Book Seven: The Deathly Hallows by Hermione Potter

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 21/07/2007
Last Updated: 04/07/2009
Status: In Progress

“It may as well be! She's fancied you since she met you!” At this, Harry fell silent. He
knew that marriage was a long ways off when his life wasn't even long enough to last another
day. However, the thought of Ginny in a white dress standing next to a tall, faceless man
didn't bring as much grief as he would have thought to his mind. They were young. The one thing
that was bothering him was that the faceless man had a future. Had a long awaiting future while
Harry's was in an impending battle of life or death against Voldemort. -My take on Book Seven.
I hope you enjoy.




1. Detaching One's Self
-----------------------

Disclaimer: Okay, obviously I don’t own Harry Potter whatsoever! But I own my love for Harry and
Hermione. GO HARMONY.



Author’s Note: I wrote this story in hopes of doing a better job than JKR did. Well, in the
department of romance and the non-destruction of Harry and Hermione’s friendship. So I hope you all
have a good read and review! :D Also, it follows the events that happened in the book. I just
reworeded them.



Book Seven: The Deathly Hallows

By Hermione Potter



Chapter One

Detatching One’s Self



Harry Potter lay in his hard-matted mattress, his glasses sitting beside him on the night table.
He raised his hand above his pale and thin face, seemingly distracted by the poor wrapped hand that
had blood bleeding through it. He turned over in bed, trying to seek comfort in the only place he
had ever lived. The Dursleys. But it was one that he could never call home. A place that lacked the
luster of what a true family home had and should have been.



There had been no other time where he had felt so lost. Though he could never admit that.
Everyone expected Harry Potter to be brave. To be courageous. To rise above all and bring triumph.
When in reality, he was lost. Things seemed to twist themselves into an intricate web of what
seemed to be the life of Harry, danging by a thread.



He flexed his hand, wincing as he felt the deep cut that had chosen to continue to bleed. The
cause was a shard of glass. Petunia had requested a cup of tea and had been too lazy to get up and
fetch it for herself. In the midst of all the commotion, Harry had maintained his servant status
within the Dursley home. But due to his thoughts concerning the death of Albus Dumbledore, the cup
had fallen and made a large noise on the counter. Petunia had then proceeded to screech in her own
matter and push him away from the kitchen.



From then, he managed to find one of his shirts that had grown to be too small for him and
ripped the sleeve off, quickly bandaging the hand. He reached for his spectacles and sat up,
remembering the day that he had been given Dudley’s second bedroom. It was a glorious occasion.
Hah. The window above his desk had faint rays of light coming from the sun. The room was dimly lit.
His bed was in the corner of the bedroom while his dresser was in the other. Not that there was
much to put in there anyways.



In the next corner rested a pile of things that he had not touched in a long time. Slowly, he
got up and kneeled on the pale carpeting, reaching into the pile to pick up various quills and
blank parchments. His hand quickly enclosed around a small black pin, the words, *SUPPORT CEDRIC
DIGGORY* flashing yellow and soon *POTTER STINKS* in red letters. He pushed aside the red
robes that he wore during Quidditch matches. His mind was lost from the time that he had last
played Quidditch. It was the only time he felt to be free. Other items that were piled up was a
worn Sneakoscope, the gold locket that had been accompanied by a note signed R.A.B., and the jagged
piece that glared in Harry’s green eyes. It was a piece of the mirror that Sirius had given him.
Gently hidden amongst the items.



He leaned back against the foot of the bed and picked up the piece of glass that had caused the
injury in Harry’s hand. It was clean, a faint smear of blood on one of the edges. He threw it on
the worn desk and picked up the Daily Prophet that was resting on his bed. Skimming through it, he
saw the obituary of Albus Dumbledore. He had read it over and over, regretting that he had never
gotten to know the Headmaster. He had spent so much time trying to figure out his own life, when he
knew nothing about the man who helped him for so many years.



He flipped the page and saw a photo of a woman, tight blond curls bouncing around her face, meek
eyes that smirked through her spectacles, and her conniving smile. Rita Skeeter had been nothing
but a person out to make herself look good. Throughout the article she had written, she had
provided the lie of telling the media of Harry’s relationship with Dumbledore as an unhealthy
obsession.



“Damn that woman!” He shouted, ripping the paper to shreds, but not before carefully tearing out
the obituary. He sighed and fell back fluidly on the bed. The heat the vibrated from the outside
created sweat that he licked from his upper lip. The salty taste made him wince and let a second
sigh escape his lips. The light that radiated from outside shone in his eyes as he tried to block
it out, his arm over his face.



He looked into the small piece of the mirror once again and blinked as a flash of blue appeared.
His eyes darted to the sickly peach color of his wall and turned back to the reflection. There had
been nothing blue to reflect on. The only color was one of his green eyes. One thing was certain
about this. There would be no chance of seeing Albus Dumbledore’s twinkling blue eyes again.




“Potter! Get down here!” Harry could hear his fairly large uncle bellowing from the floor below.
A grunt escaped his lips as he hoisted himself up and placed the broken piece under his hard
pillow, trudging down the stairs. Petunia and Dudley were sitting on the couch in front of the
tele, watching the weatherman talk about the warm weather.



Harry turned to see Vernon in black slacks and a pale coral shirt. “Took you long enough! Sit!”
He demanded, receiving a cough in reply from Petunia. He turned back to Harry, gritting his
teeth.



“Please.” Harry blinked, odded by his polite word. He made his way over to the couch and sat
down, making sure to be away from Petunia and Dudley.



“Now I’ve thought it over and I have decided that this hocus pocus that you are talking about is
just a hoax to take this house,” Vernon explained, eating a cup of pudding.



“A hoax?! You have to be kidding me! Why would I want this house? A place where I never called
home. My godfather left me his house. I don’t have any need for this one. I explained to you that
once I turn 17, all of you will be unprotected. The protection charm on this house will disappear
and you’ll be vulnerable to Voldemort. Surprisingly, he thinks that if he were to kidnap all of you
and torture you, I would come,” He exclaimed, clearly outraged.



Vernon stood, his spoon hanging from his mouth, perplexed. “Now, you hear boy-“



“No, you hear! My ‘kind’ is going to hunt you down if you don’t move. If you want to stay here,
fine. But that’s on your own accord, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Harry told them, his eyes
blazing before he turned his back.



“No-Now just wait a minute. You claim that this Lord thingy-“



“Voldemort. And it isn’t a claim. It’s true. I’ve explained this to you practically everyday.
Dumbledore told you. Kingsley told you. Mr. Weasley told you. Practically everyone who knows
something about magic told you something!” He corrected.



“Don’t you say the M word in this house.” Vernon warned. Harry stood there, his hand running
through his unruly black hair that could have used a good combing. Not that it would have done much
justice.



“What about that-that Minstry of Magic,” He dared to use the M word. How noble of him.



Harry snorted. “The Order thinks that it’s been infiltrated. The Death Eaters AKA the evil side
have persuaded the Ministry by any means necessary. Obviously it won’t be safe. The Order is the
only thing that can keep you safe.”



“You think we’re just going to vamoose? Just drop everything to go into some kind of Witness
Protection? I have a job! What about Dudley’s schooling? What about the furniture? What about the
food?” Vernon growled.



Another snort escaped Harry’s lips.“You stay here, you won’t have to worry about that.”



“Dad, I’m taking his advice,” Dudley’s first words during that conference. Three pairs of eyes
turned to him.



Harry beamed at him. He knew that if Dudley decided something, his parents would agree no matter
what. “They’ll be here in five minutes. Take what you will. Carry light.” Harry instructed, quickly
making his footsteps heard as he ran up the stairs to gather his things. He would finally be able
to say goodbye to this place for good.



