"Hagrid!" Harry called out. "What are you doing over there?"
The afternoon sun was just visible over the top of Hagrid's shaggy head as he bent down to catch up a handful of wrapping paper and stuff it into a waste bin tucked under his arm.
"Though' I'd jus'...tidy up a bit," Hagrid said weakly, straightening so that his broad shoulders blocked the sun completely. "Wind's been kickin' up a mite."
"This isn't Hogwarts, Hagrid," Bill scolded. "You're not here to work. We'll clear up everything later."
Harry could tell by the the look on Hagrid's face that something was wrong. The light that usually shone in the giant's beetle-black eyes was dimmed, and the smile he flashed as he set the waste bin aside was strangely forced.
"Hagrid?" Harry said, motioning with his hand. "What is it?"
Hagrid lumbered forward slowly, his steps heavy. The crowd parted so that Hagrid could approach Harry and Hermione. His head hung down, his eyes staring at the grass waving between his massive feet.
"What's wrong, Hagrid?" Hermione asked tenderly. "You can tell us."
"You can tell us anything," Harry said.
"A-After yer announced yer engagement an' all," Hagrid said in a slow, sad voice, "I reckoned there was plenty a' time...but then, 'fore I knew it, the school year was over...an' suddenly it was inter August, an' there weren't no time left, an'..."
Tears began to trickle down Hagrid's cheeks, to be lost in the tangle of his great, bushy beard.
"I...I cou'n't think a' nuthin'...ter get yer..."
"Well!" Harry declared. "I shouldn't ruddy well wonder!"
The crowd let out a collective gasp of astonishment. Hagrid's head shot up, his eyes wide, his mouth slack.
"Hagrid," Harry said warmly, his brusque manner having served its purpose of arresting Hagrid's attention. "You've given me so much already. More than any one person has a right to. If I were to ask for one thing more, I'd feel like a robber!"
Hagrid blinked in confusion. "I -- gave yer? Oh...yer talkin' 'bout tha' photo album a' yer parents? Tha' were a long time ago..."
"Not so long that I'll ever forget it," Harry said. "I'll treasure it for as long as I live. But that's only the tip of the iceberg."
Hagrid could only stare stupidly at Harry.
"The first gift you ever gave me," Harry said, "was my life. You went into the ruins of my parents' house and brought me out. You didn't know that Voldemort had been destroyed. For all you knew, he and a whole squad of Death Eaters could appear at any moment to finish what they'd started. But you went in anyway and got me out, and you kept me safe until Dumbledore instructed you to bring me to the Dursleys. Not that I'll hold that against you," he added with a grin. Hagrid appeared on the verge of smiling for just a moment before his face fell again.
"And when it came time for me to learn the truth about myself, who came and delivered my Hogwarts letter? Who took me to Diagon Alley to get my school things, bought Hedwig for me? But more than that...who became the first friend I ever had?"
"Th-tha' weren't nuthin...special..." Hagrid mumbled thickly. "Tha' were jus'..."
"That was just the most important day of my life," Harry said. "And who did Dumbledore trust to bring me through it? Why, the same person he trusted to bring him the Sorcerer's Stone from vault 713."
Harry removed his glasses and wiped his eyes before he continued in a voice barely above a whisper.
"I felt so cheated for so long. Growing up with the Dursleys, I never knew what it felt like to be liked, to be accepted. All that changed when I came to Hogwarts. But, in the end, it's all down to you. I found a family to replace the one I never knew. The Weasleys became my parents. Ron became the brother I always wished for to make up for all those years with Dudley. I found another father in Sirius, and an uncle of sorts in Remus. Even a grandfather." Harry's eyes flickered to Dumbledore, who beamed at Harry, his own eyes twinking like pale sapphires over the rims of his glasses.
"And what can I say about Hermione?" Harry felt his wife's hand enter his, and he closed his fingers around hers in a wordess expression of love and gratitude.
"All this," Harry said, his free hand sweeping before him, "because of you, Hagrid. There are some things in life that a man treasures above all the riches in the world. A wife. A family. And his first real friend.
"You may not think you gave me anything important. They were mostly little things. But they were all little pieces of you. It's like Ron said about bronze Knuts. One, two, a dozen...doesn't seem like so much. But a million, two million, and suddenly you're richer than you ever thought possible.
