Book of Memories

Chapter 6: THE BEST BIRTHDAY

Harry, Michelle and Thantanos joined Katie, Alicia, Oliver and Angelina on the field. Harry mounted his Dragonback and did a few laps to wake himself up, the hot wind suddenly becoming very cold when flying at about two hundred miles per hour. The laps only took a few seconds each. Michelle and Thantanos stood dumbstruck as Harry took it over the woods and back at full speed. Angelina and Katie giggled passed Thantanos, his mouth wide open.

Katie, Angelina and Alicia took many practice shots against Oliver. He was as good a Keeper as ever and it was hard to tell if he was just extremely adept at catching the Quaffle or Katie, Angelina and Alicia were just really bad at getting it past him. Harry guessed the former as he caught the Snitch for the third time in under ten minutes, which, given the size of the field, was very good. The slow Golden Snitch was no match for a Dragonback capable of outstripping Fire Quidditch's Spiked Snitch.

Cyrus Stone returned about an hour after he left, happy as ever. He commended everyone, especially Harry, on their superb performance. Alicia, Katie and Angelina performed their figure eight passing with excellence and when Harry thrust Katie along on his Dragonback at full speed, Oliver didn't dare get in the way. Around lunchtime, Stone let everyone go back to their tents.

Harry could see Hermione and Ron with two friends sitting outside the tents. Hermione had collected Viktor Krum and Ron had brought Fleur Delacour from somewhere. Cho, unfortunately, was nowhere to be found and at some time during his absence, Percy, Bill and Charlie joined. Harry tossed the Dragonback inside his tent and ate lunch, telling Sirius about Michelle and Thantanos; he was the only one who didn't know.

Nightfall drew near. Mrs. Weasley, Hermione and Ginny joined the other tent for dinner. Harry expressed his concerns with everyone about Michelle and Thantanos. He also took notice at the Dursleys, who, surprisingly, began talk to Harry as if he was really a nephew. He also noticed that Mrs. Weasley exchanged the nasty look she reserved for them to a forced smile and accepted this as the start of waning hostility. Or perhaps the Dursleys were just being nice because if they weren't, there were about three hundred thousand wizards just outside the tent?

Bedtime rose quickly over deep conversation about Lord Voldemort. The Dursleys shared their accounts on Muggle news. As Mr. Weasley pointed out constantly during the talk, Muggle families suffered just as bad as wizarding families. It was nice, Harry thought, as Aunt Petunia and Mrs. Weasley bickered over which was a more thorough way of cleaning dishes (Muggle vs Wizarding), to see them actually get along. It would be an eternity, he reminded himself, as Aunt Petunia smashed her plate on the floor, gaping as Mrs. Weasley fixed it, before he would rather stay at the Dursley's than at the Weasley's.

"Run along now," said Mrs. Weasley, magicking all the plates clean, glaring at Aunt Petunia. "Everyone off to bed. Especially you, Harry," she added, now glaring at him.

Harry removed his cloak, pulled off the gauntlets and lay down on his bed, staring up, once again, at the ceiling, thinking, except his thinking didn't last long. Practice with the full team drained him of much of his energy. On his mind this time was only the game tomorrow and with that, his eyes closed, he rolled over onto his stomach, an arm dangling off the edge... and dozed off.

When Harry got up the next morning, he remembered that, for the first time, he didn't stay up till midnight so he could celebrate his birthday with himself. It took a minute to hit him that there were at least three hundred thousand people just outside his tent ready to wish him a happy sixteenth birthday. It was a great feeling, that, to say the very least.

Nobody else was up yet. Something woke him up extra early, probably to make up for the fact that he wasn't up until midnight. The moon wasn't out at least... but it was raining. After a minute, Uncle Vernon stopped snoring and grunted his early morning grunt. Not trying to press his luck (and the so far good morning), Harry leaned over to pick up his glasses, ignoring his uncle totally, and put them on along with the necklace. Someone small dashed out of the room when he stretched his arms and looked over by the door. That had to be Ginny.

Sirius and Mr. Weasley were missing, most likely outside, Mr. Weasley doing last minute preparations and Sirius helping. That light rain outside, Harry had a feeling, by the time the game starts would be a heavy downpour.

Mrs. Weasley poked her head inside.

"Good morning!" she said. "Arthur and Sirius are outside helping Mr. Fudge and Mr. Bagman. Have some breakfast, Harry. Stone will stop by later to get you."

