Disclaimer: Not mine, and no money coming in for it.

A/N: Okay, here’s chapter six. We finally have the whole Horcrux thing revealed to the group, as well as some curses being thrown by Lily at the trio of miscreants.

Also, I would guess people might wonder if I will include the revelation that JKR made about Dumbledore being in a relationship with Grindelwald. The answer is no. In this case, I will not follow the canon, and will broaden a possible relationship between MM and AD. I always thought they’d get together, especially since the GoF film.

Also, I would like to bring in one more character. I will give the fans a choice. This character will come in at Kreacher’s Tale. That should some time before I load it. Here are the choices:

Aberforth Dumbledore

Snape (from between 1981 and 1991)

Hagrid

Bathilda Bagshot

Chapter Six

The shock of losing Mad-Eye hung over the house in the days that followed; Harry kept expecting to see him stumping in through the back door like the other Order members, who passed in and out to relay news. Harry felt that nothing but action would assuage his feelings of guilt and grief and that he ought to set out on his mission to find and destroy Horcruxes as soon as possible.

“‘Horcruxes’?” quoted Sirius in a questioning tone. The other Marauders and Lily shrugged. They turned as one to Teddy, but Albus intervened.

Albus said, “If it is not revealed what they are in this chapter, I shall tell you myself. I unfortunately know what they are. But I am interested that they speak of it in the plural, rather than a single.” The others looked confused, but Minerva continued before they could question further.

“Well, you can’t do anything about the”—Ron mouthed the word Horcruxes— “till you’re seventeen. You’ve still got the Trace on you. And we can plan here as well as anywhere, can’t we? Or,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “d’you reckon you already know where the You-Know-Whats are?”

“No,” Harry admitted.

“I think Hermione’s been doing a bit of research,” said Ron. “She said she was saving it for when you got here.”

“Research, hmm?” said Dumbledore. “I wonder how she was able to get ahold of any books which speak of them in less general terms.” He stopped muttering at a glare from his Deputy Head, which caused the students to snicker at the fact that even the Headmaster could not interrupt the Head of Gryffindor.

They were sitting at the breakfast table; Mr. Weasley and Bill had just left for work. Mrs. Weasley had gone upstairs to wake Hermione and Ginny, while Fleur had drifted off to take a bath.

“The Trace’ll break on the thirty-first,” said Harry. “That means I only need to stay here four days. Then I can—”

“Five days,” Ron corrected him firmly. “We’ve got to stay for the wedding. They’ll kill us if we miss it.”

Harry understood “they” to mean Fleur and Mrs. Weasley.

“That would be scary,” said Remus. “I mean, Molly has a temper herself, but the French have their own unique curses that-” He was unable to continue with a silencing spell from his son.

Teddy smirked, and said, “Sorry, Dad, but Uncle Harry said you tended to lecture too much.” The black-haired Marauders laughed evilly at this revelation. It seemed that Remus’s son was more like a prankster and less like a prefect.

“It’s one extra day,” said Ron, when Harry looked mutinous.

“Don’t they realize how important—?”

“’Course they don’t,” said Ron. “They haven’t got a clue. And now you mention it, I want to talk to you about that.”

Ron glanced toward the door into the hall to check that Mrs. Weasley was not returning yet, then leaned in closer to Harry.

“Mum’s been trying to get it out of Hermione and me. What we’re off to do. She’ll try you next, so brace yourself. Dad and Lupin’ve both asked us as well, but when we said Dumbledore told you not to tell anyone except us, they dropped it. Not Mum, though. She’s determined.”

“Oh, boy,” said James. “Its an overprotective mother, which means you make yourself scarce.” He then looked frightened as Lily turned to him, a stormy expression on her face. “Um, I’ll be quiet now,” he said, and she smirked triumphantly.

Ron’s prediction came true within hours. Shortly before lunch, Mrs. Weasley detached Harry from the others by asking him to help identify a lone man’s sock that she thought might’ve come out of his rucksack. Once she had him cornered in the tiny scullery of the kitchen, she started.

“Ron and Hermione seem to think that the three of you are dropping out of Hogwarts,” she began in a light, casual tone.

“Oh,” said Harry. “Well, yeah. We are.”

The mangle turned of its own accord in a corner, wringing what looked like one of Mr. Weasley’s vests.

“May I ask why you are abandoning your education?” said Mrs. Weasley.

“Well, Dumbledore left me . . . stuff to do,” mumbled Harry. “Ron and Hermione know about it, and they want to come too.”

“What sort of ’stuff’?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“Well, frankly I think Arthur and I have a right to know and I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Granger would agree!” said Mrs. Weasley. Harry had been afraid of the “concerned parent” attack. He forced himself to look directly into her eyes, noticing as he did that they were precisely the same shade of brown as Ginny’s.

This did not help.

“Dumbledore didn’t want anyone else to know, Mrs. Weasley. I’m sorry, Ron and Hermione don’t have to come, it’s their choice—”

“Which means they demanded he take them along, and gave him no choice in the matter,” said Sirius, and James nodded his agreement. Meanwhile, Lily was in shock that Sirius Black could actually say something intelligent.

“I don’t see that you have to go either!” she snapped, dropping all pretense now. “You’re barely of age, any of you! It’s utter nonsense, if Dumbledore needed work doing, he had the whole Order at his command! Harry, you must have misunderstood him. Probably he was telling you something he wanted done, and you took it to mean that he wanted you—”

“I didn’t misunderstand,” said Harry flatly. “It’s got to be me.” He handed her back the single stock he was supposed to be identifying, which was patterned with golden bulrushes.

“And that’s not mine, I don’t support Puddlemere United.”

“But their the best team ever!” shouted James in desperation. Unfortunately, he found himself on the receiving end of a curse that glued his tongue to the top of his mouth. He turned to Lily, who smiled sweetly.

“Not all of Severus Snape’s spells are Dark Arts related, James,” she said, in a voice that held more sweetness than her smile conveyed.

“Oh, of course not,” said Mrs. Weasley with a sudden and rather unnerving return to her casual tone. “I should have realized. Well, Harry, while we’ve still got you here, you won’t mind helping with the preparations for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, will you? There’s still so much to do.”

“No—I—of course not,” said Harry, disconcerted by this sudden change of subject.

“Sweet of you,” she replied, and she smiled as she left the scullery.

From that moment on, Mrs. Weasley keep Harry, Ron, and Hermione so busy with preparations for the wedding that they hardly had any time to think.

The kindest explanation of this behavior would have been that Mrs. Weasley wanted to distract them all from thoughts of Mad-Eye and the terrors of their recent journey. After two days of nonstop cutlery cleaning, of color-matching favors, ribbons, and flowers, of de-gnoming the garden and helping Mrs. Weasley cook vast batches of canap´es, however, Harry started to suspect her of a different motive. All the jobs she handed out seems to keep him, Ron, and Hermione away from one another; he had not had a chance to speak to the two of them alone since the first night, when he had told them about Voldemort torturing Ollivander.