Quickly he rummaged through his materials and took what he thought he would need, stuffing them
into a rucksack that he had conveniently found in the bottom of his dresser. Throwing it over his
shoulder, he looked at Hedwig and smiled for once that day. “We’re getting out of here. And soon,
you won’t have to be in this cage,” Tossing a few owl pellets in, he came downstairs to greet a
ring at the door.



Harry hesitated before opening the door and greeted by Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones. “Mr.
Potter! Hello! So nice to meet you!” Dedalus smiled, shaking his hand. Harry gave a faint smile and
nodded to both of them before turning back to the Dursleys. It would have been too much to let them
handle the Dursleys.



“I’ll just help you with them,” He told Hestia and Dedalus.



Hestia threw back a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re on a tight schedule. But why
not?”



“Well if we hurry, we can make it just in time,” Dedalus smiled, flipping open his pocket
watch.



“We have to leave before you do. Since it would be highly dangerous to do magic inside your
house, it would be better if we have the Muggle way of getting out. Tell me, do you know how to
drive?” He quested Vernon, pocketing his watch.



“Well of course I know how to drive!” Vernon blurted, clearly appalled that he would even be
asked this question.



“Lucky! I’d be quite gob smacked by all those lights and buttons!” He chuckled.



“Can’t even drive,” Vernon muttered.



Luckily Hestia nor Dedalus heard. “We’ll drive 10 miles and from that destination, we’ll
apparate to a safe location. So, ready are we?” Hestia exclaimed, putting her hands on her
belt.



“Yes. Come along Duddy-kins,” Petunia cooed, coaxing him by his shoulders. But he would not
budge.



“What about him? Isn’t he coming along?” Dudley asked, pointing at Harry.



“Of course not! Why would he be seeing as you are all well protected?” Hestia asked, a furrowed
brow.



“Well, why isn’t he?” He asked again.



“Because he doesn’t want to! Right boy? He’s off with his ‘lot’.” Vernon asked, looking at Harry
with a large eye.



“His ‘lot’? What is that sup-“ Hestia was cut off by Harry.



“They don’t know anything about what I’ve done. So don’t bother explaining. I’m nothing but a
spec of dust. Waste of space.” Harry shrugged, silencing Hestia from saying anything else to make
the situation worst.



“I never thought you were a waste of space.” Dudley suddenly said. That was the nicest thing
that had ever come out of his mouth.



Harry looked dumbstruck. “Uh, thanks Dudley.”



“Well then! We’ve got about two minutes before we’re behind of schedule. Better hurry,” Dedalus
interrupted, stepping outside.



“Right! Let’s be off then,” Vernon said, walking out with a word to Harry. There was no surprise
there.



“See ya, Harry.” Dudley said awkwardly, zipping up his black leather jacket and popping up the
collar.



“Yeah. Take care, Big D,” Harry worked up a smile and was nearly taken back when he saw a faint
smile on Dudley’s large face.



As Dudley walked out, Harry turned to Aunt Petunia, expecting her to leave in the same way as
Vernon did. “Good bye.” She said softly, a hit of regret in her voice that didn’t go past
Harry.



“Good bye,” He replied, watching her go out, casting Harry another glance.




Harry looked back at the empty house. It looked the same as it did as always. The TV was on. The
kitchen lights were on. The refrigerator door was open, a pudding package on the floor. Realization
had hit Harry. He would never have to clean here again. He walked over to the stairs and picked up
Hedwig’s cage, giving it a last sweep around the house. “Last time we’ll ever be here, girl. Take a
good look. Because it’ll all be in the past.”



Suddenly, he could hear a large engine flaring from outside, causing a roar to ripple through
the house. It had been completely silent before. Through the curtains of the door, he could see car
lights flaring inside and soon there were footsteps coming closer.



Harry blinked and walked to the kitchen door, cautiously lifting up the curtain. Dark figures
began to appear as if they were under the Disillusionment Charm. Harry could tell that one of them
was Hagrid, his overbearing body a sign. He let out a relieved sigh and opened the door to be
caught off guard by a mess of brown hair hurdling into his chest. It was Hermione.



“Oh Harry,” she breathed, her arms tightly wrapped around his neck, in fear that if she had let
go that he would suddenly disappear. He let out a shaky breath and hugged her back, breathing in
the scent he knew to be Hermione. In the midst of all the chaos, he had forgotten about his two
best friends.



Ron stood behind her, grinning. “Hey mate.” Harry greeted him with a wave since Hermione had
decided to keep her arms around him. He looked down at her big ball of hair, one arm still around
her waist. Hagrid came to the door, a jolly look on his face. “Almot ready ther’ Harry?”



“Definitely,” he reassured, feeling Hermione detach herself from him. He glanced at her out of
the corner of his eye and realized that her eyes were puffy and red. He didn’t question it then.
There would be time to ask questions later.



“Happy to get out, huh Harry?” Ron chuckled.



“I couldn’t begin to explain Ron. I could not begin.” Harry replied.



Author’s Note: How was it? Second chapter coming soon!



2. Potter Polyjuice
-------------------

*Disclaimer:* I don’t think I would WANT to own Deathly Hallows. I’m not JKR. And right
now, I’m happy about that. :)



*Author’s Note:* Okay, now that I’ve thought about a lot of things, I will be changing A
LOT of the plot line. :) I hope you enjoy.

*Book Seven: The Deathly Hallows*

By Hermione Potter



*Chapter Two*

Potter Polyjuice



Harry was surprised at the number of people that came to see him. Ron, who had gotten taller,
Hermione who’s face was shining, Hagrid who looked scruffy, Fred and George who looked identical
with maniacal grins, Mr. Weasley who had a bit of dirt on his face and wearing olive colored
clothes, Mad-Eye Moody with his darting eye, Tonks whose hair had been changed to purple, Remus who
looked tired and exhausted, nonetheless happy to see Harry, Fleur who was beautiful with her
silvery strands of hair, and Kingsley, bold and bald



“Change of plans,” Moody said as they all settled inside, the doors locked. “Seems that Plan A
isn’t going to work out since Pius Thicknesse has crossed over to the other side which causes a big
problem. He’s done loads to protect You-Know-Who from gettin to ya. But that was pointless since
you have your mother to protect you. But the real price is that he’s doing anything from trying to
get you out of here safely. Second problem is that you’re still under age and that means you still
have the Trace on you. If you perform magic the Ministry is going to detect it or anyone else near
you. So we need to get out of here,” Moody explained, followed by a growl.



The tension in the air could have been cut with a tooth pick.



“Now we can’t wait for the Trace to break. The second you turn 17 and it does, you’ll be
vulnerable. Thicknesse thinks he has you cornered. And the only way to get you out is to use travel
the only way that it can’t be detected. Thestrals, brooms, and Hagrid’s motorbike. Your mother’s
protection will only break under two protections. When you turn 17, or you can no longer call this
place home. Once you’re out of range, the protection will be. And you cannot return,” Moody
finished, pacing back and forth.



“The Ministry has idea that we’ll be rescuing you on the thirtieth. But to be sure, if there are
any Death Eaters out there, we’ve put protection charms on every house possible. You’ll be going to
Granger’s home. We’ve got enough wizards guarding that place like Azakaban. From there, you’ll be
given a Portkey so that you can transport to the Burrow. All right Harry?” Mr. Weasley explained,
looking at Harry intently.



Harry sat for a moment to take everything in. He glanced around at all the faces that were now
waiting on him. His eyes fell upon Ron and Hermione who seemed to be worried as much as anyone
else. “Well? When do we leave?” He asked, breaking the silence.



“Good. Now we’ll be needing a few of your hairs...,” Moody said, approaching him.



Harry jumped back and blinked. “Woah woah woah. What for?”



