Harry Potter and the Enemy Within

Chapter 12 - Ottery St. Catchpole

Chapter 12: Ottery St. Catchpole

Harry dashed through the corridors the next morning, headed for the entrance hall. He had changed clothes three times trying to find something appropriate to wear, not that he really had any idea what that might be. He’d finally settled on the jumper Mrs. Weasley had knitted him for Christmas and a plain set of trousers along with his school robes. He’d eaten nothing at breakfast and had spent most of the morning fidgeting in the common room. Studying had been hopeless and he had been so desperate for something to take his mind off the trip to Ottery St. Catchpole that he’d actually volunteered to help Neville move his Mimbulus mimbletonia to a sunnier spot in the common room. That had been a mistake; Harry wasn’t sure if it was just bad luck, or if the plant just didn’t like him, but as he’d set it on a small table in a shaft of sunlight, it had spewed Stink Sap all over him. He’d had to change into a clean set of robes and consequently, was now nearly late for his rendezvous with Snape.

“Harry!”

Harry skidded to a halt at the top of the main staircase and looked around to see Luna Lovegood standing a short distance away.

“Hi, Harry,” Luna said coming up to Harry. “I was hoping I’d catch you.”

“Hi, Luna,” Harry said, glancing down into the entrance hall. Thankfully, Snape hadn’t arrived yet. “Er, look, this isn’t a good time.”

“I know. You’re going to Mrs. Weasley’s funeral, aren’t you?”

“That’s right, and I have to meet Professor Snape.” Harry tried to edge away towards the stairs.

“I was only hoping you could take something for me,” Luna said, seemingly oblivious to Harry’s impatience. She dug in her pocket and pulled out a letter. “If you could give this to Ginny, I’d be very grateful.”

“Sure,” Harry said. He grabbed the envelope and stuffed it into the pocket of his robes.

“And tell Ginny I know how she feels, but it will get easier.”

“Potter, it’s bad form to be late to a funeral,” Snape’s impatient voice cut in. “Are you coming or not?” Harry turned to find the Potions Master standing behind him, looking thoroughly put out.

“Coming, sir,” Harry said. He turned back to Luna. “I have to go.”

“Okay, bye Harry.” She waved cheerily as Harry followed Snape down the stairs and out of the castle.

The morning was clear and crisp with a lingering chill of winter in the air that made Harry glad of his traveling cloak. Snape set off purposefully across the lawn towards the main gate, not bothering to wait for Harry. Fortunately, thanks to Harry’s growth spurt the previous summer, he was nearly as tall as Snape now and fell into step alongside his teacher without having to work too hard to keep up.

“Professor?” Harry asked. “How are we getting to Ottery St. Catchpole?”

“We’ll take a Portkey from Hogsmeade,” Snape answered without looking at him.

“Why Hogsmeade? Why not use it here?”

“Because the Portkey Authority is in Hogsmeade.”

“The what?”

Snape glanced at Harry, irritably. “The local branch of the agency that provides authorized travel by Portkey. Honestly, Potter, don’t you know anything?”

“I thought people could enchant their own Portkeys.”

Snape shrugged. “It can be done, of course, but it’s rather tedious and it requires an object from the destination as well as the departure point. It would be rather impractical to keep items around from all of the places to which one might wish to travel. The Portkey Authority provides transportation to every community in Britain as well as many abroad.”

That made sense, Harry thought. Then he broached another subject that had been worrying him.

“Sir?”

“What?” Snape’s voice had an edge of impatience to it which Harry ignored.

“What are wizard funerals like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are they anything like Muggle ones?

“How should I know?” Snape was clearly irritated.

“Well, you must be able to tell me something about what goes on,” Harry said, exasperated.

“Do I look like a professional mourner to you, Potter?” Snape asked testily.

Actually, Harry thought, Snape did, given that he always dressed exclusively in black, but Harry didn’t think it a good idea to say so.

“I just don’t want to do the wrong thing and offend anyone.”

“This is a funeral, not a high Ministry function,” Snape said. “As long as you don’t laugh or insult the deceased, I can’t imagine you’ll offend anyone. All that will be required of you is that you be still and keep quiet.” Snape glanced at Harry and sneered. “Admittedly, something you seem incapable of doing.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Harry sighed. “I guess I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Potter, there will be dozens of people at the funeral and, for once, you will not be the center of attention,” Snape said. “There is no reason for you to be nervous. The Weasleys are your friends, are they not?”

“Yes, sir, I suppose you’re right.”

Harry lapsed into silence. He didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t really sure of the reception he’d get when he arrived at the Burrow. He still hadn’t heard from Ron, nor had he managed to write to his friend. At minimum, he knew he should have told Ron he would be attending the funeral, but he had been afraid Ron might write back and tell him not to come.

---

Harry and Snape arrived in Hogsmeade and Snape led the way to what, apparently, was the Portkey Authority. Although Harry had been to Hogsmeade numerous times, he’d never noticed it before and he realized at once why. It resembled nothing so much as a junkyard. It consisted of a large fenced-in yard with a rather tired looking shed (he couldn’t think of a more complimentary term) set off to one side. The yard itself was brimming with every sort of worn out and broken piece of junk. Old shoes lay next to rusted pipes and worn out tires; used meat tins and mildewed rags were heaped in dented barrels; broken bottles and splintered wood were scattered everywhere.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Harry asked.

Snape gave him a pained look and led the way in. They picked their way carefully through the rubbish until they reached the shed. A disheveled looking young man, not many years older than Harry, sat on a high stool behind an old counter.

“Morning! What can I do you sirs for?”

“We need to go to Ottery St. Catchpole,” Snape replied.

“Right! Did you have any particular item in mind, sir?” the clerk asked cheerily.

“Something… clean,” Snape replied, looking distastefully at the shabby surroundings.

That’ll be a bit of trick, sir, but I’ll do the best I can.”

With that, the young man bounded out of the shed and began rummaging through the debris in the yard. Harry followed him.

“Are all of these Portkeys?”

“They can be,” the young man replied, discarding a rusted bucket that smelled of manure. “I’ve got a cabinet full of totems that’ll let me enchant any of these to take you wherever you’d like to go.” He grinned. “Within reason, of course.”

Harry grinned back. Despite the business he was on, he found the young man’s good mood infectious.

“I think this is the best I can do,” the clerk said, holding up an old wicker picnic basket with the bottom broken out.

“That should be okay,” Harry agreed.

They went back to the shed where the clerk began digging through file drawers. “Let’s see, Orkney… Orleans… Ottery. Here we are. Ottery St. Catchpole.” He pulled out a scrap of parchment and placed it, along with the picnic basket, on an old metal desk behind the counter. He began murmuring the words to the spell that Harry assumed would create the Portkey. Harry couldn’t catch what the young man was saying, but he still watched, fascinated. Snape, on the other hand, looked thoroughly bored.

“I’m going to wait outside,” he said, turning towards the door. “Call me when he’s done.”

Harry nodded absently in acknowledgement as he continued to watch the clerk work. At last, the young man straightened up.

“Here you go,” he said, setting the picnic basket on the counter. “That’ll be twelve sickles.” While Harry produced the coins, he continued. “It’s good for one round trip. All you do is grab hold and say ‘Allez’. Same thing coming home. After that, just toss it in the rubbish bin.”

“Great! Thanks,” said Harry, taking the basket.

“You and your dad heading down to the Cannons game?”

Harry started. “What?”

“The Cannons. They’re playing Puddlemere today, you know. Old Barney Walbat in the Daily Prophet says they’ve got their best team in a hundred years and may put in a decent showing this year. Might even win a few.”

“Mr. Potter and I,” came a familiar silken drawl from over Harry’s right shoulder, “are on official Hogwarts business.”