"Everything I am today, Hagrid...everything I'll ever be...couldn't have been without you. And if you tied a bow around Gringotts bank and dropped it square in the Weasleys' back yard with a card reading, 'To Harry, from Hagrid,' I still wouldn't trade it for even a minute of our time together."
"Harry," Hagrid sobbed, his enormous bulk trembling like a mountain in an earthquake, "I cou'n't love yer more if'n yer were me own son!" The giant fell to his knees and wrapped his tree-sized arms around both Harry and Hermione. "I love yer both!"
"We love you, too, Hagrid," Hermione said, her tears dampening the fabric of the waistcoat just beneath the jacket of Hagrid's hairy brown suit.
Releasing Harry and Hermione, Hagrid pulled out his tablecloth-sized handkerchief and blew his nose, which sound sent birds scattering from as far away as the Weasleys' hilltop paddock. Sirius and Remus helped Hagrid to his feet as Molly alertly Summoned the oversized bench from the other side of the yard. As the two Marauders continued to comfort Hagrid, Ron looked around suddenly, his brow wrinkling puzzledly.
"Where've Fred and George gone off to? They were here a minute ago."
"Oh, they'll turn up," Charlie assured Ron, who did not notice his older brother lifting his arm unobtrusively, as if signaling to someone. "In fact," he said more loudly, "if everyone will stand back, I think they should be here any moment now."
"Charlie?" Molly said suspiciously. "What are you -- "
But Molly was abruptly cut off by the screeching sound of an automobile horn. But there wasn't a car in sight. Arthur's car -- the one he'd bought to replace his old Ford Anglia, which was currently running wild in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts -- was locked in the garage; and the sound everyone had just heard was from much closer than that.
"Merlin's beard!" Seamus cried, his finger stabbing upward. "Look!"
A car had suddenly appeared from out of nowhere, hovering some twenty feet above everyone's heads. Fred, sitting behind the wheel, leaned out the right-hand window and laughed as he honked the horn again. The crowd retreated until there was a space large enough for the car to settle gently to the ground.
Some of the guests stared in wordless amazement. Others, Ron, Seamus and Dean among them, applauded. Molly, however, was livid.
"I don't believe it! After all the trouble we had with your father's car six years ago -- did you boys learn nothing!"
"On the contrary, Mum," George said coolly, closing the passenger door behind him, "we learned a great deal. And we put it all to use here."
"This car is illegal!" Molly snapped. "If the Ministry finds out -- "
"They already know," Fred said from where he still sat behind the steering wheel. "We worked it out with Dad ages ago."
"Arthur!" Molly said wrathfully, rounding on her husband. "You know about this -- this -- "
"Er, yes, Molly," Arthur said. "And Fred is right, it's all been squared away with the Ministy."
"But how?" Harry said now, having sprung from his chair to admire the car up close. "Ron and I got into loads of trouble when we flew your old car to Hogwarts at the beginning of Second Year. So did you."
"Ah...yes," Arthur said, remembering the incident well. The resulting explosion from Molly on that day was not unlike the one he was witnessing from his wife now. "Well, to begin with, that was a British car, registered as such. And I enchanted it on British soil. Of course, that was all legal, you'll recall. The law clearly stated -- "
"The law you wrote, Arthur!" Molly said scathingly. "And, to my knowledge, that law has not been changed!"
"No," Arthur admitted, "it hasn't."
"But that law doesn't apply to this car," George announced.
"Why not?" Harry said, quite as confused as everyone else.
"Because this is an American car!" Fred said, slapping the door for emphasis. "A 1962 Chevrolet Bel Air! A classic of Yank workmanship!"
"But its being foreign-made shouldn't affect its legal status, should it?" Hermione said thoughtfully. "I remember Ali Bashir got in trouble when he tried to import foreign-made flying carpets a few years ago."
"Yes," Arthur said, "but a carpet isn't classified as a vehicle. Until it's enchanted to fly, it's just -- a carpet. But a car is a transport vehicle before it's enchanted."
"And the law prohibiting tampering with Muggle artifacts applies only to British soil," George said triumphantly. "And Fred and I enchanted this car in America!"
"When did you go to America?" Ron asked.
"Loads of times," Fred said. "Off and on all Summer."
"You can Apparate that far?" Hermione said, clearly impressed.
"Not at first," George said. "Takes a bit of practice to Apparate that far. We started off by going to Iceland, then to Greenland and Nova Scotia. But now we can pop straight over to New York in one jump."
