A/N: This story is a stand-alone work that takes place after the events of Order of the Phoenix. Chapter two will be posted within the week. If you feel so motivated, click that little "review" button when you finish and tell me what you think!

Chapter One: The Surprise Party

It was just past midnight on a late July night at the Burrow. The surrounding hills were quiet and still. No lights shone from any of the windows of the lopsided house. Not a whisper of wind disturbed the leaves of the trees. Everything in this corner of the world was sound asleep – save for one teenaged boy.

Ron Weasley leaned against his windowsill and drew a deep breath of cool night air, staring straight up at the stars that twinkled in the inky blackness above. The Burrow was out in the country and the nearest town was a few miles away, so there were no Muggle lights to drown out the heavens. Here the sky was almost as clear as it was at Hogwarts.

The shining moon was climbing high in its arc. Its face was full, and for a moment Ron found himself thinking about Remus Lupin. His favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was undoubtedly a werewolf at this very moment. He wouldn't harm anyone – he took Wolfsbane potion to ensure that – but he could be running free outside under the moonlight all the same, just like he had done when he was Ron's age. Except now he had no one to run with. James Potter was long dead, Peter Pettigrew was a traitor, and Sirius…

Sirius. Ron felt a pang when he thought of the man. He remembered the feeling of icy cold shock that had spread through him when he was told – in the hospital wing at Hogwarts – of the tragedy. It was a sad ending for a man who had spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he hadn't committed. Sirius had died a fugitive from the law, his innocence unproven, and to Ron this seemed the greatest tragedy of all.

Ron sighed into the darkness. He knew he wasn't the cleverest of wizards but he did know how much Sirius had meant to Harry. Harry had no parents; a godfather was the only link he had to his family as the Dursleys certainly didn't count. Ron had heard his parents talking about Harry and Sirius on more than one occasion, about how Harry was coming to regard Sirius as something of a hybrid of elder brother, favorite uncle, and father figure. Ron couldn't imagine what it could be like to have no proper family, and he'd tried to put himself into Harry's shoes more than once. He had grown up in a house crammed with siblings and parents – and Harry had no one.

Harry did not want Ron's sympathy… or anyone else's, for that matter. He had avoided the subject of Sirius during the last week of term and grew angry when it was brought up. Ron knew it pained Hermione just as much as it did him to see Harry in such a state. They wanted to help Harry. Ron knew they could help him if only he'd let go of his stubborn pride. The raw misery in Harry's green eyes was there for the whole world to see and yet he refused to discuss it with anyone. Ron did not understand how his friend could just squash it down so. He had actually started to grow angry with Harry for being so short with him, but a few words from Hermione had quieted his temper. "Just let him be," she had said softly, patting his hand after Harry had stormed out of their company once again. "This is something that… well, we can't understand. He'll come around after a bit."

And Hermione had been right, or so it had seemed. Harry had stopped giving them the evil eye and settled down, although Ron suspected that was only because he and Hermione had stopped mentioning Sirius altogether. He knew that Harry wasn't really angry with them. Ron didn't need Hermione's brains to understand that Harry needed them now much more than ever. He and Hermione were going to have to be Harry's family, not that this required any change in thinking on Ron's part. As far as he was concerned, Harry might as well be one of his brothers anyway.

Ron shifted uncomfortably on his knees as his thoughts took a slightly darker turn. Thinking of the loss of Sirius always caused Ron to assess his own role in the event. He would never tell Harry – he had no right to unload his guilty feelings on his friend right now – but Ron felt keenly that if he'd only been a little faster – a little better with his spellwork – that maybe Sirius would be alive right now. He still didn't know what Jugson had hit him with; he didn't remember much of anything after that. Well, there was one thing he remembered. The brains.

Ron looked down at his forearms. The gashes left by the thoughts that had trailed behind the brain were nearly gone, though the moonlight illuminated long strips of pale, still-healing skin. The Healers at St. Mungo's suspected that he would scar. Those healing cuts skin looked almost like claw marks.

Ron shivered as if a cold wind had suddenly blown into the room. Harry wasn't the only one who had something he didn't want to discuss; Ron didn't especially like remembering what he had experienced when the brain had first touched him. An image had flashed into his head, one that Ron hadn't put there. It had been one of a smiling witch handing out bright red balloons in Diagon Alley. Then it had changed, and Ron had seen a broken broomstick in front of him, and he had known that he had broken it and was in a lot of trouble. Then a new image had come, one of struggling lost through a blinding thunderstorm with someone at his side. Thoughts and pictures had tumbled through his head and he had been powerless to stop them. He had been elated, been miserable, been terrified beyond belief, had terribly dark thoughts the sort of which he had never imagined lay within himself.