Snape leaned past Harry and pinned the young man with his most dangerous glare. “None of which is yours,” he snarled. “Do I make myself clear?”

The young man blanched and swallowed hard. “Yes, sir! Of course, sir. I… I’m sorry, sir!”

Snape snatched the picnic basket from Harry and, with a final withering glare at the clerk, stalked out of the shed.

Harry was too stunned to move. He looked desperately at the stricken clerk.

“It’s not your fault; he’s always like that.”

It sounded ridiculous, of course, and the clerk looked at him as if he weren’t sure whether to be incredulous or horrified. Harry decided he’d better leave before he had to think of anything else to say. He hurried out of the shed and found Snape waiting by the gate.

“Hurry up, Potter,” Snape snapped. “We don’t have all day.”

Harry’s embarrassment was instantly replaced by anger.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded.

“Don’t use that tone with me, Potter,” Snape warned, but Harry ignored him.

“Do you terrorize random strangers for fun?”

“He was impertinent!”

“He was making conversation! It’s something people do to be polite! Not that I’d expect you to know that, of course. No, you’d rather be offended!”

“And you weren’t?” Snape sneered.

Harry stared at Snape, completely lost. “Why would I have been offended?”

“I’d have thought you’d be mortified to have that simpleton mistake me for your father.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open and he could feel himself blush. He looked away, suddenly unable to meet Snape’s eyes.

“We need to go,” Snape said evenly, holding out the picnic basket. “What is the trigger word?”

“Allez,” Harry told him, still not meeting his gaze, or making any attempt to take hold of the basket.

Snape sighed. “Potter, we are on a schedule.”

Harry looked up at him defiantly. He grabbed hold of the basket’s handle and stepped in close to glare at Snape.

“The only thing that mortified me was the way you acted,” he said. “Allez!”

As soon as he spoke the word, Harry felt the familiar tug behind his navel. The world rushed past him, then jerked to a halt. He and Snape were still glaring at one another, but now they stood in a thicket of woods. Harry could hear the rushing sounds of a stream close by and the flutter of birds in the trees. Snape let go of the basket and stepped away.

“This way,” he said, heading off into what appeared to be an arbitrary direction. Harry followed him. The sounds of water grew louder and they emerged from the woods onto a deserted country lane that ran beside a small river. A quarter of a mile up the road, Harry could see that an old wooden bridge crossed the river. Beyond it lay a picturesque village that had to be Ottery St. Catchpole. Snape didn’t hesitate, but continued up the road with a determined stride. Harry quickly hid the cumbersome picnic basket under some brush next to a large tree, so it would be easy to find on their way back, then ran to catch up with Snape.

Ottery St. Catchpole was not an all-wizarding community like Hogsmeade, but it clearly allowed for eccentricity among its residents. Harry spotted both Muggles and wizards going about their business and nodding politely to one another as he and Snape entered the village. A few people glanced their way, but no one seemed shocked by their attire. No one spoke to them, but Harry was fairly sure that was due to Snape’s forbidding demeanor.

The tension between them was palpable and neither had spoken as they walked. Harry was still furious with his professor. Of course Snape would have been livid at the suggestion that they were in any way related. Harry should have realized that to begin with. I’m surprised you can bear to be seen in public with me, Professor! he thought viciously.

“Are you going to say anything at all?” Harry snapped at last.

Snape didn’t check his pace or even glance at Harry, but his answer was immediate. “You overreacted.”

Harry stopped dead in his tracks. “I overreacted?” Harry shouted.

“Yes!” Snape stopped too and turned to face Harry. “What business is it of yours what I say or do? I wasn’t criticizing you, for once! You should have been relieved.”

“I’m the one who had to apologize!” Harry continued heatedly.

Snape stared at him, aghast. “You what?” Snape took a step towards Harry with murder in his eyes. “You had no right!”

Harry met his gaze unflinchingly. “What business is it of yours what I say or do, Professor?” he retorted sarcastically.

They stared daggers at one another, neither willing to back down. At last Snape took a deep breath and spoke in something resembling a normal tone.

“Potter, why are you so angry? What do you want?”

“I want you to act like a human being, for once,” Harry said bitterly.

Snape smirked at him. “And if I promise to be on my best behavior, will you have enough self-control to at least be civil when we arrive at the Weasleys’s? I may not be an expert in the social graces, but I do seem to recall that showing up on their doorstep, shouting at one another, might not be appropriate under the circumstances.”

The funeral. Harry had been so angry with Snape that he’d completely forgotten why they were here in the first place. Snape clearly read the expression on his face and sneered at him contemptuously.

“I’m sure the Weasleys would be touched by your concern for their dearly departed.”

Snape spun on his heel and headed off down the street without a backward glance. Harry followed him in silence, his face burning in shame. Snape was right. How could he have let such a stupid argument make him forget why they were here?

At last the Burrow came into sight and Snape stopped. “That’s it?” he asked, dubiously.

Harry nodded. Snape sighed and shook his head. He resumed his march towards the house, but paused when he realized Harry hadn’t joined him.

Harry stood rooted to the spot. The sight of the Burrow brought back a slew of memories, including his most recent. He swallowed hard. He could feel panic clawing inside his chest, trying to get out.

“Potter?” Harry glanced up to see Snape at his side looking at him intently.

I can’t do it, Harry thought, meeting the man’s eyes with his own unblinking stare. I can’t go back in the house. I can’t face that!

“Then he wins,” Snape said in answer to Harry’s thoughts. “Don’t let him win, Potter. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

Harry took a steadying breath and nodded. His face set in determination, Harry marched on towards the Burrow.

The house was unnaturally quiet, Harry realized as they entered the garden. He’d only ever been here at holidays when most of the Weasley clan was present. At those times, there were constantly doors slamming and people pounding up and down the stairs. There were shouts and complaints and a perpetual din of at least three conversations going on at once. And laughter. Always laughter. It was the bustle of too many people in too close quarters, yet no one would have wanted it any other way. Now there was only silence.

Snape knocked on the door and a moment later Mr. Weasley answered it. He looked older and more tired than Harry had ever seen him.

“Professor Snape, Harry, I’m so glad you could both come. Please, come in.”

“Mr. Weasley, you have my deepest sympathy for the loss of your wife,” Snape said, taking Mr. Weasley’s hand with what seemed to be genuine feeling as he and Harry entered the house. “All of us at Hogwarts are deeply saddened by this tragedy. Albus was devastated that he couldn’t be here.”

“Thank you. Thank you, that means a great deal to all of us.” Mr. Weasley managed a wan smile though his eyes were bright.

“Harry, how are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m all right, sir,” Harry replied, feeling decidedly ineloquent compared to Snape.

“Ron’s upstairs,” Mr. Weasley continued. “Would you mind going up and telling him to come down? We should be leaving for the cemetery soon.”

“Of course, ” Harry said, grateful for something to do. He headed upstairs to Ron’s room. The door was closed and Harry hesitated briefly, then knocked. There was no answer, so Harry opened the door and poked his head in. Ron lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Ron?” Harry said quietly.

“Harry, you made it!” Ron leaped off his bed, looking thoroughly relieved. “I was afraid you wouldn’t.”

“You knew I was coming?” Harry asked in surprise as he came fully into the room and shut the door.

“Yeah, Dumbledore sent word a few days ago, but then Dad said he couldn’t come and I reckoned that meant you wouldn’t be able to, either.”

Harry felt a tremendous weight lift from his heart. “Ron, you know I wouldn’t miss being here for the world.”

Ron shrugged apologetically. “I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if it might be too hard for you after… you know.”

“Not as long as it isn’t too hard for you to have me here.”

“Don’t be daft,” Ron said as though that were the most absurd thing he’d ever heard and Harry couldn’t help but grin.

“So how’d you get here, anyway?” Ron asked.

“Professor Snape brought me.”

