she agreed easily enough to him staying for Harry's sake, as she considered Harry to be all that was good and right in the world, or so Neville said with a good-humoured smile.

It was turning into a party, though Harry regretted a little that it was mostly for his own sake and not for Neville's that most of the Weasley family was popping in out of the blue. Bill and Fleur came over for the first time since their wedding; both looked happy and healthy, and were unable to stay away from each other even after being married for weeks. Charlie made it as well, bearing a gift that he set aside 'for after midnight' with a wink. Then, shortly after eleven, Remus arrived with Tonks on his arm, the two of them also setting aside presents. The living room was crowded with people, food, and the sound of laughter by the time the clock struck eleven fifty-nine.

'Here it comes!' George cried, grinning. When it came down to the last five seconds, the room began to chant.

'Five! ... Four! ... Three! ... Two!...'

'...One!' Harry shouted along with them.

'Zero!' The room cheered. Fred and George set off their most impressive fireworks yet, causing happy chaos. Hermione and Ron tackled Harry with hugs, and Harry's sides hurt from laughter. He didn't think his grin could get any wider. It was the best birthday ever. He managed to reach his wand and cried, 'Lumos!' and did smile a little wider when his wand tip burst with light.

Then the window at the end of the room shattered; bizarrely, the shards of glass fired outward, harming no one. There were a few shrieks of surprise at first, but mostly everyone figured it was one of Fred and George's stunts. Harry looked at them, as did everyone else gradually, but their faces betrayed their dismay.

The chatter and laughter died in moments. Harry noticed an object sitting innocuously on the table in front of him that had not been there before; it was impossible for it to have gotten there from the window without magic. On closer inspection it appeared to be nothing more than a slim chunk of rock about the size of Harry's hand.

Harry reached for it. 'Harry, no,' Remus warned, but Harry's fingertips were already closing around it. It was mildly warm to the touch, and felt utterly ordinary as he picked it up. All eyes were on him. He flipped it over.

Harry. The word was written on a folded piece of parchment in red ink that Harry had a sickening feeling wasn't ink at all. The writing was shaky, as if it had been written on a rough surface, but the flow of the strokes made a cold shiver run through him; Harry knew this handwriting. He recalled it clear as crystal from Riddle's diary, years ago.

Still holding the rock, Harry reached with his other hand to pull off the note. Each fold in the parchment immediately faded away as Harry unfolded it, leaving it looking as though it had never been folded there at all; Harry was struck with the near-humorous impression that someone was showing off. About halfway through he realized that there were two pieces, and wondered what on earth Voldemort had to say to him that would take two average-sized pieces of parchment to say. Hermione was gripping Harry's arm so tightly it hurt, and the tension in the room was itself a painful dip in the atmosphere after so many happy hours, but Harry ignored it and unfolded the last crease. He stared at the words written upon it, Hermione and Ron crowded around him close enough to see. He frowned in confusion at the short message: Let's play.

That was all that was written. 'What's that supposed to mean?' Ron asked, his voice shaking. The two words, like Harry's name, were written in red ink, probably blood. Harry heard someone in the room ask what it said, but he ignored the question. He set the first piece of parchment down onto the coffee table, from which it was snatched up by someone else. Then, before any further comment was made on the first page, Harry turned his attention to the second. As Harry focused on each word, his grip on the parchment tightened, and Hermione's eyes went wide with horror.