But they weren't my own thoughts, Ron reminded himself. They were someone else's. That wasn't me thinking of hitting that woman, that was someone else… But he still felt soiled and untidy just for having seen. In fact, some of those thoughts had been so horrible that Ron just wanted to forget…

Then don't THINK about it! said a voice in Ron's head.

Fine, Ron responded. I can think about my friends instead…

But that just led him back to Harry which led him back to Sirius, and Sirius always led him back to the Department of Mysteries.

Ron sighed again. Poor Sirius. Maybe things would have been different if he'd made it back to Harry's side. Maybe one more wand on the side of good would have done the trick and Sirius could have been saved.

And maybe not, said the voice in Ron's head. Those were Death Eaters you were up against; it's a miracle that you weren't killed. Maybe if you'd made it back you'd be dead now, too.

Ron stiffened. As much as he disliked it, there was a lot of truth in that thought. He wasn't so arrogant as to think that he could have made much difference against nearly a dozen Death Eaters. Harry barely could, and Ron wasn't as good at defense as Harry was. Anyway, it didn't matter now. Sirius was dead and Ron hadn't been there for Harry when Harry had needed him. Knowing that Hermione hadn't been there either was small consolation, because someone else had managed it. Neville. Neville, of all people! Sure, he had improved vastly over the past year, but Ron was still used to the idea of his classmate as incompetent, and it was going to take more than mastering a few charms to convince him that Neville knew what he was about. It wasn't that Ron didn't like Neville, but he was Harry's best friend! He should have been more careful. He should have been there.

The moon threw its silvery beams down into Ron's bedroom window as he thought about his friends. Were they sitting up late too, staring out their windows and thinking about recent events? Probably not Hermione; she wasn't the type to lose sleep over things she couldn't change. But Harry... Ron was willing to bet that he wasn't sleeping well. Ron had received a handful of letters from Harry since term had ended, and he sounded tired in every single one. Ron wasn't sure how Harry managed to sound tired on paper without saying it outright, but he did.

Hermione was worried about Harry, too; she and Ron had exchanged more letters than they had with Harry. Hermione fretted that he probably wasn't eating, and Ron said that if Harry lost weight it wouldn't be his fault. Harry always came back from the Dursleys rather thinner because they fed him the same rabbit food they fed their son, Dudley. It wasn't as if Harry would miss much by not eating.

It wasn't just Harry's physical health that Ron and Hermione worried about, though – it was the fact that he had learned something from Dumbledore and he wasn't telling them what it was. Dumbledore always talked to Harry about events like this, and even without Sirius' death the loss of the prophecy would have been cause enough for a discussion. It had been hard for Ron to tell during that last week of school, but he thought there was more than one reason for Harry's dark mood. It wasn't just Sirius' death – it was something he'd heard in the headmaster's office. It was something he didn't like. But Harry wasn't being forthcoming, and Ron couldn't just ask him about what Dumbledore had said. If it had been any of his business Dumbledore would have told him. But they were in this together, he, Harry and Hermione; Harry had always told Ron and Hermione the whole truth. It had taken a little time after the disastrous third task of the Triwizard Tournament, but he'd done it all the same. The death of Sirius was even worse than that of Cedric Diggory – to Harry, at least – so Ron supposed that it would naturally take longer for him to start talking about things. Ron clung to the hope that Harry would include his friends again once he was ready. It was what he'd always done.

It felt like ages since Ron had seen either of his friends. School had ended, they had said farewell on the platform at Kings Cross, and that had been it. Hermione had written to Ron that she had called Harry on the telephone – Ron was determined to remember that word – and that while he hadn't been talkative, he'd sounded okay. Well, thought Ron, you may be sulking around Privet Drive now, Harry, but not for long! Harry's birthday was only a few days away, and Ron's mother had gotten the go-ahead from Dumbledore to host a party for him at the Burrow. Harry was not to be told as it was going to be a surprise.

