Harry Potter and the Crystal of the Founders

Previously: The kids spend the week redecorating the bedrooms, and the Order finally comes back to Grimmauld Place to have a very important meeting. Moody starts on a sensitive topic, and Remus gives Harry a box full of memories. What is the secret of this new weapon, and how powerful is it? And why is this aggressive girl so different?

Chapter Seven:

Happy Birthday

Success is getting what you want. Happiness is wanting what you get. -- Dave Gardner

Harry woke up suddenly the next morning, but lay in bed for a while, staring up at his canopy. When he rolled over and gazed up at the enchanted ceiling, he saw that the rain had stopped overnight, and that the sky was clear, light blue, tinged with pink in the east.

He grunted slightly and got up, then began digging in his trunk for his running clothes. It had been a long time since he had been running in the morning, and he thought it was a good idea to start again. Harry moved very quietly because the luminous clock on Neville's bedside table said 5:24, pulling on some sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt.

Harry left his room and walked silently down the hall. When he reached the landing, he glanced up the stairs to the third floor, remembering the events of the previous night, but turned and almost glided downstairs, steps muffled by his quickness.

He opened the front door, wincing as it creaked, but slipped out through the open door and into the cool morning air. He closed the door behind him, jumped down the steps, and began running down the block, dodging around the bags of trash. A few tendrils of thin mist hung on the ground and over the pavement, cloaking the scrubby bits of grass on the lawns and the rotting leaves in the gutters.

As Harry went farther and farther away from Grimmauld Place, keeping a careful eye on the street signs, the streets became cleaner, the trash was found in the dust bins, the houses more cared for, the lawns became greener, and there were flowers to be found in the gardens at Lane 4.

These were not the neat, normal gardens of Privet Drive, but pretty, well arranged, and bright, full of bold colors and contrasting flowers. The lawns were neat and clipped, but they looked more natural next to the grand old houses.

Harry ran until he was bathed in sweat, which he judged to be about an hour. He automatically glanced at his wrist, but he remembered that he still hadn't got himself a new watch since the second task in the fourth year, when he had ruined it in the lake. Harry had found one somewhere, but it had broken as well, during the ride on the train back from Hogwarts the previous year.

It took Harry nearly another hour to run back to Number Twelve; on the way back, Harry passed several other morning joggers, all of which waved at him and greeted him breathlessly. Harry nodded back, smiling. It was great to be in a place where people didn't know him.

The moment Harry came back inside the front door, he felt sudden pangs of hunger. Stomach grumbling, Harry hurried down the hall, and down the stairs into the basement kitchen. Halfway down the stairs, Harry heard urgent voices, and his own name.

Harry reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to hear Mrs. Weasley say, "But if Harry's been taken, they'll be so far gone by now, Arthur," in a tearful voice.

Harry froze in the door way, shocked by the scene that met his eyes. Mrs. and Mr. Weasley were seated at the table, Mrs. Weasley dabbing at her eyes with a hankerchief and Mr. Weasley trying to comfort her. Remus, Tonks, Moody, Kingsley, Oliver, Sprout, the Diggory's, Fred and George, Hestia, Emmeline, McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore were all scattered around the kitchen, looking grim. Remus seemed especially distressed, as did Dumbledore.

They all looked around at Harry as he stopped in the doorway, sweaty, pink-cheeked, hair mussed even more than usual, mouth slightly open. He was shocked, as were they, judging from their expressions. Everyone was still, and then Mrs. Weasley jumped up from the table and grabbed Harry in a rib-cracking hug. Harry gasped, the air swooshing out of his lungs in a surprised gasp.

"Harry, dear," she cried. "We thought you'd been taken!"

Harry winced as his ribs and collarbone flared up in agony, and then Arthur, seeing his discomfort, but not his pain, managed to gently untangle his wife from the shocked teen.

"What?" asked Harry, after a few seconds, gazing around at the faces. "What's wrong?"

"We woke up to find your bed empty, Harry," said Remus in a strained voice. "We couldn't find you anywhere for almost two hours, and we started to think you'd been kidnapped somehow."

"I- what?" gasped Harry. "No, I was just out running, I do it every morning."

"You haven't for the last week," countered Remus, looking concerned.

"I just- I was too busy, I guess," muttered Harry. "I did every morning at Privet Drive, for the summer. I didn't think anybody would worry about me, and I didn't want to wake someone up to tell them: it was half past five."

"You could have left a note," said Dumbledore gently, making Harry feel extremely stupid for causing such a panic.

"Um," began Harry, feeling his cheeks redden. "I could have. I just didn't think anybody would worry this much, I guess." Harry ducked his head, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Quite all right, Harry," said Dumbledore, smiling. "In the future, though, I will ask that you leave a bit later, return a bit sooner, and go with someone else."

"You mean a guard?" asked Harry, with a wry smile.

"In a word. They won't hinder you at all."

Harry snorted very quietly. "It's not me I'm worrying for," he murmured, under his breath. The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched, as though he were fighting a smile. "Can I go?"

"Certainly, Harry," replied Dumbledore, giving in to his smile. "Go ahead; I believe you will want to reassure your friends."

Harry nodded and turned around, hurrying up the stairs, into the front hall, up two more flights of stairs, and down the hall.

After quickly telling his friends that he was, in fact, fine, and hadn't been kidnapped, Harry jumped into the shower. He took his time, standing calmly under the hot water, until Ginny knocked and asked him to hurry up. Harry quickly dressed and slipped past Ginny, who was standing in the doorway, holding her towel and frowning.

*

The next morning, Harry went downstairs at the same time as before, to find Tonks waiting at the bottom of the stairs, dressed as he was. She grinned at him, winking, and Harry didn't know who she was until she said, "Wotcher, Harry, morning! I'm coming with you!"

Tonks's face reminded Harry of Kiera Knightly, who he had seen on a movie poster, though her hair and eyes were very different. Her silver hair was short and spiky, her eyes violet, and her lips full and red. Harry stiffened in shock. Most of all, Tonks looked like she was sixteen. Harry found himself staring at Tonks, dumb-struck.

She smiled slyly. "I could say the same about you, you know," she said, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Harry blushed furiously, shaking his head and searching for words that wouldn't make him sound like a complete idiot.

"Don't be silly!" Tonks cried, collapsing in fits laughter. "I'm years older than you, beside the fact that I'm taken!" She wiped her eyes, but then added, "But I'm glad it works."

And Harry wisely decided not to say anything, instead ducking his head and avoiding Tonks's purple eyes.

They left Grimmauld Place, and Harry set out at a quick jog, in the same direction he had before. Tonks followed him. "D'you know where you're going?" she asked, and Harry tried not to look at her.

"Yeah," he said shortly.

Then, after a few minutes passed in silence, he cried, "Tonks, don't do this to me! I'm fifteen, for God's sake!"

