Harry Potter and the Labyrinth of the Mind

HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND

Chapter 2: The Auror's Resurrection -

Harry stumbled a bit as he arrived and landed heavily on his knees. Hedwig's cage came to the floor beside him with a thump, drawing an indignant hoot from the now rather ruffled owl.

"Sorry Hedwig, " murmured Harry, "OOF!"

Remus was struggling with balancing the weight of two people and the task of landing upright. After a few swaying steps, he staggered into Harry, leaning against him for support as he regained his equilibrium.

"Ungh... sorry, Harry," he gasped.

The sound of someone hurrying into the room made Harry turn, but he quickly relaxed as he saw tall, red-haired Arthur Weasley.

"Remus! Harry!" he exclaimed, "Where are Tonks and Diggle? Who's that?"

Mr. Weasley stepped forward quickly to help Remus steady himself and the stunned woman.

"Explanations in a moment, Arthur," answered Remus, "but first, I've got to get her into a room and send for Poppy Pomfrey."

Motioning Harry to stay where he was, Remus and Mr. Weasley carried the limp woman out of the room. Harry then took the opportunity to see what sort of room he was in. He was in one corner of a very large kitchen. It had a flagstone floor and a low ceiling. The beams were dark with age and candle smoke. Dominating one wall was the one of the largest fireplaces Harry had ever seen. It was easily large enough to roast an ox and the firebox had so many iron pot hooks, cranes, and the like, it looked like some strange, inverted porcupine.

Though the architecture of the room showed it to be rather old, there were modern looking appliances and a huge sink ranged along two other walls. Harry guessed they were magical as he saw no electrical outlets in the room. There was a large window above the sink. There were doors in the remaining wall. One appeared to close off a pantry, another looked as if it must open into a dooryard or garden and the third was the door through which Remus and Mr. Weasley had disappeared.

Harry placed Hedwig's cage on a small table by the pantry door and his bag on the floor next to it. Then, he took a seat near the fire at the biggest wooden table he had ever seen outside the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Lack of sleep and the odd events of the last hour were taking their toll on Harry. He sat gazing into the flames, relaxing in their warmth, thinking and feeling nothing. So, when Remus and Mr. Weasley returned, Harry jumped in shock.

"Oh, Harry," said Mr. Weasley apologetically, "didn't mean to give you a wobbly. You must be dead tired, but I'm afraid the night's not over yet. Fancy a bit of a nosh before we carry on?"

Mr. Weasley busied himself at a counter and the ice box as Remus tossed a handful of powder into the fire and leaned in. Harry heard him urging Madame Pomfrey to come straight away and then ask Professor McGonagall to send the headmaster as soon as could be arranged. However, it was all rather vague and other-worldly as Harry edged closer to sleep.

"Uh oh," exclaimed Remus, pulling out of the fire and seeing Harry nearly asleep, "Harry, wake up. Dumbledore will be here soon and he'll be wanting to talk with us all. Besides, you had some questions for me, as I recall."

The thought of any sort of talk from Dumbledore was enough for Harry to rouse himself and attempt to focus again on what was passing.

"Here we are, lads," said Mr. Weasley, cheerfully, as he levitated a tray of sandwiches and another tray bearing mugs of steaming, inky black coffee to the table. "I can't hold a candle to Molly, of course, but it'll be edible and the coffee is hot and strong, anyway, so tuck in!"

"Ahh, " sighed Remus, following Mr. Weasley's advice, "Arthur, I owe you something for this. That coffee smells wonderful. Harry, suppose you fill Arthur in."

So, Harry recounted the events of the evening. When he had finished, there was a silence for moment while Remus conjured another cup of coffee for himself, refilled Mr. Weasley's mug, and pushed one over toward Harry.

"Drink up, Harry," said Remus as a knock sounded at the door. "I'll get that, it'll be Poppy."