“To make the Polyjuice Potion of course. You think all 14 of us are going to go to the same
place? We’re going to use the Polyjuice Potion and have seven Potters going in different directions
along with a companion. That way they can land in safe locations and transport to the Burrow.”
Moody laughed.



“No! I’m not going to risk that! It’s already enough that I’ll be traveling unprotected, but I’m
not going to put the rest of you in danger!” Harry exclaimed, backing up into the sink.



“I told you he would act like this,” Hermione interrupted, her brown eyes settling on Harry.
Harry gave her a glance and tore his eyes away, facing the rest of them.



“We’re not going to enjoy it either Harry. Imagine if we got into a sticky situation and end up
with an ear or arm cut off!” George kidded, nudging him in the ribs.



Harry did not crack a smile.



“You can’t do it if I don’t cooperate. After all it is my hair,” Harry decided, crossing his
arms over his chest. He was fighting a losing battle.



“We can force you,” Moody growled again, the lines in his face darkening.



“Fine,” Harry mumbled, reaching up into his dark hair and yanking out enough hairs.



“Good. Drop them into here,” Moody instructed, holding out a bottle. Harry did as he wanted.



“You look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle did,” Hermione blurted out, looking at the potion
that was now a golden color. Her face flushed as everyone looked at her. “We-Well you know what I
mean.” She couldn’t see that Ron’s ears were turning red.



“Well, drink up,” Moody said, handing it off to the students.



As each person took a gulp, Harry watched in amazement as their bodies began to bubble and
transform into mirror images of himself. Several began to shrink and others began to grow. Fleur’s
hair pulled back into her head as everyone’s hair began to darken. In a matter of minutes, there
were six Harry Potters staring back at him.



Hermione glanced at everyone as she stood and brought out a large sack, unzipping it. She pulled
out clothes and several pairs of glasses, identical to the ones resting on the bridge of Harry’s
nose.



And then, they proceeded to change right in front of him.



“Can I get a little privacy here?” Harry gaped, knowing that everyone of them would know what he
looked like naked. Even Fleur, Tonks, and Hermione. He cringed and slumped his shoulders. “Well now
that you’re done exposing me to everyone else, are we going to leave soon?”



“All right. Bill with Fleur. Arthur and Ron. Tonks and Fred. Kingsley with George. Lupin with
Miss Granger and Mr. Potter. Hagrid will be following after you two to Granger’s house. I’ll be
going there now to check things out before you both arrive. And be ready to keep a look out,” Moody
warned, limping out of the house.



Harry walked out onto the backyard and saw as there were two broom sticks one the ground.
Resting besides those were the delicate creatures that people feared because they had been called
different, Thestrals. He watched as Hagrid boarded the motorbike. “Was that Sirius’s?” He asked,
aiming towards Remus.



“Yes, a dare devil that one. Well! We’d be on our way,” Remus answered, hoisting himself onto
the back of the Thestral and holding onto the reigns. The others proceeded to get on their mode or
transportation as Harry sat behind Remus.



As the others began to take off into the air, Harry turned to see Hermione cautiously getting on
behind him. “Have I said how much I detest flying?” She commented, looking at the creature’s
enormously large wings.



“Well Hermione, hold on tight. I’m sure none of us will let you fall,” Remus smiled, launching
the Thestral into the air, followed by the loud lurching noise of the motorbike.



Harry’s eyes widened as he realized that he didn’t have the rest of his things with him. “Wait,
my things! Hedwig!” He exclaimed, tugging on Remus’s shirt.



“Don’t worry Harry, we put them in the sidecar with Hagrid.” Hermione assured him as her arms
began to tighten themselves around his waist. He could have sworn on Merlin’s grave that he had
heard a rib crack here and there.



As soon as the others were clear, about thirty cloaked figures sprang into the air, surrounding
both the Thestral and the motorbike. Harry could hear the bike come to a lurching halt before the
sound of rattling rang in his ears. He turned to head in time to see Hedwig’s cage falling out of
the side car. “HEDWIG!” Harry shouted. “Remus, turn around!” He demanded, tugging on him.



“Harry, the Thestral isn’t cooperating,” Remus swallowed, whipping out his wand.



“*Alohomora*!” Hermione took her wand out, pointing it at the cage. Harry let out a
relieved sigh as he watched Hedwig fly from the catch, gliding low, out of sight from the Death
Eaters. He quickly took his wand out and shouted, “*EXPELLIARMUS*!” He watched as wands were
thrust away from their owners.



“*Impedimenta!*”



Several Death Eaters collided in mid-air as if there was a transparent wall dividing the
sky.



“Don’t worry Harry! I got it under control!” Hagrid bellowed, pushing a button on the motorbike.
Harry watched as large flames erupted from the end, making the Death Eaters yelp in pain.



“Harry! It’s him!” Hermione whispered, tugging on Harry’s sleeve. Suddenly pain fell upon
Harry’s scar. His hand darted to his forehead, rubbing it. They turned to see Voldemort hovering in
the air. Harry’s insides immediately weakened as he fought to dodge green streams of light. Harry’s
insides emptied as he saw Stan Shunpike, revealing himself to be a Death Eater.



“Harry Potter.” Voldemort sneered, taking out his wand. Hermione’s eyes widened as she watched
in terror.



“Harry, how did they know you were the real one?” She whispered in his ear.



“No clue,” he muttered. “Remus! Hagrid! Go!” He commanded, holding on to Remus’s waist
tightly.



Before they began to move, Harry looked back to see Voldemort pointing his wand at him. But then
his hand fell and he vanished along with his loyal servants.



Harry took a deep breath and felt himself begin to descend onto the ground. He looked over the
shoulder of Remus to see a large house, made of marble. Columns that were inspired by the Greek
architecture could be seen even from the night sky. “That’s your house?” Harry asked, looking back
at Hermione who shrugged.



“Yes.” She answered before letting go of his waist and hopping off the Thestral. She proceeded
to open the door to her family house and was greeted by at least 10 wizards and witches who were
from the Order. She turned to the others. “Well? You can come in,” She beckoned them, walking
inside.



Remus turned to Harry and shrugged, helping Harry with his things. But as Remus and Hagrid
trudged inside the home, Harry turned to look at the sky. He had not forgotten that he had almost
lost his faithful companion, Hedwig. He only hoped that his winged friend was safe and that she
would return.



“Harry. Get in her’ before them Death Eaters spot ‘cha!” Hagrid called out to him, waving his
large hand. Harry could hear the wind being swept by his hand and quickly gathered his things,
walking inside before Hagrid looked around suspiciously and shut the door quickly.



The inside of the Granger home had been one that Harry had thought about, knowing Hermione lived
in a Muggle environment. It had looked like the cozy shows on the tele that Harry had a glimpse of
when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were eating.



He found himself walking into the living room where Hermione seemed to be gathering things
inside her rucksack. It seemed that she wouldn’t be carrying much. But before he could ask
anything, she stood up and turned to face Harry, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “Well? I have
everything. So we should be going,” Hermione said, turning to find Remus looking through his
pockets.



“Where are your parents?” Harry asked, watching Hermione look at him.



“Australia. The Order thought it would be safer that way. I was uneasy about it, but they
thought it would be better to put a Memory Charm on them. Thought it would be safer since they
don’t know who I am. If Voldemort ever interrogated them, they wouldn’t know anything about me or
magic.” She replied, a sad look on her face. He was about to say something before Remus
interrupted.



“Here’s the portkey. Everyone grab on!” Remus warned before Harry began to feel the pull in his
naval. He closed his eyes as he heard Hermione yelp quietly, knowing she was holding on for dear
life. Before he knew it, he was in the Burrow, his bum colliding with the wooden floor.



Harry winced as he got up, staggering a bit. Portkey wasn’t the best of travel choices.