And she collapsed into another hysterical fit of laughter. Harry sighed in irritation, and continued to run. It was about thirty seconds before the young Auror realized that Harry wasn't with her anymore. She looked around in alarm, and spotted him at the end of the block.

"Harry, wait up!" she called, waving her hand at him and starting to run after him.

Harry didn't slow down, but smiled wickedly. "Let's see who's the tease now," he murmured under his breath, and began to run faster.

For nearly thirty minutes Harry ran, always making sure to keep just ahead of Tonks. She was panting and gasping for air, flushed, but she continued to chase him doggedly. Harry was rather enjoying it, and didn't feel winded at all. Rather, he was breathing lightly, and sneaking looks back over his shoulder, seeing how badly the young Auror was lagging behind.

Slowly, the sky in the east lightned, casting black shadows on the pavement behind the two joggers. One shadow was stooped and shaking, and one was upright and confidently moving forward.

Finally, Harry took pity on her and stopped, waiting for Tonks to catch up. She did so, and collapsed cross-legged on the ground, heaving for air. Her spiky silver hair was drooping, as if exhausted, and her perfect skin was shiny with sweat. She glared tiredly at Harry, who smiled.

"Who's the tease now, Tonks?" he asked.

"You- you-" she gasped, slumping forward, holding a hand to her chest.

After Harry had let Tonks recover for a few minutes, which he judged sufficient recovery time, he made her get up and run again. Out of pity for Tonks, he went straight back to Grimmauld Place, deciding to cut his run short this morning. He had to stop numerous times to wait for Tonks, who either collapsed again or slowed to a walk, lagging far behind.

The two got back to Grimmauld Place a little more than an hour after they had left; Tonks pulled herself from her exhaustion for long enough to look around for any passers-by; when she had made sure there were none, Harry summoned the entrance to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

They two entered the kitchen to find Amos Diggory, Moody, Lupin, Oliver Wood, and Hestia Jones sitting at the table, deep in conversation. They looked up as the heard the two runners coming down the stairs; Tonks staggered in, legs trembling from tiredness, while Harry walked in, barely sweating at all.

Tonks collapsed at the table, put her arms on the table before her, and slumped forwards with a groan, dropping her head onto her arms. Harry stared at her.

"Geeze Tonks, what's wrong with you?" he asked, disbelieving. "We were only running for half a hour!"

"An hour," she corrected him, wheezing. "We had to run back."

Harry frowned. "You mean, I ran back, and had to wait for you every minute or so, because you were walking."

"Yeah," she gasped. "That's the one. And I am never running with you ever, ever again. Never."

Harry snorted. "Tonks, I do this all the time. How can it be so hard?"

"You do it every morning," she said, still breathless, but raising her head to look at him. "What are you, a cheetah? I swear... you tease."

She trailed off, then dropped her head back to the table.

"What are you talking about, Tonks?" asked Ginny, coming into the kitchen behind Harry. "He can't possibly be a tease; he's still wearing his shirt."

Harry gasped, staring wide-eyed at Ginny. "Wh-what?" he stuttered, not believing his ears.

Ginny gazed at him from under her lashes, not replying.

"Uh- I- I- just going- upstairs!" Harry stammered, then turned around and fled up the stone stairs, running as fast as he could.

Ginny laughed and sat down at the table beside Tonks, who raised her head, and gave Ginny a tired high-five, grinning. "Thanks, Ginny," she muttered, and Ginny nodded.

"No problem, Tonks."

*

"Where's Harry?" asked Mrs. Weasley, when Neville and Ron came down for breakfast about an hour later.

Ron shrugged. "He's in the library, said he wasn't hungry," Ron replied, sitting down beside Lupin, unconcerned.

"He also said something about succubi, sprites, and sorceresses, remember, Ron?" added Neville, sitting down beside his red-haired friend.

On the other side of the table, Ginny and Tonks cracked up, howling with laughter. Ron and Neville looked at them, clueless, and then shook their heads and began eating.

*

Harry didn't come downstairs until lunch, and when he did, he carefully avoided looking at Ginny or Tonks. They both smiled knowingly and winked at each other, furthur confusing Neville and Ron when Harry colored and ducked his head. Remus hid a grin behind his hand, and Moody was hard put to stop himself from showing his amusement.

Later that day, Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Hermione cornered Lupin in the hallway.

"Do you know what day it is?" asked Ron quietly.

Remus looked confused, and he raised an eyebrow. "Um," he said, thinking for a second. "July 30th?"

Hermione nodded. "Meaning that tommorrow would be-"

"July 31st?" tried Lupin, even more confused. Then he caught what they were trying to tell him. "Oh! Harry's birthday!"

"And Neville's," confirmed Luna. "So we were thinking: If we could maybe use the kitchen, and if you would help us, then-"

Remus nodded, smiling. "Surprise birthday party?"

The four teens grinned wickedly. "Now you're talking our language," said Ron, blue eyes flashing.

*

Harry found that Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna were avoiding him for the rest of that day, giving him quick excuses, sideways glances, and not answering his questions. He went in search of Neville, to find him sitting in the library, reading.

"Hey, Neville," Harry called, coming up to his friend. Neville glanced up suddenly.

"Oh, hi, Harry," he replied, then marked his page in his book and closed it. "Need something?"

"No," declined Harry, shaking his head. "Just wondering where you were."

And Harry wandered out of library again. Bored, he considered reading, like Neville was, but decided that he was tired. Yawning, Harry lay down on his bed, and was asleep in a matter of seconds.

When he woke up, he wished he hadn't.

Harry found himself walking along a path in a forest. The sunlight filtered through the broad leaves, spearing down to make small patches of gold on the shady gravel path.

The crunch of gravel under his shoes was the only sound that Harry could hear; there was no birdsong or whisper of wind on the leaves. Harry was beginning to become bored with walking when he heard the rasp of breath and the soft slap of steps on dirt ahead of him, from around the bend in the path. He sped up, rounded the bend, and then skidded to a stop.

Standing on the path ahead of him was a giant black dog. The dog had his teeth bared, and a low, rumbling growl was coming from him. His shaggy fur made the dog look about three feet tall at the shoulder. The dog's eyes were glowing dusky red, as though there were a raging fire burning behind pieces of of smoky quartz that filtered some of the brightness

"Sirius?" whispered Harry uncertainly. "Padfoot?"

The dog gave a rasping bark, and jumped forward at Harry. Harry cried out as the dog's front paws landed solidly on his shoulders, driving him backwards. Harry landed on his back, with the Grim pinning him to the path, all four feet on his chest.

The dog was barking furiously, hot breath beating on Harry's face. Suddenly, his right shoulder exploded in pain as the dog sank his fangs into it; Harry screamed and tried to roll away, but the dog jumped at him again, snarling and slashing at him with his claws and teeth. Harry felt and heard several of his ribs snap as the dog landed on his back, clawing at Harry's unprotected neck. He and the dog got into a wrestling match, with Harry trying to get away, but the Grim always biting him or tackling him again.

