Harry Potter And The War Of The Sun And Moon

Chapter 2: Happy Birthday, Mr. Potter

The next morning Harry arose (yes, arose) in a very good mood. It was the kind of mood in which you knew the day was going to be a good one, when you're happy just to be alive. He woke up Ron, who apparently was going rather the other way in the mood department.

"Geroff me, lemme sleep," Ron protested.

Harry persisted in shaking him until, finally, Ron too arose (ha! Twice!) and turned around so they could dress without...you know. When they had finished that, the two teens bounded down the steps to find the remains of breakfast and the Weasley children just on their way out.

"Morning, Princesses!" George (Fred?) exclaimed. "Just about to have a game of Quidditch, care to join us?"

"Yeah, Bill brought his balls, which is funny, because I never knew he owned any," Fred (George?) chimed in.

This was met with both sniggers from the all non-Bill parties and a smack on the head to Fred by Bill.

"Yeah, hang on, I'll go get my broom." Harry told them, running upstairs to his trunk. When he returned, he found the group had left already and was waiting for him at the small meadow the Weasleys owned. The teams divided as such: Bill, George, and Ginny versus Harry, Fred, and Ron. Since the teams were so small, they agreed that each team would have a Keeper and two Chasers.

When that was all settled, Bill released his balls (!) and the game began. George got the Quaffle and passed immediately to Ginny, who performed a rather acrobatic spin in midair to avoid Fred and began streaking towards Ron at the far end of the meadow. She shot, a precise one that seemed to be going faster than sound. Ron's left and right hands both made attempts to stop it, but to no avail. Then, at the last second, he twisted his lower-half around, hitting the Quaffle with the end of his broomstick. The Quaffle went high into the air, where it was caught by a speeding Harry, who went into a spectacular dive as he moved forwards on the Firebolt, twisting and turning in a gyroscopic spin that not only defied gravity but several other laws of physics as well. It wasn't long (.78 seconds to be exact) until Harry was skimming the ground, narrowly avoiding George and Ginny, who were allowed fouls to make up for the lack of Beaters. With one last dodge of George's foot, Harry swept his broom up (hee hee, swept, broom, get it?) in a 90° angle climb. He turned to the side, narrowly avoiding Bill, who was so shaken up by this he didn't even see the Quaffle get past him. Harry let out a whoop and flew past Fred, who high-fived him.

The rest of the game, unfortunately, didn't go as well. Fred and George pretty much canceled each other out in the talent department, since they were an equal match, and Bill really was Harry's match for Keeper, blocking more than half his shots. The game really came down to Ron and Ginny, who were the only players accustomed to playing the positions assigned to them. While Ginny was a very good Caser, Ron seemed just as good, if not better one than Oliver Wood, the now-graduated Keeper for the Gyrffindor House Team, and Wood had been one the best Keepers Harry had ever seen. In fact, he had already been signed on the Puddlemere United reserve team, even though he was only eighteen. It seemed that Ron had an uncanny ability to know exactly not only the direct, but the speed of the Quaffle as well. Although usually easy-going and slightly clueless, in the air he had a cold, calculating style. His lanky build gave him long arms and legs that made him perfect for a Keeper, and Harry had to wonder whether he should go out for the open Keeper position this year.

Harry was interrupted from his reverie by Fred, who threw the Quaffle at him. It was only years of Quidditch training that Harry's reflexes were able to catch the scarlet soccer ball, and even that was a close shave. Once more, Harry sped toward Bill as fast as his Firebolt would allow, this time, however, Harry passed the ball over his head to Fred, who put it right through Bill's legs, much to Bill's astonishment.

"That's a hundred for us, game!" Ron exclaimed, landing his broom on the pitch and sprawling on the grass.

Harry too landed, along with the rest of the Weasley clan.

"I'm going in for a shower," Ginny declared, and put her broom- a Cleansweep 4- over her shoulder and began the walk toward the Burrow.

"See you later then," Bill called at her departing back, while everyone else sort of just muttered assorted farewells, too tired to really put any effort into it.

Because everyone was so hot, sweaty, and tired, and Ginny occupying the only shower in the house, the Weasleys led Harry to a small pond they owned, partially obscured by a glade of trees. Mr. Weasley kept a portion of it magically clean from weeds, fish, bugs, and the like, so that his children had a place to swim when the weather was warm. Although they were too old now to really enjoy the three-foot swimming hole, it felt wonderful to strip down to one's shorts and sit in it after a long day of sweating. The group sat like this for a while, talking just regular talk, money, girls, broomsticks, girls, you know, the usual. It was then Harry noticed that brooms piled up near the shore were not the same Harry recognized from last summer.