And, indeed, it was Madame Pomfrey who came bustling in the door, levitating a trunk of supplies in front of her. With a friendly nod to Harry and Mr. Weasley, she followed Remus through the kitchen to her patient. Remus returned almost immediately and sat down again at the table, saying,

"Poppy will need some time, but she should have something to report by the time Albus gets here."

"Um, Pr.. er, Remus," said Harry, "could you tell me how you all happened to know you were needed at the Dursleys tonight? Even Mrs. Figg knew."
Mr. Weasley hemmed a bit, but Remus shook his head.

"I know how Molly feels, Arthur, but there are some things he should know," Remus said. "Harry, how much do you know about the protection you have at the Dursleys?"

"I know Professor Dumbledore based it on my mum sacrificing her life for me," Harry answered, staring fixedly at his hands spread flat on the table top. "Nothing more."

"Well, Harry," said Remus, "while that is the core of your protection, there are other spells, ward charms, at work. Mrs. Figg monitors them with the help of her kneazles."

"Oh," said Harry, comprehension dawning, " all this time, I thought they were just cats."

"No, highly reliable kneazles, Harry," Mr. Weasley broke in, "and they are very helpful in watching the barriers. However, the ward charms, themselves, help with that, as well. You see, in addition to an anti-apparition ward, and simple barrier wards, there is a ward set to sound an alarm when a magic person crosses the barrier. It is set to recognize you, of course, but anyone else will trigger it. It was tripped tonight."
"So," asked Harry, "what if Voldemort sent a squib or a muggle after me?"

"Mrs. Figg has a clock hidden away at her house, " smiled Mr. Weasley, delightedly. "It monitors you and the Dursleys in much the same way as the clock at the Burrow. If anything was amiss with you or any of the Dursleys, your hand on that clock would show us."

"So, that means this woman, Annwyl, is a witch," noted Harry.

"So it would seem..." Remus answered.

At that moment, Madame Pomfrey re-entered the kitchen. Her face looked worn and worried as she sat down across from Harry. She glanced briefly at the three of them, but then looked down as if reluctant to speak. After a moments tense silence, she ventured,

"Will the headmaster be here soon?"

"We hope so, Poppy, " Remus answered, "but it has been a busy night. He'll come as soon as he can. What is it? Is she really Annwyl King?"

Madame Pomfrey just looked at Remus for a moment, then turned away to stare into the fire as she spoke.

"She is, indeed, Annwyl King," she began. "All the evidence matches and polyjuice would have worn off by now. Where she has been all these years, of course, I haven't any idea. But as surprising as it is to see here alive again, her injuries are even more shocking." She paused, took a deep breath, and continued.

"Despite the appearance of burns, the only tissue damage is cutting and tearing, made complicated by residual magic in the wound, a magical energy signal, if you will."

"But, what can inflict that sort of injury," questioned Mr. Weasley.

Madame Pomfrey lifted her gaze from the fire, but instead of turning to Mr. Weasley to answer, she fixed her eyes on Remus.

"The wounds appear to be consistent with a werewolf attack."

Mr. Weasley coughed and choked on his coffee and Harry felt his jaw working up and down in disbelief. Remus simply stared, unblinking, at Madame Pomfrey, his face ashen, features unmoving.

"Buh...but, " spluttered Harry, at last, "that isn't possible, is it? Tonight's not a full moon. Remus isn't..." He stopped, not knowing how to continue.

"I know, Potter, I know, " Madame Pomfrey agreed. "I didn't say it was a werewolf bite because, of course, how could it be? The moon isn't full for another week. I'm simply saying it resembles the injury one would expect from such an attack."

The four sat silent for a moment, no one being quite sure what to say next. Then, Remus stood up so abruptly, Harry jumped in his chair. Remus said nothing and looked at no one, but headed straight toward the outside door.

"Remus, " Madame Pomfrey called after him, "you should know that it isn't a werewolf bite. The magical signature is fading as she heals. There will be no lasting effects."

