{Author's Note: Gaaah… Alright. Time for explaining myself. Since camp finished, I've been in a depressive haze, more or less. Life and all that… Then today my parents found out about my suicidal tendencies and pansexuality. So long story short, I've been mentally incapacitated by life in general, stress, and mental illness. However, now I'm pulling out of it for now at least, and can write! Good grief, it's amazing to have a clear head for a few days.

By the by, next chapter's already started. It would have been an addition to this one, but somehow it didn't feel right as a direct addition to this. So… next chapter! Yay!}

Dinner at the Weasley house was quite a joyous event the eve after Harry's arrival. Molly bustled about, insisting that Harry in particular eat up, pushing seconds and even fourths his way after hearing of the Dursleys' atrocious feeding habits. He was certainly not the Harry the others had last seen as they all disembarked from the train, but he was also not the terrified Harry that Fred and George had seen in his bedroom.

T'rembrale sat next to him, her food picked at as she tried to figure out this newcomer. The redheaded clan, of course, introduced the two and T'rembrale's lingual difficulties explained. Nevertheless, she spoke up during the meal for the first time since her arrival.

"Harry?" She asked, looking towards him curiously. The table froze, stunned. Likewise, Harry jumped something awful before turning towards her. "Yes?"

"Try the carrots," she said as she looked pointedly at the serving dish of raw carrots and the respective veggie dip, then at the mess Mrs. Weasley had dumped on his plate without consideration of his food preferences. She personally liked the vegetable best plain, since the scent of the dip tended to be far too strong for her tastes, but everyone else at the table relished the goop. To each their own, she supposed.

Ginny was the first to crack into a smile, barely suppressing a chuckle as she observed Harry's awkward fishing for a reply. "Ehm, sorry, T'rembrale. I don't like carrots all that much," he finally managed to splutter out.

T'rembrale shrugged and stabbed a clean fork into the carrots once more for her seconds, almost in a 'more for me, then!' gesture. At this, Ron could hardly help himself and started a suppressed chuckle. Harry glanced up, his gaze shooting laser beams at his best friend before returning to his meal.

Twenty agonizing minutes later, Harry arose from his seat. "Thanks so much for the meal, Mrs. Weasley. It was delicious, and yes, I'm certain I had enough." He smiled weakly, and then proceeded up the stairs to his refuge in Ron's raucously orange room. T'rembrale nodded, acknowledging his gesture before proceeding to finish her final bites of dinner. "Nemaiyo," she said simply, bowed slightly, then followed Harry's path to the stairs, but branched off at Ginny's room instead.

In there, she picked one of Ginny's old schoolbooks and began flipping through, sounding out everything she could given the reading lessons Ginny and Mr. Weasley had tag-teamed on earlier in the day. Now that she understood the language enough to dare speak and know she was communicating and not just spitting out garble, T'rembrale wanted to read, to be able to devour the texts of this foreign land.

Surprisingly, T'rembrale found herself understanding more and more of this book. However, the more she read, the less sense it made. Perhaps she would ask Ginny to explain when she returned to her room. She proceeded to contemplate how a goblet could become a turtle under any circumstances, finding that the matter was simply illogical.

A goblet was a goblet, and a turtle was a turtle. One was alive, the other not. One was metal or glass or stone, the other flesh and bone and blood.

As she came to this resolution, T'rembrale recalled that Harry and Ginny had mentioned going to the same school. Harry was older, and therefore in a higher level of his education. That meant that he would understand this and possibly even be able to explain it to her in a manner she would understand, unlike the stumbling Muggle-mixed lectures of Mr. Weasley and the well-meaning but simple explanations she gained from Mrs. Weasley.

Almost immediately, she left the room with Ginny's first year Transfiguration book under her arm and power walked up the stairs.

In Ron's room, Harry heard the stairs creaking and instinctively poised himself for trouble. However, when the door resounded, it was a gentle sound entirely unlike his aunt and uncle's furious hammerings. When the sound repeated itself, at last he snapped himself out of his reverie. "Come in, I guess," he said halfheartedly.

T'rembrale cracked the door open, easing herself inside with the tome under her arm. "Explain this book?" she asked, her eyes reflecting her thirst for knowledge.

Harry looked up perplexedly, now seeing that she held A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch. First off, he had no idea she could read, if the lessons today were any indication. Second, what was she doing learning to read properly with a textbook? Most kids preferred the readers teachers handed out on a regular basis, or if they were advanced, short chapter books and novellas.

Yet, T'rembrale stood before him with a first-year textbook, asking for help understanding it. Well, fine. As long as he did not have to read it aloud to her, explaining the more complicated wording.

He sighed, but took the book. "What is it in there?" he asked, almost grimacing as T'rembrale's eyes lit up despite herself. "Goblet to turtle. How?" she asked, taking Harry off guard with her directness. Her mannerisms would take some time to become accustomed to.

Outside Ron's door, the twins, Ron, and Ginny all crowded in an attempt to hear Harry's patient explanation of how Transfiguration works, including word substitutions for terms T'rembrale asked about before she filed it away for future reference.

