Demons at Hand

It would have been a peaceful, warm night, had a scream not penetrated the otherwise calm air that surround Number Four, Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon, not even bothering to close the windows to prevent their neighbours listening in, was pointing towards one side of the room, shouting at the top of his lungs, his face sporting a rather attractive shade of magenta. Beside him his wife had her hands clapped over her mouth, and behind them cowered Dudley, complete with one hand holding his bottom, the other covering his mouth. One battered-looking kitchen table, having survived Dudley's many tantrums, stood in the middle of the room, providing a small and insignificant barrier. On the other side of the table stood Harry Potter, regarding his relations coolly and with a certain aloofness. His wand was clutched in his hand, and he was standing as if he had not done anything to cause his aunt to scream. It also appeared that his uncle's relentless shouting was washing right over him.

"HOW DARE YOU PULL OUT THAT--THAT THING OUT AND POINT IT AT MY FAMILY--"

Harry blinked slowly. If he doesn't stop screaming, he'll wake Hedwig up, he thought nonchalantly.

"--SHOULD'VE RECOGNISED THE WARNING SIGNS! I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN AT SOME POINT--"

Maybe he could shout a little bit louder--I'm sure there's someone a few hundred kilometres away who hasn't heard him yet.

"--WE WERE IN THE RIGHT MIND TO THROW YOU OUT AS SOON AS YOU ARRIVED--"

Harry rubbed his aching temple. The usual pains he had in his scar were abnormally bothersome today, and having Uncle Vernon shout at him did not help the situation. Upstairs he could hear Hedwig hoot in annoyance, rattling the bars of her cage, and outside he could detect mutterings from the other residents of Privet Drive as they gathered predictably outside they homes, trying to peer in through the Dursley's windows, trying to see what was going on. Taking a large breath, the seventeen-year-old prepared to interject with his uncle, who was close to running out of breath. Subconsciously flattening his messy black hair, he adjusted his glasses, and started to talk.

"Firstly, shut up, Uncle Vernon. Secondly, I wasn't threatening Aunt Petunia, and thirdly, I said, right before I pulled out my wand, that I was leaving," he said in annoyance. His words took a moment or two to sink in, and when they did, Uncle Vernon promptly inflated, and began to shout all over again.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? WE HAVE--"

Without saying anything, Harry spun around and walked out of the kitchen, leaving his uncle screaming at an empty space. Sprinting up the stairs, he slammed his door shut just in time to hear his uncle roar for him to get back inside. Throwing himself onto the floor, he scrambled around under his bed, re-surfacing with a large trunk embossed with a golden coat-of-arms. He opened the lid, and got up to open the cupboard that stood in the otherwise scarcely furnished room. Taking out multiple pairs of pants, shirts, jumpers and three or fours sets of long, black robes, he stuffed them into the trunk, trying to leave space for the cauldron and countless little vials full of powdered dragon tooth and god knows what else he knew he would have to somehow squeeze in. Hedwig watched him with a docile interest from her cage. He turned to look at her, wrinkled his nose, and opened his window.

"C'mon, out you go. I'll be at the Weasley's when you come back, ok?" he said. She hooted gratefully, and hopped outside. Taking a look around, she spread her wings, and without so much as a rustle disappeared as suddenly as a ghost. Harry watched the place where she had last been, and then sighed, and, looking away, regarded his room with a groan. It was messy, and he had no will to manually pack everything. Pointing his wand at his trunk, he muttered a half-hearted "Pack!" and watched all his belongings zoom from every corner and place themselves in the trunk. Locking it up, he pointed his wand at it again.

"Travel!" he said. Obligingly the trunk lifted itself into the air, waiting for further instructions. "Travel to resident wizard Arthur Weasley's house, fastest way possible."

The trunk dipped a little bit, as if the spell was failing, and then disappeared with a small pop. Sighing, he rubbed his temple, and then pointed at Hedwig's cage, and followed the same procedure. The 'travel' spell had originally been created to move luggage or anything else quickly and efficiently, much like Disapparating. 'Travel' didn't work on living things, which is why he had had to send Hedwig off to meet him.

Looking around his room to make sure he hadn't missed anything, Harry half-smiled, and ruffled his hair. This would hopefully be the last time he would ever have to be in this house, this room. It would also hopefully be the last time that he would ever have to look at his aunt, uncle, and his cousin. All he had to do was talk to them one last time, and then frighten the living daylights of them by Disapparating. Smiling again at the thought, he threw open his door, stashed his wand away in his back pocket--he suddenly remembered a tip that a professor of his, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, had told him about not storing wands in one's back pocket as there was a risk of one's buttocks being blasted off--and sprinting down the stairs into the kitchen. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley were still in the same positions, but seem to have calmed down a little since they had last seen each other. Uncle Vernon stiffened visibly as soon as Harry re-entered, but as he could not see any traces of anything magical on his nephew, he refrained from screaming at the top of his lungs. Harry smiled slightly, and held up his hands, checking his watch quickly as he did so. If he didn't get a move on, he'd be late at the Weasley's. Shutting the door slowly behind him, he stepped into the room, and smiled slightly.