“I think Mum thinks that if she can stop the three of you getting together and planning, she’ll be able to delay you leaving,” Ginny told Harry in an undertone, as they laid the table for dinner on the third night of his stay.

“And then what does she think’s going to happen?” Harry muttered. “Someone else might kill off Voldemort while she’s holding us here making vol-auvents?”

Minerva looked up, and said, “I am shocked that I got through so many paragraphs with no one interrupting. As much as I like to get through things quickly, it is abnormal for the Marauders to be silent. Ms. Evans, I know I will regret this, but please remove the curse from Mr. Potter.” Lily, with great reluctance, released James’s tongue.

James, now with his speech fully active, said, “Okay, why did he just reveal what he intends to do to Ginny? I mean, we guessed it, but I would think he’d be keeping that secret.”

Albus said, “I believe he was frustrated, Mr. Potter, and said it without thinking.”

He had spoken without thinking, and saw Ginny’s face whiten.

Minerva stopped, and glared at Dumbledore. “Albus, if you are reading over my shoulder, I will curse you. And you will not have any wish to have a lemon drop for several weeks. Understood?” Albus nodded vigorously, and positioned himself on the opposite side of the room from the Transfiguration mistress.

“So it’s true?” She said, “That’s what you’re trying to do?”

“I—not—I was joking,” said Harry evasively.

They stared at each other, and there was something more than shock in Ginny’s expression. Suddenly Harry became aware that this was the first time that he had been alone with her since their stolen hours in secluded corners of the Hogwarts grounds.

James and his friends snickered at the look of disgust on Minerva’s face.

He was sure she was remembering them too. Both of them jumped as the door opened, and Mr. Weasley, Kingsley, and Bill walked in.

They were often joined by other Order members for dinner now, because the Burrow had replaced number twelve, Grimmauld Place as the headquarters.

“Order HQ is where?” exclaimed Sirius. He could not believe that his family’s ancestral home was, or had been, the center of activity for resistance against Voldemort.

Mr. Weasley had explained that after the death of Dumbledore, their Secret-Keeper, each of the people to whom Dumbledore had confided Grimmauld Place’s location had become a Secret-Keeper in turn.

“Now, that’s an interesting twist on the charm,” said Lily. “I guess they modified it over the years, since its not like that now.”

“And as there are around twenty of us, that greatly dilutes the power of the Fidelius Charm. Twenty times as many opportunities for the Death Eaters to get the secret out of somebody. We can’t expect it to hold much longer.”

“But surely Snape will have told the Death Eaters the address by now?” asked Harry.

“Snape must have been in the Order as a spy,” spat Sirius. James looked furious as well. Dumbledore, meanwhile, looked somewhat pensive.

“Well, Mad-Eye set up a couple of curses against Snape in case he turns up there again. We hope they’ll be strong enough both to keep him out and to bind his tongue if he tries to talk about the place, but we can’t be sure. It would have been insane to keep using the place as headquarters now that its protection has become so shaky.”

The kitchen was so crowded that evening was difficult to maneuver knives and forks. Harry found himself crammed beside Ginny; the unsaid things that had just passed between them made him wish they had been separated by a few more people. He was trying to hard to avoid brushing her arm he could barely cut his chicken.

“No news about Mad-Eye?” Harry asked Bill.

“Nothing,” replied Bill.

They had not been able to hold a funeral for Moody, because Bill and Lupin had failed to recover his body. It had been difficult to know where he might have fallen, given the darkness and the confusion of the battle.

“The Daily Prophet hasn’t said a word about him dying or about finding the body,” Bill went on. “But that doesn’t mean much. It’s keeping a lot quiet these days.”

“And they still haven’t called a hearing about all the underage magic I used escaping the Death Eaters?” Harry called across the table to Mr. Weasley, who shook his head. “Because they know I had no choice or because they don’t want me to tell the world Voldemort attacked me?”

“The latter, I think. Scrimgeour doesn’t want to admit that You-Know-Who is as powerful as he is, nor that Azkaban’s seen a mass breakout.”

“Looks like things haven’t changed in twenty-years,” snorted James. The gathered group mostly had no respect for the Ministry. Obviously, Teddy had a different opinion since the Ministry was different in his time. But, he knew the way it had been before and could sympathize with the group’s disgust.

“Yeah, why tell the public the truth?” said Harry, clenching his knife so tightly that the faint scars on the back of his right hand stood out, white against his skin: I must not tell lies.

“That sounds like a blood quill scar,” gasped Lily. The others were shocked as well. The Ministry had outlawed blood quills for any purpose but blood contracts in 1845. To think Harry had to have used one multiple times to get that scar caused them to be sickened.

“Isn’t anyone at the Ministry prepared to stand up to him?” asked Ron angrily.

“Of course, Ron, but people are terrified.” Mr. Weasley replied, “terrified that they will be next to disappear, their children the next to be attacked! There are nasty rumors going around; I for one don’t believe the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts resigned. She hasn’t been seen for weeks now. Meanwhile Scrimgeour remains shut up in his office all day. I just hope he’s working on a plan.” There was a pause in which Mrs. Weasley magicked her empty plates onto the work surface and served apple tart.

“You know,” said James. “Dad used to talk about a recruit named Scrimgeour. He said the guy was pretty good as a fighter, but useless at strategy. I hope its not the same one, though. I’d rather the Minister be a strategist than anyone else.”

“We must decide ’ow you will be disguised,’Arry,” said Fleur, once everyone had pudding. “For ze wedding,” she added, when he looked confused. “Of course, none of our guests are Death Eaters, but we cannot guarantee zat zey will not let something slip after zey ’aev ’ad champagne.”

From this, Harry gathered that she still suspected Hagrid.

“Lovely woman, isn’t she?” said Lily sarcastically. Despite her normal tolerances for most, she did not like French people who were like Fleur. Which was pretty much the whole Wizarding population of France.

“Yes, good point,” said Mrs. Weasley from the top of the table, where she sat, spectacles perched on the end of her nose, scanning an immense list of jobs that she had scribbled on a very long piece of parchment. “Now, Ron, have you cleaned out your room yet?”

“Why?” exclaimed Ron, slamming his spoon down and glaring at his mother. “Why does my room have to be cleaned out? Harry and I are both fine with it the way it is!”

“We are holding your brother’s wedding here in a few days’ time, young man—”

“And are they getting married in my bedroom?” asked Ron furiously. “No! So why in the name of Merlin’s saggy left—”

“If he finishes that sentence, I’ll have a suggestion or two. Talking that way in front of my son,” Lily began.

“Er, Lily, Harry’s probably heard or even said worse.”

Without batting her eye, Lily said, “James, when we do get married, your sleeping on the couch for the first week. And no Animagus transformations!” James looked horrified at the punishment while Remus and Sirius dissolved into laughter at their friend’s plight.

“Don’t you talk to your mother like that,” said Mr. Weasley firmly, “And do as you’re told.”

