A/N: Happy Birthday to the one and only Harry James Potter, as well as his beautiful creator, JK Rowling! This was inspired by the Quidditch World Cup Pottermore article by Rita Skeeter. Please excuse any errors, this was a bit last minute. (Note: I used movie canon with regards to Hermione's scar. It's only like, a sentence or two, but if that annoys anyone, my apologies. Also, I'm not sure if Luna's career has ever been mentioned but I couldn't remember so I took some liberties.)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter! The birthday girl does.

"Daddy, an owl's come for you!"

Harry reluctantly turned away from his bacon to face his daughter, who was leaping towards him brandishing a poorly wrapped present in her hands.

"Sit down and eat your breakfast Lily," Ginny said sternly, looking over from the kitchen, where she was pouring herself a glass of juice, "We can do presents after."

Lily frowned but complied, taking her seat next to Al, who ignored her when she asked him to pass the hash browns, too busy glaring across the table at James and hardly touching his eggs.

"It's from Ron," Harry announced to no one in particular, staring down at the tag in immediate recognition of his best friend's scrawl.

"Oh honestly, Harry! I already said we'd do gifts after." Ginny swerved around to the table, setting in front of him his glass of orange juice. He was now feeling up the package, running his fingers along the edges and even shaking it. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the sight. "You'd think you were ten years old, Potter."

"Ron and Hermione are taking me out to lunch today," he replied simply, as if that explained everything. Ginny just stared at him blankly.

"So?"

"So that's their gift! Why are they sending me another one? And it's just from Ron. Which means…." He eyed the package apprehensively, as if he expected it to explode at any moment. "It has to be from the shop."

Ginny couldn't help herself, she burst out laughing. "You're an auror but you're afraid of some Weasley Wizard Wheezes?"

"What!" He exclaimed defensively, "He could be trying something new out on me for all I know! Remember when Angelina got those boils?"

"I'll open it," James piped up, tearing his eyes away from Albus to yank the package away from his father. Ripping off the paper and ribbons, he only took one glance at it before tossing it back over to Harry with an exclamation of disappointment, "It's just a book."

Harry's eyes narrowed to slits as he read the front cover. Looking over his shoulder, Ginny snorted.

"I can't believe he'd send this to me!"

"Oh please, like you wouldn't have done the same thing if she'd released it on his birthday."

Harry shrugged half-heartedly, knowing she was right. "Still!" He huffed, eyes drifting back to the book's front cover. Emblazoned on the black background in shiny gold lettering was the title: Dumbledore's Army: The Dark Side of the Demob. Underneath it, blinking back at him, was his 15-year-old self, flanked by Ron and Hermione and the rest of the original D.A. He shuddered to think what was said about them all inside.

Catching sight of the clock, Ginny shrieked and ordered the kids up to their rooms to change, hurriedly clearing the dishes in their wake.

"I promised Mum we'd be over there by quarter till," she explained, catching sight of Harry's confusion. "We're helping her set up everything for your party." She paused, grinning at him, "Shouldn't you be getting to the office?" Since the Quidditch World Cup, Ginny had had a lot of time off, and Harry knew how humorous she found seeing him off to work each morning while she got to stay home with the kids. Still, he couldn't believe she had sided with her mother when it came to his birthday, agreeing readily (much to his dismay) to a big birthday bash at the Burrow. He would have preferred a nice dinner at home with the kids, But Ginny had been so enthusiastic with the planning and prepping he could hardly turn her down.

"Right," he said, moving to help her with the dishes. There was a clunk from upstairs and the angry voices of James and Albus floated down to the kitchen. "Did something seem a bit off with them at breakfast?" he asked, turning to his wife. She just shook his head at him, smiling.

"A bit? They were shooting each other death glares across the table! I do wonder sometimes how you made Head of Department," Ginny said, smirking. He tossed a few of the soap bubbles at her in response, grinning as the glorious sound of her laughter masked the yells of his sons. "It's nothing to worry about, though. Not so bad we have to interfere. They'll work it out on their own."

He looked up from putting the last plate away to stare at her in amazement. How she had such insight, he'd never know, but Ginny was right nine times out of ten when it came to their children. How had he gotten so lucky again? About to turn thirty-three and she had never looked better. Now, her hair was still damp from her shower, muting the fieriness of each ginger strand just brushing her shoulders. Each of her freckles stood out fiercely against her barely-tanned skin, made lighter from the sun creeping in through the kitchen windows. And her eyes were ablaze as she looked at him with her wonderfully familiar expression of adoration. In honor of his birthday, she was wearing his favorite dress, a figure hugging yellow number cut just low enough to see the rounded tops of her breasts….

"Stop ogling me, Potter, and get to work," Ginny said playfully, pulling him closer to embrace him, wrapping her thins arms around his neck as he bent forward to press his lips against hers. It didn't take long for the kiss to deepen, his hands pressed into the small of her back and hers entwined in his forever untamable hair. Just when he was thinking he could skip work (Anderson could cover for him and the department would be none the wiser…), ship the kids off to the Burrow, and settle in with Ginny to celebrate his birthday properly, she pulled away. "Later," she whispered endearingly, "I'll give you a real present."

He felt the heat rise up in him as he looked at her longingly. Merlin, he was a sap. "You'll be the death of me, Ginny Potter," he muttered, leaning in for one final peck before turning away to look for his briefcase so as not to allow himself to get carried away.