"I see we've overcome our little hissy fit," he said, giving no regard to rudeness as he was certain he'd never see them again. As expected, Uncle Vernon began to swell again. Harry, however, was prepared for this, and whipped out his wand.

"Uncle Vernon, if you don't be quiet and keep that large trap of yours shut, I'll hex you into next week," he said. Uncle Vernon eyed the wand, and then a grim smile spread across his large, unsightly face.

"You can't use magic, remember? You'll be expelled from that freaky little school of yours if you do!" he said, certainty making him headstrong. Harry tutted.

"Actually, I beg to differ."

It was truly rather enjoyable, watching the colour drain from his uncle's face. Opening and closing his mouth, Uncle Vernon seemed to be lost for words for a while, finally managing to squeeze out a feeble little 'what?' Harry grinned even wider.

"Well, technically, I'm seventeen now," he started. Uncle Vernon made a noise in his throat, not unlike a bird being strangled, evidently annoyed at being reminded that Harry did actually know when his birthdays were.

"And, seeing as I'm seventeen now--"

Another strangled-bird noise.

"I'm of age," he finished simply.

"Of age?" whispered Petunia, evidently aware (however dimly) of what that meant.

" 'Of age'?" barked Uncle Vernon. Harry's grin became even wider.

"Yup. Of age."

"And what in the name of all that is normal is 'of age' supposed to mean?" roared Uncle Vernon, obviously disliking being kept in the dark for too long, even when it concerned matters that he did not care too much for. Harry's eyes twinkled with pleasure.

"Well, it means that I can use magic," he said. Uncle Vernon's face began to turn red.

"WHAT?" he screamed, causing his wife and son to jump. "YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT YOU'VE BEEN ABLE TO USE MAGIC FOR ALMOST FOUR WEEKS AND HAVE NOT TOLD US?"

"Yup. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that, and also to say that I hope you have a nice life without me," he said, backing up. Uncle Vernon's face became increasingly red.

"WHAT D'YOU MEAN, 'WITHOUT YOU'?"

"Well, what I mean to say is, goodbye!" he laughed, and took one look at his horrified relation's face, before Disapparating with a loud crack.

~*~

Mrs. Weasley tutted as she watched the clock. Harry's trunk and his owl's cage had arrived over fifteen minutes ago--where was he? Turning on her husband, she snapped at him to shut up, and then glared angrily at all four of her offspring, who were sat around the cramped kitchen table, watching her silently. They all immediately adverted their eyes as soon as their mother's caught them. Huffing angrily, she plonked herself down in an empty chair, only to leap up again, and in annoyance rid of the ruffled-looking owl that had hoped to rest there. The last time any of the Weasleys had seen him was when he had passed his Apparation Test three weeks ago. He'd been newly seventeen, and after spending the first day in a three-day-course learning about the risks and rules of Apparation, he spent the next two days practising, passing the final test with flying colours. Eying the watch nervously, she began to tap the table distractedly.

CRACK!

The six present Weasleys jumped into the air as the sound outside broke the silence. There was a barking laugh as Harry opened the door, his hair ruffled, grinning from ear to ear.

"Harry! Oh, dear, I've been worried. Where were you?" Mrs. Weasley said, jumping up and making her way over to him. He laughed again--and she noticed that his laugh had become a lot like Sirius'--and took off his glasses to clean them.

"Oh, I was just taking care of some business," he said casually, and then turned to the rest of the Weasley family. "Ha! You should've seen the looks on my aunt and uncle's faces when I told them I could do magic!" he laughed, allowing himself to be hugged by Mrs. Weasley as the Weasley offspring began to laugh loudly with him. Ron, who seemed to be constantly growing, thumped him on the back, and then led him off towards the even smaller living room. Fred and George jumped in from the back of the group, nabbing the best couch and refusing to budge and Summoning two drinks for themselves. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley both conjured extra chairs out of nowhere, and Ron escorted Harry to the small, but extremely comfortable remaining sofa. Ginny took a place in a corner of the room. Ron's eyes followed her as she made herself comfortable, and then he turned to Harry.

"I take it they didn't like it that much?" he chuckled, dropping down into the couch. Harry sank down beside him, shaking his head, all smiles.

"You can bet your life on it. They sort of went all white and grey and then I probably shocked them to death by Disapparating right in front of them."

Mrs Weasley looked for a moment as if se was going to say something, but Mr. Weasley got in first.

"Well, Harry, you really shouldn't taunt them like that. Muggle perception is ruined by things like that," he said, though not sounding thoroughly convinced himself, seeing as there was a smile flitting in at the corner of his mouth.

"Hmph. Their perception of magic was ruined long before I ever entered the scene. My mother did all the ruining," he said, a little softer than usual, but he did not arouse any suspicions because of his large smile. George gave a snort, and nudged Fred. Having gotten his attention, he whispered something in his ear, and then motioned towards a corner of the room. Harry turned to look. Ginny was curled up comfortably on an extra-large pillow, writing in a diary. Above her hovered a large water-balloon, dipping dangerously on occasion. Harry poked Ron in the ribs, discreetly pointed at the girl behind his back, and continued in the conversation, here and there sneaking looks back at her. Ron gave a strangled snort, struggling to keep his face straight.