Ron scowled at both his parents, then picked up his spoon and attacked the last few mouthfuls of his apple tart.

“I can help, some of it’s my mess.” Harry told Ron, but Mrs. Weasley cut across him.

“No, Harry, dear, I’d much rather you helped Arthur muck out the chickens, and Hermione, I’d be ever so grateful if you’d change the sheets for Monsieur and Madame Delacour, you know they’re arriving at eleven tomorrow morning.”

“Hehe,” said Sirius. “I doubt that’ll keep them busy very long. They’ll be getting out of it right quick.”

“Sirius, you can’t come over for a week after James and I are married,” said Lily, and Sirius groaned. He should just keep his mouth shut, sometimes.

But as it turned out, there was very little to do for the chickens, “There’s no need to, er, mention it to Molly,” Mr. Weasley told Harry, blocking his access to the coop, “but, er, Ted Tonks sent me most of what was left of Sirius’s bike, and, er, I’m hiding—that’s to say, keeping—it in here. Fantastic stuff! There’s an exhaust gaskin, as I believe it’s called, the most magnificent battery, and it’ll be a great opportunity to find out how brakes work. I’m going to try and put it all back together again when Molly’s not—I mean, when I’ve got time.”

There were snickers and even full-blown belly-laughs from the group at how Arthur was scared of his wife.

When they returned to the house, Mrs. Weasley was nowhere to be seen, so Harry slipped upstairs to Ron’s attic bedroom.

“I’m doing it, I’m doing—! Oh, it’s you,” said Ron in relief, as Harry entered the room. Ron lay back down on the bed, which he had evidently just vacated. The room was just as messy as it had been all week; the only change was that Hermione was now sitting in the far corner, her fluffy ginger cat, Crookshanks, at her feet, sorting books, some of which Harry recognized as his own, into two enormous piles.

“Hi, Harry,” she said, as he sat down on his camp bed.

“And how did you manage to get away?”

“Oh, Ron’s mum forgot that she asked Ginny and me to change the sheets yesterday,” said Hermione. She threw Numerology and Grammatica onto one pile and Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts onto the other.

“She is crazy,” declared Remus, who saw everyone raise their eyebrows. “What?”

“Moony, she’s your female version,” James explained slowly, as if Remus was unable to understand him.

Remus looked around at everyone, and all of them were nodding. Huffing, he crossed his arms.

“We were just talking about Mad-Eye,” Ron told Harry. “I reckon he might have survived.”

“But Bill saw him hit by the Killing Curse,” said Harry.

“Yeah, but Bill was under attack too,” said Ron. “How can he be sure what he saw?”

“Even if the Killing curse missed, Mad Eye still fell about a thousand feet,” said Hermione, now weighing Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland in her hand.

“He could have used a Shield Charm—”

“Fleur said his wand was blasted out of his hand,” said Harry.

“Well, all right, if you want him to be dead,” said Ron grumpily, punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape.

“Of course we don’t want him to be dead!” said Hermione, looking shocked. “It’s dreadful that he’s dead! But we’re being realistic!”

For the first time, Harry imagined Mad—Eye’s body, broken as Dumbledore’s had been, yet with that one eye still whizzing in its socket. He felt a stab of revulsion mixed with a bizarre desire to laugh.

“The Death Eaters probably tidied up after themselves, that’s why no one’s found him,” said Ron wisely.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Like Barty Crouch, turned into a bone and buried in Hagrid’s front garden.

“Barty Crouch?” said Sirius. “He’s the head of Magical Law Enforcement, isn’t he?” The others nodded, shocked. How many other people they knew were dead in the future.

They probably transfigured Moody and stuffed him—”

“Don’t!” squealed Hermione. Startled, Harry looked over just in time to see her burst into tears over her copy of Spellman’s Syllabary.

“Oh no,” said Harry, struggling to get up from the old camp bed. “Hermione, I wasn’t trying to upset—”

But with a great creaking of rusty bedsprings, Ron bounded off the bed and got there first. One arm around Hermione, he fished in his jeans pocket and withdrew a revolting-looking handkerchief that he had used to clean out the over earlier. Hastily pulling out his wand, he pointed it at the rag and said, “Tergeo.”

The wand siphoned off most of the grease. Looking rather pleased with himself, Ron handed the slightly smoking handkerchief to Hermione. “Oh . . . thanks, Ron. . . . I’m sorry. . . . ” She blew her nose and hiccuped. “It’s just so awf-ful, isn’t it? R-right after Dumbledore . . . I j-just n-never imagined Mad-Eye dying, somehow, he seemed so tough!”

“Yeah, I know,” said Ron, giving her a squeeze. “But you know what he’d say to us if he was here?”

“’C-constant vigilance,”’ said Hermione, mopping her eyes.

“That’s right,” said Ron, nodding. “He’d tell us to learn from what happened to him. And what I’ve learned is not to trust that cowardly little squit, Mundungus.”

Hermione gave a shaky laugh and leaned forward to pick up two more books. A second later, Ron had snatched his arm back from around her shoulders; she had dropped The Monster Book of Monsters on his foot. The book had broken free from its restraining belt and snapped viciously at Ron’s ankle.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Hermione cried as Harry wrenched the book from Ron’s leg and retied it shut.

“What are you doing with all those books anyway?” Ron asked, limping back to his bed.

“Just trying to decide which ones to take with us,” said Hermione. “When we’re looking for the Horcruxes.”

“There’s going to be a sarcastic remark, here,” predicted Sirius.

“Oh, of course,” said Ron, clapping a hand to his forehead. “I forgot we’ll be hunting down Voldemort in a mobile library.”

Minerva looked up at Sirius, her eyes narrowed. “It seems like this Mr. Weasley is a re-incarnation of you, Mr. Black. Except for the pranking nature. It seems that is his twin brothers’ position.” Sirius merely looked proud.

“Ha ha,” said Hermione, looking down at Spellman’s Syllabary. “I wonder . . . will we need to translate runes? It’s possible. . . . I think we’d better take it, to be safe.”

She dropped the syllabary onto the larger of the two piles and picked up Hogwarts, A History.

“Listen,” said Harry.

He had sat up straight. Ron and Hermione looked at him with similar mixtures of resignation and defiance.

“I know you said after Dumbledore’s funeral that you wanted to come with me,” Harry began.

“Here he goes,” Ron said to Hermione, rolling his eyes.

“As we knew he would,” she sighed, turning back to the books.

“Looks like they know how the Potter genes make the men act,” said Lily dryly. James huffed and glared at her, and then at his friends as they laughed at his misfortune.

“You know, I think I will take Hogwarts, A History. Even if we’re not going back there, I don’t think I’d feel right if I didn’t have it with—”

“Listen!” said Harry again.

“No, Harry, you listen,” said Hermione. “We’re coming with you. That was decided months ago—years, really.”

“That sounds like they have been together through several battles of some kind,” said Sirius, and Lily nodded her agreement.