"Still by the door," she answered before he could even ask. "Make sure you're at the Burrow by 5:30 sharp, love. Don't want to keep Mum waiting."

"Of course, dear." He retrieved his briefcase and slipped Skeeter's book inside before yelling up his goodbyes to the kids. Albus and James were too busy biting each other's heads off to respond, but little Lily ran down the stairs to kiss him goodbye, following him all the way to the door and waving at him as he disapparated in the yard.

The office, as expected, was dead. Without any meetings to go to or even field work assignments to divvy out, Harry was left only with the stack of paperwork on his desk, high enough to reach his chin. Easily distracted, this meant he spent most of the time staring at the clock, counting down the minutes until he could escape to lunch with Ron and Hermione, leave work for his party, and most importantly, leave the party to celebrate privately with his wife.

With his remaining time, he resurfaced his dear friend Rita's latest endeavor and flipped it open, reluctant, but nonetheless determined, to see what lay inside. The unfortunate thing about Rita Skeeter was that, while most of her reporting was nonsense so utterly ridiculous it became the bunt of countless jokes, she also usually managed to put together enough facts to uncover at least something that was uncomfortably true. While most casual readers wouldn't be able to tell the difference, it irked him to no end. The worst instance, only a year or so after the war, was the time Rita had caught a glimpse of Hermione's mudblood scar and dug up enough information about the events at Malfoy Manor to make Hermione stay shut up in her flat for a week, distraught the majority of the time and carefully plotting her revenge for the rest.

He snapped back to the present issue at hand, looking down to see Ron had personalized his copy with a note on the back of the front cover. "Happy Birthday Harry! Thought you might like to educate yourself on the sordid details of the D.A. Did you know Hermione and I are on the brink of divorce? Sorry I didn't mention it. Due to my mental illness, it must have slipped my mind. See you for lunch! -Ron" Underneath, in her much neater print, Hermione had added a note of her own. "I told him not to send it, Harry, I really did. Oh, and Happy Birthday!"

Harry chuckled, flipping past the note to the table of contents. Just from skimming it, he could already tell it was going to be a rubbish read. He skipped over to the foreword and began.

"By the time this book reaches public hands, it will be none other than Harry James Potter's 34th birthday. Still alive after thrusting himself into danger again and again (even joining the Ministry's elite group of dark wizard catchers, the aurors, almost immediately after defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in May of 1998, and quickly rising to the top of the organization, where he today resides as Head of the Department), adored by the entire Wizarding Community, and raising a family with wife, Ginny Weasley, Mr. Potter no doubt has countless things to celebrate. Still, while seemingly golden from the surface, a closer look has proven that there are indeed cracks in even Mr. Potter's perfect shell. Stemming back to his time spent at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Potter, along with his closest allies, most notably Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, developed an organization of at the time students, dedicated to the defeat of Tom Riddle. The group was called Dumbledore's Army, titled after their infamous headmaster, Albus Dumbledore (for more, read The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, published 1997).

Dumbledore's Army, also known as the D.A., has long since been a source of mystery and endearment. Consisting not only of Potter's "Golden Trio" but also of such well-known witches and wizards as George Weasley (owner of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, a popular joke shop), Ginny Weasley (now Potter's wife), Neville Longbottom (former auror and current professor of Herbology at Hogwarts), and Luna Lovegood (eccentric editor of the Quibbler, and currently married to Rolf Scamander), the D.A. no doubt leaves much to be revealed. What secrets arouse in those early meetings that are kept still today? How did Dumbledore's Army shape the second war? Did they, perhaps feed lies to the public in order to claim glory for themselves? And why, even now, does the group remain aloof, isolating themselves from the press and refusing still to reveal the full story? In this book, I have uncovered details so sinister that th—"

He wasn't given the chance to finish, however, as at that moment Hermione burst into his office, stopping in the doorway and crossing her arms as she looked down at him. "You were supposed to meet me in the atrium twenty minutes ago! Ron's got a table waiting for us already at the Leaky." She paused as she caught sight of what he was reading, "Skeeter? And here I was, thinking you forgot about us because you were working so hard." She was doing a rather poor job of looking stern, however, as the corners of her mouth quirked up in a smile.

"Sorry," Harry said truthfully, shoving the book in a drawer and reaching around for his cloak. "Let's go. I must say, Hermione, I'm surprised you're still willing to go out with Ron, considering the impending divorce and all—" He gave a half-hearted exclamation of protest as she slapped him on the arm at his statement. He couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of that one. Hermione and Ron certainly bickered endlessly, but they were the most compatible people he knew, outside of—well, outside of himself and Ginny. He thought back to his wife's soft promises for the night, grinning fondly at the memory, when he was struck suddenly with a wonderfully brilliant idea. "Say Hermione, Lily's been going on about showing Hugo her new puzzle, and James and Albus really wanted to see that movie Rose was telling them about…So I was thinking, after my party tonight, you and Ron might want to take them all back to your place for a sleepover? For the kids, you know." He tried to appear as innocent as possible, but Hermione just looked back at him knowingly.

"Fine. But only because it's your birthday," She stopped for a minute, the weight of what she'd signed up for already sinking in. "…And you owe us one."

Harry just grinned. "Deal."

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you've got a moment.