"So, I. What have you been doing this summer?" he said loudly.

"Well, I had fun bewitching water-balloons to follow around most of Dudley's gang," Harry replied at the same level. Fred and George both almost choked on their drinks. Harry winked at them. Ron, it seemed, was not in any mood to warn his sister of the incoming danger. The twins, spotting their chance while their mother was turned the other way, talking to their father, pointed their wands at the balloon, and made a weird little motion with it. Immediately the water-balloon fell, hitting Ginny's head with a satisfying splat! Everyone looked at each other, and Harry, Ron, Fred and George, knowing they would be in incredibly large amounts of trouble, all said in unison 'the orchard!' and with the loudest crack yet, Disapparated. Ginny, Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley all leapt up.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Weasley muttered, pointing her wand at her daughter and drying her in an instant, and then turning wearily to her husband. "I swear, it was the biggest mistake of our lives, letting them all pass their Apparation test," she said. Mr. Weasley looked highly amused, but soon put on a faked expression of annoyance.

"Hmm. Did you hear what they said?" he asked. There was a loud stomping as Percy stormed down the stairs, his horn-rimmed glasses askew on his face.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on here?" he said, practically shouting. His mother shot him a dark look.

"Well, dear, I see you didn't bother to come downstairs to say 'hello' to Harry. And did you really expect the house to remain quiet with them around and Hermione arriving tomorrow?" she said, pursing her lips, and turning to continue her conversation with her husband as Percy turned around in a huff and tramped back upstairs, saying numerous things under his breath.

"Isn't there something you can do? Something that the Ministry can do about restricting their Apparation abilities?" she said, wringing her hands. He laughed.

"Molly dear, the only way to restrict their Apparation abilities is to ban them entirely from Apparating, and that only happens if they've committed a major felony. Frankly, all of them are of age, and all of them are legally allowed to use magic," he said, still smiling. Mrs. Weasley sighed impressively, and sat back down in her conjured chair. Ginny, who had been busy drying out her diary, huffed in annoyance.

"I wish they'd play their practical jokes on anyone but me," she said, shaking the book out. "Percy's always been the common choice!"

Mrs. Weasley's eye lit up as soon as she heard this.

"Oh, well I don't know about your brothers, but I do know about Harry," she said, smiling and ushering her husband out of the room. Ginny eyed her mother warily.

"What d'you mean, mum?"

"Well, I saw some of the looks he was giving you last year," she said, holding up her hand to stop her daughter from interrupting, "and I think that he likes you. Which, of course, is fine by us, seeing as, when you two get married, we won't need to adopt him," she finished. Ginny's mouth fell open in horror.

"What?" she shrieked, dropping her diary, and staring at her mother in shock.

"Well, you've liked him for ages," Mrs. Weasley said gently, trying to worm information out of her.

"Mum, I got over him!" she said indignantly.

"Hmm, I can see that..."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I saw you looking at him when he finished his Apparation Test," she replied simply.

"Ahem, and what is that supposed to say?"

"You like him," her mother said in a silly sing-song voice. Ginny laughed and threw a pillow at her.

"Whatever you say, mum," she giggled, and, picking up her diary, handed it to her mother. "Could you please dry that out for me? I want it ready for when I pack for school," she said, before running up the stairs. Mrs. Weasley watched her daughter go fondly, and then looked at the soaking book in her hands. Rolling her eyes, she trudged off towards the kitchen, soaking book in hand.

~*~

Harry, Ron, Fred, and George were all sat in the empty apple orchard that the Weasleys owned, laughing at the top of their lungs.

"Did you see the look on Ginny's face when the water-balloon dropped?" roared Fred, an apple clutched in his hand. Harry snorted, and choked on the apple he was biting into. George and Ron both heartily thumped him on the back.

"Oy, Harry! Ever reckon that You-Know-Who won't be the one to kill you?" Fred said good-naturedly. He received dirty looks from his brothers, but Harry just grinned.

"Yeah, I'm thinking that these apples are out to get me," he said in mock seriousness, inspecting the apple. There was a sort of laugh, and he just smiled again.

"God, you lot look like you've just seen a...well...yeah," he said, shoving Ron over. He had been in a right mind to finish the sentence with 'ghost' but seeing as there was at least a score of ghosts that lived at Hogwarts, no one really was scared of them. Well, besides the Bloody Baron, but he mostly kept to himself anyway.

"D'you reckon they'll figure out where we went?" George said, peering through a gap in the trees to the track that led down to the Weasley house.

"Oh, they will," Fred said, getting up and looking slyly at his siblings and Harry. "Eventually," he added, laughing again. Looking at his watch, he frowned, and tapped it repeatedly.

"Anyone know what time it is? My watch seems to have stopped."

There was a rustle as everyone pulled back their sleeves to check the time. Then all of them began to speak at once, each one of them reporting a different time, ranging from 4:10 to 4:25. Fred pulled a face, and turned to face the rest of the group.