“Harry! Oh dear!” He turned to see Mrs. Weasley waddling her way over, her arms spread out. He
made an attempt to smile before he was engulfed into the motherly hugs that only Mrs. Weasley could
subdue. “You are the real Harry, right?” She pulled back, looking him up and down.



“Yeah. No one else has been back?” He asked with a bit of concern. She looked bemused.



“We...We had a run in with Death Eaters. The second we took off, we were surrounded. We had to
defend ourselves. I had no idea where anyone else was besides the ones with me. And then Voldemort
got sight of us-“ Harry stopped when he realized he had said the name in the Weasley household.



“Thank goodness you’re all right. As well as you Hermione. I’m sure all of you could use a spot
of tea and some biscuits. Hagrid would you like to sit down? You look a bit out of it,” Mrs.
Weasley asked, looking over Harry’s shoulder to see that Hagrid was darting his eyes around the
room.



“Tha’ would be nice.” He replied, following her into the kitchen.



Harry turned to Hermione who seemed to be looking at the paintings on the wall beside the
fireplace. He thought it would be best to give her a bit of space before he talked to her.



Before he could do anything, he stopped short when he had seen Ginny coming down the stairs. For
a moment, he watched her as she strode into the kitchen. Obviously, she didn’t see him. He
swallowed a bit, remembering what had happened just a few short months ago. It wasn’t till now that
he realized that he longed to just have her look at him.



“Harry!” Hermione called urgently, rushing to the door and opening it. Harry quickly followed,
seeing that Kingsley, Tonks, and Fred were dragging a body. It was George. And his face was covered
in blood.



“George! What happened?” Harry asked, helping to carry George to the couch. His face paled when
he realized that he was missing an ear.



“Molly! Get in here!” Remus called, rushing over and performing a cleaning spell. In a swoop,
the blood had dissipated and there was a gaping hole where his ear was.



“George! My baby!” Mrs. Weasley rushed in, sitting at her son’s side.



“I’m afraid we can’t do anything. Once his ear has been cursed off, there’s nothing that can be
done. We had a run in witha grindylow. No idea where it came from,” Kingsley said, his accent
coming out deep and forceful. The group fell silent.



“Voldemort got a lead from someone. Someone’s giving him information. But we don’t know who.”
Remus said in a soft tone, sounding grave.



“It can’t be anyone from the Order. But Voldemort did catch up with us,” Hermione
interrupted.



“What? How?” There was a sharp intake of breath.



“He didn’t know where we were because if he did, then it would have been the first place to
check. He fell for the Polyjuice Potion, I’m assuming,” Harry explained, getting looks from
everyone.



“Will George be all right?” Hermione asked, knowing that if the conversation continued, there
would be an exchange of heated words. Harry shot her a grateful glance and turned back attention to
George.



“He’ll be fine. He’lll just never have an ear again,” Fred answered, looking at his twin.



“I think I’ll make a bit of lunch. Everyone let George rest. In the meantime, why don’t all you
dears go up to your room? I’m sure the others will come on their way soon,” Mrs. Weasley gave a
small smile before going into the kitchen. Harry could hear her try to hold back sobs as she began
chopping.



Harry walked upstairs, following behind Hermione who stayed silent as they went into their
bedrooms. He glanced at the door and frowned before walking into Ron’s room. It looked no different
than when he saw it last Christmas. It was still a mess. There was Ron’s bed and then a cot for
him. It was quiet, but it felt like he did belong there.



As if by magic, the door had swung open and Ron’s red hair had came in, out of breath. Harry
turned to him. “What took you so long?” He asked, seeing as though Ron had looked like he was
throttled by the Whomping Willow that they faced in second year.



“Mad-Eye. He’s been killed.” Was the first thing to come from his lips. Harry dropped his
rucksack and stared at his best friend.



“What? Moody’s been killed? Did the Death Eaters come after him?” Hermione’s voice came from no
where. The two boys turned to the door to see that she was indeed, there.



“Yeah. There was a whole mess of them. He was alone too. Tonks said that he was almost to your
house until they all came.” Ron explained, rubbing the back of his neck. It was a habit of his when
something bad happened.



“Well does everyone else know?” She asked, walking in and joining them.



“Reckon Tonks is telling them now,” Ron shrugged, looking around. “Sorry about the mess Harry.
Mum’s been wanting me to clean it. Not really much time, you know?” He tried to change the subject,
but it didn’t seem to work.



“We should go downstairs.” Hermione suggested. The two boys nodded before following her below,
seeing everyone gathered around the sitting room, goblets in their hands. They turned to see the
three.



“I see Ron’s told you the news. Come. We’re about to do something,” Remus beckoned, filling
three goblets with a dark liquid, pushing it to the side. Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced at one
another and picked them up, giving a sniff.



“To Mad-Eye.” Mr. Weasley wished, raising his goblet in the air.



“To Mad-Eye.” The room chorused.



“And Sirius,” Remus called out. Everyone looked at him.



“To Sirius,” A second round of calling.



Harry held the goblet to his lips and let the drink flow down his throat. He felt his throat
burn as he realized it was firewhiskey. He gulped it down, feeling his face warm up. He turned to
hear Hermione place her goblet down, his hands framing her face to keep from getting warmer. Harry
glanced around the room and blinked.



“Would anyone like a bit of tea?” Mrs. Weasley asked, starting to walk into the kitchen.



“Let me get it Mrs. Weasley.” Harry complied. Before she could object, he got up and headed to
the kitchen. But not before he stopped, hearing voices inside. He was about to walk away, until he
began to hear the conversation.



“So Mungdungus never showed up?” It was Mr. Weasley’s voice.



“No.” The other was Kingsley Shacklebot.



“Well has anyone caught sight of him? You don’t think he was near Mad-Eye do you?” Mr. Weasly
asked.



“No. But a few of the Order members think that he is the one that gave our escape away. But he
was with one of the most skilled Aurors. Nonetheless, he was another Harry. It made perfect sense
to go after Mad-Eye first. But Mungdungus panicked. And then he was gone before Voldemort was done
with Mad-Eye,” Kingsley explained.



Harry walked in quietly, giving a slight cough, watching Mr. Weasley turn to him. “Well, hello
Harry. Need anything?”



“Oh Arthur, he was getting tea for me. Sweet boy. Now Harry, you go back in the other room and
I’ll get it,” Mrs. Weasley appeared from behind Harry, gently nudging him out and shutting the
door.



He looked at the door, letting the information that he heard sink in.



*Author’s Note:* Please review! I’ve had a rush of H/Hr love and at this rate, I’ll
probably get two chapters up every week. WOO!



3. Frustration Comes in the Form of Mrs. Weasley
------------------------------------------------



**Disclaimer:** Do you think if I owned Harry Potter, I would be on this site posting?

**A/N:** Oh snap. It's been practically two years since I've last been on Portkey,
let alone post a new chapter. I know I've left many of my stories unfinished and many people
left hanging. Whether or not the readers who've read my stories are still here, I have begun
writing again, spurs of inspiration in my veins!

If you recall, this story was basically a re-write of the seventh book soon after its release
and horrific ending of H/G and R/Hr. Some things have changed. So if you need to be reminded of
what happened, please read the first two chapters. Thank you!

**Book Seven: The Deathly Hallows**

**By Hermione Potter**

**Chapter Three**

Frustration Comes In the Form of Mrs. Weasley

“I can't stay here.” Harry announced as he sat at the dinner table surrounded by the
Weasleys and Hermione. They all turned their gazes to him.

“What do you mean you can't stay? You're very safe here!” Mrs. Weasley retorted,
scooping more potatoes on his plate. He sighed and looked down on his plate which was once again,
refilled.

“I'm putting you all in danger if I do,” He argued, leaning against the back of his
chair.

“Nonsense Harry. You-Know-Who and his followers have many places that they need to search before
they figure out where you are,” Mr. Weasley continued on, taking a large bite of the biscuits that
lay in a basket on the table.