Remus had paused at the door, but did not turn. He listened, but when she had finished, he left the house without a word. Mr. Weasley rose as if to follow, but Madame Pomfrey laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"Let him go, Arthur," she said quietly. "I think he has some of his memories to face down just now and that's best done on one's own."

"Will she really be alright then," Harry asked, as Mr. Weasley sat down again.

"Certainly, but she'll need rest and care. Arthur, Molly's terribly clever maintaining healing charms. Do you think she'd come?"

"I'll owl her right away, " Mr. Weasley answered. "I expect she'll need a bit of time to mobilize, but I believe she could be here by mid-day."

Mr. Weasley had just conjured a quill, ink, and parchment and the two had begun composing a note to Mrs. Weasley, when the door opened, admitting Albus Dumbledore. Harry was on his feet before he realized he had moved. The expression on the headmaster's face was anxious and, Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he detected fear in the old, blue eyes.

"Arthur, Harry," Dumbledore nodded them a distracted greeting. "Poppy, thank you for coming. We seem determined to have you caught up in our work, despite our attempts to keep you safely out of it all. I have just had a word with Remus in the garden. He seemed quite distraught - said something about Annwyl and a werewolf bite..."

"Now, " she answered soothingly, "I know it's a bit of a shock, but it really is Annwyl."

"What is this about a werewolf bite, then," Dumbledore pressed.

Madame Pomfrey and Mr. Weasley rose from the table and flanked Dumbledore as she spoke,

"Her injuries do bear an extraordinary resemblance, but she's mending nicely. Come, see for yourself..."

The three exited the kitchen, heading into the house to where Remus and Mr. Weasley had taken the patient when they arrived. Harry followed, although he wasn't entirely sure why. Something about seeing Dumbledore in such distress worked on him strangely and he found himself following along, unbidden. Harry noticed nothing of his surroundings, seeing only the three before him and hearing only the quiet murmurs of encouragement issuing from Madame Pomfrey.

They entered a small, dimly lit bedroom - that is, all but Harry, who remained in the doorway, watching silently. Annwyl King was in the bed, looking, Harry noticed, much better than she had in his room on Privet Drive. For one thing, she was dry now, her long, dark brown hair spread across the pillow in wild, glossy curls. Her sodden, torn clothes had been replaced with soft, white hospital pajamas and her shoulder and neck were neatly bandaged. She was sleeping so peacefully, Harry was certain Annwyl must have been given a powerful pain potion.

Professor Dumbledore stood over the bed a moment, then sat down heavily on a small stool near the head. Harry felt his eyes prickle as he watched his headmaster lift the woman's pale, limp hand and hold it against his cheek, whispering,

"Oh Annie... my little Annwyl..."

Harry backed away, feeling almost guilty for having witnessed such a scene. He turned quickly and made his way back to the kitchen, his stomach clenching at the memory of the pain in Dumbledore's voice - pain that had not been there when Sirius died...

That last thought was like a bucket of icy water thrown on him. Stunned and disgusted with himself, Harry threw himself down onto a chair and, resting his elbows on the table, pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

No, not that, he told himself firmly, if I start to think like that, I'll go mad...

A slight movement in the shadowy corner raised Harry's head with a snap. Mad Eye Moody shuffled forward and sat down across from Harry.

"The bugger never seems to give us a break, does he, Potter. I understand you've had yourself quite an evening."

Before he could respond, Harry heard footsteps behind him and he looked up into Mr. Weasley's sympathetic face.

"I expect you're about knackered, Harry," he said kindly. Looking around, he added, "I see Remus hasn't come in yet..." He sighed and took a chair beside Harry.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry said, quietly, "who is Annwyl King? Remus said she was a member of the Order and the youngest Auror ever and you all thought she was dead, but there must be more than that. I've never seen Professor Dumbledore so..." he trailed off uncomfortably.

Mr. Weasley looked at Harry for a moment as if making up his mind about something. After a bit, he nodded, answering, perhaps that is a question better asked of Alastor, here. As an original member of the Order, I think he can give you the whole story."