"Well, we have time, then," he said, slowly smiling. Everyone turned to look at him.

"What d'you mean?" Ron asked uncertainly. Fred's smile grew even wider.

"Water fight!" he said, and whipped out his wand. Immediately everyone scrambled to their feet, all fleeing in different directions. Harry ducked behind a large oak tree, and retrieved his wand from his back pocket. Peering cautiously around the tree, he was met with a face-full of water. Shouting out, he fell backwards, and pointed his wand blindly in front of him.

"Aqueous!" he shouted. A great fountain of water, resembling something that came from a fire-fighter hose, sprang up, and began to soak anything that moved. Harry let go of the wand precariously, and raised himself up on his feet. Ron was currently in the hose's way, but in the blink of an eye it had turned towards Fred, who had flung himself out of George's reach from behind a tree. Soon, everyone but Harry was completely soaked. The wand was still spinning on the ground, and, it seemed, would not turn on its master, not even if one of the Weasleys came over and kicked it towards him. Soon however, the spell began to wear out, and with a small, flimsy spray, it died.

"Uh-oh..." Harry muttered. Ron was pulling himself up out of the small mud puddle he had fallen into, held there by Harry's spell. Behind him, as if somehow being able to read each other's thoughts, the rest of the Weasley gang were raising themselves out of the mud, each one with an evil smile on their faces. Grabbing his wand, Harry pointed it at them.

"Hey, I will water you down again if I have to!" he said, backing up slowly. Each Weasley offspring swapped looks, as if considering this for a moment.

"Well, considering the fact that we're the masters of the prank--" George started slowly.

"You've done pretty well for yourself," Fred said.

"Yeah, but there's only one problem for you now," Ron said a little carelessly.

"Oh, and it's going to be a very big problem for you," George added, squeezing out his sleeves. "You see, the big problem is--"

"You're outnumbered five to one," Ron finished. Harry laughed, and spun around. Luckily, the endless days of running out of Dudley's grasp had not worn off yet, and he was still faster than the average teenager. So, however, was Ron. He outstripped his stockier siblings, and was closing up on Harry, who looked behind him, laughing. Speeding up slightly, he jumped a small picket fence, rolled over twice, sprang up, and kept on going. He skidded into the Weasley's kitchen, slammed the door behind him, and sank on the floor, just as Ron crashed into the door. Mrs. Weasley ran into the room, brandishing her wand, but softened up at the sight of a damp Harry, sitting on the kitchen floor at the base of the door, laughing his head off.

"So, you decided to come back, eh?" she said, folding her arms across her chest. Harry stood up, his back leaning against the door, and saluted her.

"Yes, ma'am," he said in mock military style. A bang on the door caused him to jolt forwards momentarily, but then he settled back down, pressing against the door.

"Oh dear, what have you gotten yourself into now?" Mrs. Weasley sighed, peering through the window.

"Oh, just a little water fight," he replied airily, glancing at the window and seeing his chance to escape. "Er, if anyone asks where I am, I'm upstairs taking a shower," he added, hastily hurtling up the stairs and shutting the bathroom door with a small snap.

~*~

Sunlight flitted through the window in Ron's room. Harry, intent on not waking up, threw a pillow over his head. There was a loud crack! and the creaking of floorboards. There was silence for a while, and Harry suspiciously looked out from under the pillow. Fred was sat grinning in the corner of the room, a large bucket in one hand.

"Oh, shit!" he shouted, leaping out of bed and blinding Fred briefly by throwing his doona over him. Grabbing a pair of trousers and the nearest t-shirt, Harry dressed himself in record time, hoping to Disapparate before Fred could soak him. That didn't happen. As soon as Harry had pulled his shirt on and managed to find his wand, Fred had dumped the contents of the bucket (in this case, freezing cold water) on him, leaving him dripping. Ron shouted as cold water leaked into his bed, and scrambled out of it.

"Geez, Fred!" he said, rubbing his arms. Fred grinned.

"Good morning, he said cheerily. "Mum wants you lot up. Hermione's coming over in about...oh, let's say...five minutes. You're allowed one minute to get dressed, one to eat breakfast, one to make the bed, one to brush your teeth and hair, and one to get back downstairs. You're now 45 seconds into your first minute. I'd hurry if I were you," he said, grinning, and Disapparating with another crack. Harry and Ron exchanged glances, before Disapparating downstairs. The kitchen was filled with half-dressed people, all holding bits of toast in their hands. Mrs. Weasley hurriedly shoved a piece of toast each into Harry and Ron's hands.