“Snape?”

Harry nodded. “Dumbledore sent him with me.”

“You mean he’s here in the house?” Ron looked utterly horrified. “All the teachers at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore had to send him?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said, smiling at Ron’s reaction. “It’ll be all right.”

There was a knock on the door. Ginny peeked in and her eyes lit up.

“Harry, I thought I heard your voice.” She came in and gave Harry a big hug. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“Me, too,” Harry said, hugging her back.

“Snape’s here,” Ron said glumly.

“I know. I saw him downstairs with Dad.” She frowned in puzzlement. “He was actually quite polite.”

Ron looked skeptical, but didn’t say anything.

“Your dad said to come down, by the way,” Harry remembered. “It’ll be time to go soon.”

Harry, Ron and Ginny headed downstairs, but paused outside the living room at the sound of angry voices coming from behind the closed door.

“We’ve paid our price!” Percy said bitterly. “Let someone else fight this war!”

“I can’t do that, Percy, especially not now!” Mr. Weasley insisted. “Your mother would never want us to give up!”

“She wouldn’t want to see anyone else dead, either! This is too great a risk! I’ve said so all along. Fred and George are already involved. So are Bill and Charlie.”

“They’re adults. Do you honestly think I could stop them from joining Dumbledore in this fight?”

“Have you tried?

“Percy –”

“And what about Ron and Ginny? They could have been killed at the Ministry last year. You’re only encouraging them to take risks. Give this up, for their sakes at least.”

Ron stepped forward ignoring Ginny’s urgently whispered, “Ron, no!” He shoved open the door to confront his brother.

“I’d rather die!”

“Ron.” Mr. Weasley held up a hand to try and forestall his youngest son’s outburst, but it was no use.

“I know what’s at stake better than you do,” Ron snarled at Percy, “and if you think Dad quitting would make any difference to what I do then you don’t know me at all!”

“You can’t win this!” Percy insisted.

“Then I’ll die trying!” Ron yelled. “Just because you’re a coward, don’t think the rest of us are!”

“Just because I don’t want to see any more of my family killed, that doesn’t make me a coward, or your enemy!”

Percy turned and stalked towards the front door.

“Percy, wait!” Mr. Weasley said.

“I’m going to the cemetery to help Bill and Charlie since I’m obviously not doing any good here. Don’t worry. I’m sure this won’t be the last funeral we all get to attend.”

Percy yanked open the door and slammed it behind him as he stormed out, leaving an uncomfortable silence in the room.

“Dad, don’t mind Percy,” Ginny said, coming to lay a hand on her father’s arm.

“Why don’t you three go see if Aunt Rose needs any help?” Mr. Weasley said without looking at any of them.

Harry, Ron and Ginny exchanged glances then wordlessly filed out of the room. Ginny led the way to the garden while Ron fumed.

“Percy is a complete git!” he said furiously. “He’s been on Dad to stop supporting Dumbledore for months, but to pressure him now, of all times – I swear, Percy’s a disgrace to the family!”

“He just doesn’t get it, Ron,” Ginny said. “He thinks fighting is hopeless.”

“He’s not the only one,” Harry said seriously. “Most of the wizarding world agrees with him.”

“Well, then he can go hide with the rest of them and leave us alone,” Ron said.

They arrived in the garden to find the twins along with a short, thin woman with graying red hair busily putting the finishing touches on what looked to be a large reception.

There was an impressive feast laid out on two long banquet tables, which included trays of cheese and vegetables as well as several kinds of salad. Large platters of roast beef and ham sat along side steaming bowls of potatoes and gravy, magically being kept warm. There were all variety of pies and puddings along with several kegs of butterbeer.

There were tables everywhere with neat white linen cloths covering them and simple floral arrangements as centerpieces. Similar decorations adorned the fence as well as a trellis that had been set up at the gate. The whole effect was very welcoming.

The woman was directing the activity in a brisk, no-nonsense manner.

“Fred, George, will you move this crate please?” she said, referring to a four foot high wooden box sitting near one of the banquet tables. “I need to put another table here.”

“Sure, Aunt Rose,” Fred answered as he levitated the crate and sent it floating across the garden. Aunt Rose waved her wand and a round table scurried over and took up position where the crate had been. The crate landed next to the new arrivals and Fred greeted Harry with a wide grin.

“Hi, Harry, glad you could make it,” he said.

“Good to see you, Harry,” George added, coming over to shake hands.

Hermione appeared carrying a large bowl of pumpkin juice.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, hurriedly depositing her burden on the nearest table then turning to hug Harry as Ginny had done. “I’m so glad you could come! I knew Dumbledore would manage it.”

“Thanks,” Harry said.

“I wonder if Dumbledore could manage to keep Percy away,” Ron said darkly.

“Why? Is Percy acting up again?” George asked.

“He and Dad just had another row,” Ginny explained.

“He does everything he can to make Dad’s life as hard as possible!” Ron said.

“Try not to be so angry with Percy, Ron,” Hermione said. “I’m sure he feels guilty for having fallen out with your parents. That has to be awful.”

“Yeah, well he ought to feel guilty!” Ron said indignantly.

“Now there’s compassion for you,” George said.

“Always thought you were a bit more sensitive than that, Ronald,” Fred added.

“Since when are you two defending Percy?” Ron demanded.

“We’re not defending him,” Fred said.

“But we’ve spent half our lives breaking Mum’s heart,” George said. “So we know a little bit about what guilt’s like.”

“We should have been here, you know,” Fred explained to Harry in an uncharacteristically sober tone.

“Mum was always nagging us to come home at a decent hour.” George shook his head sadly. “But we never paid attention.”

“We’re always in the middle of some invention we’d rather be working on instead of sitting at home chatting over tea,” Fred added with obvious self-reproach.

“That evening after we closed up shop we set straight to work on some new ideas for our Poison Pen Pal Quill,” George said.

“Next thing we knew, it was after midnight and there was an Auror pounding on our door telling us we were needed at home,” Fred concluded.

“If you’d been here, you’d have died,” Harry said, feeling a terrible chill.

George shrugged. “We know that, but it doesn’t make us feel any better.”

“It does go to show one thing, though,” Fred said. “You never know what’s going to happen. Mum hated us working late because it worried her, but here it wound up saving our lives. So you can’t know how things are going to turn out. You just have to make decisions you can live with and hope they don’t blow up in your face.”

“We can live with our decisions,” George said. “But Percy knows he’s been a giant prat, so he’s miserable. ‘Course, being Percy, he’s making it worse by being an even bigger prat, but I really don’t think he can help himself.”

“Don’t make excuses for him!” Ron shouted. The others looked at him, startled. He took a deep breath to collect himself then spoke in a more normal tone. “I need to go for a walk.”

“I’ll come with you,” Hermione said.

“No!” Ron snapped, then collected himself once more. “I just need to be alone for a while.” He turned and stalked away.

Hermione bit her lip as she watched him go. “I have to get the rolls,” she said and fled back into the house, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather be back at school playing Quidditch, Harry?” Fred asked lightly.

“He’d probably rather be back at school studying Potions,” George said. “Everyone’s a bit mad just now, Harry.”

“Madder than usual, he means,” Fred corrected.

“Fred, George, we need to finish getting the chairs set out,” Aunt Rose said, coming over to them.

“Sure, Aunt Rose,” Fred said. “By the way, this is our friend Harry. Harry, this is our mum’s sister, Aunt Rose.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry said. “I mean, I’m very sorry – that is…”

“Yes, dear,” Aunt Rose said kindly. “We all are. Absolutely dreadful! Would you mind giving us a hand? We’re running a little behind schedule.”

“Er… all right,” Harry agreed.

“Thank you, dear. Oh, and Ginny, there’s another bowl of pumpkin juice in the kitchen that needs to be brought out.