The weather-beaten old Auror nodded slowly. After a moment's thought, he began.

"Yes, well, as far as it goes, what Remus told you is all true. Annwyl was a brilliant Auror, despite being nothing but a pup, and a real asset to the Order for the very short time she had been with us. But there is more. As I'm sure you noticed, she and your headmaster were... are very close.

"Annwyl is the only child of John and Gretchen King. Gretchen was the granddaughter of Eliphalet Scarrenhalt, an old friend of Albus' who was killed, fighting along side Dumbledore in the final battle against Grindelwald. In fact, it is said that killing Eliphalet was Gindelwald's last act... Well, and so, Albus remained close to the family. When Gretchen married John King - a muggle, by the way, but quite a fellow for all that, Albus walked her down the aisle. Then, when John and Gretchen's daughter was born two years later, they invited Albus to name her. Annwyl was his own mother's name. It's Welsh, I believe... means "darling" or some such. Albus was wild over that child. He was also named her godfather."

At this, Harry looked away from Moody, his throat tight. Did Sirius have anything to do with naming me? I may never know.

"Then, Voldemort appeared," Moody went on, "and Albus was fighting again. This time, Gretchen was at his side. Early on in Voldemort's first war for power, when Annwyl was about ten, her family was attacked. The fact that Gretchen had married a muggle was enough for the Death Eaters, but they had learned she was working for Albus and that made them very keen. Somehow or other, Albus was tipped off and hurried to the Kings' home to warn them. Unfortunately, he was too late. When he arrived the attack was in progress. John was already dead, but Gretchen and her father, who was visiting were fighting. Albus fought as well, but in the end..."

Moody paused, giving Harry a shrewd look.

"In the end, " he resumed, "it was only Albus and Annwyl. As her guardian, he took her back to Hogwarts to live, seeing as she was to start school the next year, anyway."

"And then, he thought she was killed by Death Eaters, too," Harry asked, horrified.

"Yes, " Moody growled. "Bloody awful business. I've never seen Albus so overcome. The whole family - four generations... gone... I imagine he's in a right state now."

"Professor Moody," Harry said, "Last year, you showed me an old photo of the original Order of the Phoenix. Why wasn't Annwyl in that picture?"

"Wyl was still in Auror training when that photo was taken. Because of her abilities, the usual three year course was waived for her, but she still spent about a year at the training facility. She wasn't always at liberty to leave," he answered.

The three sat in silence for a moment and then Mr. Weasley spoke.

"Look, Harry, in light of Annwyl's injuries, we are going to have to revise our opinions of what went on at the Dursleys'. That means our planned briefing will have to be pretty well scrapped until we know more. Why don't you get some sleep. Take the first bedroom on the left when you reach the hallway. Poppy Pomfrey or no Poppy Pomfrey, I'm going to check on Remus."

"Mr. Weasley, what will this attack mean for Remus?"

Mr. Weasley stopped, hand on the doorknob, and weary look on his face.

"In what way, Harry," he asked, looking as though he dreaded the whole subject.

"I mean, " Harry answered, "if Voldemort - and this has got something to do with him, right? - can make it look like werewolves can attack at anytime, won't that make it even harder for people like Remus? Won't they be persecuted more than ever?"

"I don't know that, Harry," replied Mr. Weasley, his shoulders drooping, "but I fear so." He turned and went outside without another word.

Harry's head was spinning with fatigue as he gathered his things and made his way to the room Mr. Weasley had assigned him. Setting Hedwig's cage on the deal dresser and his bag on the floor by the bed, Harry flopped onto the bed with a sigh

Now, if only I could sleep and not dream, he thought.

A voice from the doorway made him sit up quickly. It was Madame Pomfrey carrying a cup of potion which smoked slightly.

"Dreamless sleep, Potter, and no arguments."

Harry obeyed.

* * *

A sound of movement in the room, and Harry shot upright in bed with a hoarse

cry, yanking his wand from under his pillow and groping for his glasses.