He pounded uselessly at the dog with flailing hands, reaching for its face or underbelly, but the dog was still barking and and biting at him, opening another cut on Harry's left arm with it's fangs.

Over the haze of red agony, Harry could tell that his scar was burning furiously, and then the pain reached a peak, and there was sudden blackness.

Harry woke, breathing hard, and shaking. He lay on his bed for a few minutes, staring up at the canopy, trying to slow his pounding heart. Harry shakily got up and limped to the wardrobe, where there was a full length mirror hanging inside the door.

He first examined his face, making sure that there were no scratches anywhere. There was no blood on him, but his shirt was in tatters, showing that he had scratches and bruises all over his chest. The bruises were dark blue, all in the unnerving shape of paws, with tiny cuts where the claws would be.

The skin around the places where the dog had bitten him on his right shoulder and the bite on his left arm was red, and there were small cresent shaped scars on either side of him arm and shoulder, where the teeth had cut him. Harry had a multitude of thin scars and scratches on his chest, some bleeding very slightly, but most healed over completely.

Arms shaking, Harry pulled off his ripped shirt and threw it in the trash bin, then pulled on a new one. His body was aching all over, and he decided that just to be safe, it would be best if he didn't go back to sleep.

Still trying to slow his pulse and put the scary experience out of his mind until he could deal with it, Harry picked up the Daily Prophet that had been delivered that morning. The date on the paper instantly caught his attention, trying to remind him of something, but he wasn't quite sure what. July 30th...

Something important... something familiar... a special day... a birthday! That was it, a birthday! His birthday- and Neville's. He, Harry, had gotten birthday presents from his friends, he had gotten Christmas presents from his friends, but had he ever given Neville any? No...

Harry flipped through the newspaper, to the very back, where there were Owl Order ads, and advertisements for products, books, and other things. Sponges for sale- no way; sweaters- no; paint- definitely not; a Rememberall- maybe; a Pensieve- maybe; a Runic Stone?

A picture of a large orange-pink colored gem caught Harry's eye. It was a fairly large stone, smooth, oval, and peach colored; there were odd symbols painted in gold on the stone, and it seemed to shine with an inner light. He quickly read the ad beneath the picture.

Runic Stone: A peach moonstone stone painted with several runes in real gold. This stone is used to improve memory and can help to break Memory Charms. When held or touched, it will improve both long and short term memory, and over time, effects will become permament. Comes in varying sizes and strengths; limited stock. Large- 10 Galleons. Medium- 5 Galleons. Small- 1 Galleon.

Harry smiled. Perfect. He set the paper down and hurried up to the library, where he found a book on Runes without disturbing Neville. He crept back to his room, and opened the book. By looking from the picture of the Runic Stone to the pictures in the book, Harry managed to translate most of the runes on the moonstone.

Ruis: The end of a problem.

Berkana: New beginnings, renewal.

Eadha: The ability to conquer fears, doubts, and to endure.

Laguz: Clairity, clear views.

Algiz: Defense, protecting the mind and people.

Dagaz: Security, safety.

Kenaz: Knowledge, understanding, learning.

Elhaz: Power, protection.

When he looked back over his list, Harry was pleased to see that all the runes he had translated fit what he needed. Following the instructions in the ad, Harry sent Pigwidgeon with a letter to Ananda Tyr, and ordered a large Runic Stone, including 10 Galleons for payment.

That done, Harry found himself interested in the book on Ancient Runes, Reading the Signs. Yawning slightly, Harry picked it up again and sat down on his bed, starting at the beginning. Now and then, he wrote down a interesting or helpful rune and its pronounciation, meaning, and uses.

He stayed there for hours, absorbed in the book, until, against his will, Harry dropped off to sleep again, and this time, he had no dreams.

The next morning, Harry woke up to find his book on his bedside table, the quill and parchment on top of it, and his glasses beside them. Harry winced and sat up, rubbing his arm where the dream Grim had bitten him. He ached, but otherwise, Harry felt fine.

He picked up his glasses and slid them on, glancing at Neville's bed. His friend was in his own bed, snoring softly, and the clock on his table read 5:16. A few pale yellow shafts of light poked through the gaps in the curtains, painting the thick green carpet gold.

Harry spotted a round package wrapped in silver cloth sitting on his bedside table, beside the book. Harry read the small note attached to it, then picked it up, and unwrapped his package.

A peach moonstone rolled out of the thin silver cloth. It was oval, rounded, about the size of his fist, and it fit nicely into the palm of Harry's hand; the stone was perfectly smooth, shiny, and painted with gold runes. The Runic Stone was even better in real life than it had been in the picture.

Smiling, Harry rewrapped the moonstone in the silver fabric, and put it in the drawer of his bedside table. It was a perfect gift.

Harry slipped off his bed and onto the floor; he hastily dressed in his running clothes, steps muffled by the carpet, and hurried downstairs.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a dark grey sweatshirt and sweatpants. He had taken out his gold hoop earring, instead, there was raw pink scar tissue on his ear where it had been.

Kingsley noticed Harry looking at his ear, and he gestured to it, saying, "It got ripped out in a duel. Next time, I will not use a hoop."

Harry winced, imagining what it would be like to have an earring pulled out, then quickly stopped when he began to feel queasy.

Kingsley made a much better partner than Tonks, he could run as far as Harry without tiring, if not farther. The two ran for about an hour, until they were out of the neighborhood, and into a different one, before turning around and going back. They carried on a talk about several different things, ranging from runes to wands to healing potions, and many things in between.

Harry was laughing at a joke Kingsley had just told him when they entered the kitchen, causing everyone to look up at them. Tonks noticed that though they were sweaty and red-faced, neither of them looked close to collapse. "Have fun?" she asked, then somehow managed to knock over her goblet, which was thankfully empty.

Harry nodded, replying, "Yeah, we did."

Tonks shook her head, sighing. "Then you're cheetahs, both of you."

"No," Harry shot back. "You're just slow."

Ron snorted into his eggs as Harry and Kingsley sat down at the table, causing the young Auror to glare at him. Fred and George Apparated into the seats across from Harry, making everyone jump, but they just grinned and began to eat.

Harry went back up to his room after breakfast, until Mrs. Weasley called him to come help clean out the linen closet on the third floor.

"Oliver told me that there's something making noise in here," she said when Harry joined them on the third floor. Neville and Mrs. Weasley were standing beside the closet door, waiting for him to come closer. "So, we'll be having a look at it, now. Moody tried to check what it was, but his eye wasn't working for some reason." And with that, she pulled the door open.

A musty scent, like rotting cloth, flooded out at them, making Harry and Neville sneeze. Harry put his hand over his mouth and nose, then peered into the linen closet. There were shelves all the way up, stacked with mouldy towels, sheets, and blankets. A soft crooning was coming from somewhere in the nest of folded cloth. Mrs. Weasley waved her wand at the floor, and a large wicker basket appeared there.