“No, you don't und-“

“We went through a lot of trouble.” Bill countered.

“I know bu-“

“Yeah Harry. I lost an ear for you!” George replied.

“Yes Ge-“

“Mad-Eye Moo-“

“I KNOW! OKAY?! I know!” He shouted, air escaping his lips in shallow breaths. He slammed his
fork down and pushed his chair out, standing up. “I just-I just need some time to think.” He told
them before he walked away from the table and walked up to Ron's room.

“Why can't everyone just leave me alone? Can't they see they're in danger?” He spoke
rather loudly, not caring if anyone else had heard him. He flung himself on the bed that was
messily made and rubbed his hands up and down his face, trying to think.



And then he heard hooting. He sat up and saw that Hedwig was perched on the sill of the window.
“Hedwig!” He quickly went over and stroked the top of her head. “I thought I lost you.” She cooed,
nipping at her wings and looked up at him, her yellow eyes glimmering.

There was a knock on the door.

“Harry? Are you all right?” It was Hermione.

“I'm fine! I just need to be alone,” Harry called back, aware that if he had an outburst
like before that it would hurt her feelings.

“All right. If you need anything, I'll be in Ginny's room,” She called back. Harry could
hear her footsteps retreating to the bedroom down the hall before he heard the door creak shut.

He wasn't aware of how much he had missed Ginny until Hermione had mentioned her. The way
her long red hair cascaded down her back. How her freckles were sprinkled over her nose like
cinnamon. Her lips-

“What are you doing?” Ron bursted through the door, shutting it behind him and making any
thoughts Harry had fly out the window. “Hey! Hedwig's here. I was wondering where she was,” Ron
grinned, pointing at the window where Hedwig rested.

“Sorry about everyone down there. They're just worried,” Ron started, rubbing the back of
his neck.

“I know,” Harry sighed, sitting down on his cot. He really didn't need anyone else telling
him that. It was enough that he had gotten mad.

“They're just bei-“

“RON I KNOW!” Harry shouted, looking at Ron who looked shaken. “I know....I'm really sorry
Ron but I just need some time to think,” He said in a softer tone. His fingers rose to the bridge
of his nose and pinched, trying to relax.

“All right then. I'll just go get a bit more food,” Ron excused, walking out of the room
with a saddened look on his pale face.

Harry grunted before falling back on the bed and closing his eyes.

*“You told me the problem would be solved by using another's wand!”*

His scar began to sear with pain as he realized that he was looking through the eyes of
Voldemort once again. He clenched his eyes shut and saw a frail man cowering on a stone floor,
shaking with fear.

*“No! No! I beg of you,”*

*“You lied to Lord Voldemort, Ollivander!”*

*“I did no such thing! I swear to it!”*

*“You sought to help HIM. You sought to help Potter win!”*

*“No! I believed another wand would work!”*

*“Then explain why Lucius's wand was destroyed!”*

*“I cannot understand....The connection...only exists between...your two wands...”*



*“Lies! CRUCIO!”*

Agonizing screams filled his head as he fought to block Voldemort out of his mind. He knew that
it could not happen though. These visions had been getting stronger and stronger. He cursed under
his breath, realizing that he should have tried harder in Occulemency.

“Harry?” He quickly turned to see Hermione at the door, her face stricken with worry. “Harry!
Are you all right? You look like you had a fright,” She decided, rushing over and taking a closer
look at his face. “You're not thinking of leaving are you?”

“I'm sure I look better than Ollivander.” The words came out bitter and torn.
Hermiones's hand shot to her lips, covering the gasp that would escape.

“But Harry! These visions were supposed to stop! You were supposed to close your mind off. What
if Voldemort's tricking you!” She warned.

“He's taking over the Ministry. Don't let him take over you as well,” She added, her
voice tender and concerned.

“Ron, honestly, can't you clean your room?” Mrs. Weasley sighed, peeking in to observe the
room.

“I don't know why I need to.” Ron shrugged, flipping through a wizard magazine.

“Well for one, Bill and Fleur's wedding is soon!” She informed, throwing her hands in the
air. She let a large breath out to calm herself. “Ron, clean you room.”

“The wedding is not going to be in here!” Ron argued.

“Clean it up this minute! Or you get no chocolate biscuits!” She threatened. Ron's brown
eyes widened before he shot up, picking things up that did not belong in that place.

“I'll help. Besides, most of these things are mine,” Harry tried, standing up.

“No no. Now Harry, you're our guest. Besides, Ronald was supposed to have this room cleaned
up even before you got here. It's only gotten messier which mean he didn't do anything
whatsoever. Now why don't you come down for breakfast?,” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, patting Harry
on the back.

“Yeah. I'll be down in a minute. I just need to wash up,” Harry lied, glancing at Ron who
was now trying to fold a shirt, but it was unsuccessful.

“Of course dear,” She smiled, walking out.

Harry turned to Ron and walked over, picking up the things that he had made a mess out of.
“Where's Hermione this morning?” He asked.

“Doing a bit of research I reckon.” Ron answered, running a hand through his messy hair. Harry
glanced at him once again and looked at the calender that was on his wall.

“It's almost the 31st. The Trace will break and then we can get out.” Harry
dismissed.

“Well, there's a problem. Fleur and Mum will be furious if we don't go to the wedding,”
Ron laughed, scratching his cheek.

“Don't they realize how important-“



“No they don't. That's a problem there. Mum's been interrogating both me and
Hermione about what's going to happen. It's getting to be a bit hard. I wouldn't be
surprised if she tried Veritaserum. She'll be badgering you next.” He explained with an
exasperated sigh.

Within hours, Ron's prediction had come true. While Harry had been helping Mrs. Weasley
clean up the dishes, she casually slipped the statement in. “Hermione and Ron seems to think that
you three will be dropping out of school. I'm sure they've just been joking. Isn't that
right Harry?” She smiled, her cheeks dimpling.

“Well, actually it is true.” He replied dryly as she dropped one of the plates on the floor. The
porcelain smashed into tiny pieces that reminded him of Sirius's mirror.

“And why may I ask are you doing this?” She asked, her voice tight.

“Well, when Dumbledore passed, he wanted me to do things. Ron and Hermione know about it and
they want to come along,” Harry explained. He knew that she would try to pursue information.

“What kind of things?” She continued.

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I can't.”

“Well, as the parents of Ronald, Arthur and I have every right to know! And I'm sure
Hermione's parents would like to as well.” She frowned, putting down the dishes before another
mishap occurred.

“Dumbledore didn't want me to tell anyone else. Hermione and Ron have a choice of not
com-“

“Quite frankly, I don't think any of you have a choice! You're barely under age. Any of
you! You're not fit to go out, especially with You-Know-Who on your tracks! I'm sure you
misunderstood Dumbl-“

“I didn't misunderstand. Dumbledore wanted me specifically.” It was out. Mrs. Weasley
knew.

“Well then. You will stay for the wedding. After all, we need all the helping hands we can get,”
She addressed him sweetly.

“O-Of course.” He replied, a bit surprised at the change of topic.

“Lovely.” She ended the conversation there before she beckoned him to let her finish the
dishes.

From that moment on, Mrs. Weasley had kept the three Hogwarts drop-outs from thinking at all.
They were so engulfed with preparations for the wedding that they didn't have time to breathe,
much less think. Fred and George were too busy setting pranks throughout the setting. Bill was
having a hard time trying to get into his robes. Fleur had cried about how her dress was not
off-white, but ivory colored. It was all too confusing.

On the fourth night of Harry's stay, he was helping to set the table. Ginny stood across
from him, setting the cups down. “Mum's trying everything to try and make you three stay. She
seems to think that if she keeps you three separated that you won't be able to plan your
getaway.” She explained, looking at him.