At first Mrs. Weasley had worried that Harry might not like a surprise. She knew how Harry was faring; the Order was continuously checking up on him. To Ron's pleasure, she asked his opinion, and Ron said that he thought Harry was doing a little better and really would like to get back to the magical world, if only for a little while. Then Lupin had stopped by to have a chat with Mrs. Weasley, and Ron and Ginny had managed to eavesdrop from the stairs with a pair of Fred and George's extendable ears. They had expected to hear Order news, but to their surprise Lupin and their mother had discussed the party instead.

"I think he'd really like it," Lupin had said enthusiastically. "He's always happy to see any Order members that drop by to check in on him. Of course, I think he likes to see the Dursleys cower as much as he likes the familiar faces." Lupin chuckled halfheartedly. "The visits are helping, but he's still miserable being stuck in that house."

"Poor lamb," Mrs. Weasley murmured into her teacup. "He's grieving, and they don't understand."

"They don't want to understand," said Lupin. "If Mad-Eye hadn't threatened them like he did, I think they'd be actively trying to make him as unhappy as possible. Dratted charm! It's a crying shame James didn't have –"

But Mrs. Weasley had shushed Lupin just then, and Ron and Ginny knew that she suspected they were listening. Lupin's last words had confirmed Ron's suspicions that there were charms on the Dursley home, but he still didn't understand why Harry had to live with them. Why couldn't Dumbledore have charmed the Burrow? Ron had made a mental note to ask Harry if he knew what Lupin had been talking about. Since that topic couldn't touch on Sirius in any way, Ron thought it would be safe.

An owl hooted just outside Ron's window. Ron jumped in surprise, banging his knuckles against the windowsill. "Ouch!" he gasped, and he stuck the smarting skin against his lips to soothe it. It was probably just Errol, out on a hunting trip. In any case it was past time for bed. The party was on and Mrs. Weasley had told Ron and Ginny that she would be getting them both up early to work on the invitations.

Ron collapsed onto his mattress with a tired sigh. He pulled his sheets around himself, turned over, and snuggled into his pillow. It was quite late, but at least he could get a few hours in before his mother came knocking in the morning.

"Take this outside, will you, Ginny dear?" said Mrs. Weasley, picking up a huge bowl of punch from the kitchen table. Ginny grimaced but had no choice other than to take it. She tottered away toward the back door, a little bit of punch sloshing out of the bowl and onto the floor.

"Oh, dear, oh, dear," said Mrs. Weasley in frazzled tones. "A sticky mess is not what we need right now, everyone will be here soon – Limpius" The mop she had pointed her wand at leapt out of the corner and vigorously began to remove the punch from the floor. "And you, Ron," she continued, "take that tray of tea cakes and put it by the sandwiches."

Ron picked up the tray without complaint. It was Harry's birthday at last, and it had already been a long morning what with his mother bustling around the kitchen getting all the food ready. All the other Weasley children had moved out of the Burrow, so that left Ron and Ginny to help with the preparations. They were both tired of lugging parcels and food around, but they were so eager to see Harry again that the work seemed a small price to pay.

Ron reached the back door just as Ginny was coming in. She held the door for him and they shared a sympathetic smile. "We're almost done, I think," she said as he passed. "I'll get the cups for the punch and you can get the pudding."

"Mum's made enough to feed an army," said Ron.

"Well, an army's coming, isn't it?" said Ginny, smiling cheekily.

Ron grinned to himself as he crossed the yard to the long tables that had been set up to hold the food. Ginny was right – an army was coming to the party. The entire D.A. had been invited, including Marietta Edgecombe. Ron and Ginny had protested, but their mother had refused to leave her out. In the end it hadn't mattered; Marietta was the only person to have refused the invitation. Even Zacharias Smith had accepted.

Ron set the tray of cakes down on one of the scant empty places still remaining on the tables. He glanced surreptitiously back toward the house, made sure his mother was otherwise occupied, and nicked a sandwich from a nearby platter. He grinned again when he remembered that Hagrid was coming. The presence of the half-giant alone necessitated a lot of food. Then there was Lupin, and Kingsley and Tonks were coming by on the pretense of having business with Mr. Weasley. The rest of the Order members were staying away, but Ron thought Harry would understand as very few of the D.A. students knew about the Order. And Fred and George were coming, and so were Charlie and Bill, who was bringing Fleur Delacour.