"It all goes in," she instructed them. Harry and Neville both reached up and grabbed a fold of cloth, then pulled the sheets into the basket. The decaying smell increased as there came a small avalanche of dust from the cloth.

Mrs. Weasley nodded, and then left them on their own.

Harry and Neville pulled down more dusty sheets that were grey with dirt and age, disintegrating blankets that crumbled when touched, half-eaten quilts that were frayed and full of holes, and spare pillows that were leaking stuffing in a shower of yellowed feathers.

They dumped the lot into the basket, which never filled, and came upon the source of the low humming. It seemed to come from a large, fluffy ball of custard-colored fur sitting on the fourth shelf; when Harry poked it cautiously, it quivered slightly, and the purring noise became louder. A piece of the fur broke off and rolled toward Harry over the crumbling quilt, and what looked like a fluffy, fist-sized pompom lay on the blanket, churring softly.

Neville smiled and picked it up, tossing it from hand to hand, then studied it closely. When he was throwing it about, the humming became louder, and the thing positively trembled. "Puffskeins," Neville said, placing the furball on his shoulder. It stayed there, crooning.

Harry tentitively picked one up, treating it gently, because it looked like a delicate thing, covered in soft custard-colored fur as it was, but Neville shook his head. "Don't have to be careful with them," he told Harry. "They don't mind being thrown around or hugged."

Harry held it more confidently; it felt like it looked: like a ball of fuzz. He found four tiny paws on one side, without claws or nails, but he could find no legs or head. Harry couldn't feel any bones, so he shrugged and picked up another one. The two churred and rolled together, and then lay still, vibrating slightly.

Neville found a mostly whole pillowcase that was only frayed a bit on one edge, and they put the Puffskeins in it; there were ten of the cuddly creatures, all of which hummed and quivered when handled.

The rest of the closet was creature-free, and all they found was dust, rotting cloth, stray threads, a few spiders, and loose feathers. The entire time, Neville's Puffskein stayed on his shoulder; once, Harry saw a thin pink tongue come from the fur and pick a small spider off one of the shelves, then the tongue snaked away and the Puffskein apparently ate the spider.

"Are you going to keep him?" asked Harry, brushing the last of the dust into the wicker basket. "The Puff-whatchamacallit, I mean."

"Oh, you mean the Ultimadoodad?" replied Neville, grinning.

Harry grinned back. "No, the Gizmowhatsitsname."

They both laughed. "Yeah, I'm going to keep him. His name is Thingymabobber. Thing for short."

Harry cracked up, and nearly inhaled a dead fly. The newly christened Thingymabobber caught the insect in midair with his tongue, inches away from Harry's face, and ate it, humming again.

"You should keep one, too," suggested Neville, closing the now-clean linen closet.

Harry thought about it for a minute, then nodded. "Yeah, I think I will," he said, then bent down and picked up the wicker basket. It was very light, as if it was almost empty, and easy to carry. Neville grabbed the pillowcase of Puffskeins, and they went downstairs.

Harry set the basket by the front door, because he wasn't sure what to do with it, and the two went back upstairs, Neville petting Thing absentmindedly.

They both went into their room, not quite sure why, and then the door was pulled closed behind them, and it locked with a click.

"Hey!" Harry shouted, jumping up from his bed, and running to the door. He tried the knob, but it didn't turn. He and Neville were trapped in their own room.

Harry heard footsteps hurrying down the stairs, and he pounded on the door again, but the person didn't open it. Fuming, but knowing that he had no way of opening the dor without doing underage magic, he flopped back down on his bed. "D'you know how to pick locks?" he asked Neville gloomily. Neville shook his head.

Harry picked out his own Puffskein from the pillowcase; it was autumn gold, and about the size of a baseball. Harry decided to name it Loki, because it kept rolling around energetically and churring.

"Loki?" asked Neville. He was laying on his back on his bed with Thing on his chest, and stroking Thing, who was humming. "What's that? Is it like, 'no key', which is what we have now?"

Harry laughed. "No, it's Loki, the Norse Trickster God. Because he never stops moving or running away." As he said this, Harry was having to catch Loki from rolling off the bed.

Loki thrummed happily as Harry tossed him from hand to hand; Harry had the feeling that his new pet couldn't have been more pleased.

For a while, Harry and Neville sat in silence, playing with their Puffskeins, until the lock on the door clicked, and it creaked open again.

*

"Have you got it, Ron?" asked Hermione.

Ron nodded. "Of course," he said, pretending to look insulted. "Right here."

He pulled a bundle of silvery fabric out of his pocket and shook it out. Several people gasped. "Where," asked Moody, both eyes wide, "did you get that?"

"Borrowed it from Harry," said Ron casually. "Who's coming with me?"

"I will," volunteered Ginny, stepping forwards and ducking under the cloak as he held it up. On her way past the table, she picked up the key to unlock the door.

The two vanished. And then-

"Ow, Ginny, that's my foot. Ow!"

"Well, I'm sorry, Ron," said Ginny, in an irritated voice. "It's kind of hard not to stand on you, under this thing."

"We can practically run under the Cloak, Ginny!" came Ron's voice.

There were a few tentitive steps across the room, and several feet and pant legs showed. "Well, fine then!" snapped Ginny, coming out from under the cloak. "Someone else go!"

"I will," sighed Hermione. She stepped forwards, took the key from Ginny, and slipped under the cloak. There were a few seconds of silence, and then the door swung open. Everyone heard hurried footsteps scampering up the stairs, and then silence.

"Wow," said Ginny, blinking. "They really can run under that thing."

Remus smirked. "It's a skill acquired with years of practice."

Dumbledore hid a snort of laughter. "And you would know, Remus," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement.

*

The moment the door of their bedroom swung open, Harry and Neville jumped up from their beds. They each left their Puffskeins on their beds, where they stayed, silent now; Loki seemed to have finally run out of energy, and he appeared to be sleeping, making the Puffskein equivalent of a snore, which was a low, steady rumbling.

Harry pushed the door open, and he stepped into the hall, staring around cautiously. He heard footsteps running down the stairs, but when he looked, there was nobody there. He and Neville shared a glance, and then followed the steps downstairs. Once, at the bottom of the stairs, Harry thought he heard someone swear softly, just ahead of them, but still, nobody was there.

Shrugging, he began to go down the stairs to the basement kitchen. They were halfway down when the little light there was suddenly went out. They were left in pitch blackness, not seeing anything.

"Power outage, d'you reckon?" Harry asked softly.

"This is a wizarding house," Neville reminded him, in an equally quiet voice. "But this is creepy."

They continued cautiously down the stairs, being careful not to trip and fall. They reached the bottom in a few seconds. "Lumos?" suggested Neville.