Another sound, loud this time, and Harry slammed his glasses on and peered

around wildly, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Oi! Harry, put that wand down! You scared me half to death popping up

like that."

Harry recognized Ron Weasley's voice in an instant. Ron, he thought,

flopping back onto his pillow, thank goodness. I'm gonna kill him...

"I scared you? Ron, it's great to see you, mate, but what are you doing

sneaking around like that?" Harry sat up again, swinging his legs over the

side of the bed, glaring at his friend in mock severity.

"I was just bringing my stuff in," Ron answered, grinning. "Mum, Ginny and

I just got here. Didn't know you were taking a page from Moody's book.

Looked like you were ready to hex anything that moved."

"Yeah, well, next time I'll just enchant the dust bins and maybe I'll be

able to sleep in peace," Harry laughed.

"What happened around here last night, Harry?" Ron asked, sobering. "Mum

tossed us out of bed at an awful hour this morning, but you could tell she'd

been up for hours before that. She'd packed all our stuff - dunno how I

slept through that - and had even packed a trunk of healing potions and

talismans. She hasn't had that lot out since the twins started Hogwarts."

Harry leaned down to pull a t-shirt and jeans from his bag. Avoiding Ron's

gaze, he tried changing the subject.

"You just got here? What time is it anyway?"

"It's nearly noon," Ron frowned, "Come on, Harry, you can't not tell me."

"Look," sighed Harry, relenting, "I'll not sure how much I even know. I'll

tell you everything, for whatever that's worth, but not until after I've

eaten. I'm famished."

Tying his last shoelace, Harry rose and made for the door. Ron shrugged

and followed him from the room.

As Harry walked through the house toward the kitchen, he took his first

real look at the Order's new headquarters. Unlike Sirius' house in

Grimmauld Place, this house was wholly unremarkable. It was a farmhouse of

moderate size and non-nondescript design. Harry figured - correctly, as it

happened - that its interior had been magically enhanced in order to

accommodate their needs. The decor was steadfastly muggle-style, but in the

fashion of about a half century ago. Everything had an air of comfortable

wear - not out at heel, but definitely not stiffly new.

The house was brighter, too, and Harry paused at a window near the foot of

the stairs (Harry's room was on the ground level, but obviously there were

more rooms above) and looked out over a very picturesque rolling meadow.

Clearly, they were nowhere near London, or any city, for that matter. They

weren't near Hogwarts, either, as this countryside bore no resemblance at

all to the rugged terrain surrounding the school.

Reaching the kitchen, Harry and Ron were met with a delicious, rich smell

of a stew bubbling on the stove. Mrs. Weasley was bustling about, busy with

lunch preparations.

"Oh, Harry, dear, you're up already," she greeted him pleasantly. "Are you

hungry? Do you want eggs and sausage or would you rather have lunch with us

all? Stew today."

Harry didn't answer but stood, looking in her direction. In his mind, he

was remembering last summer at headquarters, when Mrs. Weasley and Sirius

sat in the kitchen, with the homey, wonderful smell of Mrs. Weasley's

cooking wrapping them round like a warm blanket, arguing over him. It had

been painful to watch at the time, but now, the memory was threatening to

crush him altogether.

"Harry?" Mrs. Weasley looked at him worriedly. "Are you alright, dear?"

Harry shook himself, breaking free of the unpleasant memory.

"Sorry, don't think I'm quite awake yet," he answered with a weak smile.

"The stew smells terrific, Mrs. Weasley. I'll just wait for that, if you

don't mind."

Mrs. Weasley nodded understandingly, but gave Harry a careful look. Harry

tried to look pleasantly neutral, but he could see she had not been fooled.

Luckily for him, she seemed to be of a mind to let it pass for the present.

"Right you are, then. There are your Hogwarts letters on the table.

Ginny's is there, too, when she comes in. Why don't you two have a look?

Your OWL results should be there."

Harry and Ron looked at one another, blanching. In all the excitement of

the twelve hours, Harry had managed to forget his worry over the OWLs. Now,

his fears came back to him in a rush.