Ginny nodded and went back into the house, almost bumping into her father on his way out.

“Aren’t you all done yet?” Mr. Weasley asked, sounding rather frazzled but far more himself than he had earlier. “We need to go.”

“We need to finish here first, Arthur,” Aunt Rose said. “If you’d like to help set out chairs it would speed things up.”

“Can’t we just finish this later?” Mr. Weasley asked, flicking his wand at a stack of chairs lying on the ground. The chairs jumped up and waddled over to the nearest table, jostling one another for the best spot.

“Arthur, there are going to be a hundred people here,” Aunt Rose said. “What doesn’t get done now isn’t going to get done. Ginny, set the pumpkin juice on that table over there next to the glasses.”

“I don’t want to be late,” Mr. Weasley said.

“They’re not going to start without us, Dad,” George said, marching a neat line of chairs up one side of a long table as Fred marched his own formation up the other side.

“And it’s not as though Mum’s in a hurry,” Fred added.

“Fred!” Mr. Weasley admonished.

“Well, she’s not going anywhere, is she?” Fred said.

Mr. Weasley apparently had no answer to this and turned his attention to getting the chairs in place. Harry did the same as he tried to make sense of the family dynamics in play.

Harry had been so worried about how the Weasleys would receive him that he hadn’t really thought beyond that. Nevertheless, whatever he might have expected here today, he was certain this wasn’t it. Emotions were obviously running high, yet strangely, no one seemed particularly sad except maybe for Mr. Weasley. On top of that, the bustle of mundane activity seemed jarringly out of place with what was supposed to be a somber occasion.

Finally, the last chair was in place and they all went around to the front garden where Ron and about a dozen members of the Order of the Phoenix were waiting for them. Ron was talking to Remus and his mood seemed much improved. Harry, Hermione and Ginny went to join them.

“Hi, Remus.” Harry said. “What’s all this, an escort?”

“We thought it might be wise,” Remus said.

Harry was about to ask why, but was cut off as Mr. Weasley addressed Kingsley Shacklebolt nearby.

“I think we’re all ready to go.”

The tall, black man nodded and led the way out of the garden. Mr. Weasley and Aunt Rose followed him with Fred and George close behind. Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Ron followed behind them, along with Remus while the other members of the Order of the Phoenix brought up the rear.

Harry noticed Hermione take Ron’s hand and squeeze it. Ron squeezed back, giving her a small, apologetic smile and she smiled affectionately at him in return.

It was a short walk to the cemetery, which, Harry discovered, was an inviting place. Shade trees dotted the rolling grounds which were covered by all sorts of flowering plants, most of which Harry couldn’t name. They arrived at an ancient chapel and Harry was heartened to see the large number of people who had come to pay their respects. Ron’s aunt hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said there would be a hundred in attendance. If anything, she had underestimated the numbers.

Harry had intended to hang back in the crowd, but Ron and Ginny dragged him up to the front where the rest of the family was seated. He felt awkward at first, but it helped that Hermione was there, too, as was Fleur Delacour who was talking with Bill. In any case, no one objected to his presence as he sat quietly between Ron and Ginny. Aunt Rose sat to Ginny’s left and Mr. Weasley next to her while Hermione sat next to Ron. Fred and George were next to Hermione followed by Bill, Fleur, Charlie, and finally Percy.

As everyone settled into their seats, an old witch dressed in white, who looked nearly as old as the chapel, came forward to greet the Weasleys. She then addressed those assembled.

“Welcome and thank you all for coming to celebrate the life of our dear Molly.” She said. “My name is Agatha and I have been the minister of this chapel for many years. I have known Molly and Arthur since they brought me their first son, Bill, to be christened. That was obviously quite some time ago,” she said, smiling at Bill.

“Molly was a loving wife and mother, a caring and helpful friend, and a strong, courageous woman. She and Arthur bore seven children during the darkest years our world has ever known, a tremendous display of hope at a time when there was little to go around. Now that dark days are upon us again, I would ask each of you to not give up hope. Molly always believed that the future was worth fighting for, that it could and would be better. And although we are gathered here in grief, we must not let grief turn to despair. Molly would never have wanted that. We must let her life guide us, not her death.”

Harry heard a sniffle on his right and glanced over to see tears running down Ron’s cheeks. Fred and George were crying too, and Hermione was sobbing quietly into Ron’s shoulder. Harry swallowed hard and turned his attention back to Agatha who had begun recounting the highlights of Mrs. Weasley’s life. Harry glanced to his left. Aunt Rose had her arm around Ginny who sat with silent tears running down her cheeks. Ginny’s grief, more than anyone else’s, moved Harry and he looked away. His own tears had begun to flow, but for once, he felt no shame. If all these people could gather to grieve with the Weasleys, then surely he could grieve too. He certainly had enough to grieve for. It wasn’t just Mrs. Weasley, but his own parents, Sirius and all those he’d been forced to watch murdered in his visions.

Harry took off his glasses and bowed his head. He was weary to the bone. He hadn’t realized how much pain he’d been holding inside for so long. He was angry, too. Harry felt a furious rage toward Voldemort, not just for the deaths the evil wizard was responsible for, but for all the pain and grief he’d caused as well. Harry felt his resolve strengthen. This couldn’t go on. He had to find a way to stop Voldemort. He had to. But even as he thought it, he felt the familiar uncertainty and despair creeping up on him. How could he stop Voldemort?

“Arthur?”

Harry looked up, aware that the old witch had addressed Mr. Weasley. She flicked her wand at the casket and it rose off the dais to hover in midair. Mr. Weasley and his children all rose and surrounded the casket. Hermione stood up as well and Harry followed her example, wondering what he should do next. Fortunately, Aunt Rose came to stand between him and Hermione and put an arm around each of them. Agatha led the Weasleys, with the casket in their midst, out of the chapel. Aunt Rose, Harry and Hermione followed close behind and the rest of the assembly proceeded after them.

They arrived at the gravesite where the casket was silently lowered into the grave. Ginny let out an anguished sob and her father pulled her close. The old witch was speaking once more, but Harry wasn’t listening. His attention was on Ginny, whose sobs punctuated the quiet surroundings, even though her father held her tight, whispering words of comfort to her. Her brothers hovered close by in silent solidarity, but none of them wept. Each looked grimly determined to stand as an example of their mother’s strength and seemed to draw support and comfort from the others.

Harry heard the words “the Burrow” and realized that the service was over and that Agatha was inviting those present to come back to the house for the wake. People were beginning to take their leave, passing by the grave to pay their respects.

Soon, the gravesite was nearly deserted except for a few members of the Order who were clearly waiting to escort them back. The family lingered, huddling together, each trying to comfort the others. To Harry’s relief, Ginny had stopped crying and actually managed to give Fred a wan smile in response to something he had said. Harry waited at a discreet distance, not wanting to intrude. There was a touch on his arm and he turned to find Hermione beside him. Her eyes were red, but she smiled at him.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Harry answered, not trusting himself to say more.

Hermione hugged him tightly and he wrapped his arms around her. They stood holding each other until Harry felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” Ron said, eliciting a smile from both Harry and Hermione. “Come on, it’s time to go home.”

---

The mourners retraced their steps to the Burrow. Soon, the house came in sight and they could hear the reception even before they entered the front gate. The house and garden were full of people, which Harry found comforting, even though he didn’t know most of them. The funeral service had left him feeling drained and the sheer normalcy of the snatches of conversation he heard as he made his way through the crowd was a relief.

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione got food from the buffet tables and found an empty table where they could sit down to eat.

“It was a lovely service,” Hermione commented.

“Yeah, it really was,” Harry agreed.

“Bill and Charlie arranged everything,” Ginny said. “Dad… wasn’t quite up to it.”