Hermione, who had not yet travelled a distance greater than the length of Britain, beamed at George. Harry was smiling, too, but for a different reason.
"You flew it clear across the Atlantic?" he asked Fred, who had slid over to let Harry sit in the driver's seat. "How did it do?" Harry still remembered his and Ron's perilous journey to Hogwarts in Arthur's turquoise Anglia, which had become so exhausted by the long, uninterrupted flight that it gave out just within sight of the castle and crashed headlong into the Whomping Willow.
"Smooth as silk," Fred said proudly. "Here, let me show you the control panel."
Harry leaned in -- and so, to his surprise and amusement, did Hermione, who was now leaning through the window so that her bushy hair fell over Harry's shoulder like a chocolate waterfall.
"Controls for levitation," Fred was saying, pointing to one button, guage or lever after another, "up and down. Another for lateral motion, forward, back or sideways. Invisibility booster. And we added a Repelling Charm so that it will automatically steer wide of trees and buildings, and planes, too."
"I should have thought -- " Arthur began, but a sharp look from his wife silenced him.
"But the real corker," said George, who was now leaning in through the passenger window, "is the Automatic Pilot. Show him, Fred."
"When you flip this switch," Fred said, pointing as Harry and Hermione watched with great interest, "the car responds to voice command. We implanted a map of all of Great Britain with a Memory Charm. Just tell the car where you want to go, and it flies itself straight there. It even signals you when you're nearly there, so you can look for a place to land without being seen."
"But what if we want to go to visit Hogwarts?" Hermione said. "Or Hogsmeade? They're both unplottable. You wouldn't find them on a map of Britain."
"You will on this map," Fred said, opening the glove compartment and pulling out a large piece of parchment that was folded many times over. "Bought it in Diagon Alley. It shows magical locations, but only when held by someone with magical blood."
As Harry took the map and unfolded it, Fred pointed out two tiny specks in Scotland marked 'Hogwarts' and 'Hogsmeade.'
"Now, place the map on the seat," Fred instructed.
Harry lay the map on the seat between himself and Fred. The moment his hands released the parchment, the markings for Hogwarts and Hogsmeade vanished. He extended his hand and placed a single finger on a corner of the map. Both markings reappeared.
"If a Muggle picks up the map," George said, "those markings remain invisible."
This bit of magic seemed to please Hermione more than the car itself. Harry, however, was screwing up his face in thought.
"Hang on," he said slowly. "This is an American car, right?"
Fred and George both nodded.
"Then why is the steering wheel on the right side?"
"Wondered when you'd notice that, mate," George said with a throaty chuckle. He jerked a thumb for Harry to exit the car. Fred and George both walked to the rear of the car, Harry and Hermione following. The other guests, many of whom had heard the conversation inside the car, gathered around as well. Fred pointed to the boot, where the name 'Chevrolet' was spelled out in metallic script. George tapped the side, indicating the words 'Bel Air' in a more decorative style. Harry and Hermione gaped.
Both words were backwards!
"We didn't want you to have to get used to looking at the road from the wrong side of the windscreen," Fred grinned. "So we used a Mirror Charm."
"We did replace the speedometer and the gas guage with parts from a Muggle shop," George said. "Didn't want you thinking you had a full tank when you were really on empty."
"We could have replaced these as well," Fred said, gesturing at the reversed lettering on the fender. "But we thought it would be a good joke on any Muggle who read them and thought he'd had too much to drink or something."
Professor Fltwick was now walking around the car, his squeaky voice overflowing with delight. "Excellent, boys!" he said. "Very nice Charm work. Good to see you paid some attention in my classes."
But Molly Weasley was not amused. She was only one step removed from having steam issue from her ears, as if she had downed a large dose of Pepper-Up Potion. She took a threatening step toward Fred and George as Arthur attempted to soothe her with a tremulous, "Now, Molly..."
"So, Mum," Fred said, clapping his hands together, "fancy a ride over the paddock?"
Molly's face exploded like a Filibuster Firework.
"FREDERICK WEASLEY! IF YOU THINK FOR ONE MOMENT -- "
But before Fred and George (whose very freckles were paling under their mother's onslaught) could retreat a step, Molly's contorted face relaxed, her scowl replaced with a bright, sunny smile.
"Not just now, dear," she said brightly. "This is Harry's and Hermione's day, isn't it?"