"Blimey," Ron whispered as they approached the table, "I'd almost rather

have one of Mum's howlers right now than open that. At least, a howler is

gone in a minute."

"Well," answered Harry quietly, " depending on what that letter says, you

may get the howler, too."

With a grimace, Ron sat down, picking up his letter, and Harry followed

suit. With a quick glance and nod to the other, each took a deep breath and

ripped open his letter. Ron impatiently tossed aside Professor McGonagall's

usual welcome screed and eagerly ran down the list of exam results. Harry

gingerly set his letter aside and closed his eyes a moment before looking at

his results.

"Ruddy wonderful," Ron breathed in relief, looking over his scores again.

"An O, five Es, and two As! Eight in all! More than I bargained for, I can

tell you."

Harry opened his eyes at Ron's exclamation of relief. He looked down his

list, hardly trusting what he saw. Suddenly, the parchment was whipped out

of his hands.

"Harry, didn't you hear me?" exclaimed Ron, impatiently. "I asked you

three times about your scores. Now, let's see..."

Ron spread the two sets of results out side by side and began reading them

off.

"Astronomy- An A for each. Well, after what happened that night, I guess

they went easy on all of us. Care of Magical Creatures - O for us both!

Charms, next - E for me and oh, bravo, Harry! An O! Was that one you

needed for Auror training? Okay, Defense - E for me and O for you. Well,

no surprise there, mate. Let's see, Divination, ugh. That was doomed,

anyway. Yep, P for me and, ouch. D. Well, Harry, it's rubbish, anyway.

Right, Herbology was okay. E for me again and another O for you, Harry.

History... well, an A for me and that's passing anyway. Never could keep

all those goblins straight. And you got, oh. Sorry, Harry, you missed that

one. Another D. Wait, that was when you fell asleep and..."

Harry looked sharply at Ron and then away. Ron's ears reddened and he

mumbled.

"Sorry, Harry. Didn't mean to say anything..."

"Don't worry, Ron. Go on," answered Harry stiffly.

"Um, yeah," Ron agreed. "Well, Potions next. We both got Es. Bugger,

Harry. I'm sorry. You needed an O, didn't you?"

Harry nodded glumly. Without an Outstanding in Potions, he wouldn't be

able to go on to NEWT level studies. Without that, there would be no Auror

training for him.

"Well, you got an E in Transfiguration, Harry," Ron said, encouragingly.

"Same as me."

Harry picked up his results and looked them over again. Trying to cheer

himself, he thought, Really, with everything else that had been happening to

me, seven OWLs isn't so bad. I only sat exams in nine subjects. It

certainly could have been worse.

Mrs. Weasley came to the table, then, asking warily, her hand out for their

papers.

"Alright, then, you two. Let's be having them."

She skimmed over Ron's quickly and smiled.

"Eight OWLs, Ron. Oh, well done, dear. Your father'll be so pleased.

Now, then, Harry,"

She looked down his list, and again, she gave a warm smile.

"Well, Harry, that's wonderful. Seven OWLs and four of them Os! You

should be very pleased, dear."

She beamed on them both for a moment, then turned back to the stove. At

that moment, Ginny Weasley entered the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively.

She plopped down on a chair next to Ron and looked over his arm at the

parchments on the table.

"Oh!" she squealed, "OWL results! Let's see then. How'd you both do?"

Ron and Harry passed over their lists and Ginny skimmed them excitedly.

"Oh, you've both done wonderfully well," she said smiling. "With scores

like these, you'll be ready for any NEWT classes you want."

"Not quite," answered Harry, the pleasure he had felt at hearing Mrs.

Weasley's and Ginny's praise disappearing.

Ron gave Ginny a significant look and abruptly changed the subject.

"Mum," he said, turning in his chair, "how much longer until lunch? I'm

famished."

"Just a couple of ticks, if you lot will lend a hand," Mrs. Weasley

answered, cheerfully.