Ginny wiped her eyes and Harry felt a horrible pang of guilt. Hermione laid a hand comfortingly on Ginny’s arm. But Ginny shook her head as if annoyed with herself, took a deep breath and held her head up high.

“It’s really hardest on him, you know,” she continued in a steady voice. “The rest of us are away, mostly, but he and mum were so close; I know he misses her dreadfully.”

“Fred and George are here,” Hermione said, “and Bill’s only in London. I know they’ll help.

“I know; I just wish I could stay home longer to be with him.”

“Dad’s not here most of the time, himself,” Ron said. “Since Fudge was ousted, the Ministry’s been working round the clock to find some way to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters. And whenever Dad’s not at work, he’s usually with the Order.”

“I still wish I could be here,” Ginny said.

“How are things at school, Harry?” Hermione asked to change the subject.

“Okay,” Harry said. “Everyone feels really badly and said to give you their regards,” he told Ron and Ginny. “That reminds me.”

Harry dug in his pocket for the letter Luna had given him that morning. He pulled it out and presented it to Ginny.

“I almost forgot. Luna gave me this for you.”

Ginny opened the letter, read it and smiled slightly. Then she passed it to Hermione who read it aloud.

Dear Ginny,

I’m so sorry to hear that your mum died. I know how dreadful that is. Just remember not to spend all your time being sad. Your mum wouldn’t want that at all! She’d want you to be happy and get on with life.

Yours, Luna Lovegood

“Well, that’s a chipper condolence,” Ron said.

Just then, a burst of laughter drew their attention. At a long table not far away, Fred and George were talking animatedly to a crowd of people while drawing glasses of butterbeer from a large keg.

“You know, I think Fred and George would like Luna,” Ron said.

“Come on,” Ginny said, standing up. “Let’s go see what they’re up to. I could do with a laugh.”

The other three exchanged glances, but followed her over to Fred and George. George was speaking as they drew near.

“Mum was livid! She said we were supposed to be getting rid of the gnomes, not dressing them up in tutus and teaching them to dance.”

“We never did manage to get them to do the Can-Can,” Fred said regretfully. “’Course, we were only ten.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten that!” Ron said, his eyes widening at the memory. “I think you two are the only people who have ever actually managed to scare gnomes away.”

Another laugh rippled through the crowd.

“Right, so who’s got another story?” George asked, taking a swig from his glass.

“I have one.” All eyes turned to Aunt Rose, sitting at the end of the table. “Back when we were in school, it was Molly’s fourth year, I think, one of her roommates had a huge crush on this boy named Edmond Fosse. Inez Bobkin was her name and Inez got it into her head to slip Edmond a love potion in his pumpkin juice. She spent days brewing it and Molly volunteered to pour it in Edmond’s cup at breakfast while Inez distracted him. Well, it seemed to come off without a hitch, but the results were beyond anything poor Inez could have imagined.

“Edmond was so totally smitten that he took to following her everywhere, quoting absolutely hideous poetry at her, or he’d leap out from some hiding place and burst into a wretched love song, then throw himself at her feet and beg her to be his eternal love. Poor Inez became so rattled, she went and locked herself in her room and wouldn’t come out, not even for meals.”

“Didn’t someone think to give Edmond an antidote?” Hermione asked.

“No one knew the antidote and it wouldn’t have made any difference anyway.” Aunt Rose chuckled at the memory then gave Hermione a mischievous smile. “Molly never put the potion in Edmond’s cup.”

“What?”

“She warned Edmond about what Inez was planning and they worked out this wicked scheme to get even with her. It was all just an elaborate act and Edmond hammed it up brilliantly! We were all in on it, too. Molly organized the whole thing and got practically the entire house involved. I helped write some of the worst poetry ever!

“While poor Inez was cowering in her room, the rest of us were having a great laugh at her expense. After three days, we finally relented and told her the potion had worn off. But then Edmond was absolutely horrid to her for days afterward, supposedly as an after effect.”

“Our mum did that?” Fred asked with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

“And to think that we never thought of it,” George lamented. “It would have been brilliant!”

“Ah, the missed opportunities of youth,” Fred sighed.

“There’s quite a lot of your mum in you two,” Aunt Rose said. “She was quite wild before she started going out with your father.”

The twins grinned, delightedly then George asked, “So how did those two get together, anyway?”

“Well –”

“Rose,” Mr. Weasley interrupted in an unmistakably scandalized tone.

“I think that’s a tale for another time,” Aunt Rose finished smoothly.

Everyone laughed except the twins who looked thoroughly disappointed.

“Hello, Harry?”

Harry turned to find Remus standing next to him. “Hi, Remus.”

“Do you have a moment?” Remus asked. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Sure,” Harry replied readily. He and Remus left the group as Fred and George launched into another tale about their mother. They wound their way through the crowd to an out-of-the-way corner of the garden.

“So, how are you doing?” Remus asked.

“I’m all right,” Harry replied. “School’s going okay. We have a decent Defense teacher this year, though he’s not as good as you were.”

“That’s very flattering; I hear he’s excellent.” Remus said. “But I wasn’t asking about your school work. I’d like to know how you are.”

“I’m okay,” Harry said. “As well as anyone is, right now, anyway.”

“I’ve had the chance to talk with Ron, Ginny and Hermione quite a bit this week,” Remus said. “They’re worried about you, you know. They say you hardly talk to them at all.”

Harry shrugged. “There’s not much to talk about.”

“Isn’t there?”

Harry studied the shrub next to him. “They already know about my dreams. It’s not as if I want to discuss them.” He reached out and picked a Camellia blossom.

Remus came to stand next to Harry. “You haven’t told them about the prophecy,” he said gently.

Harry glanced at Remus, then away again. “I can’t.”

“Harry, they’re your friends –”

“They have enough worries of their own. Besides, they wouldn’t understand.”

“Of course they would.”

“No, they wouldn’t.” Harry turned to face Remus. “What am I supposed to tell them? That I’m going to die? Because that’s exactly what they’d think it means.”

“Is that what you think it means?” Remus asked quietly.

Harry turned away again to stare at the trees which were just starting to show their spring buds. “I don’t know,” he whispered.

Remus laid a hand comfortingly on Harry’s shoulder.

“Harry, I know I haven’t been here for you.” Remus sighed. “That was always Sirius’s biggest regret, you know, that he couldn’t be with you. I should have made more of an effort all these months. I should have at least written to you.”

Harry turned to face his father’s old friend. “Remus, it’s not your fault. I’m the one who should have written to you. I don’t even know why I haven’t. It’s just that I don’t know how to put what I’m feeling into words.”

“I understand, and I know that a letter is no substitute for having someone to talk to. That’s why you need to confide in your friends.”

Harry sighed. “I know I ought to tell Ron and Hermione, but I just don’t know how and right now it would only make things harder. Besides, I really am all right; you don’t need to worry about me.”

Remus frowned at him skeptically. “What about your dreams?”

“They’re still bad,” Harry admitted. “But there’s nothing anyone can do about that.”

“Haven’t your lessons with Professor Snape helped at all?”

Harry shook his head. “Not yet. He says that blocking my visions is the hardest thing to learn, but he’s confident that I’ll be able to do it eventually.”

“He told you that?” Remus asked, mildly surprised.

“Well, no, but I know he thinks so,” Harry said, then smiled slightly. “I am studying Legilimency, you know.”

“Is he treating you all right?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “He’s actually been pretty decent to me for the most part. He’s just confusing sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry shrugged. “One minute he’ll insult me and the next it feels like he’s looking straight into my soul and knows exactly what I’m feeling. He’d hate to admit it. I hate to admit it, but he’s the only one who can really understand what my connection to Voldemort is like. I think he understands me better than anyone else alive.”

Harry suddenly realized what he was saying and looked guiltily at Remus. But Remus didn’t seem offended. He was regarding Harry thoughtfully.