"Thank you, Filius," Arthur said with a deep sigh of relief. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to that, but..."
"Not at all, Arthur," Flitwick said, returning his wand to his robes. "A good Cheering Charm is worth a hundred times its weight in Galleons, I always say."
As a wave of relief passed over the crowd, Hermione turned to see Harry caressing the side-view mirror of their new car with a reverent hand. She chuckled as she slipped her arm around his waist.
"You're adorable when you get like this," she said. "I know how much you love to fly."
"It's not that," Harry said with a dreamy look in his eyes. "Oh, it's great that it can fly and everything. But -- a car! I've wanted one all my life, for as long as I can remember. And Fred is right, this is a classic! They don't make 'em like this any more."
"Glad you feel that way, mate," Fred said with a broad smile. "Because a new car was way out of our price range."
Smiling, Harry reached for the ignition, only to find that the keys were gone. Seeing Harry's action, Fred jingled the keys in his pocket musically. Harry extended his hand, but Fred's own hand remained in his pocket.
"Well, as to that..." Fred said, flashing George an amused look.
"What?" Harry said, lowering his hand with a suspicious smile tugging at the right side of his face.
"The car's...um...registered in Hermione's name."
"It's what?" Harry exclaimed, his eyes darting toward his wife. He made a playful swipe for her hand to pull her toward him, but she jerked it away, laughing gently.
"I had nothing to do with it," she said, pixie-lights dancing in her eyes.
"You see, Harry," Fred explained, "the Muggle laws say a car can only be registered to a licensed driver."
"I told you to let me teach you to drive, Harry," Hermione said. "But, no, you'd rather fly around on your broomstick every free moment."
Fred tossed the keys over Harry's head in a high arc. Harry lunged for them, but Hermione's hand darted out and caught them like a Golden Snitch, which image was not lost on the twins.
"Lucky for you Hermione doesn't fly, Harry," George laughed. "You might have had a job keeping your position as Gryffindor Seeker."
When Harry finally gave up trying to pry the keys from his wife's steely grip, the pair fell into a laughing hug before turning to thank Fred and George properly.
"We knew you'd be living in the Muggle world as much as in the wizarding world," Fred said. "We reckoned Hermione's parents would rather you brought their grandkids for a visit in the back seat of a car rather than on the back of a broomstick."
"Or by Floo powder," Harry said. "I still hate that stuff."
"Boys," Hermione said with a deep, searching look on her face, "you didn't happen to Charm the boot the same way your dad did with the Anglia, did you?"
"They call it the 'trunk' in America, Hermione," Fred said. "And, as it happens, we did."
"Why?" Harry said, eyeing his wife suspiciously. "What's -- uh-oh. Hermione, you're not thinking..."
"You know, Harry, we will be away for a whole month. And I don't have a thing to wear for tropical weather."
"Oh, no!" Harry groaned.
"So, first thing tomorrow," Hermione said, "you and I are going -- "
"Merlin help me!" Harry cried, flinging his arms in the air.
"Shopping!" Hermione sang out as the nearby guests all broke into laughter.
"Oi, Ron!" Harry called out, shaking his head as he tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. Hermione was now twirling the car keys on her index finger, her eyes dancing like flames of dark fire.
"Yeah, Harry?" Ron said through a broad grin.
"Start lining up those endorsements," Harry sighed. "Bill's right. I am going to need every Galleon I can get!"
"Hey," George said suddenly, "are we done? Is that everyone?"
"Not bloody likely," said a rough but cheerful voice. "There's one more present to be handed out today!"
George cuffed himself melodramatically in the head as Sirius and Remus appeared. The two Marauders had a devilish twinkle in their eyes which did not escape either Harry or Hermione.
"Say, George," Fred said in an overly loud voice, his eyes narrowing impishly, "who do those two remind you of?"
"You kidding?" George returned. "Us!"
Harry was thinking the very same thing. Not for nothing had his parents' old schoolmates been co-architects of the Marauder's Map (and Merlin only knew what mayhem) in their days at Hogwarts. Whatever devious schemes Fred and George might be capable of -- and Harry had seen evidence enough with his own eyes to fill an entire shelf full of textbooks -- he had no doubt that Sirius and Remus could cap them all. As Harry allowed himself and Hermione to be escorted back to their chairs, he flashed his godfather an accusatory look.
"Remus, old friend," Sirius said, a look of injury spreading across his face, "I do believe our integrity is being impuned."