"Hey Fred," he asked, "Are those new brooms?"

Fred grinned a little evilly and looked over a George, who spoke. "With some funds we've... acquired,"

"Legally of course!" Fred broke in.

"Yes, of course Fred, now let me finish. So, with some new funds, we've decided that we should buy ourselves some new... equipment. And since Ron here was so good about beta-testing some new... err... well, you know, stuff we got him one too. Then we followed Malfoy's advice a couple years ago."

Harry must have looked at him strangely, because Fred broke in.

"You know, two years ago, when he told us to sell them to a museum." Harry nodded. "Well, we did. 'The Great Britain Museum of the Evolution of the Broomstick.' It wasn't the best deal, but hey, they gave us seventy-five quid for each Cleansweep."

"So, with the proceeds from both that, and our private source of funds, we bought these." George finished, reaching over and showing Harry the letters embossed on the side. Cleansweep Eight, it read. While not as good as a Nimbus 2000 or Firebolt, a Cleansweep Eight was still a very good broom that Harry would have been proud to own.

"Because of financial reasons, we could only get Ron this." Fred began again, picking up a broom slightly more battered broom that Harry swore he recognized. It looked a lot like his old broom, a Nimbus 2000. Instead, in gold letters was written: To Our Dear Test Rodent, your own Nimbus 1500.

"Model before 2000. Now that the Firebolt and Cleansweep 10s are out, Nimbus is marking down broom prices to almost nothing," Ron told Harry. "As soon as I get some money I'm trading this one here in for a 2001."

"Not bad," Harry conceded.

Hermione was back. They became aware of his the moment they stood up, when a decidedly female shriek filled the now-darkening skies. The boys, nude save for boxers, had stood to find their best friend next to Ginny, apparently about to try to surprise them. Funny how that can backfire. Harry shifted a little, slightly uncomfortable under the piercing, jaw-dropped stare Ginny was sending his way. Then, for a second, their eyes met and she ran towards the house, leaving Hermione staring at all of them. Harry noted with some amusement that she couldn't seem to move her gaze for Ron, who was also staring open-mouthed at Hermione, who, Harry noticed for the first time, was dressed in summer clothes- short-shorts and a tank-top. Tasteful, but a very different view from the school robes they were accustomed to seeing her in. After a few tense seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity, one of the twins spoke.

"Hermione honey," Fred began in a very, very stereotypical gay-sounding voice. "I know exactly what you're thinking. I saw Ronniekins here without his shirt on, and it almost made me wish he wasn't my brother. Not that I cared anyway that he was. Incest is so in right now." Fred finished this display of what Harry hoped to be acting with a limp right hand shake and a left hand planted firmly on his hip.

Harry couldn't help it. He burst out in a fit of hysterical laughter, great spasms of it depositing him right back in the pond with a splash. At this, Bill too lost control, collapsing right next to Harry and laughing out of control. The twins soon joined, laughing great booming laughs that left them gasping for air. Finally, Ron and Hermione joined in, chuckling.

The rest of the evening was a very enjoyable affair. Hermione told Ron and Harry all about her summer, which was spent, as far as Harry could tell, doing homework and reading. Everyone was really too hot to sit down and eat a meal, so everyone ate when they got hungry, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't eat all, just sat on the porch and talked until Mrs. Weasley sent them of to bed.

The next week flew by to Harry. Reunited with his best friends in the world again, much of his and Ron's time was spent trying to teach Hermione to fly on a broom better. In the end, she would only ride on Ron's old broom, a Shooting Star that refused that go faster than four miles an hour.

It was there that Harry found her on the morning of July 30^th. He was about to engage her in conversation when Ron emerged from the house too, holding an envelope.

"Harry! Harry!" he exclaimed. "We've got a letter from Dumbledore! He's coming here in two days for Sirius' trial! Look, Look!"

Harry took the letter from his hands, reading it excitedly.

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday! I don't actually know if the letter will you reach you by then, but all the same my boy, all the same. This letter pertains to Sirius' trial. As you've probably heard from him, I've secured an appeal for him to be held on August 22^nd. Again, as you've undoubtedly know, Remus has been able to capture four pictures of Pettigrew, one of which depicts his new arm. In light of this new evidence and yours, Mr. Weasley's and Miss Granger's testimony, the Ministry will be forced to recognize Sirius' innocence, and, hopefully Voldemort's resurrection. Because of the seriousness of this case, Fudge has insisted that you three and I undergo the testimony under the influence of Veritaserum. There is a matter of most importance that I must discuss with you. Because of matters that keep me here, I will only be able to come to the Burrow on August 1^st, where we can speak in private with you, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger. From there I will take them and you to London, where you will spend the last three weeks before the trial at the Leaky Cauldron. The Ministry Headquarters are in London, so this is for pure convenience. On a lighter note, I have secured you a visit with Sirius on the 1^st. Consider it a birthday present.