“Is that because of your lessons?”

Harry considered. “Partly. But mostly it’s because we’re both connected to Voldemort.” Harry looked at Remus, hoping that made sense. “No one else has to fight this war, Remus. You could walk away tomorrow, if you wanted to. So could everyone else. But I can’t and neither can Snape. We’re bound to Voldemort and no matter where we go, or what we do, neither of us can escape him. So long as he lives, we can never be free of him. One way or another, he’ll always control our lives.”

Remus had turned pale and was staring at Harry with a mixture of horror and sadness.

“I never thought of it that way,” Remus said softly. “I never realized. I suppose Severus would understand you better than anyone else.”

“Does that bother you?” Harry asked.

“Of course not, why would it?”

Harry shrugged. “Sirius would have been furious. He and my dad hated Snape.”

Remus smiled sadly. “You’re right, Sirius would have been livid at the thought of you and Snape having anything in common. But I’m not Sirius and you’re not James. You have to do what’s right for you.

“You know, Harry,” Remus continued, “Sometimes, our family and friends can care too much, worry too much about us. Sometimes, it takes someone else to understand us best.

“When I was very young, before I came to Hogwarts, my schooling was a constant problem. Attending a regular school was out of the question. I missed too much because of my condition and of course, none of the other wizard parents wanted me around their children. My mother tried to teach me herself, but with all the medical expenses associated with my condition, she couldn’t afford to stay home.

“Eventually, my parents decided to hire a tutor for me. It wasn’t easy finding someone who would take the job, but finally they found Mrs. Gilroy, a stern, forbidding woman who would have made Professor McGonagall seem positively cuddly by comparison. I was a shy nine-year-old and absolutely terrified of her.

“The first month, as the full moon approached, she didn’t cut back on my assignments as my mother always had at that time of the month. If anything, she seemed to increase my workload. When I mentioned that, Mrs. Gilroy said, ‘Lupin, you’ll never keep up with your work if you indulge yourself. You know when the full moon is. Plan for it and don’t use it as an excuse to shirk your responsibilities.’

“Well, my mother was furious that the woman could have so little sympathy for me and would have sacked her, but I begged my mother not to. You see, Mrs. Gilroy was the first person who had ever treated me like a normal child. Other people treated me like a monster and my parents treated me like some fragile thing that needed to be protected, but Mrs. Gilroy did neither. She was harsh, but at the time, I needed that more than my parents’ smothering compassion.”

Harry nodded emphatically. “That’s how I feel. I don’t want people to worry about me or feel sorry for me.”

“Then it’s hardly surprising that you feel more comfortable letting Professor Snape see your pain than your friends. If he can help you, then let him. And remember that even though I may not understand what you’re going through as well as he does, I’m here if you need me.”

“I won’t forget,” Harry assured him.

“Good, now go and find your friends.”

Harry smiled and headed back through the crowd. He spotted Ginny and had just reached her when George came hurrying up to them.

“Hey, you two!” George said. “We’re going to have a round of Quidditch. Fred’s getting the brooms.”

“Quidditch?” Harry asked incredulously. “Now?”

“Why not?” George said. “Come on! Ron, Bill and Charlie are playing too. Hermione’s going to be our cheering section.”

Harry and Ginny exchanged glances.

“All right,” Ginny said. “But I’m on Charlie’s team.”

“Traitor!” George said. “You won’t desert your old teammates, will you Harry?”

“How about us and Ron against Bill, Charlie and Ginny?” Harry suggested.

“Brilliant!” George said. “We’ll fly circles around ‘em!”

“We’ll see about that!” Ginny said.

---

Snape had always preferred solitude to crowds and he found the press of people at the Burrow unpleasant. More importantly, it made keeping an eye on Potter next to impossible. He realized now why Dumbledore had insisted on him accompanying the boy. Even with members of the Order present, security was woefully inadequate for the number of people congregated. Anyone could wander onto the premises without being questioned. Consequently, Snape devoted most of his time to scrutinizing the seemingly endless stream of mourners.

He had just noted the arrival of several of Mr. Weasley’s co-workers when he looked up to see Potter and the Weasley children soaring high over a nearby field. He stared in disbelief for a moment, but his surprise immediately gave way to anger. Was the boy trying to get himself killed? Didn’t he realize that the Dark Lord’s servants could be anywhere? Snape stood fuming silently at the boy’s recklessness.

“Don’t worry, Moody and Tonks are watching them,” a quiet voice whispered next to him.

It was Lupin, looking more tired and drawn than even the recent full moon should have accounted for.

“Oh, well, that fills me with confidence,” Snape sneered in disgust.

“A moving target is harder to hit,” Lupin pointed out.

Snape scowled, not wanting to admit that Lupin was right. Potter was no doubt safer in the air than in the middle of all these strangers. Snape also noticed that, despite his evident fatigue, Lupin’s eyes were alert and watchful.

“It was good of you to come today, by the way,” Lupin continued politely.

“It wasn’t my choice,” Snape grumbled as he scanned the crowd to see if anyone was paying undue attention to the Quidditch players.

“I know,” Lupin answered with the hint of a smile, watching people mingle around the garden as well. “All the same, thank you for bringing Harry, he needed to be here. How’s he holding up, anyway?”

Snape looked at Lupin in surprise. “Why are you asking me?”

Lupin cast a furtive glance at Snape and continued in a low voice.

“Albus told me what happened the night Molly died. You have the best idea of Harry’s mental state. How is he?”

Snape shrugged. “As well as can be expected.”

“That’s not saying much. You must be able to tell me more than that.”

“Why don’t you simply talk to him yourself?” Snape asked irritably.

“I have. I wanted your perspective.”

“It’s hardly my place to discuss the matter unless you suppose he’d want his darkest fears and memories gossiped about behind his back?”

Lupin regarded Snape grimly. “It’s that bad?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Lupin asked.

Snape shook his head dismissively. “No, I can take care of Potter.”

The two men fell silent once more. Snape watched the crowd, but Lupin seemed lost in thought.

“You know, you’re the last person James would have ever trusted to watch over Harry,” Lupin said quietly at last.

Snape was startled by the unexpected insult. “Yes, well, he didn’t have the best judgment when it came to choosing whom to trust, did he?” Snape said icily, feeling a vicious satisfaction as Lupin paled.

“Severus, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Lupin looked genuinely contrite, but it didn’t matter to Snape. “I couldn’t care less what you meant,” he snapped. He turned away, but Lupin grabbed his arm.

“Sixteen is a difficult age even under the best of circumstances,” Lupin said, cryptically.

Snape scowled, unsure of what Lupin was getting at. The man was giving him an unusually earnest look that Snape found disquieting.

“If ever there was a time you needed to prove James wrong, it’s now,” Lupin said.

“I would have thought I already had.” Snape pulled his arm from Lupin’s grasp and stalked away.

---

“Harry, you’re a madman!” Charlie said admiringly.

Harry grinned, holding up the Snitch he’d managed to catch after a particularly suicidal maneuver. “You’re pretty mental yourself, you know.”

“Comes from dodging dragons for a living.”

“Enough chitchat, you two,” Bill said. “Let’s go again.”

“Afraid not, Bill,” George said.

“We’ve got to get back,” Fred explained.

“Why?” Ginny asked.

“We’ve got something special planned for the reception,” George said matter-of-factly.

“It’s very tasteful,” Fred insisted at the horrified looks that had accompanied George’s announcement. “Honestly George, you’d think they didn’t trust us!”

“We don’t,” Ginny said firmly.

Fred grinned as he and George turned their brooms back towards the Burrow. “You’ll just have to come and see for yourselves then, won’t you?”

“We’d better go have a look,” Bill said and the rest of them followed the twins back to the garden.