Harry helped himself to a box of Miss Wool's Waffles-In-About-Twenty-Five-Point-Six-Seconds while Uncle Vernon grabbed the nearest box of Special K cereal. Something came out of his mouth that sounded a lot like "good morning." Was there any more good to come out of Sirius staying at the Dursley's with Harry? He had to wonder if it would be a permanent change or if they were just being nice under Sirius' orders. It was just too good to be true and they had fifteen years of being rotten to Harry to change from. He took a seat at the kitchen table opposite his uncle. They ate silently.

His luck was just never that good... and besides, Dudley was with Aunt Marge. Even if his aunt and uncle would ever change, Dudley wouldn't. Aunt Marge was the one he really wanted to change. She wasn't even a real aunt to Harry, she just forced him to call her that.

He could clearly remember that every time she was under the same roof as him, something embarrassing, something terribly embarrassing, would happen. It wasn't until two years ago when Harry exacted his revenge exploding a glass in her hand and a few days later, blew her up like a balloon. Normally he would have been in big trouble, but the then-thought murderer Sirius Black was after Harry. When the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge was glad just to see Harry alive, he got off without punishment. Aunt Marge was restored to her normal beefy self and the incident cleared with Memory Charms.

"Mr. Potter?"

Someone was calling Harry but under his daydreaming, he hadn't noticed. Cyrus Stone stepped inside and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh," said Harry, snapping out of it, "hello."

"Come, Mr. Potter. All players are due on the field now. Grab your broom. Game starts in an hour! Mr. Black and Mr. Weasley will be back any moment. Chop chop! I'll be outside."

Harry wolfed down the unfinished waffles and woke up Ron, Percy, Bill, Charlie, Fred and George.

"C'mon, get up," said Harry. Sirius and Mr. Weasley walked in on cue. Mr. Weasley looked delighted. Sirius looked nervous.

"Had us up at the crack of dawn to rearrange some seats," said Mr. Weasley, wiping the sweat off his brow. "I tell you, it's raining but it doesn't help in this heat." Inside the tent, thankfully, was perfectly comfortable. "Hope it gets heavier or you'll be broiling out there."

"I'll see you when the game starts," said Harry. A rush of excitement swept through him. It was his birthday and three hundred thousand people were going to celebrate it with him. Nothing bad is going to happen, he assured himself, no trouble at all. The only trouble is, trouble usually went looking for him.

Who could cause trouble this time? Voldemort was a heap of nothing and with three hundred thousand people outside, any Death Eaters playing games were sure to be caught. Dementors would be struck away immediately by the Patronus of thousands of wizards and witches and his alone, Harry thought, would make most of them go away.

As the rain outside got a little heavier, he threw his cloak on, put the gauntlets on, put on the Order of Merlin necklace (tucking it underneath his robes) and stepped outside.

If it was crowded yesterday, it didn't hold a candle to the sheer number of tents sprouted up now. Harry was sure the number was far over three hundred thousand and immediately knew why Mr. Weasley and his godfather had to help rearrange seats. There was no telling how many more would show up by Apparating.

As most of them looked to still be sleeping, Harry was able to peacefully make his way with Stone to the Fire Quidditch field (Stone, however, was stealing glances at Harry's forehead in set intervals).

"Okay," began Stone, clasping his hands together and rubbing them excitedly, "we have the pre-game Snitch, Bludgers and Quaffle. They act just like the Fire Quidditch balls except they don't have the, well... hazards. The United States team is out here too on the other side of the field. We'll play a practice for an hour and then we stop and wait at our end of the field while everyone collects into the stands.

"The rain is going to get heavier. Our Weather Witches predict a thunder storm but that doesn't bother anyone, right? Right! Now, get out there and kick some butt!"

A wide grin crossed everyone's face as they mounted their brooms and flew off into the air. Within two minutes, England had scored a goal and Harry spotted the Snitch. Making sure not to lose it, he flattened himself on his Dragonback and barreled towards the Snitch. It had no chance. He zoomed past it but backed up and clutched his fist tightly around it.

He would have to use his Ice Dragon spell to put the Bludgers out of commission and so he practiced casting it midair, aiming it at the speeding Bludgers. It worked every time, pelting the Bludger with a jet of ice and snowballs. The only worry he had was wondering whether this was enough to fizzle the Fire Quidditch Bludgers? Not caring enough at the moment, he proceeded to send the United States' Seeker rocketing off course each time as he spotted the Snitch.