Harry laughed at this. Of course he did not think of what he was saying. “Reckon if that
happens, someone else will get to Voldemort first.”

Immediately, all the color drained from Ginny's rosy cheeks. “I-Is that what you're
going to do?”



“Of course not. I was-joking. You think I'd be stupid enough to do that,” He laughed
nervously, looking at her. Realization hit as he realized that this had been the first time they
had talked since he had arrived. Of course there were moments where they would pass each other
throughout the home. Or where Harry would see her going down to the watering hole. He thought back
to when they would be spending time together in the secluded areas of the castle. From the look in
her eyes, he was sure she was thinking the same.

“Har-“

Mr. Weasley, Kingsley, and Remus chose the time to burst through the door. Harry could see Ginny
curse under her breath. He was curious of what she had to say before the Order members had
interrupted. Since Dumbledore had died, the Secret Keeper of Grimmauld Place, the Headquarters of
the Order of the Phoenix had been changed to the Burrow since the secret was now all of theirs.

“With twenty of us holding the secret, it'll be no time before the Death Eaters try to pry
it from one of us.” Arthur explained, sneaking a roll from the dinner table.

“Surely Snape would have said something by now.” Harry interrupted without thinking.

“Well, Mad-Eye made sure to put curses on Snape so that if he tried to spill a word, it would
bind his tongue. Of course nothing is ever a guarantee. It would have been foolish to try and keep
Grimmauld as headquarters, the security being so shaky now,” Remus explained, looking at Harry who
seemed to be turning red.

The kitchen of the Burrow was quite small that the five of them barely fit if no one was
sitting. He was standing so close to Ginny that he could smell the flowery scent that wafted
through the air since 6th year. It kept everything in his power to not brush his arm
against hers as he reached for more plates.

“Has there been any word about Mad-Eye?” He asked.

“No. Not that we're surprised the papers have said anything about his death or the missing
body. Quiet these days,” Kingsley answered, adjusting his hat.

“Has any word gotten out about me using underage magic?” Harry asked. Mr. Weasley shook his
head.

“Because I had no other choice or that they don't want to admit that Voldemort attacked me?”
He questioned.

“I think the latter. Scrimgeour doesn't want to admit that You-Know-Who is more powerful
than he and that there was a massive break in Azakban,” Mr. Weasley explained.

“Course. Who would tell the public the truth?” Harry said in a bitter tone, looking down at the
scar that had not faded away for two years. It was transparent, but under a slant of light, the
words appeared: *I must not tell lies.*

“Arry! We must decide `ow you will be disguised for the wedding!” Fleur joined them into the
kitchen, not making things less comfortable in the tight space. “Of course none of zee guests are
Death Eaters, but we cannot guarantee zat zey will not let something slip after zey `have `ad
champagne.” She tossed her head back, a laugh sounding like bells.

“Now Harry, you should help Arthur muck out the chickens. Hermione, I'd be grateful if you
change the sheets for Monsieur and Madame Delacour. They will be arriving at eleven tomorrow
morning,. Ronald you better be cleaning that room of yours!” Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice rang
through the household, probably even letting the *nearby* neighbors hear.

That following afternoon, Harry and Mr. Weasley proceeded to the coop to find that nothing had
needed to be mucked out. “There's no need to mention it to Molly. Between you and me Harry,
Sirius's bike has been here and I've been doing a bit of tweaking. Fascinating really,” Mr.
Weasley gave a hearty chuckle.



When the two arrived back out the house, it seemed that Mrs. Weasley was no where to be heard or
seen. Harry sought this to be the perfect opportunity to sneak to Ron's attic bedroom. When he
walked in, he saw Ron jump from his bed to scurry around the room. “I'm doing it! I'm
almo-Oh, it's only you,” Ron discovered, falling back on his bed.

Harry looked around the room. It had looked the same it always did. Messy. The only thing that
was different was the fact that Hermione was sitting in the corner with her ginger haired cat,
Crookshanks and sorting through a variety of books while dividing them into two large piles as tale
as Harry. When she had spotted him, she got up and walked over, sitting down on the cot facing Ron.
Her cheeks seemed to be flush as she looked at Harry. “Hello Harry.”

“How'd you get away?” Harry asked with a bemused tone, taking a seat beside her.

“She forgot that she had asked me to change the sheets yesterday. Lucky, isn't it?” Hermione
asked in a rhetorical sense. Harry looked down to see Crookshanks looking up at him. “What?!”

“Harry? What's wrong?” Hermione frowned, looking at him.

“Nothing.”

“We were talking about Mad-Eye. I reckon he survived,” Ron said, interrupting the staring that
Crookshanks had emitted toward Harry.

“But Tonks said he was hit by the Killing Curse,” Harry said.

“It could have missed. She wasn't there.” Ron countered.

“Even if the Death Eater missed, he fell about a thousand feet,” Hermione threw her two cents
in.

“He could have used a Shield Charm-“

“According to Bill, his wand was blasted from his hand.” She shot him a look, stroking her
fingers through Crookshanks's fur.

“Fine, if you want him dead,” Ron muttered, fluffing his pillow and letting his head fall.

“The Death Eaters probably did something with the body.” Ron decided.

“Yeah.” Harry agreed, remembering what had happened with Barty Crouch. “Like when the Death
Eaters transfigured Barty into a bone and went to bury it in Hagrid's garden. Maybe he
transfi-“

“Don't!” Hermione's voice scolded, looking at the floor. At that moment, Crookshanks
jumped from her arms and onto Harry's cot as Hermione's eyes began to tear.

“Oh no. Hermione.” He sighed. “I didn't mean to upset you,” Harry tried to get up from his
cot.

But Ron had gotten their first. He placed his arm around her shoulders and grabbed a shirt from
his desk, handing it to her. “It's all right, Hermione.” Oddly enough, Harry felt a twinge in
his chest, but chose to ignore it.

“Oh Harry, I knew you weren't trying to. You were just too preoccupied by everything
that's happening,” She smiled through her tears, blowing her nose into the shirt that was
offered to her. “It was just so...awful. After Dum-Dumbledore and all. It was-was just so sudden.”
She choked on her tears, wiping them quickly as they reached her jaw.



In a sudden moment, *The Monster Book of Monsters* fell from Hermione's arms and
proceeded to go after Ron. A yelp escaped his lips as he jumped on top of his bed. “Ha!”

Harry blinked, wrenching the book off the floor and resealing it before he turned to look at Ron
again.

“I-I thought I saw a spider. That's all,” Ron coughed, coming down from his bed and sitting
down as if nothing had happened.

Hermione broke out in laughter, dry tears on her face. Harry and Ron looked at her before her
laughs became contagious.

“I wonder if we'll need *Spellman's Syllabary.* It's possible we'll need to
read runes.” Hermione thought, putting the book into one of the piles. Then she placed *Hogwarts:
A History* down as well.

“I wanted to talk to you about coming with me.” Harry started.

“Not thinking of trying to make us stop, are you?” Ron shot off the bed.

“I wonder if I'll need this book, it doesn-“

“Stop it!” Harry demanded, watching the two look at him.

“No, Harry. *You* need to stop it. You told us that we could stay or go. And the BOTH of us
said that we would come with you. This was decided months ago-Years if you really thought about
it,” Hermione told him, frowning at him.

“But-“

“Sod it,” Ron advised, falling back on his bed.

“-are you sure you've thought this through?” Harry finished, trying to make them understand
that it would be dangerous.

“Hm, well I've been packed for days, so we're ready to leave at any moment. You know
that did require a lot of difficult magic. And not to mention trying to sneak Mad-Eye's stash
of Polyjuice Potion right under Mrs. Weasley's nose. That was even more difficult,” Hermione
scoffed.