Yours Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry read the letter twice more in excitement. He couldn't believe all this was really happening. His god-father, Sirius Black, would finally get his name cleared. Better yet, he could take Harry away from the Dursleys! He looked, eyes aglow, at Ron and Hermione, who grinned at him.

This happy little moment was jarred when Bill stuck his head out the door.

"Hey, Harry! Mum wants to know if you like chocolate or strawberry frosting better!"

"Uhh... chocolate." Harry stammered. Before he could say any more, Bill nodded once and slammed the door shut again.

When he had gone, Ron shook Harry's shoulder to get his attention.

"Wanna go see what Fred and George're up to?"

Nodding his assent, Harry turned to Hermione. "How about it?"

"No thanks," she told them, "I'm going to go talk to Ginny."

Nodding, the boys bounded up the steps to the twin's room, where they were both bent over a small cauldron of something steaming. They were whispering to each other and occasionally added something else to the pot, which would emit a flash of intense purple light and begin smoking again.

"Whatcha workin' on?" Ron asked when they turned to look at him.

"New Wheezes project." Fred answered.

"The Insta-Drunk Draught. We added a Drunkenness Charm to butterbeer to start, now we're finishing it off with some extra Preservation Charms, to keep the spell on. With some Benevolence Bolsterers in the form of powdered Benevola root, some Lip-Loosener and a Cheering Charm, the victim," George started.

"Hey! 'drinker,' try to sound less sadistic man, 'victim' won't sound good in advertising," Fred interrupted.

"Right, the drinker will get so pleasantly and happily drunk they'll spill all their deep, dark secrets- then blow their dinner all over the place!" George finished with a flourish.

"The Hurl Factor serves as both a comedic point and a means to purge the drunkenness, that was George's idea."

Harry couldn't help but notice as they spoke that they went about this as if it were a complicated scientific formula. It was then he really understood how serious the twins were about this whole Weasley Wizard Wheezes thing. Bill chose this moment to stick his head in the door.

"Oy! Mum says it's bedtime. And unless I see some coin, I'm telling her to inspect that cauldron," He told the assembled.

"That's the former Head Boy Mum was so proud of, demanding a bribe to insure his loyalty as a brother. If Dumbledore could see you now!" George declared.

Bill, however, didn't look impressed at George's accusation and simply held out a hand, into which Fred stuff several Sickles. Harry and Ron followed him out, heading up the stairs to Ron's room.

"Night mate," Ron said as he turned out the light.

"Night mate," Harry responded, hearing only his friend's snores.

The next morning Harry awoke to an excited Ron, who was shaking him roughly.

"Get up mate, we can't eat 'till you come down! Happy Birthday!" he added, as if an afterthought. He thrusted a hastily-wrapped package into Harry's hands. "Open it!"

Harry tore off the newspaper, which fell to reveal-

"Christ in Hell, Ron! Where'd you find this?" he asked, a tone of soft amazement.

"My friend," Ron began, "In your hands you hold on of the last copies of Godric Gyrffindor, an Intensive Study of the Founder's life, by Simon T. Potter. Your great-grandfather wrote this mate, way back in the 'forties. I swear, if you tell Hermione this I'll kill you, but I actually read the damn thing when I got back. Just finished it a week before you got here."

Harry looked down at the book he held in his hands. It was very, very, battered and more than 2,000 pages.

"I've been trying to find this book for like, a year! Where'd you find it?" Harry demanded, who had indeed searched for the book ever since McGonagall had mentioned it in passing during a lesson.

"I have my sources."

"Damn, man. Some sources."

"What sources?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, shoving the book in his open trunk. He had just gotten it, and he knew Hermione would instantly want to read it. For now he'd keep it a secret.

"Anyway, Mrs. Weasley sent me to get you guys for breakfast. The twins are getting restless." Hermione told them.

After affirming they would be down in a second, the boys quickly dressed. Harry pulled on the only pair of blue jeans he had that fit and donned a red T-shirt that read in navy-blue "You say psycho like it's a bad thing," bought mainly to terrify Aunt Petunia back in Little Winging. On their way down, Harry noticed that Percy hadn't been home in a while. Probably just working really late. Such thoughts were banished thought, when he saw the table groaning under the weight of the breakfast Mrs. Weasley had prepared. All of Harry's favorites, sausages, scones, bacon, and even corned-beef hash was to be seen, the latter being to Ron's displeasure.