Harry shook his head, then remembered the Neville couldn't see him. "No. Underage magic," he said, still whispering. He reached out a hand and reached forwards, where he knew that door was. His hand came in contact with the wood, and then he found the cool metal knob.

Harry tried it, half expecting it to be locked, but it swung open easily. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled suddenly, and Harry had a feeling that he was being watched, though there was still no light.

"How about, 'Ron and Hermione, and whoever else is down here, turn on the lights, now?'" Harry said, meaning it as a joke.

But just as suddenly as they had gone out, the lights flared back on, shining brightly. "I was kidding..." said Harry, blinking, then his jaw dropped.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" roared a great many people, as the lights came on.

It was Mrs. Black's worst nightmare, and any Griffindor's dream. There were decorations of red and gold everywhere, and laughing, smiling people were sitting or standing around the kitchen, beaming at the two stunned teenage boys in the doorway.

They stared around the kitchen for a moment, amazed, and then Harry spotted Remus, standing with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna, smiling mischeviously. Ron was holding a neatly folded bundle of silvery fabric, which Harry recognized as his Invisibility Cloak.

"Oh, you-" Harry began, then broke off, still amazed. "You guys did this."

"Everybody helped," Ron corrected him, but he was looking quite proud.

"Come and eat, you two!" said Mrs. Weasley happily. "We've all been waiting for you!"

"Waiting for us?" asked Neville faintly, seeming overwhelmed.

"Yes, yes, come on!" said Tonks. "We're hungry!"

There was a great deal of laughter, and several people pulled Harry and Neville forward to the table. Someone pressed a plate into Harry's hands, but he was still feeling rather dazed and surprised, but pleasantly so.

It was rather like the atmosphere of the special dinner for Ron and Hermione the previous year, when they had gotten their Prefect badges, but now people were nodding and beaming to Harry and Neville. After a while, Harry found himself in a lull of conversation, and he took the opportunity to take a better look at the decorations.

Red and gold banners and streamers were draped everywhere; there was a scarlet tablecloth on the table where the plates of food were, and at the far end of the table, there was a fairly large pile of wrapped presents. There were large, comfortable cushions on the counters and scattered on the floor, for those people who wanted to sit down and relax. Harry saw that someone (perhaps Fred and George) had charmed ceiling to show soundless fireworks bursting with red and gold sparks.

Harry noted with amusement that many people were seated on the cushions, including Professor Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks, and Kingsley. Moody was apparently scolding Kingsley and Tonks on the tactical advantage they would be at during a fight if they were sitting down, but both Aurors laughed and shook their heads. After a moment, Moody gave a lopsided smile and shook his head as well, but didn't sit down.

"Having a good time?" someone behind him asked. Harry spun around to see Griffindor Chaser Katie Bell standing there, smiling at him.

"Katie!" exclaimed Harry. "You're here!"

"Yeah," she said, beaming around at the party. "My parents are joining the- what is it again?- Order of the Phoenix? I think that's it. But I'm too young to join, and they didn't want me to stay at home alone, not with- well, you know- so I'm staying here," she finished. "Happy birthday, Harry."

Harry grinned. "Thanks, Katie," he said, and she nodded. "So, are you Quidditch captain now that Angelina's left? Hey," he said, suddenly, thinking of something else. "Oliver's here. Is Angelina joining too?"

"Oliver's here?" she said surprised, then took a sip of her Butterbeer, and looked over the rim of her goblet. "Oh, he is, too. Yeah, Angelina joined, and Alicia is joining, but no, I'm not captain this year. I take it that it's not you, right?"

"Nope," Harry admitted shaking his head. "Not me. Alicia?"

"I don't know; I haven't asked her. I thought it would be you, know that Angelina and Oliver are gone."

"I'm not even sure I'm on the team," Harry said, feeling suddenly gloomy. "I got kicked off last year, remember?"

She snorted angrily. "Yeah, but Umbridge is gone now. You'll be back on, for sure. Ginny is trying out for Chaser, isn't she? So you'll be Seeker, Ron as Keeper, Sloper and Kirke as Beaters, if they don't get replaced, me as one Chaser, Ginny replacing Alicia or Angelina as the second Chaser, and that leaves one open spot for a new Chaser."

Harry thought about that for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. I hope you're right, Katie. I really want to be back on the team."

She smiled encouragingly at him. "You will be, Harry, don't worry. You're easily the best player that's ever played on the Griffindor Quidditch team, since, well, Charlie Weasley and your dad."

Harry found himself turning red, but smiled at her. "Thanks, Katie."

She grinned back. "I'm going to go talk to Alicia and Katie now-"

But she was cut off as the two in question came over to them, waving, and both holding plates of food. They both wished Harry a happy birthday, and then suddenly, Alicia was cut off from whatever she had been going to say.

"Good Merlin!" she gasped, pointing above the stove. "Who is that?"

Harry, Angelina, and Katie looked, and Harry caught the briefest glimpse of an alarmed face in the mahogany portrait frame before the boy ducked quickly out of the picture.

The three girls looked awe-struck; apparently they had gotten a better look at the young man than Harry had. "Wow," whispered Katie. "Was he hot or what?"

"Who was he?" asked Angelina. "Normally, I don't go for that type, but- wow!"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've never noticed that frame there before; it definitely wasn't there last week."

The three girls looked determined. "We'll find out," said Alicia. "We've got to."

"He's a Griffindor," noted Angelina, gesturing at the frame. "Look at the back ground."

Harry had already noticed the two rearing gold lions snarling at each other on the red banner, and he nodded, more to himself than anyone. Something about that boy was familiar, though it had only been a brief glimpse; the image of the worried face clawed at Harry's memory, trying to identify itself, but nothing came. He hadn't seen the person well enough to tell where he knew them from, but he did know them.

The girls nodded back to Harry, and then marched away to where Oliver, Fred, and George were standing near the door, talking and laughing.

In the space of a few minutes, about a dozen more people came to wish Harry a happy birthday, and he saw that Neville was getting just as many greetings. Harry caught Neville's eye and winked, grinning, and Neville raised his goblet to Harry slightly, then smiled back, before being caught up in another conversation with Professor Sprout.

Harry smiled to himself, watching his friend over the rim of his goblet of Butterbeer. There were a few things Neville was good at, and Herbology was one of them. However, from what Neville had told him, things were about to change when they got back to Hogwarts, and several people would be in for a surprise. Whether the surprise would be pleasant or not remained to be seen...

Harry was startled out of his thoughts by Ron grabbing his arm and pulling him over to the table, where the presents were piled. He stumbled after Ron, then was pushed down onto a chair. Harry blinked, confused. A few seconds later, Neville was pushed into another chair beside him, equally surprised.

Smiling, Mrs. Weasley and Remus were picking up the empty plates from the table; Tonks was attempting to help, but when she picked up a platter of chicken bones, Emmeline hastily relieved her of it. Mrs. Weasley, who had been looking rather alarmed, and Remus, who was looking as nervous, both sighed silently in private relief. Tonks looked a bit hurt, but shrugged and flopped back down on her cushion between George and Ginny.