James said, “But why would they be getting involved in battles in the first place?”

Lily glanced over at James before replying, “Its because Harry has your genes, I’m sure.”

“Are you going to say that everytime he does something noble?” groaned James. He groaned again at Lily’s evil grin.

“But—”

“Shut up,” Ron advised him.

“—are you sure you’ve thought this through?” Harry persisted.

“Let’s see,” said Hermione, slamming Travels with Trolls onto the discarded pile with a rather fierce look. “I’ve been packing for days, so we’re ready to leave at a moment’s notice, which for your information has included doing some pretty difficult magic, not to mention smuggling Mad-Eye’s whole stock of Polyjuice Potion right under Ron’s mum’s nose.

“Woah,” said Sirius. “They got something past a mother? Damn, that’s cool.”

“SIRIUS ORION PEGASUS BLACK!” shrieked both Lily and Minerva. Sirius cowered before the anger of the two most powerful witches he knew. Within moments, he was in his animagus form, locked there for a moment, with his fur smoothed out and shiny. And the longer hair was all tied up with pink bows, with a bonnet on his head. Sirius tried to get it all off, but failed. He whined, and hid his face at the embarrassing situation as everyone present laughed so hard their faces were turning purple. Even Ollivander, who was not known for laughter, had a hard time breathing at seeing the large, grim-like dog looking like a poodle.

“I’ve also modified my parents’ memories so that they’re convinced that they’re really called Wendell and Monica Wilkins, and that their life’s ambition is to move to Australia, which they have now done.

“Wow,” said Lily, her face stunned. Everyone else in the room, even the two teachers, were in similar states.

Minerva said, “I believe I will look forward to teaching Ms. Granger. She seems to have a keen mind. And a Gryffindor, it seems, with the brains of a Ravenclaw. I will be most interested in that.”

That’s to make it more difficult for Voldemort to track them down and interrogate them about me—or you, because unfortunately, I’ve told them quite a bit about you.

“Assuming I survive our hunt for the Horcruxes, I’ll find Mum and Dad and lift the enchantment. If I don’t—well, I think I’ve cast a good enough charm to keep them safe and happy. Wendell and Monica Wilkins don’t know that they’ve got a daughter, you see.”

Lily sniffled at the thought of this seventh year student, not even fully adult, risking everything to accomplish a mission to destroy Voldemort. She doubted she would be able to do the same in Hermione’s place.

Remus, on the other hand, said, “James, I believe that would say that Hermione is more like Lily. Muggle-born and smart. You owe me.”

Teddy said randomly, “By the way, Dad, why is it you have the last name Lupin? There are no families by that name, and I know you were a pureblood before your family abandoned you.”

The two black-haired Marauders turned to Remus, who looked nervous. “Remus?” asked James with a frown. “What’s he talking about?”

Remus sighed, and said, “I know you think I’m muggle-born, or half-blood. The truth is, I was given to my father’s squib sister to raise after I was bitten by Greyback.

“She changed her name to something similar in nature to our true last name. Before my encounter with Greyback, my name was Remus John Moon. My family hates Greyback, and felt that I would turn out just the same. I don’t relate to them anymore, and I don’t want to see them either. My name is Lupin, and that’s how it will remain.” The firm tone left no room for further discussion as Remus motioned sharply for Minerva to continue. For the first time, she did not take offense, but did so with no complaint.

Hermione’s eyes were swimming with tears again. Ron got back off the bed, put his arms around her once more, and frowned at Harry as though reproaching him for lack of tact. Harry could not think of anything to say, not least because it was highly unusual for Ron to be teaching anyone else tact.

“Heh, sounds like Ron is a re-incarnation of all but Sirius’s prankster side,” James laughed. Sirius shrugged his shoulders and grinned roguishly as everyone looked at him.

“What? I’m not going to be insulted. My bluntness is very attractive.”

“To trash,” muttered Lily under her breath. No one but Remus heard, and his lips twitched.

“I—Hermione, I’m sorry—I didn’t—”

“Didn’t realize that Ron and I know perfectly well what might happen if we come with you? Well, we do. Ron, show Harry what you’ve done.”

“Nah, he’s just eaten,” said Ron.

“Okay, I’m not sure I want to know,” said James, his face looking very confused and apprehensive.

“Go on, he needs to know!”

“Oh, all right. Harry, come here.”

For the second time Ron withdrew his arm from around Hermione and stumped over to the door.

“C’mon.”

“Why?” Harry asked, following Ron out of the room onto the tiny landing.

“Descendo,” muttered Ron, pointing his wand at the low ceiling. A hatch opened right over their heads and a ladder slid down to their feet. A horrible, half-sucking, half, moaning sound came out of the square hole, along with an unpleasant smell like open drains.

“That’s your ghoul, isn’t it?” asked Harry, who had never actually met the creature that sometimes disrupted the nightly silence.

“I don’t like where this is going,” said Sirius, his face taking on a sickened look.

“Yeah, it is,” said Ron, climbing the ladder. “Come and have a look at him.”

Harry followed Ron up the few short steps into the tiny attic space. His head and shoulders were in the room before he caught sight of the creature curled up a few feet from him, fast asleep in the gloom with its large mouth wide open.

“But it . . . it looks . . . do ghouls normally wear pajamas?”

“And the chapter title crops up,” Remus exlaimed. At everyone’s stare, he blushed and said, “Sorry. I have random outbursts when I get excited.”

“Right,” said James, and Minerva continued.

“No,” said Ron. “Nor have they usually got red hair or that number of pustules.” Harry contemplated the thing, slightly revolted. It was human in shape and size, and was wearing what, now that Harry’s eyes became used to the darkness, was clearly an old pair of Ron’s pajamas. he was also sure that ghouls were generally rather slimy and bald, rather than distinctly hairy and covered in angry purple blisters. “He’s me, see?” said Ron.

“No,” said Harry. “I don’t.”

“I’ll explain it back in my room, the smell’s getting to me,” said Ron. They climbed back down the ladder, which Ron returned to the ceiling, and rejoined Hermione, who was still sorting books.

“She is certainly driven,” remarked Lily, though she had previously thought the girl to be too driven, even if she had not voiced it aloud.

“Once we’ve left, the ghoul’s going to come and live down here in my room,” said Ron. “I think he’s really looking forward to it—well, it’s hard to tell, because all he can do is moan and drool—but he nods a lot when you mention it. Anyway, he’s going to be me with spattergroit. Good, eh?”

“That’s actually a somewhat good plan,” remarked Sirius. Lily had finally realized Sirius gave off the ‘dumb fool’ aura to fool most of Hogwarts, and did not make any comment besides, “So you’ve decided to start using your brain more, I see.”

Harry merely looked his confusion.

“It is!” said Ron, clearly frustrated that Harry had not grasped the brilliance of the plan. “Look, when we three don’t turn up at Hogwarts again,everyone’s going to think Hermione and I must be with you, right? Which means the Death Eaters will go straight for our families to see if they’ve got information on where you are.”