"Hurry up, you two! Hurry! Oh, and Harry, dear, fix your shirt up!" she said, eying Harry's wet shirt. "And brush your hair!" she added, her eyes fixed on his abnormally messy hair. He immediately went to flatten it, but Mrs. Weasley wasn't paying attention anymore. The magical doorbell had just rung, and she was busy trying to get to the door through the mass of half-dressed people. Harry tugged his shirt down subconsciously, and watched the door. By the sound of it, Hermione had just arrived, because Mr. Weasley had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, all sorts of Muggle artefacts in tow. There was a called 'goodbye' and then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley re-entered the Burrow, Hermione following them. She seemed to have grown extra amounts of bushy hair over the holidays. Beside him Harry could feel Ron stiffen visibly, and he heard him swallow. Hermione was making he way towards them, and almost strangled him when she hugged him (she first stopped, however, to consider the fact that he was soaking wet). She hesitated slightly when it came to be Ron's turn, but at a prod at the back from Harry, Ron made the first move, and hugged her a little awkwardly. He watched them, finished his piece of toast, shouted over the amount of noise that he was going upstairs to get ready, and manually waded through the Weasleys on his way to the stairs. Jogging up them, he barricaded himself inside the bathroom, and hurriedly brushed his teeth. Looking in the mirror at his hair, he wrinkled his nose, and then looked at the brush on his right. He had never, not once, taken a brush to his hair, besides that time in fifth year when Mrs. Weasley had tried to flatten it. Smiling at the thought, he looked back at his hair, decided he liked his hair the way it was, and took a few extra seconds to dry his shirt. Opening the door, he found a sort of queue had appeared, with Ginny in the front. Harry grinned at her, and went upstairs to Ron's room. He had no way of knowing that, as he ran up the stairs, Ginny had blushed bright scarlet.

~*~

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. The main activity was like a sort of show-and-tell. Harry, Ron and the rest of the Weasleys all took turns to tell Hermione about their holidays so far, and in return, Hermione bored them to death by relating every single tiny detail of her holiday to date. The evening, however, was sure to bring more excitement as there was a game of magical charades scheduled to happen. Almost everyone had their thoughts and minds set on it, and when it finally came, everyone wanted to go first. Percy ended up going first, and, a little reluctantly, got up. It seemed that he had some 'very important work' to be done, and couldn't wait until he could get back to that.

"Go on, Perc, take a slip," George prompted him, passing along the bowler hat that contained all the sheets. He took one quickly, looked at it, crumpled it up, and threw it aside. Then immediately he stood up straight and tall, as if impersonating an imposing, magnificent figure.

"Er, Dumbledore," Fred said. Percy shook his head.

"Godric Gryffindor," Ginny said. Another shake.

"Salazar Slytherin?" Ron asked uncertainly. Percy shook his head again. Harry threw up his hands.

"Oh, I know who it is!" he said, grinning.

"Who?"

"Well, the obvious choice is me!" he said. Everyone around him burst out laughing except Percy, who responded only by shaking his head.

"Grindelwald?"

Another shake.

Ideas were running out fast, and soon no one had any idea who it was.

"Percy, we give up," sighed Ginny, slouching into her seat. Percy looked at her in surprise.

"Oh. I would have thought it was obvious!"

"Well, it'll become obvious if you tell us, Perc," she replied in annoyance.

"Well, it was Fudge."

There was a great roar of laughter as this piece of information sank in. Percy looked rather offended, before Mr. Weasley ushered him to choose someone to go next. He closed his eyes, and jabbed blindly at the crowd. His finger was pointing at Ginny, and with a grin she got up, retrieved a slip from the bowler hat, and looked at it. Harry could see her obvious glee at her choice, because she held up two fingers (two words) and then made a glasses impression with her hands. She brought her shoulders forward, and stood up on her tiptoes. Everyone laughed, and George began to clap.

"Harry," Ron said immediately, and Ginny's impression melted. She smiled, gave him the thumbs-up sign, sank back into her chair, and handed the stage over to her brother. He took a slip, looked at it sneakily, and then placed it inside his pocket. He also stood up on his tiptoes, began and stroked his chin as if there was a beard there. He then also made a quick impression of glasses, before returning to his beard impression. There was a moment of silence before anyone spoke.

"Dumbledore!" Harry said, and a split-second later Mr. Weasley had shouted the same thing. Ron scrunched up his face.

"Sorry, dad, but I have to say that Harry said Dumbledore first," he said apologetically. Harry grinned, and got up. He chose a slip from the bottom of the bowler hat, and glanced at it. For a moment his heart stopped as he stared at it.

Voldemort.

Licking his lips, he stood up in the clear space provided. They wouldn't know who it was, they'd never seen him, never been near him. Taking his glasses and placing them in his jeans pocket, he blinked twice, taking in what was now flesh-coloured blobs all directed at him, and then starting. Holding up one finger ('one word') and then raised his hands to his face, and pulled the edges of his eyes. Trying his best to frown, he looked around the room, trying to figure out who was looking at him.

"Cho," Ron said. Harry grinned widely, and shook his head.

"Someone from the Japanese football team?"

Harry smiled again, and shook his head again.

"Someone from the Chinese football team?"

C'mon...take a guess...an easy guess...

"Hmm. Harry, I give up."

"Slytherin?"

Oh, come off it. It can't be that hard...

"Humph. I give up too."

"Me three."

"I think all of us do," Ron said. Harry smiled, and put his glasses back on.

"Well, I didn't expect you to know who it is. It was worth a try," he said, sitting back down. Ginny looked at him in concern.