Harry noticed that the under the big scoreboard, there was now another board that was totally black. When practice ended an hour later, it showed random people from the crowd who were now filing into the stands.

"Good luck, Harry!" someone called from the stands. He turned around to see Ron, Hermione, Viktor, Fleur... and Cho standing by England's hoops. Harry ran over immediately. The one speaking was Cho.

None of them took notice, but the lower board was now showing the six of them. The whole stadium let out one, great, big "aww" when Cho forced Harry into a hug and gave him a good luck kiss on the cheek.

He went a deep shade of red when the magnified voice of Mr. Bagman called out, "Has young Harry found true love in beautiful Miss Cho Chang? And don't forget, today is his sixteenth birthday!" Harry walked swiftly back, stumbling from embarrassment, his apple-red face still visible to everyone. "Just under five hundred thousand of you have turned up! No pressure, Harry!

"And now I'd like to welcome you to the International Ministry of Quidditch's 1997 Fire Quidditch game! Ladies and gentlemen, on the United States team we have Ghesi! Jacobs! Wools! Lander! McMera! Leslie! And Antoinelle!"

As he called each name, the players rose from their place on the ground.

"Playing for England we have - and may I remind you this is the youngest team ever to grace Fire Quidditch - Spinnet! Johnson! Quirrell! Quirrell! Wood! Bell! Aaaaaaaand Potter!"

Harry rose up from the ground, reddening from the roar of clapping and screams ("GO POTTER!"), and took a look around to spot the Weasleys. Squinting, he could see them sitting in the Top Box, right next to the Dursleys, who seemed to not be enjoying themselves very much.

"All the way from Egypt once again, our referee and Chairwizard from the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

Harry watched closely as Mostafa let the fiery Bludgers and Spiked Snitch up and then moments later...

"They're off!"

Angelina, Katie and Alicia must have been practicing hard for this. It was like watching the Quidditch World Cup again. The three had no trouble handling the Quaffle that, when thrown, would gain unnatural speed. Bagman only had time to call out their names before the Quaffle was in new hands.

"Spinnet! Bell! Johnson! Bell! Johnson! Spinnet! Johnson! Bell! Spinnet! Johnson! Spinnet! Bell! Spinnet! Bell! Excellent Quaffle passing to evade that sneaky United States Chaser! Oh my, I don't think the United States is going to win this year, either!"

There were a few boos from United States supporters.

Waiting impatiently was Harry, atop the middle of the field, dodging Bludgers from all directions as they passed by. The Snitch hadn't made it's grand appearance yet and the rain was getting heavier. Umbrellas began popping up all over. At the very least, the heavy rain was drenching Harry's robes and cooling him off from the hot air.

Twenty minutes in, the United States had scored ten times to put the score at one hundred to ten. The rain continued to pour and within a half hour, every player looked like they had been swimming in the lake at Hogwarts. Every time a player accidentally hit another, the resulting splash of water could fill a cup. For a while, The United States' score remained unchanged while England scored three times.

Harry, unfortunately, was getting restless. Something to keep the United States Seeker on her toes? He looked around and spotted the other Seeker circling whoever had the Quaffle. Harry zoomed his way towards her, made sure she caught eye contact, rose a hundred feet into the air... and started a Wronski Feint.

The other Seeker flew as fast as her Fireball let her to catch up with Harry and she was looking around, Harry noticed, for the Snitch. Bolts of lightning streaked the sky and when one lit up the air to daylight, the golden glow of the Snitch caught his eye.

Harry quickly pulled away from the dive, forgetting all about diverting the other Seeker and zoomed after it. He didn't notice that the entire stadium, including the players, was watching him.

In no time, he felt a tremendous source of heat directly behind himself. Harry turned around to see a Bludger tailing him closely.

He pulled out his wand and shouted, "Draconus iciclia!"

Out of his wand came a small dragon made of ice and it began immediately pelting the Bludger with snowballs and a torrent of icy breath all to no effect. The Bludger caught speed, slamming right into the dragon melting it, making it fall to the ground along with the rest of the rain. Harry kept his eye on the Snitch and tried the same method last year of enabling him to grab it.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Nothing. The blades on the Snitch stayed as sharp and long as ever. Try again? "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" he thundered. The heat behind him grew more intense. Now another Bludger was tailing him. They weren't gaining on him but he wasn't losing them either and if he gave the Dragonback any more speed, he would find himself with the Snitch cutting into his chest.