“Too true,” said James. The Slytherin students would likely be spying for Voldemort and their parents and would certainly inform them of the disappearance of three upperclassmen.

“But hopefully it’ll look like I’ve gone away with Mum and Dad; a lot of Muggle—borns are talking about going into hiding at the moment,” said Hermione.

Lily said, “I wouldn’t do that myself, but I can certainly understand the drive to do so. I just know my parents wouldn’t want to, and Petunia would have to be stunned and petrified to ensure her cooperation.”

“We can’t hide my whole family, it’ll look too fishy and they can’t all leave their jobs,” said Ron. “So we’re going to put out the story that I’m seriously ill with spattergroit, which is why I can’t go back to school. If anyone comes calling to investigate, Mum or dad can show then the ghoul in my bed, covered in pustules. Spattergroit’s really contagious, so they’re not going to want to go near him. It won’t matter that he can’t say anything, either, because apparently you can’t once the fungus has spread to your uvula.”

“And your mum and dad are in on this plan?” asked Harry.

“I bet if either of them is, it’s the father,” said Lily. “Molly would never do anything to help one of her kids do something dangerous.”

“Dad is. He helped Fred and George transform the ghoul. Mum . . . well, you’ve seen what she’s like. She won’t accept we’re going till we’ve gone.”

There was a lot of snickering from the teens, except for Lily. She was looking at James with a stern expression. She could see James making that sort of excuse for a dangerous excursion.

There was silence in the room, broken only by gentle thuds as Hermione continued to throw books into one pile or the other. Ron sat watching her, and Harry looked from one to the other. The measures they had taken to protect their families made him realize, more than anything else could have done, that they really were going to come with him and that they knew exactly how dangerous that would be. He wanted to tell them what that meant to him, but he simply could not find words important enough.

There was some sniffling from Lily and Minerva before the older lady continued reading. No one really could comment on the paragraph they’d just read.

Through the silence came the muffled sounds of Mrs. Weasley shouting from four floors below.

“Ginny’s probably left a speck of dust on a poxy napkin ring,” said Ron. “I dunno why the Delacours have got to come two days before the weddings.”

“Fleur’s sister’s a bridesmaid, she needs to be here for the rehearsal, and she’s too young to come on her own,” said Hermione, as she pored indecisively over Break with a Banshee.

“Well, guests aren’t going to help Mum’s stress levels,” said Ron. “what we really need to decide,” said Hermione, tossing Defensive Magical Theory into the bin without a second glance and picking up An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, “is where we’re going after we leave here. I know you said you wanted to go to Godric’s Hollow first, Harry, and I understand why, but . . . well . . . shouldn’t we make the Horcruxes our priority?”

“He wanted to come here? Why? I mean, it sounds like this is where we died, and he got cursed,” said James, who could not fathom why his son would want to come back to the place where his life became miserable.

Lily said, “Maybe he wants to see our graves. I doubt Petunia has given him the location, and he hasn’t been able to ask anyone to take him there.”

Meanwhile, Dumbledore was thinking about what lay in Godric’s Hollow that was important to his own past.

“If we knew where any of the Horcruxes were, I’d agree with you,” said Harry, who did not believe that Hermione really understood his desire to Godric’s Hollow. His parents graves were only part of the attraction: He had a strong, though inexplicable, feeling that the place held answers for him. Perhaps it was simply because it was there that he had survived Voldemort’s Killing Curse;

“He survived Avada Kedavra?” breathed Remus. The rest of the room was stunned as well. Dumbledore hid it well, but you could tell by the fact that his eyes weren’t twinkling, but instead showing his shock.

now that he was facing the challenge of repeating the feat, Harry was drawn to the place where it happened, wanting to understand.

“That explains it to me,” said James, and the others nodded their agreement.

“Don’t you think there’s a possibility that Voldemort’s keeping a watch on Godric’s Hollow?” Hermione asked. “He might expect you to go back and visit your parents’ graves once you’re free to go wherever you like?”

“I hate it when women are too logical,” complained James, who then cowered at the furious looks he was receiving from Lily and Minerva. Remus and Sirius wisely moved away from where James was. Teddy had evacuated the area around James once he heard James start complaining.

Lily said, in a dark voice, “So, you would rather your son be accompanied by an empty-haired bitch who couldn’t hold a wand straight enough to fire a spell?”

James’s logical side had gone out the window some time before, and he didn’t even think before he spouted, “Well, I guess that depends on what kind of wand your talking about.” At this, he got hexed by Minerva, whose spell had switched his tongue for a slim bell. James, his eyes wide, tried to talk but all that came out was a wet sounding ring.

Lily said, “James, be quiet. You don’t get to talk until the end of the chapter. Professor, could you give him his tongue back? I’ll use my other spell.”

Minerva nodded, and James only had his tongue for a few moments before it became glued to the roof of his mouth.

James glared at Lily, who flipped her red hair over her shoulder as Minerva continued, a smirk on her face.

This had not occurred to Harry. While he struggled to find a counterargument, Ron spoke up, evidently following his own train of thought.

“This R.A.B. person,” he said, “You know, the one who stole the real locket?”

Dumbledore said, “This locket continues to come up. It is likely a Horcrux.”

Sirius looked uncomfortable, but no one but Minerva noticed. She decided not to call him on it, but instead continued reading.

Hermione nodded.

“He said in his note that he was going to destroy it, didn’t he?”

Harry dragged his rucksack toward him and pulled out the fake Horcrux in which R.A.B.’s note was still folded.

“‘I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can,’” Harry read out.

“It appears that someone else found out the existence of Tom’s Horcruxes,” observed Albus. Everyone turned to him, confused.

Sirius said, “Professor? Why do you call him Tom?”

“Because that is his name, Sirius. Lord Voldemort was born Tom Marvolo Riddle, and he used his name to create the anagram from which his name today comes. He is a half-blood, but is also the Heir of Salazar Slytherin. Even though the Death Eaters know his blood status, they believe his descending from the founder of Slytherin House is enough to wash out what they term ‘dirty blood’.”

“So, he is of the same ‘blood’ as Harry, it seems,” said Sirius.

“Almost. Whereas Lily has magic, Tom’s father, Tom Riddle Sr., was a full muggle bewitched by Merope Gaunt. Minerva, please continue.”

“Well, what if he did finish it off?” said Ron.

“Or she.” interposed Hermione.

“Whichever,” said Ron, “it’d be one less for us to do!”

“Yes, but we’re still going to have to try and trace the real locket, aren’t we?” said Hermione, “to find out whether or not it’s destroyed.”

“Hermione seems to shoot down Ron’s ideas a lot,” Remus observed.

Sirius said, “Remus, I would think you’d have guessed he wouldn’t have thought it all through. I’m shocked!”

Remus huffed, “Actually, I did, but I thought it was a little too obvious. I doubted you would pick it up, at any rate.”