"Well?" demanded Fred, joking and impatient at the same time. "Are you going to open anything or not?"

"Huh?"

Everyone laughed at the even more confused expression on Harry's face. "No," he clarified. "I mean, huh, as in, since when do I get a present from Susan Bones? Or Ernie Macmillam?"

"They've been coming for you two all day," smiled Remus, turning away from the sink, where he had put the last of the dirty dishes. "Seems word got around."

Harry glanced at Neville, and then Ron got too impatient and pressed a parcel into each of their hands. "Go on," he urged.

Shrugging, Harry opened the gift, and smiled. Inside was a red soft cover book entitled The Auror's Handbook. Harry picked it up and began flipping through it, his smile growing wider as he did so.

"It's from all of us Aurors," said Tonks, gesturing at herself and Kinglsey. "Even the people who aren't in the Order. We heard about your Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL score; now it's practically legend around the Auror Headquarters. So when Kingsley mentioned that you wanted to be an Auror, we all decided to get you the handbook."

Harry grinned at her. "Thanks, and tell everyone else I said thanks, as well." She nodded.

Neville was holding a book too, entitled Rare and Unique Plants of Britain. He was looking through it, smiling eagerly. After another few moments, he closed it, and set it aside, still smiling.

They each took another present and opened them. Beneath the long, thin one Harry picked up, he was startled to see a round package wrapped in silver cloth; the Runic Stone he had gotten for Neville. How had it ended up down here?

But he was distracted by the object he unwrapped. It was a wand holster about seven inches long, made of smooth silvery-blue dragon skin. Harry turned it over in his fingers, and smiled. He knew who had sent him this.

"To keep your wand out of your back pocket," growled Moody, proving Harry right. Nodding sheepishly, Harry picked up the strap from the paper. He saw that it was padded on one side, as the holster was padded on the back. Harry pushed the strap through the slot on the back of the sheath, and fastened the holster to his left wrist. It lay against the underside of his forearm, reaching almost to his elbow.

Though his wand was eleven inches, it went all the way into the holster, and Harry supposed that there must have been some magic involved. He shook his arm experimentally, and the wand didn't come out of the sheath until Harry drew it with his right hand.

Moddy nodded approvingly, with a lopsided smile that revealed some of his missing teeth.

In the next few minutes, Harry unwrapped a package of Honeydukes sweets from Ron, a copy of Hogwarts: A History from Hermione, a book about corporeal Patroni from Susan Bones, a deck of tarot cards from Lavender Brown, a set of rune stones, also for Divination, from Parvati Patil, a vest made of the same silvery-blue Swedish Short-Snout dragon hide as his wand holster from Charley Weasley, and a tiny gold Egyptian ankh on a thin chain from Bill.

Neville recieved presents much like his, including a wand holster, several books on Herbology, a gift certificate to Gladrags Wizard Wear, chocolate, a miniature Foe Glass, a package of products from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, and several more things.

At last, he picked up the Runic Stone. Frowning slightly, Neville unwrapped the silver cloth. The Stone tumbled out onto his lap, gleaming gold and peach in the light. He picked it up, mouth slightly open in shock. "Wow," he whispered. "Harry- thanks."

Then he suddenly frowned, staring at the Runic Stone. "Oh, no," he said softly. "I made a mistake on the History OWL. The answer to question 12c was 1756, not 1348."

There was silence after this, and nobody seemed more startled than Neville. "How- how did I know that? Forget how I knew I got it wrong, how did I know what the right answer was?"

The silence was broken by a rumble of laughter. "That's what the Runic Stone does, Neville," Harry assured him. "Increases long and short term memory when you hold it. You can't use it during tests, but it's fine to have it with you during class and when you're studying."

Ron studied the Stone and then said, "Can I borrow that once in a while? Like, during NEWTs? Ow!" His last comment was caused by Hermione punching him in the arm and glaring at him. Ron rubbed his arm, grumbling, "Fine, fine, I won't."

There were only a few presents left. One was a letter, which Harry picked up and opened. Inside, he recognized Hagrid's messy scribble on the parchment, and he read it aloud.

Dear Harry and Neville,

Happy sixteenth birthday to both of you! Hope you're doing well and having a good time! I did get you both a present, but they were too big to send to you, so you can come visit me to get them when we get to Hogwarts. I know you'll like them; they'll be about a year old when you get them, so you can train them yourselves.

All the best, Hagrid

Harry's voice faltered with concern several times as he read the letter, mostly because Hagrid referred to the gifts as 'them' not 'it', and he said that 'they' (whatever 'they' were) weren't yet trained.

Harry glanced up at the people who were watching him. Dumbledore was the only one who was smiling. "Don't worry, either of you," he reassured them. "Hagrid's gifts are perfectly safe... even by your standards."

And Harry felt a lot more comfortable.

One of the presents remaining was a small wooden box, about the size of Harry's fist. Curiously, Harry opened it, and gasped. Inside the box was a Snitch, its delicate metal wings wrapped around the walnut sized gold ball. It lay very still as he plucked it out of the box and set it on his palm. He looked at the tag, and then stared at Professor McGonagall. The corners of her mouth twitched into a reluctant smile.

"A golden Snitch vanished from the Quidditch shed, nearly twenty-three years ago. We thought it had been taken during a Slytherin Quidditch practice, and we never saw it again. And so one could imagine my surprise upon finding it hidden under a loose floorboard in the Griffindor boys seventh-year dormitories, much less with a note."

McGonagall gestured to the box, and Harry looked inside again. At the bottom there was indeed a note, a very old, tattered, yellowed note written in a thin, round scribble. Harry read it out loud.

Dear friend,

Doubtless if you've found this, you're either quite the explorer, or very lucky. Whichever one it is, this is my golden Snitch, and I'm giving it to you. If you've found it, then I think you deserve it. Take what falls into your lap, and treasure it. I'm really attatched to this Snitch, but each Marauder agreed to leave something behind for the next generation, and this is what I chose. So use it well, have some fun, and don't ever give it away! I'm really trusting you with this, because I love this thing and I don't want it to fall into the wrong hands. (Namely, a Prefect, a Slytherin, or a teacher.) For the next generation of trouble makers: We solomely swear that we are up to no good. Long live the Marauders!

James Potter

Harry looked back up at Remus, who was looking happy. "That's where that went off to!" he exclaimed, staring at the Snitch. "I never did find out what James did with it; he used to play with it all the time! And if you look under the wing, he carved his initials there."

The Snitch in question quivered slightly, and then the wings suddenly unfolded themselves and it rose into the air, flashing and darting around, wings beating so fast they were silver blurs.

"Harry, catch it," Tonks warned, as the Snitch got farther away, but Harry only watched the Snitch, waiting for the right second.

