Breakfast at the Burrow was a somewhat more subdued affair than Harry remembered from his early years at Hogwarts. Hermione was spending the summer with her parents before starting her apprenticeship, and Percy was staying with George in his Diagon Alley flat. Ostensibly, this was because it was closer to the Ministry of Magic and therefore more convenient, but Harry privately thought that Percy just didn't want his younger brother left alone.

Even after a year, it made him a little sad, but he smiled brightly at Mrs. Weasley as she bustled into the room, directing a steaming pot of coffee with her wand. She beamed at him.

"Good morning, Harry dear. Ron not up yet?"

"No, he's - " Harry made a vague gesture toward the ceiling with the hand holding his coffee.

"Layabout," she said irritably. "If he's not down by the time kippers are done, I've a good mind to go up there and haul him out of bed by the ear, nineteen years old or not. I don't know what's gotten into him lately, disappearing for hours at a time, sleeping till noon...do you know," she said suddenly, rounding on Harry with her wand held like a weapon, "this year is the first time he hasn't been at the table by the time I put breakfast on the stove?"

Harry shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes. He knew exactly what had gotten into Ron, but he didn't think it would be a wise plan to share it with Ron's mother. She had taken it poorly when Percy had declined to move back home after the Battle of Hogwarts, and he didn't like to think what she'd say when she found out that he and Ron had been surreptitiously looking at flats. And if she knew that Ron and Hermione had been going for midnight broomstick rides over London...

Mercifully, he was saved from having to answer by Errol, who flew in the window, landed on the table in front of him, and promptly tumbled over into the butter dish. Harry rolled his eyes as the owl blinked up at him, innocently, then picked himself up and waddled to the edge of the table, holding out his left foot with the letter attached.

The letter was addressed to a post office in Diagon Alley that Harry vaguely remembered setting up at Mrs. Weasley's insistance. It was smudged and a bit crumpled, and he didn't recognize the large, awkward handwriting. He slit it open.

The letter was typed on a sheet of computer paper, and Harry had to squint to read the small black letters, it had been so long since he'd read anything that wasn't written with a quill pen.

Dear Harry.

Congratulations on getting engaged. She's very pretty.

I am going to school in America this fall. Mum and Dad aren't very happy about it, but I think it will be fun. I am going on a wrestling scholarship. I wrote the address down at the bottom of the letter because I might be there when you get this. I don't know how long mail takes with your people.

Mum says congratulations too.

Dudley.

Harry stared at the letter for a long time, brow furrowed.

"What have you got there, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, setting a plate of bacon and eggs down in front of him. Harry wordlessly handed the letter over and watched as she scanned it. After a moment, she looked up and beamed. "Well, isn't that nice. Ginny will be so pleased to know that your family is as happy for you two as we are. Now, I'm going to go drag that son of mine out of bed - don't wait on me, dig in..."

She set the letter down beside his plate and marched out of the room. Harry thought about Apparating up to warn Ron before his mother got hold of him, then decided that discretion was the better part of valor and spooned up a mouthful of eggs.