Everyone was coming except for Percy. "Git," Ron muttered under his breath. "Causing rows even when he's not around!" It was true; his parents had had a bitter argument over whether or not to invite their third son to the party. Ron and Ginny had listened, again from the stairs. This time they had needed no extendable ears; their parents' voices had been adequately raised to carry throughout the first floor. Mrs. Weasley was determined not to give up on Percy and couldn't bear the thought of actively leaving him out of a family gathering. "He's our son," she had pleaded. "We can't just pretend he doesn't exist!"

"You know I would do nothing of the kind, Molly," Mr. Weasley had said. "But you have to face the fact that he's not on our side!"

"Arthur, he's just confused!" cried Mrs. Weasley. "He's not thinking about what he's doing!"

"Have you forgotten the row we had last year?" Mr. Weasley said, his voice rising. "How he didn't deny my accusation? How he moved out?"

"No, but –"

"Have you forgotten the letter he sent to Ron?"

Ron had winced at the mention of Percy's letter. He'd torn it up and burned it in a fit of pique, but it hadn't stopped him from telling his father. The knowledge that one of his own brothers had turned traitor was like a knife in his stomach, but he'd had to say something. Percy had advised him to stay away from Harry and Dumbledore and the people who believed them, and their father was one of those people. That day it had become painfully clear to Ron that Percy was not going to change his mind. He had not come to his senses and was just as stupid and bigheaded as Fred and George had always said. Percy trying to turn his siblings against their parents wasn't something Ron was willing to hide.

Mrs. Weasley had burst into tears when Mr. Weasley mentioned the letter. Ginny had seized Ron's hand tightly, and Ron had felt his insides freeze at the sound of his mother crying. He hated that sound. And yet at the same moment that Ron's stomach had seized up, his blood had begun to boil. Damn Percy! he had thought while Ginny clutched his hand, wide-eyed, and his father tried to comfort his mother in the next room. That lousy, stinking, heartless..! He hated Percy for doing this to their family. He was trying to tear it apart!

Ron felt something squish through his fingers. He looked down and found the remnants of his sandwich smashed in his fist.

"Oh, no fair!" called Ginny, walking across the grass with a wobbling tower of cups in her arms. "You take a lunch break while I keep on hauling." She grinned at him to show that he was kidding, but her smile slipped when she took a good look at his face. "Is something wrong?"

"Just thinking about Percy," said Ron in a tight voice. "The git," he added darkly.

Ginny set the cups down next to the punch bowl and began arranging them. "Don't think about him just now," she said quietly. "I don't want to think about him. I just want to enjoy myself today."

"Yeah," said Ron. "Me, too. But he keeps popping into my head."

"Ron, come and get the pudding!" came Mrs. Weasley's shout from the kitchen window.

Ginny grinned. "Mum'll take care of your thinking," she said. "I'm getting the feeling that now she's just looking for things to do."

Ron had retrieved the pudding from the house and was just setting it down on the table outside when a shout sounded from the side of the house. "Ron!" He looked up to see Hermione walking in his direction, waving merrily. She was holding a small, silver-wrapped box tied with a bright red ribbon.

"Oh, it's so good to see you," she said, giving Ron a quick hug. Ron felt his face flush when she pressed herself against him and he realized, as if for the first time, that Hermione wasn't flat-chested anymore. She let go of him and stepped back with a beaming smile on her face. She was wearing normal summer clothes – shorts and a t-shirt – but with her eyes flashing with excitement and her brown hair framing her face, Ron was struck by how pretty she looked.

"It's good to see you too," he said surprised at how steady his voice was. He felt a little unsettled by the strange realization he'd just had – that Hermione was a pretty girl. "You, erm, look nice."

Hermione's eyes lit up and Ron's heart jumped into his throat. "Really?" she said happily. "Thanks. I'd say the same about you, but you're actually rather sweaty." She laughed, and Ron, who had felt inexplicably panicky for an instant, laughed too.

"Yeah, well, Mum's been working me like a dog. Ginny, too."

Mrs. Weasley suddenly stuck her head out the kitchen window again. "Goodness, Ron, go and get changed! People are starting to show up!"

"Yes, ma'am," Ron said quietly, and Hermione laughed again.

"Okay, go. But where do I put this?" she asked.