Sirius ruffled Remus’s hair, and said, “Whatever you say, Moony. No one will think any less of you if you don’t notice everything.” Everyone, except James who still had no speech capabilities, laughed at Remus’s expression at Sirius’s condescending tone.

The next moment, Sirius was hanging upside down by his ankle.

Lily said, “Remus, I was wondering where you guys learned that spell, since it’s one of Severus’s spells. He only has it in his Potions book.”

Sirius said, “Remmy snuck a look through-mph!” He no longer had his voice due to a Langlock curse from Remus.

Lily, her eyes narrowed, waved her wand and cancelled both spells. She did not, however, let Sirius fall gently. He crashed onto the ground as she cast as bat-bogey hex at Remus, as well as a disarming spell. Remus begged her for mercy for three minutes before she cancelled it.

Lily said, “Just so you know, I will tell Severus about you doing that, Remus. He has wondered who it was for far too long. I bet one reason he hates James so much is because he thinks it was James who did that.” Remus looked down in shame.

“And once we get hold of it, how do you destroy a Horcrux?” asked Ron.

“Well,” said Hermione, “I’ve been researching that.”

“How?” asked Harry. “I didn’t think there were any books on Horcruxes in the library?”

Dumbledore said, “That is true. I removed them upon becoming Headmaster. I would not have allowed them to be returned to the shelves while I was at the school.”

“There weren’t,” said Hermione, who had turned pink. “Dumbledore removed them all, but he—he didn’t destroy them.”

Ron sat up straight, wide-eyed.

“It—it wasn’t stealing!” said Hermione, looking from Harry to Ron with a kind of desperation. “They were still library books, even if Dumbledore had taken them off the shelves. Anyway, if he really didn’t want anyone to get at them, I’m sure he would have made it much harder to—”

“Get to the point!” said Ron.

“Well . . . it was easy,” said Hermione in a small voice. “I just did a Summoning Charm. You know—Accio. And. . . they zoomed out of Dumbledore’s study window right into the girls’ dormitory.”

There was a stunned silence, and then Remus and Sirius started howling (no pun intended) with laughter, and Lily was shaking with giggles. Minerva looked over at Dumbledore in astonishment, while Albus looked slightly abashed.

“Well, I didn’t think anyone would try to summon them,” he weakly protested, which only earned him a glare from Minerva.

“But when did you do this?” Harry asked, regarding Hermione with a mixture of admiration and incredulity.

“Just after his—Dumbledore’s—funeral,” said Hermione in an even smaller voice.

All humor from the situation dissolved at those words as the group bowed their heads. Dumbledore’s was in acknowledgement of the others’ respect for him.

“Right after we agreed we’d leave school and go and look for the Horcruxes. When I went back upstairs to get my things it—it just occurred to me that the more we knew about them, the better it would be . . . and I was alone in there . . . so I tried . . . and it worked. They flew straight in through the open window and I—I packed them.”

“Wow,” said Sirius. “She’s got a good brain in her head, that’s for sure.”

Minerva said, a look of distaste on her face, “While I do not approve of the manner in which you said it, I must agree with the essence of what you were saying, Mr. Black.”

She swallowed and then said imploringly, “I can’t believe Dumbledore would have been angry, it’s not as though we’re going to use the information to make a Horcrux, is it?”

“Can you hear us complaining?” said Ron. “Where are these books anyway?”

Hermione rummaged for a moment and then extracted from the pile a large volume, bound in faded black leather. She looked a little nauseated and held it as gingerly as if it were something recently dead.

“I like how she does things,” said Lily, her emerald eyes bright with amusement.

“This is the one that gives explicit instructions on how to make a Horcrux. Secrets of the Darkest Art—it’s a horrible book, really awful, full of evil magic. I wonder when Dumbledore removed it from the library. . . . If he didn’t do it until he was headmaster, I bet Voldemort got all the instruction he needed from here.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” sighed Dumbledore. “If only Armando had listened, but he was far more easily fooled by Tom’s charismatic nature and handsome appearance. If he knew what Riddle looked like now, I doubt he would know him.”

Sirius said, “And it sounds like Voldemort’s worse looking in the future.”

James was waving his arms around, and finally Lily said, “If you promise not to emit innuendos in your sentences on purpose, I’ll remove the curse.” James nodded vigorously, and Lily reluctantly released James.

James then said, “I was thinking that, since we know his real name now, we might as well call him Tom. At least amongst ourselves.”

The others nodded, and from that point on, they began calling the Dark Lord, Tom.

“Why did he have to ask Slughorn how to make a Horcrux, then, if he’d already read that?” asked Ron.

“He only approached Slughorn to find out what would happen if you split your soul into seven,” said Harry. “Dumbledore was sure Riddle already knew how to make a Horcrux but the time he asked Slughorn about them. I think you’re right, Hermione, that could easily have been where he got the information.”

“Horace,” sighed Dumbledore, and the Marauders commiserated with the Headmaster on the foolish nature of their Potions professor.

Lily, on the other hand, was horrified. “He gave Tom the information on if you could make seven?” she shrieked. “And to think I respected his intelligence!” There was a muffled chuckle from the male corner while Minerva tried to look disapproving and failed.

“And the more I’ve read about them,” said Hermione, “the more horrible they seem, and the less I can believe that he actually made six. It warns in this book how unstable you make the rest of your soul by ripping it, and that’s just by making one Horcrux!”

Harry remembered what Dumbledore had said about Voldemort moving beyond “usual evil.”

“Yes, I would have to say Tom did go beyond usual evil,” Albus said, his eyes not holding their usual twinkle.

“Isn’t there any way of putting yourself back together?” Ron asked.

“Yes,” said Hermione with a hollow smile, “but it would be excruciatingly painful.”

“Why? How do you do it?” asked Harry.

“Remorse,” said Hermione. “You’ve got to really feel what you’ve done. There’s a footnote. Apparently the pain of it can destroy you. I can’t see Voldemort attempting it somehow, can you?”

“No,” said all the people gathered.

“No,” said Ron, before Harry could answer. “So does it say how to destroy Horcruxes in that book?”

“Yes,” said Hermione, now turning the fragile pages as if examining rotting entrails. “because it warns Dark wizards how strong they have to make the enchantments on them. From all that I’ve read, what Harry did to Riddle’s diary was one of the really foolproof ways of destroying a Horcrux.”

“A diary? And what did he do?” asked James, curious.

“What, stabbing it with a basilisk fang?” asked Harry.

“WHAT DOES HE MEAN, A BASILISK FANG!?” Lily shrieked. She did not want her son near a snake like that. Wait a minute. . . . “Where did they even find a basilisk? I thought there weren’t anymore in the Isles!?”

The group wisely kept silent and let the young woman vent her rage.

“Oh well, lucky we’ve got such a large supply of basilisk fangs, then,” said Ron. “I was wondering what we were going to do with them.”