He had a tiny idea... but was it smart... ? Or stupid? If he numbed his hand, he could catch it, but he might lose a finger. It could be reattached... couldn't it? Another crack of lightning and the roaring thunder rumbled his ears. He couldn't use that somehow, could he? No, that's silly. How could he hope that lightning would hit the Snitch? Maybe if he made it rust- no... it would have rusted already.

The Snitch made a sharp turn and started heading back towards the United States hoops. Their Seeker kept tail to tail with the Bludgers behind Harry. It seemed useless. He needed to disable the knives or the other Seeker would and catch it. It turned again, this time heading straight up. A lightning bolt cracked too close for comfort. The resulting rolling thunder made Harry twitch on his broom.

This was getting ridiculous. Harry hesitated but decided that he should go with the original plan. He was no stranger to pain and odd injuries... Voldemort's snake, Nagini, had torn his leg off - a finger would be nothing. He put a hand as close to the Snitch as possible without touching it. The spinning blades whipped a torrent of air against the palm of his hand but how to prevent it from permanently tearing a finger off? He tried recalling the spell Dumbledore used to reattach a severed limb. What were those words? Res... Resart- um. Resartum membrum! He really didn't want to have to do this but there didn't seem to be an alternative...

The Snitch made a U-turn for the ground for a few seconds then headed for the other end of the field. Harry thrust his hand outwards again just before the Snitch and decided he better clean it first because if he's going to cut himself, the last thing he needs is for his hand to turn green from an infection. The back of his head kept telling him this was not a very good idea... The rain being full of dirt itself wasn't making matters better. Of course, what he really wanted was to stop the blades.

He clenched his teeth, readied his hand and, not keen on the coming squirt of blood, pointed his wand at the Snitch and shouted, "Aquor!"

It was something he didn't expect to happen.

The clouds above turned black, black as night and thickened... right above his head. Several bolts of lightning loomed threateningly within the clouds until a moment later when one shot straight down... and right onto him.

His body jerked, his eyes closed and his body went completely numb, unable to feel a thing. He felt something escape his hand nearest the Snitch but had no idea what it was. A sickening tearing sound filled his ears and he couldn't help that his hand felt magnetically attracted to it. Harry wrapped his fingers around it to stop it spinning and tearing his hand apart any more. His fingers felt nothing.

Suddenly, the heat behind him died away.

Feeling returned to his fingers slowly and he opened one eye half way, not daring to fully know what happened to his hand. The Snitch, he saw, had been scorched black. He opened the other eye. His hand was... perfectly fine! One of the blades of the Snitch was bent and torn to pieces. Harry halted his Dragonback and looked straight ahead.

There was plenty of time to think about what happened because the entire stadium went silent. Harry gulped and looked around, wide-eyed, mouth open, breathing as heavy as ever. There was shock on every face.

The atmosphere was reminiscent of when Harry first found out he was a Parselmouth, one who could talk to snakes. He had called off a snake that had gone after a fellow classmate. To him, he was speaking English, to everyone else, he was hissing. Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth and the ability to talk to snakes was considered a Dark art. Harry had gotten the ability from Voldemort...

This was just another accident, right? This came from Voldemort too, right? Nothing bad would come of it? Of course, last time the whole of Hogwarts thought Harry to be an heir of Slytherin. The Chamber of Secrets, which was the home of a basilisk that kills by sight, had been opened. Only a Parselmouth could open the Chamber and command the snake and the fact that Harry could talk to snakes made the entire school believe he was the one doing it...

Harry wished someone would do something... say something... or at the very least, move. All the eyes staring at him were creepy. He would hide himself, but where? It would look stupid. He turned to look at all the faces looking up at him. Nobody was moving. Nobody was speaking. It was like time had stopped. Feeling the blood rushing to his head and feeling distinctly hot in the face, he floated motionless in the air, not having a single idea. Something did tell him that, whatever he did, it wasn't exactly common even for a wizard.

But suddenly, someone began to clap. Harry craned his head and looked for the source. Standing up next to Fudge, was Albus Dumbledore. Despite the fact that his hands alone were clapping, the fact that someone broke the silence calmed Harry down tremendously.

The rest of the stadium soon followed and the awkward moment faded away.

"POTTER CATCHES THE SNITCH!" bellowed Mr. Fudge over the sound of hundreds of thousands of hands clapping. "ENGLAND WINS ONE HUNDRED NINETY TO ONE HUNDRED!"