"Oh, and by the way, I choose Hermione to go up," he added. There was a blank silence.

"Harry, dear, who did you play?" Mrs. Weasley prompted.

"Oh, yeah. Duh," Harry said. "Well, if you really must know, it was Voldemort, though it wasn't nearly as ugly nor as scary."

Harry said this all lightly and airily, but as soon as he finished the sentence, Mrs. Weasley burst out angrily.

"Who in the name of Dumbledore wrote that out?" she almost shrieked. Fred winced, along with George.

"Well, mum...it...uh...it was sort of us..." he said quietly. Mrs. Weasley stood up so suddenly that the pair jumped.

"What?" she said, fury radiating from her, her voice deadly and hushed. "And provoke those awful memories?"

"Well, we didn't mean for Harry to actually get that particular card..."

"Oh, well, I'm sure Voldemort didn't intentionally disappear that night, but he still did, didn't he?" she said furiously.

"Sorry, mum," Fred mumbled.

" 'M sorry too," George added. Harry looked up at Mrs. Weasley, who was still glaring at her two most troublesome sons.

"It's alright, really, Mrs. Weasley," he said quietly. "Really, it's ok."

Mrs. Weasley looked at him in concern.

"Oh dear, we just worry about you," she said, her anger deflating, sitting back down. There was a little moment of silence, before Fred stirred.

"Um, Harry? What...what does he look like?" he said in a hushed whisper. Mrs. Weasley promptly began to inflate again, but Harry held up his hand, and looked at Fred with very intense eyes and a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"You want to know what Lord Voldemort looks like?" he said, very quietly. He could see Ginny shiver through the corner of his eye, and almost stopped then, but something pushed him on. He wanted them to know what their greatest enemy looked like, what he sounded like. "Well, I can't explain what he looks like--"

Hermione, who had been hanging on his every word, relaxed visibly.

"--But I can show you," he finished. She stiffened again, and he looked at her and smiled. "He's not that scary, don't worry," he reassured her. She swallowed.

"That's easy for you to say," she said, her voice shaking. He smiled again, and stood up. Looking back at Mr. Weasley, he tapped the mirror he was standing in front of.

"Am I allowed to use this?" he asked him. Mr. Weasley nodded, watching with a horrified fascination, and he smiled back at him. "Thanks."

Taking his wand out of his back pocket, he pointed it at his hand.

"Slizerous," he whispered, and a long, thin cut appeared on the palm of his hand. There was a sharp intake of breath behind him, but he shrugged off the pain. Pain had long since became a regular part of his life, ever since his first year at Hogwarts. Stashing away his wand again, he brought one finger to the little pool of blood he was gathering, dipped it in, and painted two strange signs on the glass of the mirror. One symbol resembled a snake, the other totally unknown to anyone else in the room. His blood dripped down the sleek glass in little rivers. Wrapping his hand in a tissue rescued from his pocket, he pointed at the mirror with his hand. The snake seemed to be alive, and when he talked a hiss escaped him.

"Find that which speaks this tongue and holds this blood," he hissed. The blood on the mirror shimmered for a few moments, and then it disappeared. The glass of the mirror became foggy, as if there was a storm brewing inside it, which vanished almost as soon as it appeared. Harry stepped away from the glass. Two people occupied the mirror now, and the Weasleys stared at it in a sort of disgusted enthralment. One of the two people they all knew well--Harry, staring back at them, expressionless. The lightning-bolt scar could just be seen through his fringe. A sort of fog took up the middle of the mirror, and on the other side stood the Dark Lord. Tall and thin, with spider-like hands and red, slitted eyes and a thin mouth, Lord Voldemort stared out across the Weasley's living room, anger etched into every line of his deathly white skin. Every single pair of eyes was fixed in horror on him, with him staring blindly out among them.

"H-Harry...turn...oh, turn it off!" Hermione sobbed, her hands clasped over her face. Ron had his arm around her, he himself holding a hand over his mouth as if he was about to throw up. Harry shrugged, and, with his bare hands, smashed the mirror. The glass shattered, more blood spraying across the wood that remained. He let the glass fall to the ground, and then pointed his wand at the pieces.

"Evanesco!" he said. The shards of glass disappeared without any sound, and Harry regarded his freshly-bleeding left hand. Licking his lips, he just wrapped it up in another tissue, and looked at Fred, and smiled again, though it was a sad, pitying smile.

"I hope that satisfies your curiosity," he said, his eyes sad and stormy. "It's not something I would have liked you to go through, but I thought it would be useful if you knew what he looked like," he added softly. "I'm going to go to bed now. See you in the morning."

And with that, he Disapparated.

~*~

The next three days were spent either avoiding Harry or avoiding the topic. Whenever a topic came up that looked like it could turn towards the topic of the war, everyone immediately made hushing noises, which both annoyed and relieved Harry. He still had not told anyone about the prophecy that Dumbledore had explained to him in his fifth year, and did not plan on doing so until the final battle could be clearly seen in the not-so-distant future. Then, and only then, did everyone have a right to know about his and Voldemort's prophecy. A part of him said that no one really had a right to know about it--it was just between him and Voldemort, no one else. The other part told him that he should tell everyone soon--perhaps he would not have the chance to say goodbye, before he left to battle Voldemort one last time--the final battle, the one he'd been gearing himself up for ever since he heard of the prophecy, the last battle where either he or Voldemort would die, leaving the world either free or doomed.