“It doesn’t have to be a basilisk fang,” said Hermione patiently. “It has to be something so destructive that the Horcrux can’t repair itself. Basilisk venom only has one antidote, and it’s incredibly rare—”

“—phoenix tears,” said Harry, nodding.

“I don’t want to know how he knows,” groaned Lily, sinking into a seat and moaning in despair.

“Exactly,” said Hermione, “Our problem is that the are very few substances as destructive as basilisk venom, and they’re all dangerous to carry around with you. That’s a problem we’re going to have to solve though, because ripping, smashing, or crushing a Horcrux won’t do the trick. You’ve got to put it beyond magical repair.”

“Wouldn’t that just have the piece of soul move into something else?” asked Sirius, confused.

“But even if we wreck the thing it lives in,” said Ron, “Why can’t the bit of soul in it just go and live in something else?”

“Exactly my question!” exclaimed Sirius, waiting for the future Remus, as he called Hermione, to answer.

“Because a Horcrux is the complete opposite of a human being.” Seeing that Harry and Ron looked thoroughly confused, Hermione hurried on, “Look, if I picked up a sword right now, Ron, and ran you through with it, I wouldn’t damage your soul at all.”

“Just don’t do it for real,” said Sirius, who received looks that said the others were unsure about the state of his mental capacities.

“Which would be a real comfort to me, I’m sure,” said Ron. Harry Laughed.

“It should be, actually! But my point is that whatever happens to your body, your soul will survive untouched,” said Hermione. “But it’s the other way round with a Horcrux. The fragment of soul inside it depends on it’s container, its enchanted body, for survival, It can’t exist without it.”

“I’m not sure whether to say that’s cool, or that’s insane,” said James to his fellow pranksters.

Remus said, “I would say, it’s completely insane, since you’d have to be like Tom to do that.” The others nodded their agreement.

“That diary sort of died when I stabbed it,” said Harry, remembering ink pouring like blood from the punctured pages, and the screams of the piece of Voldemort’s soul as it vanished.

“And once the diary was properly destroyed, the bit of soul trapped in it could no longer exist. Ginny tried to get rid of the diary before you did, flushing it away, but obviously it came back good as new.”

“Okay, so Harry’s girlfriend, and Ron’s little sister, had the diary? Why?” asked James, bewildered.

“Hang on,” said Ron, frowning. “The bit of soul in that diary was possessing Ginny, wasn’t it? How does that work, then?”

The group shuddered at the thought of being possessed by Tom Riddle. That would give them nightmares for years to come, they were sure.

“ While the magical container is still intact, the bit of soul inside it can flit in and out of someone if they get too close to the object. I don’t mean holding it for long, it’s nothing to do with touching it,” she added before Ron could speak.

“ I mean close emotionally. Ginny poured her heart out into that diary, she made herself incredibly vulnerable. You’re in trouble if you get too fond of or dependent on the Horcrux.”

“She must have gotten ahold of it in a second-hand shop,” guessed James. “Maybe Tom misplaced it, and it ended up there. She would have become dependent on it as a place to write her private thoughts.” The group nodded, and Lily made no comment about James’s IQ being higher than she thought, even if she was thinking it.

“I wonder how Dumbledore destroyed the ring?” said Harry. “Why didn’t I ask him? I never really . . . ”

His voice tailed away: He was thinking of all the things he should have asked Dumbledore, and of how, since the headmaster had died, it seemed to Harry that he had wasted so many opportunities when Dumbledore had been alive, to find out more . . . to find out everything . . . .

Dumbledore looked sorrowful as well. It appeared that the son of his two new Head students was a very interesting boy, and looked to Dumbledore as a mentor of sorts.

The silence was shattered as the bedroom door flew open with a wall-shaking crash. Hermione shrieked and dropped Secrets of the Darkest Art. Crookshanks streaked under the bed, hissing indignantly; Ron jumped off the bed, skidded on a discarded Chocolate Frog wrapper, and smacked his head on the opposite wall; and Harry instinctively dived for his wand before realizing that he was looking up at Mrs. Weasley, whose hair was disheveled and whose face was contorted with rage.

“Busted by the mother,” said James. The other Marauders nodded their agreement, but kept silent as Minerva leveled a glare at them.

“I would like to get through a few paragraphs before being interrupted, this time,” she said tightly. “I will tell you when you may comment again, you three.”

Lily said, “What, so they can’t talk, but we can?”

“Sorry, Ms. Evans, but neither you nor the second Mr. Lupin may speak. Dumbledore, no insane quotes.” The teens snickered as Minerva began to read.

“I’m so sorry to break up this cozy little gathering,” she said, her voice trembling. “ I’m sure you all need your rest . . . but there are wedding presents stacked in my room that need sorting out and I was under the impression that you had agreed to help.”

Albus said, “It seems that those three will not be doing much on their own for a while.” Ollivander chuckled to himself at this.

“Oh yes,” said Hermione, looking terrified as she leapt on her feet, sending books flying in every direction, “we will . . . we’re sorry . . . ” With an anguished look at Harry and Ron, Hermione, hurried out of the room after Mrs. Weasley.

“It’s like being a house-elf,” complained Ron in an undertone, still massaging his head as he and Harry followed. “Except without the job satisfaction. The sooner this wedding’s over, the happier I’ll be.”

“Mr. Weasley appears to be a bit of a laid-back person,” said Minerva, her mouth thinning as she looked at Sirius Black. The black-haired boy merely shrugged and smiled in his care-free manner.

“Yeah,” said Harry, “then we’ll have nothing to do except find Horcruxes. . . . It’ll be like a holiday, won’t it?”

“That’s an interesting sarcasm that young Harry has,” said Ollivander, his silver eyes twinkling in a manner reminiscent of Dumbledore.

Ron started to laugh, but at the sight of the enormous pile of wedding presents waiting for them in Mrs. Weasley’s room, stopped quite abruptly.

All the gathered people were chuckling once this sentence was read.

The Delacours arrived the following morning at eleven o’clock. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were feeling quite resentful toward Fleur’s family by this time, and it was with ill grace that Ron stumped back upstairs to put on matching socks, and Harry attempted to flatten his hair. Once they had all been deemed smart enough, they trooped out into the sunny backyard to await the visitors.

“I would be acting in a similar manner, I think,” said Albus, than cringed at the look of disgust that Minerva sent at him.

Harry had never seen the place looking so tidy. The rusty cauldrons and old Wellington boots that usually littered the steps by the back door were gone, replaced by two new Flutterby bushes standing either side of the door in large pots, though there was no breeze, the leaves waved lazily, giving an attractive rippling effect. The chickens had been shut away, the yard had been swept, and the nearby garden had been pruned, plucked, and generally spruced up, although Harry, who liked it in its overgrown state, thought that it looked rather forlorn without its usually contingent of capering gnomes.