"On that table over there," said Ron, who was already on his way inside. He hustled up the stairs and into his room where he dug into a closet, looking for some clean clothes. Oddly enough, the first thing he pulled out didn't quite satisfy him. Usually he just tossed on whatever he initially laid his hands on, but now he found himself eyeing the green t-shirt critically. Did green go with red hair? What about the brown trousers he'd pulled out of the chest of drawers? Green and brown. He didn't want to go about looking like Robin Hood, or worse, a walking, talking tree. What about white? No, Seamus wanted to play something called 'rugby' that afternoon, and it sounded pretty violent. He was liable to get grass stains and that would only make him look scruffy. A Chudley Cannons shirt? No, it was too old and faded…

"Hey, Ron! Your ickle friends are here!" Fred shouted up the stairs.

Ron rolled his eyes. He reached into his closet and pulled out a shirt with wide stripes on it in Gryffindor colors. It would have to do.

Sure enough, when Ron got downstairs he found the rest of the fifth year Gryffindors waiting for him. They all smiled at him when he arrived. "This house is wicked, Ron," said Seamus, and the others voiced their agreement.

"Thanks," said Ron, grinning happily. It suddenly occurred to him that he'd forgotten to worry about his friends' impression of his house. Compared to most wizarding families, the Weasleys lived in relative poverty. They never went hungry, but everything they had felt rather… cobbled together.

"And that's a very interesting clock," said Parvati, peering over at the many-handed grandfather clock in the corner. "Oh, mortal peril! You've probably never pointed to that one, have you?"

"Um…" said Ron. He thought of the giant chessboard and the Sorcerer's Stone, crashing the Ford Anglia into the Whomping Willow, the Chamber of Secrets, Aragog, being dragged to the Shrieking Shack by Sirius Black the mass murderer, the Department of Mysteries –

"Don't think so," Ron lied glibly. Hermione raised one eyebrow and smiled knowingly at him.

"Well, dears!" said Mrs. Weasley, bustling over to them. "It's nice to see you all, I must say!"

"Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Weasley," Lavender said politely, and the others echoed her.

Mrs. Weasley turned pink with pleasure. "Not at all, dears, not at all. I think some more of your classmates are outside, and Harry should be arriving very soon, so…"

They took her advice and trooped through the back door and into the yard where other members of the D.A. were chatting together. There were more than a few cheerful-looking packages on the table by now. When Ron saw a pretty, smiling Cho Chang place her own gift with the others he couldn't suppress a grin. This definitely ought to cheer Harry up, he thought.

"Hello, Ronald," said a dreamy voice behind him.

Ron turned to see Luna Lovegood standing there, eyes as protuberant as ever. She was wearing a frilly blue shirt and some sort of hairpiece that stuck up behind her head, making her look as if she had silvery antennae. She was carrying a large parcel with black wrapping paper. "Hi, Luna," said Ron, looking curiously at the box and wondering what had possessed her to pick such a cheerful color that would in no way make Harry think of death. "Having a nice summer?"

"Oh, yes," she said happily. "My dad and I went to Sweden."

"Find any of those Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?" said Ron.

"Sadly, no," said Luna.

"Oh," said Ron, trying to sound disappointed.

"But we did find a vacationing leprechaun," Luna said brightly.

"You – what?"

"After Dad accidentally sat on him we asked if he'd seen any Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," said Luna. "Unfortunately, he hadn't."

"Ah," said Ron. "So… if you caught a leprechaun, does that mean you're rich?"

Luna shook her head. "We've got the Quibbler to support us; we don't need any leprechaun gold. He seemed rather happy to hear that, so he gave us each a piece of a rainbow instead." She held up the box, and Ron suddenly understood why it was black.

"That's your gift?" he said faintly.

"Mmm hmm," said Luna in her languid voice. "Dad says I can have his. I'll just go and put it on the table."

Ron stared dazedly after Luna as she drifted away. With her around you never could tell what you would hear next.

By now the yard was full of people. Hagrid had arrived and was being greeted by the nearby students. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Tonks were there, standing near the house with Mr. Weasley. Ernie Macmillan was rather pompously speculating about what he expected to receive on his O.W.L.s as the results were due any day now. Neville was showing Hermione his new wand; his old one had been broken in the Department of Mysteries. Angelina and Alicia were chatting happily with the twins, Colin Creevey was prepping his camera, Padma Patil was laughing at a joke that Justin Finch-Fletchley had made, Ginny was whispering something in Dean's ear…

Ron was just making a mental note to have a nice, calm chat with Dean when his mother came hurrying into the yard. "They're coming, they're coming," she said urgently, and the noisy talking faded into a quiet buzz. "When they come around the corner, everyone shout 'surprise'!"

Everyone fell silent. Ron and Hermione grinned at each other from across the yard.