Fred looked at George, making kissy faces. George nodded, thinking exactly the same thing. Ron was simply flabbergasted that his rather non-studious friend was this good a tutor to a kid from a non-magical background and who spoke just enough English to get by if needed. On the other hand, Ginny was proud. It had been she who had fumbled with this spell in school, and now she wished she had asked Harry for an explanation sooner. Perhaps her final grade for the term would have been higher had she understood it properly at the time.

Several days later, the household was in an uproar. It was Harry's birthday, and he was finally becoming a true teenager: unlucky thirteen. Even so, he considered his personal unlucky number to be one; considering that was the year he lost his parents and was forced to live with those brutes, the Dursleys.

T'rembrale was confused. Why was everyone in such a hurry today, of all days? She tried to help out, her broken English slightly better as she gained knowledge towards the usage of articles and the like. It certainly helped to be able to communicate, the Weasleys found.

Once dinner rolled around, the pile of presents on the floor was ready for assault. Harry complied with the adult Weasleys' desire to eat before gifts and cake somewhat reluctantly. However, the meal was finished sooner than most. A smile lit up Harry's face as he was finally given reign to his birthday presents.

As this was his first actual birthday party, Harry was in a new realm. He loved it. Reaching for a medium-sized package, he immediately tore into the wrappings with no sense that he should preserve the paper. What he found elicited an even larger smile than before; he found that now he had a Wizarding-style Quidditch poster! Ron had decided that Harry was to be a Chudley Cannons fan as well, so it was better to start now than when Harry actually knew something about the individual teams.

"Thanks, Ron. Can we put it up in your room 'til we get back to the dorms?" Ron lit up at the suggestion. Chuckling, Harry returned to his small pile. "Alright, now… Which one next?"

As Ginny leapt to her feet to select her smallish present, T'rembrale thought she understood. Gift-giving ceremonies were frequently more formal among Vulcans, but they also commemorated very special occasions such as births and marriages in her experience. Perhaps not every Vulcan followed those traditions, but her parents had, and that was what mattered to T'rembrale.

At that understanding, she had to pause and think for a moment. Why would Harry be getting things? Was it a housewarming-type event, or maybe an engagement proclamation? She turned to Fred and nudged his arm.

"Yeah?" he asked, wondering what this was about.

"Why is he getting…" T'rembrale fished for the word in a lethological moment, "things?" she completed after searching for an equivalent English term to ta'an and failing to find it. Fred just smiled, realizing that this event really did have a terminology all its own, and so T'rembrale could not be expected to understand much of it after her scarce months of lingual immersion.

"It's Harry's birthday. The day that he was born. How many birthdays you've had tells how old you are here," Fred tried to explain. "I'm fifteen, and so's George." T'rembrale nodded, taking a moment to understand. "At home, I'm…" She paused again, this time remembering her English numbers, "fourteen."

This took Fred aback. Fourteen? He could have sworn she was younger than Ginny by at least two years! Even so, she was two years older, apparently. That hardly made sense in his mind, seeing as she certainly looked far like an ickle firstie despite her wonky eyebrows and pointed ears than any fourth-year either he or his twin had ever encountered at Hogwarts.

He chose to leave the conversation at that, however, and return to the scene before him. Harry was acting like a kindergarten child, ripping through the wrappings of his last gift: from the twins but marked as from the Weasley family in general. As he lifted the lid of the box within, a puff of multicolored dust filled the air and he began to cough.

Moments later, his hair turned a brilliantly bright shade of green to match his eyes. When Harry dared open his mouth, his tongue matched as well. "What was that?" he asked, not realizing that his voice had been changed to sound like a two-year-old version of himself. The twins arose from their seat and high-fived each other before going over and squatting before Harry.

"That would be…" Fred started, leaving George to finish the sentence.

"Our latest invention, and…" George followed suit, apparently for dramatics.

"You were just the first victim."

"Aside from ourselves, of course…"

"And of the finished product."

The two nodded and arose from their position, yelling simultaneously now that they had inhaled the same powder. They knew the matter would be in the air, and therefore decided to be the other victims so Harry would not be embarrassed. "Happy birthday, Harry!" the two called out in a raucous toddler two-tone.

T'rembrale could hardly help but be content, even as the sugar-laden treat was placed upon her plate. Cake, she believed it was called. Cautiously taking a fork and sampling it before diving in, she found it to be too sweet for frequent consumption. However, once every year seemed to be often enough.

Now she just wished that she could have a birthday party as well, even if she could not react in kind as Harry had. Perhaps soon, she knew that she was to turn fifteen before too long.

[Author's note: A Vulcan year is 0.73 Earth years. Which means this much: T'rembrale is fourteen Vulcan years old. Since she was not born on Earth, she has no Earth birthday, just a rough guess at this point since she doesn't know how time aligns between the planets. Make sense? Yes? Good.

Now, as for replies… None this chapter. My connection's fritzy as I finish my commentary, and I'd rather upload than find reviews and reply.

Regardless, please do review! At the least, I read them and incorporate the comments into the story if possible.]