Remus placed his hand over his heart, looking completely horrified.
"What do you reckon, Hermione?" Harry said, his mouth twitching at the corner. "Knowing these two, they probably pinched Snape's knickers and ran them up the flagpole at Hogwarts."
"Blimey!" Sirius slapped himself as everyone laughed. "Now why didn't I think of that? We could have got a picture and run it in the Daily Prophet!"
"He's his father's son," Remus said, thumping his fist against his heart. "James would be so proud."
"Look, you two!" Harry said as he swallowed his own laughter. "Are you going to get on with it, or am I going to have to sic Hermione on you?"
"That's not an empty threat, Sirius," Remus said dramatically.
"Tell me," Sirius said. "So, do you have it?"
"I gave it to YOU, remember?"
"Oh, right."
Sirius dipped a hand into his robes and produced a plain manila envelope with a string clasp. With a knowing smirk directed at Remus, he handed the envelope to Harry. As Harry took it, he observed the faces of the guests as they watched with expectant eyes. Yes, that was the impression that Harry got. Not curiosity. Expectation. He had an overpowering feeling that everyone knew exactly what was in this envelope save for himself and Hermione. He sought for clues among the many and varied faces, but none was forthcoming. Receiving an affirmative nod from Hermione, Harry unwound the string and opened the flap.
There was nothing inside but a flat, stiff piece of paper. It was blank on both sides.
"Oh, silly me," Sirius said facetiously. He tapped the paper with his wand, and instantly a glossy photograph appeared. It was a picture of Sirius and Remus. They were standing on what appeared to be a front porch. But, the picture being a wizard photo, the two figures were not standing still. At first they merely waved cheerfully. Harry smiled, resisting the urge to wave back.
The figures now bent down before the front door. They picked up a rectangular object and held it up. Harry thought it looked like a welcome mat, but it had no writing on it. This, however, was quickly remedied. The black-and-white figure of Sirius touched the mat with his wand.
The photo fell straight through Harry's fingers. Hermione caught it and pressed her face close, her mouth hanging open. Two words had appeared on the welcome mat:
Harry felt as if his whole body had been de-boned, in fashion not unlike the botched healing spell Gilderoy Lockhart had used on his broken arm in Second Year. Had Hermione not fastened her own arm securely about his waist, he was sure he would have slipped from his chair like a puddle of melted butter.
"Sirius?" Harry said in a voice dry as graveyard dust. "This isn't -- I mean, it can't be..."
"It's yours, Harry," Sirius said gently, all levity evaporated from his manner. "Yours and Hermione's."
"Our -- " Hermione choked, her eyes welling with tears, " -- our -- house?"
Harry could only stare wordlessly at his godfather, who suddenly grinned in his familiar Marauder fashion.
"Well, you didn't think you were going to live in my house forever, did you?" He winked at Harry. "I love you like a son, kid, but I gotta tell you -- you're cramping my style."
"Please," Remus said, rolling his eyes. "You haven't had a date for a month."
"And it's all down to Harry," Sirius said defiantly. "So out he goes, and good riddance, I say!"
"But -- our flat -- " Harry stammered. "We already signed the lease..."
"Sublet it to Ron," Charlie suggested. "He can afford it now."
Wiping away her tears, Hermione said, "How can you possibly have managed this, Sirius? Houses cost a fortune these days."
The same thought had occurred to Harry, who knew (though Hermione did not) that Sirius, following his godson's example, had donated fully half his vault to help start up the Cedric Diggory Fund.
"You should know better than anyone, Hermione," Sirius said, "that the wizarding world and the Muggle world are far more alike than they are different. Take real estate, for example. A house goes vacant for thirty or forty years, it gets run down, no one wants it. Next thing you know, it goes into receivership. It becomes a drug on the market. Back taxes accrue. In the end, whoever is willing to pay the back arrears gets the deed, free and clear."
"But there is a catch," Remus said now. "Repairs have to be made before it's cleared for habitation. I believe the Muggles call it a 'fixer-upper.' And trust me when I say that the Ministry has just as many rules and ordinances and bureaucrats -- blimey, the red tape they come up with -- makes a bloke want chuck it all and go live in a cave."
Sirius gave Remus a meaningful look, and Harry laughed. Nearly everyone present knew that Sirius had lived in a cave, just outside Hogsmeade, during his time as a fugitive. Remus smiled sheepishly, and Sirius roared a short laugh and clapped his friend on the shoulder.