“Not to mention my parents. If I survive the Horcrux hunt, the Order will be able to lift the
enchantment. If I don't, well then they won't have to be so sad over a daughter they never
knew about,” She added in a softer tone. At that moment, tears began to flow down her cheeks.

“I-Hermione-I'm sorry. I-,” Harry ran a hand through his hair before he walked over and
wrapped his arms around her, sighing as he felt his shirt dampen.

“W-We know very we-well what we've gotten ou-ourselves into Harry. Ron, sho-show him what
you've do-done,” She tried to calm herself and took deep breaths, her hand clutching at
Harry's shirt.

“He's just eaten. I wouldn't want to look at it after I just ate,” Ron advised.

“When *don't* you eat?” She shot him a look.

“Oh fine,” He muttered. “Come on Harry,” He beckoned walking to the far side of the room.

“Why?” asked Harry, even though he began to walk over.



“*Descendo*.” muttered Ron, pointing his wand at the low ceiling. The tiles among the
ceiling began to shift as a hatch opened and a ladder was lowered. Harry looked up in amazement.
His amazement was soon shattered as an eerie and horrible moan came from the upper level followed
by an awful smell that imitated open drains.

“It's your ghoul,” It was a statement more than a question. As Harry neared the creature he
realized that the ghoul was dressed in blue stripped pajamas and had a head of red hair. “Since
when do ghouls wear pajamas? Or have hair?” He blinked, remembering that they usually remained bald
and covered in purple blisters.

“He's me. See?” Ron asked.

“No. I really don't.” Harry answered, seeing no resemblance.

“Well, I'll explain when we get back to my room. The smell is getting to me.” Ron muttered,
descending down the ladder and closing up the hatch as Harry came down as well. “Once we've
gone, the ghoul will be living here in my place. I think he really wants to-not that I can tell.
Anyways, he'll be with spattergroit. If we don't turn up at school, everyone's going to
think that Hermione and I must be with you. Which means that the Death Eaters will go striaght for
our families to see if they've got the information on where you are.” Ron explained, proud of
the plan.

“A lot of Muggle-born families are going into hiding at the moment. Hopefully it'll look
like I've gone away with Mum and Dad,” Hermione added, sorting through her books.

“Obviously, we can't hide my whole family. Especially since a lot of them have jobs at the
Ministry. So we're going to put out the story that I'm really sick with spattergroit, which
is why I'm not going to be at school. Mum and Dad can show then the ghoul in my bed, covered in
pustules. Spattergroit is really contagious so I don't think anyone's going to come near
it. It won't matter that he can't talk because you can't once the fungus has spread to
your throat. Wicked, isn't it?” Ron grinned.

“And your Mum and Dad are all right on this?” asked Harry, confused that Mrs. Weasley would even
agree.

“Well, Dad is. Fred and George helped transform the ghoul. Mum's not going to come to terms
with it until we're gone.” Ron shrugged.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that Hermione and Ron had gone through great lengths to reassure
their company on the hunt. The measures that they had taken to protect their families had been
grave. It had meant a lot to him that they would be by his side. He wanted to put into words of how
grateful he was, but no words could be important enough.

The silence became broken as Mrs. Weasley's voice rang throughout the house.

Ron cringed. “I don't know why the Delacours need to come two days before the wedding.
Mum's been barking mad.”

“Well, Fleur's little sister is one of the bridesmaids and needs to be here for rehearsal.
After all, she's too young to come here alone. Especially with everything that's been
happening,” informed Hermione. “But what's really important now is where we're going to
start hunting. After all, we really have no leads. Well, I mean I know you wanted to go to Godric
Hollows, but isn't hunting the Horcruxes our first priority?”

“If I knew where they were, I would have to agree with you,” Harry sighed. He had a feeling that
he would be able to find something there. Though a part of him wanted to see the grave of his
parents. There was something pulling at him to go there. He knew there would be answers. He wanted
to understand.



“Don't you think there's a possibility that Voldemort's keeping a watch on it?”
Hermione asked, not one bit afraid of saying his name. It brought comfort to him knowing that she
had started saying his name in 5th year which calmed him in a time of stress. The
thought of Voldemort watching over had never crossed his mind as he turned to Ron.

“What about this R.A.B. person? You reckon he's destroyed it yet? It'd be one less to
destroy.” He asked in wonder.

“Or *she*,” Hermione corrected.

“Whatever. What if he hasn't destroyed it?” He asked.

“Don't you think that'd be difficult to determine since we have no idea who R.A.B. is?
Either or, we're going to have to track down the real locket to see if it was destroyed or
not.” She explained, glancing at Crookshanks who was now clawing at Ron's pillows.

“And if we find it, how do you suppose we'll destroy it?” raised Ron.

“I've been researching it.” Hermione informed, receiving looks from the boys. “Don't
give me that look. I knwo Dumbledore had the books taken from the library, but a simple Summoning
spell worked. It wasn't stealing of course! Dumbledore wanted us to do this. If he didn't
I'm sure he wouldn't have kept the books around!” She replied, her voice undeniably
high-pitched.

“When did you manage to do this?” Harry asked in awe, a mixture of admiration and shock bubbling
inside him.

“Well-after Dumbledore's funeral. It occurred to me that we needed to know more about the
Horcruxes before we went looking for them, so when I was alone, I did it out of curiosity. I
didn't know it would actually work,” She explained sheepishly.

“I got this one which explains quite a lot about how Horcruxes are made,” Hermione held up a
dark leather bound book entitled *Secrets of the Darkest Art*. “Awful book really. Most of the
darkest magic I've ever read. No doubt Voldemort probably got all the information he needed
from it,” She finished.

Ron cringed at the Voldemort's name. “So if Voldemort knew how to make them, why'd he go
after Slughorn?”

“He went to Slughorn because he wanted to know what would happen if he divided his soul into
seven parts,” Harry answered. “But I think you're right Hermione. Voldemort could have easily
found what he needed in that book.”

Hermione beamed at him, missing Ron's cringe and his ears turning red.

“The more I've read about it, the more I feel strange. It says that your soul becomes more
unstable as you rip it, but he's made six! Unbelievable.” She muttered.

“Anyway of putting them back together?” Ron asked.

“Yes. But it's excruciatingly painful. Apparently, you have to feel remorse and come to
terms with what you've done. The pain can destroy you, but I really can't see Voldemort
doing that, can you?” She asked, an eyebrow raised.

“No, does it give any notion to how to destroy them?”

“Yes. Apparently what Harry did to Riddle's diary is one of the foolproof ways to destroy a
Horcrux,” Hermione explained.

“Oh, lucky I have that amazing stash of basilisk fangs. I had no idea what I was going to do
with them,” Ron answered sarcastically, rolling his eyes.



“Well, no *Ronald*. It doesn't have to be a basilisk fang. It just has to be strong
enough to completely destroy the Horcrux beyond repair. Basilisk venom has only one antidote which
is-“

“Phoenix tears,” Harry finished.

“Right.” Hermione beamed once again. “The problem is that there are very few things as
destructive as a basilisk fang. That's our main problem. Ripping or smashing it won't do
any good.” She sighed. “It's the opposite of a human being.” Seeing Harry and Ron thoroughly
confused, she continued. “Well, if I were to have sword right now and run it through you, Ron, it
wouldn't damage your soul at all,” She shrugged.

“I'm sure that would be pleasant,” He replied with a roll of eyes toward the roof. Harry
held back a laugh.

“The diary did sort of die when I stabbed it,” He said, remembering the ink pouring like blood
of the punctured pages as well as the screams that Voldemort emitted as his soul was destroyed.

“Obviously once the diary is properly destroyed, the soul piece trapped inside it becomes
non-existent. When Ginny tried to flush the diary away, it came back brand new,” Hermione
continued.

“But it possessed Ginny. So how does that work?” Ron asked with a confused expression.