So, the three rose and helped set the table and lay out the dishes of Mrs.

Weasley's fabulous cooking. They were nearly ready when Bill Weasley came

in from the garden.

"Oh Bill, good," said Mrs. Weasley, "just in time. Have a seat then,

everyone. We're just a small group today."

The five sat down to do justice to the stew. The Weasleys chatted amiably

about the weather and quidditch standings while Harry let the warm,

comfortable sensations lap him round. They seemed to understand his silence

and kept their conversation light and pleasant, allowing Harry to just be,

for a moment. Near the end of the meal, Bill pushed his chair back and

sighed.

"Mum, that was excellent, but I'd best finish up for Dumbledore. I'll wake

up Remus in a bit and he can take over until Moody comes back for the night.

Then, I'll head back to the Burrow. Dad said he'd come straight here

after work, so I thought I'd try to beat the twins home."

"Alright," Mrs. Weasley answered, serenely, "No need to worry about us,

though. I expect our patient will sleep the rest of the day, so it'll be a

quiet one here. Can I be expecting Albus tomorrow?"

Bill nodded and rose from the table. With a wink to Ginny, Ron and Harry,

he went back out through the garden.

The remaining four sat in congenial silence but after a few minutes, Mrs.

Weasley spoke up.

"Well, Harry. So what will you have for tomorrow, then?"

Harry simply looked at her, puzzled.

"Your birthday, dear," Mrs. Weasley explained. "I'm afraid it won't seem

like much of a party without Hermione, Fred, and George, but it seemed

safest for them to stay where they are. So, it'll have to be a small do.

What do you fancy for dinner, Harry?"

Harry looked at the three Weasleys in amazement. A birthday party...

Tomorrow, he would turn sixteen and have the first birthday party in his

memory. The thought nearly took his breath away.

"Any... anything you make is wonderful," he said at last, smiling and

stammering. "Um, I'll let you choose and it'll be a surprise to me."

"Oh, Mum, let me decorate, please," asked Ginny. "I know just the thing."

Harry wasn't sure he liked the glint in her eye as she said this, but at

second look, her face was the picture of innocent anticipation. Harry

looked to Ron, but Ron's face was equally innocent.

"That'll be lovely, Ginny," agreed her mother as she levitated the dishes,

cutlery, and cookware to the sink. "I'll leave it all to you.

"Now, then," Another wave of her wand set the dishes washing themselves

with gentle clinking and splashing noises. "I'm sure you three have plenty

of catching up to do, so I'll leave you to it. I've got to tend to Annwyl."

As Mrs. Weasley bustled out, Ron turned and stared at Harry expectantly.

"Right, then, Harry," he said, "you've eaten, so let's have it. What went

on last night?"

So, Harry poured out his story yet again. Ron and Ginny were an

exceptional audience, gasping and glaring at all the right moments.

"What I don't get, is why my scar didn't hurt," Harry mused when he had

finished. "I mean, it prickled a bit, but it's done that most days since

Voldemort came back."

Neither Ron nor Ginny had an answer for him. After a moment, Harry got up

the courage to ask something he'd wondered about.

"Um, what happened to Percy? I haven't heard any mention of him. Surely,

he's not still mad at your mum and dad, now that Fudge has admitted

Voldemort's back?"

Ron's face darkened and Ginny's became expressionless.

"Percy hasn't come back," Ron growled. "It seems the daft bugger has gone

completely off his nut. It's like he's blaming Dumbledore and Mum and Dad,

personally, for the fact we are at war, again."

"But that makes no sense," Harry exclaimed, indignantly.

"Never mind," Ginny's voice was cold as steel and cut as sharply. The tone

shocked Harry. "Just forget him," she went on, "he doesn't matter anymore."

Harry stared at her and even Ron seemed taken aback. Looking at his

sister's set face, Ron changed the subject again.

"So, how can Annwyl be alive if they saw Death Eaters kill her?" he asked.