Harry now spent most of the time the Weasleys were avoiding him on his own in the orchard, doing absolutely nothing, just wasting his time. He knew he should be doing something useful, but frankly he just couldn't be bothered. Mostly he would throw apples up and shoot an assortment of jinxes at them, seeing how many he could shoot out before the apple either became totally destroyed or hit the ground. At the moment he was using seven spells, but knew he could improve, so was bent on practising, using every hex he knew.

"Ahem."

He spun around. Ginny was standing her, hands clasped behind her back. She smiled a little bit.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she said, making his stomach do a little back-flip. He smiled at her, and looked at the mutilated apple he held in his hand.

"Er, no, not really," he said, grinning sheepishly, waving the apple, which looked as if it had just been through a war. She laughed at the sight of it, and carefully walked closer, avoiding anything that looked as if it had just gotten in the way of Harry's wand.

"You did all this?" she asked, looked around at the graveyard of maimed apples that littered the ground. Harry ruffled his hair subconsciously.

"Yeah," he chuckled, stashing away his wand.

"Ouch," she winced. Harry smiled, and sat down on one of the logs that lay around the edge of the small clearing. Ginny came over and sat next to him, just looking at him. He looked back at her, and raised his eyebrows.

"What? Do I have two heads or something?" he asked, raising his hand to his head to reassuringly ruffle his hair again. She just smiled sadly.

"Dumbledore told us," she said. He frowned.

"What?"

"Dumbledore told us. About the prophecy," she explained. Harry smiled slightly, and adverted his eyes.

"How can you stand it?" she said, her eyes angry and sad at the same time.

"Stand what?"

"Stand knowing you may well die one day!" she burst out. "It's not fair! Why you? Why not someone else?" she raged. Harry stood up, and began to walk off.

"Don't walk away from me, Harry Potter!" she said. He turned around to look at her with such intensity that the breath was caught in her throat.

"Ginny, I can't answer you right now. Ask me later and I may tell you," he said, gently but firmly. Ginny jumped up, and stormed off through the clearing, Harry following her at a steady pace.

~*~

It was during dinner that Harry really began to get back into conversations. At first he joined Fred and George's Quidditch topic, but then got bored of it, and turned to Ron and Hermione.

"--Well, I think that this year's going to be a lot like our fifth year, except harder," Hermione was saying in her usual serious voice when it concerned school and work. Ron was nodding, though Harry could see his eyes were glazed over. He was just staring at Hermione. It had been fun, watching Hermione and Ron's attraction grow a little bit each year, though it had gotten a little tiresome, waiting for one or the other to make the first move. In the end, Harry had had to intervene, talking to each other separately, telling them that the other liked them--really liked them--and that, if they didn't hurry up, they'd be sixty years old before anything happened. Both had tried to laugh it off, saying they didn't like each other, but Harry could see the blushes that had crept up their cheeks once he'd told them. He still laughed at the memory.

"--Yeah, but I want to become an Auror, Herm. You're...well...you're--"

"Setting up M.U.D?" Hermione said, immediately taking offence.

"M.U.D?" Harry repeated. Hermione shot him a look, much like the one she gave him when he told her he hadn't done his homework.

" 'Magical-creatures Under-funded Donations'," Hermione said stiffly.

" 'Under-funded'?"

"Yes. Along with S.P.E.W, it's under-funded."

"Ah. A name that instils pity. Clever."

"Oh, shut up, Harry," she said, though not meaning it. Harry laughed, and poured himself a drink.

Slam!

Harry looked up. Ginny was standing up, her chair sprawled on the floor, her hands gripping the table. Her knuckles were turning white. She was glaring at him angrily, fury radiating from every part of her. Harry put down his glass. Mrs. Weasley was telling her daughter to sit down, gripping her wrist, but Ginny wrenched her arm out of her mother's grasp. She was staring at him, and he stared back at her coolly.

"Let me guess: 'how do you stand it'?" he said innocently. She managed a nod, and he smiled.

"You know, I actually meant it for you to ask me again in private," he said, cocking his head at her. She smiled, her mouth tight-lipped.

"Well, tough luck, Harry. I want to know why right now," she said.

"You can want all you like."

"You're right. To stop my temper-tantrum you have to answer me: how can you stand it?"

Harry took a deep breath, and looked at his plate. The irony of it all made him smile--he'd never imagined he'd be cornered by a Weasley, let alone Ginny.

"This isn't funny, Harry," she said fiercely.

"No, it isn't. You're completely right. What you are wrong about is thinking you can force me to tell you anything whenever you feel like it," he said. It came out a little harsher than he had intended, but he didn't care anymore.