And as suddenly as Mr. Fudge had started to speak, Harry felt himself gradually calming down ever so slowly. A huge grin tore across Harry's face, his mouth open ear to ear. As Alicia, Angelina, Michelle, Thantanos, Oliver and Katie bumped lightly into him, the smile only grew bigger. Harry quickly forgot about what just happened and he couldn't tell if those were rain drops leaking down his cheeks or tears of joy.

Harry gripped the Snitch by a blade and held it up with his free hand, catching the very distant eye of Cho. She was standing up along with Hermione, Ron, Viktor, Fleur, Sirius and the Weasleys, all lost for words and beaming, drenched from the rain. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were sitting under an umbrella, clapping only because they might get hurt if they didn't.

Someone from the crowd was chanting, "A lightning bolt for the lightning scar! Potter for President!"

It was like a dream, seeing hundreds of people standing up all over the crowd shouting his name. The board beneath the scores was showing the single image of Harry's hand on the Snitch, his fingers wrapped safely between the blades and his palm touching the edge of a flattened blade.

As the mass of tangled bodies that was the England team sank to the ground, they all tumbled off their brooms. Thousands of people started to pour out from the stands but a bunch of wizards Apparated around the field to push them all back. Harry looked up to see flags for England fluttering in the wind (or perhaps from Wind Charms since they looked too wet to be doing that on their own).

On the way back to the tent, with Sirius' hand on Harry's shoulder...

"Potter! Potter! Can I can get autograph! Please?"

"Um, okay." He went inside the tent, pink around the ears, signed a small slip of parchment and the girl tucked it inside her cloak as she left.

And it didn't stop there.

A bunch of giggling girls no older than Ginny dashed out from behind another tent. They carried a photograph of Harry's hand about to grab the Snitch. He was shocked to see that his hand was glowing a lightning blue and a zig zagging bolt of lightning stretched between his hand and the Snitch. In no time at all, a line had formed all the way back to the woods and, Harry guessed, all the way from the Quidditch field.

The rain had stopped at some point and he found his arm had nearly fallen asleep so he bewitched a quill to sign for him. This was much faster and the line went more quickly but a few people thought the quill wasn't going to be exactly like the real thing so every now and then, he was forced to sign by hand. He was very glad to see Cho wasn't among those on the line. If he had to sign something for her, Rita Skeeter would be there in a flash, embarrassing him all over again.

What seemed like one hundred thousand signatures later, Harry found sanctity in Mrs. Weasley shooing everyone away so they could have lunch in peace. While eating, the lightning came back to Harry immediately. When he had swallowed enough of the first bite of his hot dog, he asked about it.

"I just tried to clean the stupid thing," said Harry. Sirius suddenly became very stern.

"And what were you originally planning on doing?" He viciously tore his hamburger in half.

"Thought I'd numb my hand and grab it then reattach any fingers," he said, smiling weakly. Sirius was none too happy. "Hey, I didn't have any other choice! The mark of ancients helped me bend and break off the blades last year and the stupid ice dragon wasn't enough to disable the Bludgers! But what was that? I didn't want that to happen!" Harry shouted frantically.

Sirius broke into a smile.

"Magic works by intention," he said, now with a less stern but a still serious look on his face. "You could have no wand at all and say nothing if you're trained well enough to focus on what you want to happen."

Harry's weak smile turned into a look of great surprise. He actually managed to redirect lightning?

By the redness of Hermione's face and severe look of trying to force down a smile, it was evident she already knew this.

"The wand movements and words just help you to focus better," said Sirius. "Look at Albus Dumbledore. He rarely uses a wand but then again, he's the best trained wizards of our time." He paused for a moment, apparently in deep thought about whether to say what he had on his mind or not. "There are a some things that do more than help you focus magic. Staves, for example, are known to increase magic ability way beyond normal."

"But... I mean... I made a lightning bolt hit me? And it didn't hurt me at all..."

"Controlling lightning was long thought to be a dead part of the Dark arts, hence the reaction from everyone," said Sirius grimly but then he smiled.

"I thought the reaction I got about being a Parselmouth was bad..."

"There's a bit more to you than anyone knows yet. Can't exactly say what. We do know that your mom's sacrifice prevented Voldemort from touching your skin but no one knows yet how you're seemingly immune to Avada Kedavra." He stuck a thoughtful pickle in his mouth and bit the end off.

"The ancients... could they use strong magic without the mark?" asked Harry.