"I never worked so hard in my life," Sirius said with a deep, rumbling laugh. "New windows, new roof, complete paint job. And not a lot of time to do it all. Thank Merlin for the Weasleys. Dunno what we'd have done without them."
"I knew that lot would come in handy one of these days," Arthur said jovially, his eyes sweeping over his six sons in turn.
Molly, still under the sway of Flitwick's Cheering Charm, nodded and smiled.
"We put security wards all around the house," Remus said now. "Not that we expect Voldemort to return from the dead to wreak vengeance on you, or anything so melodramatic," he smiled. "But one can't be too careful."
"And no Unlocking Charm, no matter how powerful," Sirius continued, "can open the door without this." He produced a door key from his robes and held it up for all to see. "I used a special Isomorphic Charm, harmonizing it with a lock of hair from each of you. It will work only when inserted and turned by one of you. If anyone else tries it, there's a kickback that Transfigures the user into something harmless and easily restrained.
"At first I wasn't sure what sort of creature to specify in the Charm," Sirius said meditatively. "But Moony came up with the perfect choice." He paused, and Harry saw once again the unmistakable glint of the Marauder in his godfather's eye. "Still got that special jar you used at the end of Fourth Year, Hermione?" Sirius winked, and everyone laughed, none moreso than Hermione.
Grinning broadly, Sirius made a great show of handing the key to Harry, whereupon Hermione's eyebrows rose comedically as she recoiled in a pantomime of indignation that elicited still more laughter from all quarters.
"Fair is fair, Hermione," Sirius chuckled. "Now you each have a key."
Harry was holding the house key as if it were made of sugar and would crumble to powder if he applied too much pressure. The photograph of his and Hermione's new home shook slightly in his other hand, and the tiny figures of Sirius and Remus clamped their arms around the columns supporting the front porch to avoid sliding out of the picture.
"So," Harry said, still somewhat breathless from the shock of it all, "where are we living, then? I hope it's a nice neighborhood."
"You don't recognize it?" Sirius said, his dark eyebrows rising. "Look again, Harry. Look hard. Both of you."
Harry studied the photo closely, as did Hermione. Their expressions reflected various emotions and states of mind, but recognition was not among them.
"We're not being entirely fair, Sirius," Remus put in. "After all, they'd be more likely to recognize the inside than the outside."
Hermione squealed with a sound like a police whistle. Harry was incapable of any sound at all. His head jerked up, disbelief in his wide, round eyes. Sirius threw his head back and laughed until tears came. Wiping his eyes, Sirius placed his arm around Remus' shoulder and grinned with savage triumph.
"Congratulations Harry, Hermione. You are now the proud owners of the Shrieking Shack!"
Author's Note: I've heard it said that the Chinese language character for "crisis" is the same as the one for "opportunity." Well, this next-to-last chapter represented a crisis of sorts for me. Try though I might, I simply could NOT come up with a suitable present for Hagrid. Rather than abandon the story indefinitely (so heartbreakingly close to completion), I went with my gut and justified Hagrid's dilemma (and mine) as you have seen. Basically, I used angst as a smokescreen for lack of inspiration. I hope it worked, because I am STILL stonewalled for a better solution. If anyone has any ideas in this regard, feel free to pass them along. The contributors on this site are arguably among the best in fandom, and I would welcome any thoughts on the matter.
To address an issue from the previous chapter, I purposely avoided any details regarding Voldemort's destruction. That would be another story in itself -- one which I confess I am unwilling to undertake without a MOUNTAIN of inspiration. As far as Chocolate Frog cards go, Hermione certainly deserves her share of the glory (which will no doubt be borne out in canon), and maybe even Ron as well (though I have an overpowering feeling that Ron will die a hero's death in Book 7, rendering his share of the glory moot). But Ron's allegorical Quidditch speech was written solely to justify Harry's card for the benefit of the story. As ol' what's-his-name once said, "The play's the thing."
Say, it's well known that J.K. has already written the last chapter of the book series, wherein she reveals the paths taken by those who are destined to survive the Final Battle. Maybe Harry WILL get a Chocolate Frog card! Only one person knows for sure, and she ain't talkin'.
But you can look for the final chapter of THIS story next week. To everyone who took time from a busy week of Christmas shopping to read this: Thank you.