"You might die, Harry! How the hell can you stand it, knowing your life could end sometime soon?" she shrieked. Harry locked eyes with her.

"I've gone through a lot of things. In fact, I've gone through a lot more than the average full-grown wizard. I've had to accept those things. I can't change them. They're in the past. I can't bring Cedric Diggory back to life, and I can't erase that prophecy, or bring my parents back, nor Sirius. They're dead," he said cruelly, and she winced. It was as if no one else was at the table anymore. "I had to grow up a lot in a short amount of time and space, and it wasn't easy. Nothing was easy. I wasn't handed a silver spoon at birth, I didn't ask to be famous. And if I'm supposed to die then I'll die. There's nothing I can do to change that!"

"I don't give a damn if you can change it or not! Why you?" she said, anger flashing in her eyes. He smiled tightly.

"Oh, well, would you rather it be Neville? Neville, whose parents are in the insane section of St. Mungo's? Insane because they were tortured because of me?" he said, his voice rising in volume.

"Yes! Yes, ok? I would rather it be Neville and not you!" she said. Harry watched her, lost for words. She would rather it be Neville?

"So you would give his life to save mine?"

"Yes."

"Too bad. That's not the way it works. I'll either die or I'll become a murderer."

"You won't become a murderer!" Ginny hissed, spitting out the word 'murderer' as if it was a swear word or left a bad taste on her tongue.

"Look, Ginny, you may not be able to accept it, but I can, ok?"

Ginny slammed her hand on the table, causing glasses all over the table to tilt and spill.

"Well, I won't accept it!" she shouted. He smiled bitterly at her.

"Oh, bloody hell. Do the math. What are the chances I'll survive? I'm not and will never be the wizard that Voldemort. He's much more powerful than me--what are the chances I have? One in a million!"

"No, Harry! How the hell do you think you survived Voldemort all these years, huh? How the bloody hell do you think you survived? Dumbledore told us himself: you're Voldemort's equal! You have the exact same chances that he has of surviving!"

"Ginny, this isn't--"

Harry's head whipped around to the window. Something outside had caught his attention--a murmuring or whispering of some sort. Whatever it was, it did not feel right. Harry stood up, and beckoned for everyone to do the same.

"Get into the back room," he whispered. No one moved. Looking behind him, he almost shouted in fury. Ginny's argument had left him angry and annoyed. "MOVE!" he said, much louder than he'd intended, but it seemed to spur the Weasleys into action. Mrs. Weasley led her children to the back room, but Mr. Weasley stayed put.

"What is it?" he said, taking out his wand. Harry looked back at him.

"Nothing I can't handle," he said curtly. Mr. Weasley smiled.

"Oh, pish-tosh. More than one hand won't hurt, will it? And besides, where's the fun if I go into the back room.

"No, Mr. Weasley. You have to go."

"Well, too bad. You're stuck with me."

"No. Get into the back room. Now!" Harry said, anger sparking in him so suddenly and viciously that it startled him. Mr. Weasley swayed on his feet briefly, and then stared at him.

"Harry--wha--?"

"Just move!"

Mr. Weasley shot him one last look, as if making sure he wasn't dreaming, and then left, shutting the door with a slam. Harry spun around to face the door. All this damned light! Pointing brutally at the light fixing in the middle of the room, he was about to shout an incantation at it when, as if on command, a jet of white light flew from the tip of his wand, flying unerringly towards the light bulb and smashing into it. All around him, bits of glass sprinkled onto the floor.

"...hard to die...not afraid, is he?"

"...not afraid...fears nothing..."

"...a sound master he will make..."

"...masters we need not..."

"...masters we need!..."

"...lights have addled your brain, Cavan..."

"...but darkness kills yours, old friend..."

"...finds it hard when one has no brain to begin with..."

Harry spun around. There was definitely something outside the Weasley's door. He'd heard them moving around, the grass crunching under their feet. And those voices...there was no way he could have imagined those voices...They'd reverberated inside his entire being, making him feel as whole as he'd ever felt...

Shaking his head to rid him of these thoughts, Harry walked towards the door, the floorboards creaking under his feet.

"...what makes this one different?..."

"...difference makes no difference..."

"...very funny, old friend..."

"...hush! He hears!..."

Holding out his hand, Harry touched the door, and ran his fingers over it to find the door doorknob.

"...can never trust your ears, Adlai..."

"...could never trust yours, either..."

His fingers closed around it, and he pushed down gently. The door began to open gently...Suddenly it was pulled open, and there outside stood two things...darker than the night around them, with glowing gold eyes. There was a high-pitched scream that erupted from one of them, a scream that was not humanely possible, and they disappeared in a blinding flash of white light. There was a scream from behind him, and Harry spun around. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were both stood just behind him, their hands clapped over their mouths. Ron's head could be seen over his mother's, his mouth hanging wide open, and Hermione was holding onto his arm as if her life depended on it, her eyes wide with terror. He frowned, and turned to them.

"What--?"

Mrs. Weasley began to sob, and threw her arms around a completely stunned Harry.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried, hugging him so hard he thought he would suffocate. "Oh, Harry--you've been marked!"