---

They all landed and put their brooms in the broom shed, but as they came back into the garden, they were confronted by Percy.

“Having fun, are you?” he demanded, waving a large glass at them and sloshing some of its contents onto the ground. Harry could smell the alcohol. Percy took a long swallow, swaying slightly. “I might have known that even Mum’s death couldn’t keep you lot from Quidditch.”

“Well, it beats trying to drown your sorrows,” Charlie said, eyeing his brother worriedly. He stepped forward and laid a hand on Percy’s arm. “Come on, I think you’ve had enough.”

Percy shrugged off Charlie’s touch and drew himself up with a haughty air. “I’m an adult, thank you. I think I can decide for myself when I’ve had enough to drink.”

“Right,” Bill agreed amiably as he joined Charlie at Percy’s side. “Then why don’t we go for a walk and you can tell us all about your work.”

“I don’t want to go for a walk,” Percy said petulantly. “Unlike some people, I’m not going to walk out on my own mother’s wake.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Percy, you’re making a fool of yourself,” Ron said impatiently.

“Ron, stay out of it,” Bill warned, but it was too late.

“I’m making a fool of myself?” Percy said indignantly. “Oh, that’s rich, Ron! I’ve spent my whole life trying to do the right thing, the respectable thing, trying to be the good student, the good son, the good employee. And what do you do? You go off half-c****d trying to get yourself killed every chance you get. You hang about with a lunatic who’s on some quixotic quest to defeat You-Know-Who. You have the temerity to think you can beat him and you call me a fool? You’re mad, all of you, and Dad’s the maddest of all.”

“Don’t you talk that way about Dad!” Ron’s face darkened in anger and everyone nearby had now stopped to watch the confrontation.

“Why not?” Percy said. “It’s the truth. Do you know that they laugh at Dad at the office? Him and his ‘silly obsession with all things Muggle’, as they put it. Do you know how humiliating it is to have your co-workers think your father’s nuts?”

Ron launched himself at Percy, but Fred and George grabbed him before he could take more than two steps.

“Dad’s leading this whole family to ruin!” Percy continued.

“That’s a lie!” Ron yelled.

“It’s his fault that Mum died!” Percy yelled. “You all know it; you just won’t admit it!”

There was an awful silence as everyone stared at Percy in shock.

“You’re right.” Mr. Weasley had maneuvered his way through the spectators and stood regarding Percy sadly. “It was my fault. I never tried to hide where my sympathies lie. If I had, if I’d been less outspoken, your mother would very likely still be alive. That’s something I’m going to have to live with the rest of my life. But it’s not going to keep me from doing what’s right, because I know what it’s like to live under his shadow, Percy. You don’t.

“You were too young to remember, but your mother and I lived through the last war. We didn’t want you and your brothers and sister to have to live with the constant fear and horror that we suffered. That’s why we knew this time we couldn’t sit by and do nothing. Your mother used to always tell me, ‘Arthur, never mind what anyone else thinks. Do what you know is right.’ And then when You-Know-Who returned, she insisted ‘Someone has to stand against him. If we don’t, who will?’

“Maybe you’re right, Percy. Maybe it won’t do any good. Who am I to think that I can make a difference? I’m just a poorly paid, mid-level bureaucrat. But if I can stand up for what’s right then maybe others will see that they can too. Yes, it’s dangerous. But there are worse things than death, and living as a slave to fear is one of them. I can’t live like that and I can’t let my children live like that. I won’t and your mother wouldn’t have either. She died fighting for what’s right and I won’t let her sacrifice be in vain.”

Mr. Weasley turned away and the crowd parted silently to let him through. No one spoke as he disappeared into the house.

George broke the silence. “Nice going, Percy. And here I thought Fred and I would steal the show today.”

Ron shrugged out of Fred and George’s arms, threw a venomous glare at Percy and stormed off after his father. Hermione didn’t hesitate, but hurried to catch up with him.

“Come on Percy, let’s go for a walk,” Bill said firmly, taking his brother by the arm. This time Percy didn’t object, but allowed himself to be led away by his two older brothers.

“I think this calls for a round of butterbeer and something to lighten the mood,” Fred told George, eyeing the crowd.

“Right you are,” George agreed, then raised his voice to address the assembled guests. “Ladies and gentlemen, if we could have your attention, please.”

“Compliments of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes …” Fred said.

“… We’d like to present a tribute to the best mum in the world!” George finished.

They both waved their wands and the large crate Harry had seen earlier burst open to emit dozens of Fairy Lights. Large translucent orbs also rose into the air and floated around the garden. Harry watched these curiously as did the rest of those assembled. Without warning the orbs popped and showered everyone with rose and lilac petals. A murmur of surprise and delight ran through the crowd and Harry found himself smiling. Who would have thought the twins could do something this tasteful?

Harry turned to say as much to Ginny, but she was gone. He looked around and spotted her pushing her way through the crowd towards the front of the house. Harry followed her as a flock of brightly colored birds flew out of Fred’s and George’s crate and began to sing sweetly as they took up roost around the garden.

Harry found Ginny standing alone under a willow tree in the front garden with her back to him. She was hugging herself and crying softly. Harry approached but stopped a few feet away.

“Ginny?”

Ginny sniffled but didn’t turn around.

“Ginny, I know Percy was awful, but I’m sure he didn’t mean the things he said.”

“It’s not Percy,” Ginny said, turning around to face Harry. “I’m used to him being an i***t. It’s just that since Mum died it feels like the whole family is being torn apart by this war. Dad’s practically obsessed. He spends every waking moment at work. Bill and Charlie have stepped up their involvement in the Order and so have Fred and George. I heard them talking to Remus just yesterday about some of the inventions the Order’s asked them to come up with. Ron’s practically as obsessed as dad. He keeps saying how he wishes he was out of school so he could join the Order, too.

“I’m not afraid to fight or die, Harry, but I am afraid of losing my whole family. And I’m afraid that Percy’s right. I’m afraid that nothing we do is going to matter, anyway. How can anything we do stop Voldemort?”

Harry stepped forward and grasped Ginny’s shoulders. “We can stop him, Ginny. He’s not invincible; I know he’s not. We just mustn’t give up hope.”

“I want to believe that, Harry,” Ginny said. “I can’t bear to think that Mum died for nothing.”

The anguish in Ginny’s eyes broke Harry’s heart.

“Ginny, I’m so sorry,” he said. “If there was anything I could have done… But I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t stop…”

Ginny looked at Harry in confusion, then understanding dawned.

“Harry, it wasn’t your fault!”

“I know,” Harry said miserably, “but it feels like it was.”

Ginny’s eyes flashed in sudden anger.

“Stop it!” she yelled, pushing him away. “Don’t you dare do this! Dad blames himself! Fred and George blame themselves! I can’t take you acting like an i***t, too! It wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t anyone’s fault! Voldemort killed Mum just like he’s killed dozens of other people and just like he’s going to keep on killing until someone finds a way to stop him. You of all people know that, and blaming yourself only gives him another victory!”

Ginny was right; Harry knew that blaming himself wouldn’t help. “I’ll make a deal with you,” he offered, proffering his hand. “You promise not to give up hope and I’ll promise not to blame myself for what Voldemort does. What do you say?”

Ginny considered a moment, then smiled and shook his hand. “All right, I guess I’m being a bit of an i***t, too. It’s not like worrying about the worst is going to help.”

Just then a burst of fireworks exploded overhead in the clear, late-afternoon sky.

“Come on, let’s go see what’s happening,” Harry said, grateful for something to take their minds off Voldemort.

They headed back to the reception and arrived just as another burst of fireworks went off. This was followed by another, and another. As the last display faded away, the crowd applauded. Fred and George bowed in acknowledgement and then levitated their now empty crate away to a distant corner of the garden.

Ron and Hermione appeared and Ron seemed to have forgotten his anger at Percy.