He had lost track of how many security enhancements had been placed upon the Burrow by both the Order and the Ministry; all he knew was that it was no longer possible for anybody to travel by magic directly into the place. Mr. Weasley had therefore gone to meet the Delacours on top of a nearby hill, where they were to arrive by Portkey. The first sound of their approach was an unusually high-pitched laugh, which turned out to be coming from Mr. Weasley, who appeared at the gate moments later, laden with luggage and leading a beautiful blonde woman in long, leaf-green robes, who could only be Fleur’s mother.

“Maman!” cried Fleur, rushing forward to embrace her. “Papa!”

Monsieur Delacour was nowhere near as attractive as his wife; he was a head shorter and extremely plump, with a little, pointed black beard. However, he looked good-natured. Bouncing toward Mrs. Weasley on high-heeled boots, he kissed her twice on each cheek, leaving her flustered.

Minerva saw the Marauders were about to explode, and said, “The students may speak now.”

Sirius said immediately, “Papa Delacour sounds like a French version of young Dumbledore!” Immediately after this, he received a silencing charm from Lily.

“Don’t insult Professor Dumbledore!” snapped Lily. “He’s much better than that slug! Unless, of course, you want me to set up a date with Rita Skeeter for you?”

Sirius glared at Lily, and she smirked. Everyone present knew Sirius had hated Rita since fourth year, when she had been a first year and been going on about how Sirius was a disgrace to his family name. Skeeter was a Slytherin student, and had actually tried to arrange a marriage to Sirius.

Suffice it to say, Sirius now hated her more than he had before.

“You ’ave been to much trouble,” he said in a deep voice. “Fleur tells us you ’ave been working very ’ard.”

“Oh, it’s been nothing, nothing” trilled Mrs. Weasley. “No trouble at all.”

“Ron’s not going to agree,” said Sirius, who had been able to reverse the simple silencing charm without Lily’s help.

Ron relieved his feelings by aiming a kick at a gnome who was peering out from behind one of the new Flutterby bushes.

“Dear lady!” said Monsieur Delacour, still holding Mrs. Weasley’s hand between his two plump ones and beaming. “We are most honored at the approaching union of our two families! Let me present my wife, Apolline.”

Madame Delacour glided forward and stooped to kiss Mrs. Weasley too.

“Enchant´ee,” she said. ”Your ’usband ’as been telling us such amusing stories!”

Mr. Weasley gave a maniacal laugh;

“Oh, he’s going to be in trouble,” laughed Sirius. Everyone present knew the temper of Molly Prewitt Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley threw him a look, upon which he became immediately silent and assumed an expression appropriate to the sickbed of a close friend.

“And, of course, you ’ave met my leetle daughter, Gabrielle!” said Monsieur Delacour. Gabrielle was Fleur in miniature; eleven years old, with waist— length hair of pure, silvery blonde, she gave Mrs. Weasley a dazzling smile and hugged her, then threw Harry a glowing look, batting her eyelashes. Ginny cleared her throat loudly.

There was general laughter at Ginny’s possessiveness towards Harry.

“Well, come in, do!” said Mrs. Weasley brightly, and she ushered the Delacours into the house, with many “No, please!”s and “After you!”s and “Not at all!”s.

The Delacours, as it soon transpired, were helpful, pleasant guests. They were pleased with everything and keen to assist with the preparations for the wedding. Monsieur Delacour pronounced everything from the seating plan to the bridesmaids’ shows “Charmant!” Madame Delacour was most accomplished at household spells and had the oven properly cleaned in a trice; Gabrielle followed her elder sister around, trying to assist in any way she could and jabbering away in rapid French.

“Well,” said Lily, at the raised eyebrows from the three Marauders, “I guess Fleur is the bad egg of their family.” James nodded, while Remus and Sirius rolled their eyes. They knew it was because of Fleur’s comments about Harry’s appearance when she was polyjuiced and Hagrid that the two were angry with the French lady. Otherwise, they would bet the two would have liked her.

On the downside, the Burrow was not built to accommodate so many people. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were now sleeping in the sitting room, having shouted down Monsieur and Madame Delacour’s protests and insisted they take their bedroom. Gabrielle was sleeping with Fleur in Percy’s old room, and Bill would be sharing with Charlie, his best man, once Charlie arrived from Romania. Opportunities to make plans together became virtually nonexistent, and it was in desperation that Harry, Ron, and Hermione took to volunteering to feed the chickens just to escape the overcrowded house.

“The mother won’t leave them alone, I bet,” muttered Sirius.

“But she still won’t leave us alone!” snarled Ron, as their second attempt at a meeting in the yard was foiled by the appearance of Mrs. Weasley carrying a large basket of laundry in her arms.

“See?” said Sirius, and the others gave him looks that said it was obvious to him. “Fine!” he huffed, an indignant expression on his face.

“Oh, good, you’ve fed the chickens,” she called as she approached them. “We’d better shut them away again before the men arrive tomorrow . . . to put up the tent for the wedding,” she explained, pausing to lean against the henhouse.

She looked exhausted. “Millamant’s Magic Marquees . . . they’re very good. Bill’s escorting them. . . . You’d better stay inside while they’re here, Harry. I must say it does complicate organizing a wedding, having all these security spells around the place.”

“That will make him fell bad!” snapped Lily, who, while she liked Mrs. Weasley being a mother to Harry, did not like her attitude, even if it was because of stress over the wedding of her eldest son.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry humbly.

“Oh, don’t be silly, dear!” said Mrs. Weasley at once. “I didn’t mean—well, your safety’s much more important! Actually, I’ve been wanting to ask you how you want to celebrate your birthday, Harry. Seventeen, after all, it’s an important day. . . . ”

There was some misty eyes from Lily and Minerva, and James hung his head, his hands clenched into fists with his fingernails cutting into his palms. It wasn’t fair that he and Lily couldn’t be there for their son when he came of age. Why did they have to be dead? Why couldn’t they be there for him?

“I don’t want a fuss,” said Harry quickly, envisaging the addition strain this would put on them all. “Really, Mrs. Weasley, just a normal dinner would be fine. . . . It’s the day before the wedding. . . . ”

“Harry is sweet,” said Lily. “He doesn’t want her to do much more because of how stressed she is.”

“Oh, well, if you’re sure, dear. I’ll invite Remus and Tonks, shall I? And how about Hagrid?”

James said, “Remus, you had better go, since you’re the only true Marauder still living.” Remus nodded, and said, “I hope I will.”

“That’d be great,” said Harry. “But please don’t go to loads of trouble.”

“Not at all, not at all . . . It’s no trouble. . . . ” She looked at him, a long, searching look, then smiled a little sadly, straightened up, and walked away.

Lily said, “I think she realizes they’ll be going no matter what, but is trying to keep them as children as well. It must be so hard for her, with most of her family fighting in the war now.”

Harry watched as she waved her wand near the washing line, and the damp clothes rose into the air to hang themselves up, and suddenly he felt a great wave of remorse for the inconvenience and the pain he was giving her.

Minerva said, “And that is the end of the chapter. Who wishes to read next?”

Ollivander said, “I shall read next, Minerva.” He took the book from her, and opened it to the correct page.