"Don't know how you can eat that stuff," Ron said around a mouthful of scrambled eggs and roast potatoes.

Hermione lifted an eyebrow at this heinous breach of table manners, but managed to say nothing. When breakfast was finished, Mrs. Weasley shooed them out of the kitchen, claiming there was work to be done before the party. With Hermione with them, they couldn't really play Quidditch, so they satisfied themselves with lounging around the meadow under the shade of a large willow tree. About noon-time, Ginny, still red-faced from the encounter at the pond, told Hermione she was needed. When she had gone, Ron turned to Harry.

"Uhh... Harry, can ask you something?"

"Fire away," Harry told him, wondering what it could be.

"Umm... do you think it's weird to... uh..." Ron stuttered.

"Spit it out mate, what is it?"

"Do you think I... that is... well..."

"WHAT?!" Harry yelled, getting a little annoyed.

"Do you think I have a chance with..."

"WHO?"

"Her- Hermione?" Ron finished, looking very weak, like this took everything out of him.

This proved to be too much for Harry. He fell down, laughing so hard his very sides hurt. It seemed laughable to Harry that Ron would even have to wonder. Who's he kidding, it's so friggen obvious she likes him it's a wonder that they haven't already hooked up.

"That's what you're worried about? C'mon mate, you could have her, no bloody contest!"

"I hardly call Viktor Krum 'no contest' Harry," Ron said quietly, his face as low as Harry had ever seen it.

"Oh, c'mon! She didn't even see him over the summer. She look you right in the eye when she told us she wasn't interested in Krum! You remember the pond! She stared right at you, didn't even see anyone else there!" Harry argued.

"Well, I guess so..." Ron trailed off.

"Oh, skip it man..."

They hardly realized that they had been arguing about this for hours when Bill came through the trees.

"Let's go, everybody's waitin'," he informed them.

When Harry and Ron arrived at the Burrow, their jaws dropped. The table had been moved outside, and once again groaning under the weight of all Harry's favorite foods. More surprising was the guest Mrs. Weasley had assembled. In addition to the Weasley clan and Hermione, Remus Lupin was standing next to the table, a package in his hands and a look of apprehension on his face.

"Moony!" Harry burst out the moment he saw him. "What're you doing here?"

"As Sirius' official representative," Lupin replied, trying to keep a straight face and failing. "Happy birthday Harry,"

"Moony?" Fred said, confusion on his face.

"Wait..." George said, comprehension dawning. "Moony? As in Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs? The purveyors of aid to magical mischief makers?" Excitement grew in his voice as he spoke. Identical expressions of glee spread across the twins' faces when Lupin nodded.

"Yes, that's me. But how did you know? Unless..." he trailed off. "Harry, is this where you got the Map from?"

Cornered by the twins both shouting affirmatives, Lupin allowed himself to be backed into a corner by the two, where they asked a whole manner of questions before Mrs. Weasley called for everyone's attention.

"Everyone!" she called, "Everyone! It's time to eat! The dinner's going to get cold!"

If Harry had learned anything over the years of staying with the Weasleys, it was that Mrs. Weasley hated the idea of cold or uneaten food. Everyone gathered around the table, where they dug into a sumptuous feast that the house-elves of Hogwarts could never match. The group tucked in, and when the last vestiges of beef stew and baked potatoes had been eaten, Mrs. Weasley took out a huge cake, smothered in chocolate frosting. As they made their way through the gigantic pastry, Mrs. Weasley once again disappeared, this time returning with a small pile of presents. She passed Harry the first one.

"This one is from Hermione, dear," she told a furiously blushing Harry, who hadn't expected gifts.

When he had torn off the packaging, Harry gave a small breath of amazement. It was a very thick package that read 'Do-it-yourself Firebolt Upgrade One.' It opened into a very complicated set of instructions and reference materials, as well as a list of new features. Before he could even stammer out a thank you, another gift was thrust into his hands.

"This one's from Ginny and I, dear," Mrs. Weasley told him.

Once again, Harry opened the package, which was squishier than expected. Inside was a scarlet sweater that had no design, but was so beautifully made Harry could hardly get the idea that Mrs. Weasley had made this. When Mrs. Weasley held the sweater up to him, something else fell out- an electric-blue quill that looked suspiciously like a Quick-Quotes-Quill. He must have wrinkled his nose or something, because Ginny jumped in.

"It's a Dictation Quill," she stammered very quickly, "It takes down whatever you say, without embellishing it,"

"Yes, well, here's mine and Sirius' then," Lupin said, tossing Harry two more packages, which Quidditch reflexes allowed him to catch deftly, one in each hand.