“That’s the best show I’ve seen Fred and George put on yet,” Ron said. “They’re actually getting pretty clever. But don’t tell them I said so,” he added as Fred and George approached them.

“So, what did you think?” Fred asked.

“Not bad,” Ron said.

“Not bad?” George said indignantly. “It was our best ever.”

“Do you really think so?” Ron asked skeptically.

“I thought it was brilliant!” Hermione said.

“Ah, a woman of taste,” Fred declared.

Remus came up to them. “Fred, George, brilliant job! Listen, I have to go, but I’ll see you soon.”

“You’re leaving?” Harry asked.

Remus nodded and dropped his voice. “Dumbledore just sent word that he needs to see all the Order members. I wish I had more time, but promise me you’ll write.”

“I will. I promise.”

Remus gave Harry’s shoulder a squeeze, then turned to go, but Harry stopped him.

“Remus - be careful.”

Remus smiled. “I will, Harry. Now, don’t you worry about me, you have enough on your mind.” He tousled Harry’s perpetually messy hair affectionately then disappeared into the crowd. Harry watched him go, feeling a twinge of loneliness.

“Mr. Potter.”

Harry glanced around to find Snape standing behind him. He had forgotten his professor was there. He hadn’t seen the man since they’d arrived and wondered idly if Snape had been avoiding him.

“It’s quite late, we must be going,” Snape said.

“It’s not even five o’clock,” Harry protested. “It’s not like we have classes tomorrow.”

“It will be getting dark soon and we need to get back to school. No arguments.”

Harry sighed.

“It’s all right, mate,” said Ron. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“We’ll keep in touch too, Harry,” said Fred, and Harry nodded reluctantly.

---

By the time Harry had said his goodbyes to Mr. Weasley and the rest of the family it was indeed nearly dusk and Snape set a brisk pace as they left the Burrow.

“Potter, when I say it is time to go, I don’t mean for you to spend another half hour saying goodbye to all your friends,” he snapped.

“I didn’t want to be rude,” Harry replied easily.

“There are some things that are more important than being polite,” Snape said, quickening his pace to the point that Harry had to practically run to keep pace.

“What’s the hurry?” Harry asked.

“Don’t talk, Potter. Just keep up.”

Harry sighed. Snape’s moods were unfathomable. They passed through the village, where the lights had already been lit and crossed the bridge over the river. Here by the woods it was already quite dark and Snape slowed his pace considerably. Harry drew his wand to cast Lumos so they could see better, but his professor touched his arm in warning.

“Don’t,” said Snape quietly. “Keep your wand ready, but out of sight.”

“Why?” Harry asked in a similarly quiet voice.

“We’re being followed. Don’t turn around!” he hissed at Harry’s involuntary glance over his shoulder. “We don’t want them to know we’ve seen them.”

Actually, Harry thought wryly, he hadn’t seen them. Even straining as he was now to detect some telltale sound or movement, he couldn’t tell that there was anyone behind them. He wondered if Snape could be mistaken and stole a quick glance at his professor. No, Snape didn’t seem the type to make that kind of mistake. The man moved almost silently, poised and alert as he watched the road ahead intently.

“How many are there?” Harry asked.

“Two, I think, but there are undoubtedly more ahead, most likely in the trees where the road curves up there.”

Harry’s mouth was dry, but his voice was steady. “So, what do you want to do?”

Snape glanced at him and Harry knew he was being appraised.

“When we turn the bend up ahead, we should be out of the line of sight of those behind us, for a few moments. I’ll cast Incendio into the woods on our right. You do the same on the left. Then, take cover and curse anything that moves. But be careful! We don’t need to get separated and start cursing each other.”

Harry nodded. They were nearly at the bend, now. Harry could feel his pulse quicken and his senses sharpen as anticipation sent a rush of adrenaline through him. It was the same way he felt before a Quidditch match; relaxed, yet very focused.

---

Snape didn’t care for their odds. There were at least two, and probably more, Death Eaters ahead of them, plus the two behind. More worrisome than the number, though, was the fact that they were concealed, while he and Potter were out in the open. There was no room to maneuver on the narrow road and nowhere to run. They were being herded into an ambush and if he had misjudged their enemies’ location, they were both going to die.

Snape was furious with himself and if he could have spared the time, he would have been cursing his own stupidity. Why hadn’t he brought the Portkey with them? True, it might have been odd and a bit unwieldy to drag a picnic basket around with them, but at least they would have been safe. But he hadn’t been thinking about safety when they’d arrived. He and Potter had been in the middle of that ridiculous argument and he had stalked off in anger. Naturally, the boy, with no thought of danger, had left the Portkey behind. Snape didn’t blame Potter, though. It was his responsibility to keep the boy safe. Dumbledore had trusted him and he was very likely going to fail.

Still, they did have a few advantages. The Death Eaters wouldn’t be aiming to kill, but to incapacitate, for one thing. Also, the same trees that hid them would hamper their aim. But what Snape was counting on fervently was that they wouldn’t expect him to fight. That miscalculation by their enemies would give him the crucial seconds he needed to act.

---

They were approaching the bend in the road. Snape quickened his pace and Harry automatically matched his teacher’s stride. Harry was scanning the woods for any hint of movement and he caught it.

He whipped his wand around and cried, “Incendio!”

The brush in front of him burst into flame and Harry was rewarded by startled cries as two figures fled their hiding places.

“Stupefy!” Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the nearest Death Eater. The man slumped to the ground, but his companion was already taking aim at Harry. Harry had no time to block the curse but instead dove to the ground as red sparks sizzled in the air where he’d been standing. He rolled into a crouch.

“Expelliarmus!” he yelled, but the Death Eater ducked behind a tree and Harry missed. He was only peripherally aware of the battle taking place on the other side of the road and had no time to hope that Snape was holding his own as two more figures came running into view. The two Death Eaters that had been following them had clearly heard the fight and in their haste to join it, had made the mistake of coming up the road instead of remaining hidden among the trees.

“Stupefy!” Harry cried. His spell connected as did its twin from the opposite side of the road and both Death Eaters dropped in their tracks.

“Expelliarmus!”

Harry’s wand went flying and he whirled around, realizing too late that the Death Eater he’d missed earlier had snuck around behind him. Unarmed, his reflexes took over and he threw himself to the side as a curse exploded next to him. He kept rolling as another curse blasted the ground. He rolled again and slammed into a tree flanked by impenetrable brush. He’d gone as far as he could and the Death Eater in front of him clearly knew it.

“Stupefy!”

The Death Eater stiffened and keeled over, unconscious. Snape didn’t even glance at the man as he stepped over the prone body, grasped Harry’s hand and pulled him to his feet.

“Never lose track of your opponents, Potter!” Snape scolded angrily. “That’s the fastest way to wind up dead! Accio wand.”

Harry’s wand obediently leapt out of a bush and came flying towards them. Harry caught it as Snape continued.

“Get back to Hogwarts and find Dumbledore. He should be back by now. Tell him what’s happened.”

“What about you?” Harry asked.

“I’ll handle things here. Make certain you tell no one besides the headmaster what has happened.”

“What if he’s not back yet?”

“Then go to Professor McGonagall, but tell no one else. In particular, avoid Ryan at all costs. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“Go then. Hurry!”

Harry needed no more encouragement and took off at a run in the now total darkness. He knew the spells they’d used to incapacitate the Death Eaters wouldn’t last forever and he wasn’t particularly pleased about leaving Snape here alone. The silhouette of the large tree he was looking for loomed into view. Harry dove beneath its branches and seized the Portkey.

“Allez!” he said.

He felt the expected tug behind his navel and then he was sitting outside the Portkey Authority in Hogsmeade. Harry tossed the now useless basket aside, got to his feet and sprinted for Hogwarts.