"Well, no one actually saw her die. They saw a flash of a curse, but never

found her body," Ginny answered, matter of factly.

"How'd you know that?" asked Harry in surprise.

"Moody was still hanging about talking about Annwyl with Madame Pomfrey

when I helped Mum take her healing things in. I heard him say so." Ginny

shrugged.

"So, what did happen?" Ron asked.

The three discussed it a bit longer, but without understanding any more.

At last, Ginny suggested they give it up and have a few games of Exploding

Snap.

In what seemed, to Harry, a very short time, the afternoon was gone and

they were again helping Mrs. Weasley, this time with dinner. Bill had gone

to the Burrow, but Remus was up and about and Mr. Weasley arrived just as

Harry and Ron finished setting the table.

Soon, Harry, Remus, and the Weasleys were seated for another of Mrs.

Weasley's spectacular meals. Conversation was light at first, but finally,

Harry could ignore it no longer.

"Remus," Harry said, "what do you suppose is going on? What is Voldemort

up to?"

Remus shook his head slightly but remained silent. The others fidgeted and

hemmed nervously. Finally, Remus answered.

"Mars has been unusually bright."

"Sounds like you've been talking with Firenze," Harry snorted in nervous

laughter.

"Yes," Remus nodded, "and I'm beginning to see what he means." He rose and

turned to Mrs. Weasley, "Molly, is it alright if I look in on Wyl?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded and he left without another word. No one knew what to

make of his strange statement.

After dinner, Ron and Harry settled down to some chess while Ginny and Mr.

Weasley had a game of gobstones and Mrs. Weasley knitted. It was the most

peaceful evening Harry had had in months and he wondered why he didn't feel

more at ease. Then, he realized. All this safety, but no Sirius...

This distracted Harry so, he lost to Ron even more spectacularly than

usual. After the pieces had been put away, Mrs. Weasley spoke.

"Now, time for bed, you lot. I'll need your help tomorrow to have

everything in order for Harry's birthday."

Ron, Ginny and Harry rose to go, but Mrs. Weasley stopped Harry.

"Harry, dear," she said quietly, "may I have a word?"

After bidding her children goodnight, she sat down with Harry. Mr. Weasley

excused himself and left the room. This all seemed quite strange to Harry

and he began to get nervous.

"Harry, " she began, "I feel I owe you an explanation. I know it is hard

for you to talk about it just now, but I can't bear you thinking ill of me."

Harry blinked in surprise. This, he had not been expecting.

"I... I don't..." he stuttered, but Mrs. Weasley held up a silencing hand.

"Please, Harry. I need to say this."

Harry nodded and subsided in wonder.

"I never had a chance to talk to you after that night at the Ministry," she

went on. "I never got to tell you how very sorry I am about what happened."

Harry looked away, not able to bear the tears he saw gathering in her eyes.

It was all he could do to check his own.

"Harry, I know you heard some of the things Sirius and I said to one

another in the past. I don't deny we had our differences, but, Harry, you

should know I admired your godfather very much. He was a true friend. He

suffered so much, yet never forgot his loyalty and love. And he did love

you, Harry." Her voice was choked with tears now. "Oh, Harry, I'm just so

sorry..."

Her words were now entirely lost in silent tears, her hands covering her

face. Harry gaped at her in dismay. Without thinking of what he was doing,

Harry moved to kneel beside her chair.

"Please don't, Mrs. Weasley," he said, soothingly. "I know you only had

words because you cared. Please don't cry anymore."

At this, Mrs. Weasley grabbed Harry in a tight hug.

"Oh bless you, dear. Thank you..."

She still held him when Mr. Weasley came back in the room. He stood,

smiling down at them, his eyes warm and gentle. When Mrs. Weasley had

finally released her hold on Harry, Mr. Weasley laid a hand on her shoulder,

and with the other, gently ruffled Harry's hair.

It was such a gentle, paternal gesture, Harry thought it would undo him

completely. He stood, and, his chest constricting so he couldn't speak, he

left the room in silence.