"Harry-"

Tonks was cut off as Harry's hand shot out and he plucked the Snitch out of the air at the last second, holding one of its tiny wings between his thumb and forefinger.

The older staff members and people who had known Harry's father broke out in excited murmurs, reminded forcefully of James playing with his Snitch, especially since Harry looked so much like his dad. Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Oliver, Fred, George, and Ron all applauded their Seeker, clapping enthusiastically.

Harry held the Snitch by its two wings, peering under each of them, and sure enough, there was a signature engraved under one of the wings, in that thin, round writing: James Potter.

He folded the wings again and put the Snitch back in its box with the note, smiling his thanks at his Transfiguration teacher. There were some things that couldn't be said with words.

There were two book shaped packages on the table, both wrapped in green paper. They were addressed to Harry and Neville, though the one to Harry was about twice as thick. With slight trepidation, Harry opened his, only to find himself faced with a sheaf of parchment about two inches thick on top of a dark red hardcover book. One glance at the parchment told Harry that it was more of the notes the Marauders had passed in class, from the abbreviations, symbols, and short sentences.

"That's everything I could find," Remus told him, smiling. "Though I'm sure that there's more somewhere else."

Harry grinned as well, and set the parchment aside to look at later. When the cover of the book came into view, Harry heard Professor McGonagall say, "Oh, Remus, tell me that's not-"

"The Marauders Guide to Life," Harry read, off the front cover. His Transfiguration teacher groaned.

"Albus, is it too late for me to resign? I don't think I can handle any more Marauders."

Many people laughed, amused at McGonagall's reaction to the book, which she obviously knew about. Harry flipped the cover open, to a table of contents, which was handwritten in a neat, even print.

Page 1: The Marauders Code

Page 56: Records

Page 103: Accomplishments and Pranks

Page 275: Notes and Instructions

Page 368: Afterword and Glossary

Harry laughed as he read these aloud, and then looked at Lupin, slightly puzzled. "The Marauders have a Code?"

"Of course!" Remus exclaimed, then he smirked. "Why not?"

Suddenly, Fred and George sprang forward, snatching the book from Harry. "Is this really written by the Marauders?"

"The Marauders?"

"Messers Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs?"

Harry and Remus snickered, while McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley glared disapprovingly. "I knew they had to have had role models," huffed Mrs. Weasley.

Fred and George had opened the book, and had been skimming hungrily through it, but suddenly looked up at Remus. "Say," said George, "you didn't know them, did you?"

Harry laughed, rather mischeviously. "Know the Marauders? Moony, you mean to say you didn't tell them?"

Remus narrowed his eyes, and shot back, "Well, why didn't you tell them, Prongs Junior?"

Fred and George's eyes popped. "Moony? You're Moony?"

"Prongs Junior?"

"But that would mean that James Potter was Prongs-"

"And then Padfoot would have been- Sirius! Padfoot was Sirius! Remember, Fred, how he looked like the Grim? A dog with padded feet?"

"And the Wormtail is-"

Fred suddenly stopped. "You didn't," he said in a hushed voice. "Tell me he wasn't."

Remus nodded sadly. The twins looked stricken. "That rat," growled George, furious that one of his idols was a Death Eater.

"And how," agreed Harry, taking the book back from them.

But the two irrepressible Weasley boys brightened up. "Tell us about your pranks, Moony," Fred said, dancing over to the werewolf.

"Your amazing rule-breaking history!"

"Your fantastic and inspiring disregard for order!"

"I was a Prefect," deterred Remus, keeping a serious face. Their smiles vanished instantly.

"Prongs-"

"-was Head Boy."

They looked as though they were about to cry. "Padfoot?" tried George timidly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

Lupin froze, then sighed. "Completelyauthority-free," he admitted.

The twins jumped in the air, cheering. "At least one of you had your priorities right!" shouted Fred.

"That's what he said," laughed Remus. "Besides, you don't need to ask me; there's a record of every prank and joke we ever played in the book, and instructions on how we did it and the materials needed."

Fred and George froze, eyeing the book greedily. "We want that book," they said, together.

"I never thought I'd hear you say that," interrupted Mrs. Weasley. "And I never thought I'd hear myself say this: You most certainly can not read that book!"

"MUM!" they howled, with such comical dismay that the entire room broke out laughing.

The last present was a long, rectangular, black case. It looked like a broom case, except much thicker than any broom would be. It was about three feet long, five inches wide, and a foot tall, from the bottom of the case to the top. At the top, on either end of the case, were two metal clasps, and a handle in the middle for carrying it.

Harry grabbed the case by the handle and picked it up; it was very heavy for its size, and he dropped it back to the table with a surprisingly loud clunk. Frowning, Harry lay the case down on its side, flipped the clasps up, and lifted it open.

"Holy Merlin..."

The case was lined with black velvet, and there were several deep indentations in the velvet for items, so that nothing stuck up above the smooth cloth. These items were long and slender, gleaming silver with blue undertones in the light.

On one side of the case was a sword, two and a half feet long. The entire steel blade glittered as though it were very well cared for, though the hilt, wrapped in hard black leather, was smooth from use. Even without touching the sword, Harry could tell that it was very sharp, and potentially lethal. The hilt and cross-guard were engraved with twisting, spiraling designs, and it was long enough to be held with one or two hands. Right below the hilt, on the flat of the blade there was an engraving of a stag.

Beside the tip of the sword was a dagger that looked exactly the same, except shorter, with a slightly thicker blade.

Above the dagger, about the middle of the sword, were three smaller knives, beside each other. They were each only four inches long, they had no crossguard, and the hilts were not wrapped in leather. The kinves were very simple, with only the stag engraved on the flat of the knife. The blades were curved slightly, and the handles were straight, plain steel; the entire thing was completely flat, except that the business end of the knife was thinner than the handle.

Above the three plain knives, next to the hilt of the sword, was a round, smooth blue-grey stone with many scratcheson it, a small cotton drawstring bag, a tiny glass vial full of clear oil, and a soft, neatly folded white cloth. There was a heavy black dragon-hide belt with a silver buckle right above those things, and a smaller strap of the same design above that.

Between the side of the case and the velvet, near the hinges, Harry could see a dragon-hide sheath for the sword, and a shorter one for the dagger was at the front, in the same place.

"Wow."

Nobody except Harry and Neville could see what was in the case, and because of that, many people were looking confused. Remus was the only one who didn't look at all shocked, only satisfied. "See those two little tabs, near the hinges?" he asked. "Pull those up."

Harry saw the two black velvet tabs, on the inside of the case near him, and so he pulled them up. Apparently, beneath the velvet, there was a wooden backing, because the whole top with the blades on it came right out of the case. Harry picked it up, careful not to drop the weapons, and set it on the table. There was an excited muttering from everybody, as they could now see what had been in the case.

The two sheaths for the sword and the dagger fell into the case, now that they weren't being held between the case and the velvet. Harry picked those up and set them on the table as well, and then swore under his breath in amazement as he saw what made the case so heavy.