"Nope," said Sirius definitively. "Most of them could barely use levitation charms and basic hexes but give them the mark and they were casting Clades Ultimus. Having it in you does nothing unless it's active."

Was a weaker form of the mark of ancients still lingering in him? He had to ask himself, because otherwise how would he explain that lightning bolt. Sure, he really didn't want to have to mangle his hand but how could he ever have hoped a lightning bolt would magnetically bend and attract the Snitch to his hand? Briefly, he thought that he was just becoming the great wizard everyone expected him to be, and yet...

The Weasleys were all quietly munching on their food, not saying a word. Hermione looked like she was ready to burst out with something and Harry was glad she hadn't yet. But that wasn't going to last long...

"I can only imagine what you could do with a staff!" shrieked Hermione.

Mr. Ollivander had been talking about staves and now Sirius was going on about them too. Sirius caught the look on Harry's face and his hopes of getting one were shot down yet again.

"Don't get your hopes up," Sirius said while shaking his head, clearly saying "no." "Staves were banned by a meeting around 382 B.C. Old Ollivander's ancestors set up a shop in preparation for the hoard of wizards and witches who had to trade their staff in for a wand."

Ron piped up, forgetting about the large helping of hot dog bun in his mouth.

"Mr. Ollivander's carrying staves now. They're three feet long and-" Mr. Weasley shook his head disapprovingly.

"Special order from Mr. Fudge. He told you that and I know because he sent me an owl after you three left." Mr. Weasley turned his head to Mrs. Weasley who had something more to add.

"And besides, staves take a great deal of practice to use. You could end up striking yourself dead if you don't control it!" Ron grunted, swallowing the bread in his mouth.

"Those little three foot long sticks in his shop?" said Harry, amazed. "Don't use them right and they can end up killing you?"

"Yes!" shouted Mrs. Weasley in a high-pitched whine which made Aunt Petunia jump. She turned to Ron. "Your father had to carry a few! Tried to use a simple spell!" Mr. Weasley rolled up his sleeve to show a burn mark just above his elbow.

"Damn fire scorched me instead. They have minds of their owns, staves do... If you just look at one wrong it'll curse you," he added, muttering.

Mr. Weasley then forced the conversation back onto Quidditch and how the United States might finally give up. They did come to the conclusion that more countries might start to take part in Fire Quidditch. Harry gave the thought that the field would have to be made bigger again to accommodate a new wave of people. Five hundred thousand turned up, selling out all of the International Ministry of Quidditch's tickets... Then again, the United States would be quite angry to lose twice to a sixteen-year-old... but after all, that sixteen-year-old is Harry Potter.

For dinner, Dumbledore and Mr. Fudge arranged a birthday celebration with the biggest cake Harry had ever seen -- it was the size of several Hagrids put together. It didn't look like anyone left yet as tens of thousands of people scrambled to get a piece of luxurious cake: white with sparkly golden lettering spelling out "Harry James Potter" in two-foot-tall letters. The scar was drawn across it with red and the scar tasted good, too.

"Harry," said Ron, "you never told us your middle name." Harry could never deny to himself that, despite the fact that he never really knew his parents except for the few hours a few months ago, he held a certain respect for them. As such, he was quite proud of his middle name.

All throughout the evening, he could hear people recounting their time with his parents. It made his heart jump and left him with a feeling of insurmountable joy. Harry lost count of the number of times someone pulled him over by the scruff of the neck to let him hear a story they were telling someone about James or Lily. He had all the reason in the world to be proud of both of them because everyone here seemed to know them.

Many, many times did someone ask him about the week in the forest alone and all his bouts with Voldemort. The only thing that really bothered him was the fact that everyone called him "Mr. Potter" and not just "Harry."

Much later, when all the yelling and screaming had finally died down, Harry put his glasses down on his bedside table, removed the Order of Merlin necklace and got into bed. Just then it occurred to him, hands folded under his head, that things were going great lately. He had this conversation with himself before and things turned very nasty just a short time later... You had to be blind and deaf, though, to not notice that his life had greatly improved since Sirius moved in. He tried to not let the previous thought bother him as he tried to fall asleep.

The unfortunate realization that something again going to happen at Hogwarts, as it had every year, wasn't letting go. Harry gripped his covers and closed his eyes. Whatever was coming was sure taking it's time and the longer it took to come, the better. Just like Mr. Weasley had told him to do once, he put it out of his mind. He had just too good of a day to worry about it much.