"...think they're in the back," Lupin's voice suddenly said, drifting through the quiet.

"What's going on?" said Harry's suspicious voice. He and Lupin suddenly rounded the corner so that they were in full view of the backyard. "Why didn't we Floo –" Harry blinked at the sudden smile on Lupin's face and looked around to see what he was staring at.

"SURPRISE!" everyone shouted as one. Colin's flash bulb went off, perfectly capturing Harry's look of shock.

A slow grin crept across Harry's face. "I am so stupid," he said.

"I can't believe you went for it," said Lupin.

"Happy birthday!" his classmates began to say, pressing forward to greet him. Some of the girls gave him hugs or pecks on the cheek, and Harry grew successively redder with each one, but the smile on his face showed just how pleased he really was.

"Right!" said Mrs. Weasley. "Let's eat!"

And so the party began. Harry didn't touch the food for a long time, being surrounded by people who wanted to talk to him. Ron waited around the edge of the group for a while, and every now and then he would catch Harry's eye, but it soon became clear that he would have to wait. He walked away from the crowd and over to the tables piled with food where Hermione was nibbling on biscuits and cheese.

"He looked pretty surprised to me," she said, looking at Harry who was grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah," said Ron. "It's about time he had a proper birthday party."

"I hope we get a minute alone with him," said Hermione. "You know, to ask how he's doing."

"Well, keep your eyes open, I guess," said Ron. "It might be a while."

He was right; it did take quite some time before he and Hermione got a chance to talk to Harry alone. In the interval they laughed and talked with their friends and ate until they were stuffed. Ron joined in on an informal game of Quidditch and applauded as Fred and George set off some of the fireworks that had been such a success against Umbridge last year.

At long last Seamus got his game of rugby going. Most of the party guests had little or nothing to do with Muggles and therefore were intrigued by this game that seemingly had no rules. Ron thought it looked like a fantastic sport, but he took the opportunity to slip back toward the house with Harry and Hermione for a moment alone.

"Happy birthday, mate," said Ron as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Yes, happy birthday," said Hermione.

"Thanks," said Harry, who was still smiling happily. "This is really great, you know. Not just the party but getting away from the Dursleys."

"Driving you mad, are they?" said Ron.

Harry shrugged. "It's not so bad as usual, thanks to the Order. For one thing, I actually get to eat normal food instead of salad. It's kind of fun to watch Dudley choking down lettuce while I'm getting chicken."

"Listen," said Hermione, getting right to the point, "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but Ron and I wanted to know… how you're doing."

Harry's smile softened. "I don't mind," he said quietly. "I'm doing okay, I guess. I still miss him, but I'm getting used to the idea of his being gone. I'm feeling better even though I hate myself for it at the same time."

"Don't say that," Ron said seriously.

"No, don't," Hermione agreed gently. "You have to let him go sometime or you'll never really heal. You'll never live, and he wouldn't want that for you."

Harry nodded.

"Look, we just wanted to let you know that we want to help if we can," said Ron. "You could – I don't know – unload, or something, if you want to."

"Not that we expect you to," Hermione added quickly. "But you can."

Harry blinked at both of them. His eyes seemed a little bit too bright. "Thanks," he said, and his voice sounded rather funny. "That means a lot, you know." He looked away for a moment and blinked a few more times before looking back at them. "Listen, I know I haven't been very forthcoming this summer, but we'll be taking the train back in a couple of weeks, and I've… learned some things that I think you ought to know."

"Okay," Hermione said simply, and Ron nodded and grinned.

Harry blinked again and swallowed hard. "Are you trying to make me cry like a girl?"

"Oh, hold on, now!" said Hermione. "I've never cared for that expression –"

"Big surprise," said Ron, and Harry laughed.

"Why is crying such an unmanly thing to do?" Hermione griped.

"Because girls do it so easily," said Ron.

"Exactly," said Harry.

Hermione sniffed. "I'd take being a girl over being a boy any day of the week."

"Yes, well, that's only because you don't know how grand it is to be male," said Ron.

"There you are, Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley, walking up to the group and cutting off Hermione's retort. "What do you say to a bit of cake?"

"That would be great," said Harry, and Mrs. Weasley beamed at him. She turned and began to walk back to the tables that held the remnants of dinner.

"I hope you like chocolate cake, because that's all we've got," she said. "I thought about making some white, too, but Ron and Ginny… Are you all right, dear?"