Beneath the blades were several more things. One was a neatly folded chainmail tunic, made of thousands of tiny steel links that formed a metal cloth, which was surprisingly flexible. Another was a dark blue cloak, made of normal (well, normal-er, because it was definitely magic in some way) cloth, and Harry recognized both the golden feather lining and the darker blue emblem of the phoenix rising from flames. Beside that was another silhouette, this one of a stag. Hardly daring to breath, Harry lifted the edge of the fold to see the name. James Potter.

Beneath that cloak was another, this one with only the phoenix and flame symbol, and the name Lily Potter. Stunned, Harry looked under both cloaks, where there was another long black dragon-hide belt, and several holsters. There were a few more things beneath the cloaks and chainmail, all made of polished, high-quality steel, engraved with the stag, very sharp or lethal in some way, and unrecognizable, though they were undoubtedly weapons.

Several people were clustering around Harry to see what was in the case, chattering excitedly. Still stunned, Harry lifted the velvet platform with the blades on it back into the case, on top of the chainmail and cloaks, and tucked the two sheaths back between the side of the case and the velvet. Somebody made a noise of disappointment, thinking that Harry was putting the weapons away, but Harry picked up the dagger, cautiously holding so as not to cut himself or anyone else.

The cool metal gleamed blue in the light, also reflecting the red and gold around it. Harry turned it over, careful not to pull the blade against his skin, admiring the knife. The black leather hilt fit comfortably in his palm, not soft, but easy to grip. The stag engraved on the blade and the spiraling designs on the hilt and crossguard glittered, catching the light and throwing tiny diamond sparks across the walls. All the steel was as smooth and bright as silver glass, and as keen as a predator's shill scream.

"Wow, Harry," said Fred, frombehind him. "That is sharp, isn't it?"

"Let's not find out," said Molly in a tight voice. She obviously did not like Harry handling such a weapon, much less owning it. Harry felt a tiny spring of irritation at her mothering. He did like that someone cared about him, but her mollycoddling was annoying at times.

So Harry put the dagger back in the case, and shut it, flipped the clasps down, and looked at Remus. "This was my dad's, wasn't it?" he asked softly. Remus nodded.

"We all had them, the whole set, and we could use them, too," he admitted, with a slight smile. "It was another one of those things that tied us all together as a group, and they actually got us out of some very tight spots, after Hogwarts. We used them, and they kept us alive sometimes."

"Whose idea was it?"

Remus's smile grew a bit wider, though slightly longing. "Mine. James and Sirius loved it."

Harry's face darkened suddenly. "What about-?"

"He didn't like the idea so much," Remus said, knowing who Harry meant, "He barely learned beyond the basics, and he ended up giving his to- someone else."

Harry suddenly found himself blinking back tears. "Thanks," he said, smiling. Remus nodded.

There was silence for a few moments, and then Harry picked up the closed case, lifted it, which was no easy task, and set it with his other presents.

"Now, Harry, Neville" began Dumbledore, making everyone look at him. "There is actually one more present for you two."

They both looked at the table. There were no more presents there.

"No," said Dumbledore. "Not there. I have them." From one of his pockets, he pulled two gold medallions, and handed them to the two boys. They were shaped like phoenixes, with the wings outstretched and heads held proudly. The eyes were two tiny rubies, glinting and winking scarlet fire.

"Now, these are not just medallions," continued Dumbledore, maiking Harry look at him nervously. "I have approval from the Ministry to make you two Portkeys. These are one-way, but they can be used more than once. When activated with the word, 'Phoenixa', they will take you directly to my office, as well as anyone else who is touching the Portkey. They can only be activated by you two, so there is no risk of a Death Eater somehow getting into Hogwarts, unless one of you brings them there."

"But Professor," protested Neville. "Why one for me, as well? I mean, I've never been attacked before."

The aged Headmaster's eyes semed to loose some of their customary twinkle. "Ah. Well, Harry, do you remember the Prophecy?" Harry nodded, mystified, and hoping very much that Dumbledore wasn't going to recite it. "Voldemort somehow found your birth records, Neville, or he remembered your birthdate, and he discovered that the Prophecy could mean you, as well as Harry. He does not know the final identifying feature, but he does know it could be either of you. There is no need for you to worry," he added, seeing Neville turn very pale. "It is Harry meant by the Prophecy, and not you, but Voldemort does not know that, so you are both at risk. These Portkeys will hopefully keep you both out of trouble, though I will ask you not to use them unless it is an absolute emergency."

They both nodded, and fastened the slender gold chains around their necks. Harry ducked his head as he did, trying to avoid the piercing gazes of his friends. They were wondering what the Prophecy was about now, and they knew he knew it. That could be a slight problem, Harry thought sarcastically.

The rest of the night passed without incedent, however, and they spent a great deal of time admiring the gifts Harry and Neville had gotten, mostly just joking around and having a good time. When Mrs. Weasley finally decided that midnight was late enough, she ushered them all upstairs, and they went good naturedly.

Harry was anything but tired, from having several Butterbeers and being too happy to sleep, but he did get into his pajamas and get into bed. After about five minutes, however, the door opened to reveal four bulky figures outlined by the dull light in the hallway.

Harry sat up, squinting at them, and then they came into the room, and became visible. It was Ron, Hermione, Luna and Ginny, all holding their thick blankets and pillows. "Sleepover," Ginny whispered, and then flopped down onto the soft carpet, spreading her blankets out. The other two followed her lead, and then the six teens spent a few more hours laughing and talking quietly, until 2:14 in the morning, according to Neville's clock.

At that time, Harry was the last to fall asleep, the other five all had their eyes closed; Ron was snoring softly, Luna was laying on her front, dirty blond hair spread over her pillow, Ginny had her pillow over her head, and Harry couldn't tell whether she was asleep or not, Hermione was curled up on her side, facing away from Harry, and the curtains on Neville's bed were half closed, though Harry could see that his friend was asleep too.

Harry looked sleepily at his bedside table, where his dragon-skin wand holster, ankh, and phoenix Portkey were laying, gleaming icy blue, gold, and scarlet in the pale moonlight peeking through the curtains.

A small grin crept over his face as something came to him out of no where. Harry wasn't sure why he thought of it just then, or why it made him feel the way he did. It was just as if something was swelling in his chest, making him feel light and content, and for some reason, hopeful.

He remembered the jokes, the laughter, the happy smiles, the carefree fun, and all the people who cared about him. It was odd, that in a dark time, so many peoplecould find any reason to have a great deal of fun, and even odder that he was one of them.

At Privet Drive, Harry was a loner, someone to be afraid of, someone to be shunned and frowned upon, but here, in his own world, he was admired, encouraged, happy, and he had the best friends anybody could ask for.

Yes, there would be trouble. But there was hope. Sure, he was different. But that didn't mean he couldn't fit in.