The first one, Lupin's, turned out to be a book on hexes and jinxes, the latest revision of the book Harry had wanted to buy his first time in Flourish and Botts. Newest Included- Full-Body Boils, Rancid-Breath, and the Crapper Curse! Mrs. Weasley looked sort of oddly at Lupin, as did the rest of the assembled crowd.

"What? I'm not a teacher anymore, so I'm allowed. Besides, it's a good book. And that last one was invented by your father and Sirius when they were your age, Harry, although Severus Snape deserves credit for beta-testing it." Lupin told them. Everyone burst into such a fit of laughter that it was several minutes before Harry could see well enough to open Sirius' gift.

It was a small package, fitting comfortably in Harry's palm. The wrapping- the comics from a local newspaper (just like Sirius! Harry thought) gave way to reveal a key ring with three keys on it, a handsome brown leather wallet, and a folded letter. Pocketing the letter, Harry said his thank-yous, and the party really got swinging. Mr. Weasley uncorked a bottle of wine, which the assembled save for Ginny and Hermione could legally partake in, (Ron's birthday was in late June, Hermione's in November) and since Hermione was close enough, she also was allowed. Fortunately, wizarding wine was far less alcoholic than regular wine and no one really got drunk enough to warrant mention here, even though two bottles were consumed over the evening. Fred and George set off a large quantity of Filibuster's Fireworks, filling the room with sparks. Finally, around midnight, Lupin looked at the time and jumped.

"Oh my, I really must be going." He said, shaking his watch, which had stopped. "G'bye Harry." Lupin shook Harry's hand and with a small 'pop,' disappeared before Harry could say anything.

"Well, it's time for bed then," Mrs. Weasley told the teens, and amid groans another faint 'pop' was heard.

"Moony?" George asked hopefully.

Instead, it was Percy who walked in, wearing a very battered, weather-beaten cloak. His arm was in a sling and he walked with a heavy limp. Harry suspected that it was momentum that kept him going. Mr. Weasley rose quietly and crossed the room. The two left for upstairs quickly, muttering in low voices. Bill smiled.

"Well, I guess I'll hit the sack too." Instead, he followed Mr. Weasley and Percy up the stairs, looking very serious.

Mrs. Weasley looked around at the now-silent teens and ushered them all up to bed. Bidding goodnight to Hermione and Ginny, Ron and Harry were at the final landing before Fred and George came out of the shadows.

"Happy Birthday Harry." Fred said.

"Yes, here's our present." George said, also oddly formal.

They gave Harry a small piece of blank paper. Harry looked down and grinned, thinking it was a joke. However, words began to spill along the paper.

The Bearer Of This Certificate Is Hereby Entitled To 25% Stock In The Corporation Weasley Wizard Wheezes And Its Benefits. Fuck You, You Rich Bastard.

Harry couldn't believe it.

"No, no you guys, this is your company. I can't take this."

"Oh, but you have to, young Harry." Fred told him.

"You donated the amount of One thousand Galleons to WWW, Inc. The last part is an indicator of how we're doing- if it ever says 'Hahaha, I feel sorry for you,' then I recommend you sell."

"Where'd you get a thousand Galleons?" Ron broke in.

"The Triwizard Tournament, remember? I gave it to them as long as they got you some new dress robes." Harry told him.

"Hey, then those dress robes- you sods! You made me beta-test all summer to work those off!"

"Time to leave brother," George said, motion towards their room.

"Right you are, brother." Fred agreed, and the two swept out of sight.

"Assholes..." Ron muttered.

The boys settled down, Ron on his bed and Harry on an old mattress. While Ron fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow, as was his custom, Harry unfolded the note from Sirius' present and read it.

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday! I hope this reaches you on time, I don't know how reliable Moony-Post is. Enclosed you'd better find: (or else I'll kill Moony) a set of keys, and a wallet. The wallet is magically expanded, you can fit several days worth of food in there, as well as clothes, money, etc. The keys are those to my house. Since you'll be living with me, a way to get in is fitting. It's probably in pretty bad shape, since no one's been there for almost fourteen years. Dumbledore told me that he's secured a visit so that you can see me on the 1^st. Anyway, the guards are coming and I'm not allowed to write letters except to my defense attorney. Bye!

See you in a few days,

Sirius

Harry grinned like an idiot and folded the letter up again. It seemed to Harry that things were finally going his way. Tomorrow he would be off to see Sirius, and only three weeks until his name was to be cleared. Then, he had the whole year with Sirius at Hogwarts with him. It was with that same idiot grin that Harry, more content than he had been in a while, drifted off to sleep.