Ron, who had been following his mother, stopped and looked behind him. Harry hadn't moved from his place by the house. He was staring off to the left, toward the woods. His mouth worked soundlessly. Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley all looked in the same direction.

Ron and Hermione gasped together; Mrs. Weasley saw it a split second later and put a hand to her mouth. Sirius Black was standing at the edge of the trees, staring fixedly at Harry.

"Sirius," Harry breathed. He took one halting step forward.

"No!" said Mrs. Weasley, jerking herself out of her shocked reverie. "It's not him, Harry. It can't be."

"He's alive," said Harry, and his voice sounded funny again. "I've been hoping and hoping –"

"No!" Mrs. Weasley repeated. She stepped directly in front of Harry and put one hand on each of his shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Harry, he went through the veil. There is no coming back from that." She looked back toward the woods for a moment. Ron followed her gaze and saw that Sirius – or his impersonator – was gone.

"This is a trick," said Mrs. Weasley in her most dangerous tone. "The Aurors will find the bastard who thought he could get away with this!" Ron knew that it was a measure of just how upset she was that she would swear.

Harry closed his eyes and looked away from them all. He was swallowing over and over again. Ron averted his eyes when Harry's chin began to tremble. Harry would not want Ron to watch him shed tears, not when there were dozens of other people around.

Mrs. Weasley had already reached the house. A moment after she stepped inside, Tonks came hurrying out the back door, moving in the direction of the woods. Her heart-shaped face was like a thunderhead. Kingsley came out behind her. He did not follow but simply stood beside the door, eyes scanning the surroundings, wand held in one hand with apparent casualness. Ron was not fooled; Kingsley was ready for a fight, but he didn't want to look it in front of the other guests, most of who didn't know that he had any connection at all to Harry.

"How're you doing, mate?" Ron whispered to Harry.

Harry drew a deep breath and let it out again. "Okay," he said, and his voice was steady again.

"Mrs. Weasley's right," Hermione said quietly. "She has to be."

"I know," said Harry. His jaw tightened and his green eyes flashed. "He knew I hadn't given up hope yet."

Ron could only assume that by 'he', Harry meant 'You-Know-Who'. Ron still had trouble with the name. He couldn't even think it without a shudder. Harry and Hermione might be able to say it without quaking in their shoes, but they hadn't grown up in the magical world. They hadn't had that fear instilled in them from birth.

Mrs. Weasley came back out of the house. "How about some of that cake now, dear?" she said to Harry, her eyes still flashing with indignation.

Harry lifted his chin. "That'd be good," he said, sounding almost defiant.

They started back toward the rest of the party guests. No one else seemed to have noticed the watcher at the edge of the woods; they were all still cheering at the rather brutal game of rugby which was still in full swing.

Something had suddenly occurred to Ron. He twisted his head to look back at Kingsley as he spoke. "Mum, if Dumbledore's charms worked the way they're supposed to, how come someone was able to find…"

Ron froze in his tracks. He felt unable to speak or breathe as a dark-robed figure emerged from the back door of the house, wand in hand, and struck Kingsley in the back of the head, who crumpled to the ground. Ron felt his hand instinctively moving to the right-hand pocket of his trousers where his wand was sticking out. His fist closed on smooth wood just as his mother screamed.

"Impedimentia" Ron heard someone shout. The Death Eater staggered backwards, trying to keep his balance, and something flew out of the neck of his robes, something hanging on a very long chain. He recovered with incredible speed, straightening up and leveling his wand at Harry, who was still in the act of turning to face his attacker. His mouth opened.

Ron knew what was about to happen. His brain wasn't keeping up, but his body was. He felt his feet begin to carry him forward at a dead run.

A jet of red light flew past Ron's shoulder and into the Death Eater. But by an incredible twist of fate, the spell struck the thing hanging from the chain around the man's neck, and it burst into a thousand pieces.

Ron felt particles strike his face as he barreled toward the Death Eater. The man hadn't twitched a muscle when his necklace exploded but was finishing his incantation. He'd already said Avadaand had started on the second word. Ron lowered his shoulder –

He slammed into the Death Eater, they toppled backwards, and the curse flew harmlessly into the air. Ron felt more particles striking his face, stinging his eyes as he and the attacker fell toward the earth. Somewhere behind him he heard somebody shriek.

Ron saw the ground rushing up to meet him just as the world flickered before his eyes.