“Well, since it was still magically intact, it can carry out things in and out through someone
who is in close contact with it. I don't mean physically, but emotionally. Ginny poured her
heart out into the pages, making her very vulnerable to the power. I think you'd be one to get
in trouble if you got too dependent on a Horcrux,” She shrugged.

Before anything else could be said, the door had swung open and Hermione yelped, dropping
*Secret of the Darkest Art* on the floor. Ron quickly tried to get up but stepped on
Crookshanks's tale, hearing him his before jumping on top of the bed and scowling at him. Harry
looked at the book that was on the floor before pushing it under the bed with his foot.

“Well, isn't this sweet? So sorry to break it up. But I'm sure that you all need to
rest. You promised to help me sort through all the wedding presents though,” Mrs. Weasley smiled,
looking at Hermione who had flushed cheeks.

“O-Of course Mrs. Weasley,” She replied, looking back at Harry and Ron before walking out of the
room. She followed behind, slamming the door behind her.

“Can't wait till this wedding is over. The sooner it's over, the happier I'll be,”
Ron sighed, giving looks at Crookshanks.

“Yeah. But then we won't have anything to do besides find Horcrux. It'll be like a
holiday,” Harry threw, falling back on the cot and reaching under his bed to find the book that he
had kicked under.

The following morning, Mrs. Weasley had been in a larger frenzy than she had been the whole
week. She had made Ron wear matching socks and Harry flatten his hair, though no avail. The two
looked at one another before trudging down the stairs where the rest of the Weasley clan had been
standing, trying to compose themselves. Harry looked around, blinking. He had never seen the Burrow
look so tidy before. There were no dishes in the sink. The floors were spot-free. There was nothing
out of place. It was spick and span.

“Mama! Papa!” Harry turned to see Fleur launching herself at her parents. Monsieur Delacour was
no where near the attractiveness that Madame Delacour, but he seemed to be a good natured man. He
was plum. A little pointed black beard.



He turned to see Mrs. Weasley happily coming over in high-heeled boots. She turned red as
Monsieur Delacour kissed both of her cheeks. “You `have gone to so much trouble. Fleur tells us you
`have been working very `ard.” The words spilling out in a deep voice.

“Oh! No. It's been no trouble at all,” Mrs. Weasley gasped. “None at all! Don't be
silly.” Her cheeks flushed momentarily before giving a wide smile.

“Darling Molly Weasley, we are most honored to come and make the permanent bond between our
families. Please, let me introduce my wife, Apolline,” Monsieur Delacour proudly stepped aside to
give full recognition to the dauntingly beautiful Madame Delacour.

It was no surprise that she still looked as if she was twenty, her long strands of silvery hair
flying behind her as she glided forward and pressed complimentary kisses to Mrs. Weasley's
cheeks “*EnchantÄ—e*. Your `husband `as been telling us such amusing stories! Isn't that
right, Arthur?” She smiled gloriously, turning her attention to the head of the Weasley clan.

Arthur gave a laugh which was quickly extinguished as soon as Molly threw him a look. He coughed
loudly and bowed his head, avoiding eye contact. A sheen of sweat glimmered on his forehead which
he quickly proceeded to wipe away, rubbing its remnants on his wrinkling pants.

“And, of course, you `ave met my leetle daughter, Gabrielle!” Monsieur Delacour smiled.
Gabrielle stepped forward, curtseying with all the politeness that seemed to encapsulate the Fleur
miniature. Eleven-years-old with waist-length hair silvery blonde that seemed to be a reoccurring
theme in the Delacour family, Gabrielle gave Mrs. Weasley a dazzling smile before looking in
Harry's direction, battling her dark eyelashes.

A cough came from Ginny's direction.

“Well do come in! No point in standing out in the blistering sun! I'm sure you could use
yourself a bit of lemonade? We just made some this morning,” Mrs. Weasley explained in a quick
breath, moving aside to gesture the three inside.

Over the next few days, the Delacours seemed to be one of the few most helpful and pleasant
guests at the Weasley household. Even Madame Delacour was more than happy enough to help around
even though Molly had come to plead that she wouldn't because of her guest status. When the
families had sat down to go over the preparations for the wedding, Monsieur Delacour was more than
pleased with everything from the napkin colors to the seating arrangement. “*Charmant*!” He
would smile, kissing the tips of his fingers in a show of admiration. Gabrielle was completely
busy, following after her sister whom, as the bride, needed much assistance in her last days as an
unmarried witch.

The Burrow was less than accommodating to the increased family size. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were
now sleeping in the sitting room after much protest from the Delacours. Gabrielle stayed with Fleur
in Percy's old bedroom while Bill stayed in Charlie's room while he was in Romania. With
the little space that was given, opportunities to flock away from the overly crowded Burrow became
close to nothing when Harry, Ron, and Hermione jumped at the chance to go feed the chickens, hoping
to escape.

“But she *still* won't leave us alone!” Ron mumbled, throwing the chicken feed onto the
floor. Immediately, the chickens bounced from their comfortable nests, pecking at anything they
could.

Nothing more could be said when Mrs. Weasley appeared once more, foiling their plans to talk to
each other. “Oh! Good, you've fed the chickens.” She smiled, moving her laundry basket from one
side to another. “We should close this off before they get themselves loose…To put up the tent for
the wedding. Harry, you should stay inside while Bill's escorting the workers in. It's a
bit complicated with all the security spells…,” explained Molly, sounding exhausted as she looked
at Harry.

“I'm sorry,” Harry looked at her, sounding humble.

“Oh, don't apologize! Your safety is more important. Before I forget, I wanted to ask you
what you wanted to do for your birthday. You're turning seventeen and we should do something
special for it…”

“No, that's fine really. I don't need anything. Really,” he replied quickly, shaking his
hands in front of him. He glanced at Ron whom gave him a wary look.

“Oh, well if you're sure. I'll just invite Remus and Tonks. And maybe Hagrid. Would you
like that Harry?” Molly smiled, moving the basket to the other arm.

“That'd be great. Thanks,” Harry beamed. “But I don't want you going through any
trouble.” He added quickly, rubbing the side of his neck.

“It's no trouble at all! Your birthday is an important day, Harry. It's no trouble at
all,” Mrs. Weasley softly replied before walking to her laundry line where she began to hang up the
damp clothes, using her practical spells.

Harry watched her and soon realized that he knew he would be inconveniencing her and bringing
her remorse when the time came. He realized the pain he would be giving her. He suddenly felt
someone's hand on his shoulder, squeezing. Turning, he caught Hermione's eye. Giving a
small smile, she tried to reassure him without words. He reached to squeeze her hand back,
returning the ease.

Turning to watch Mrs. Weasley once more, his shoulders sagged. He didn't seem so
reassured.

**A/N:** How was it? BE BRUTAL! xD Please review. :]

-->



4. Coming of Age
----------------



**Disclaimer:** For the five-thousandth time, I am not JKR. Therefore I can't own Harry
Potter. Bummer, isn't it?

**A/N:** Yay! I've got another update for you all! Now, I've gotten same depressing
reviews and I know that the text is not really original since most of the events are in exact
coordination with the actually novel of Deathly Hallows. Most of the dialogue has changed and while
it may be difficult to see what has changed, added fluff has been put in. So if you are looking for
the goodness of H/Hr that was lost in HP7, there is much more in this story, particularly in these
next two chapters. :] I hope you all enjoy.

**Book Seven: Deathly Hallows**

**by Hermione Potter**

**Chapter Four**

Coming of Age

He stood along the mountain road for a moment, looking down at the shadow of the small town as
it was bathed in fog. He began walking once more in the cool light of dawn, seeing the flickering
lights of the town as if it had suddenly woken at his arrival. Was the man he sought down there,
the man who he needed to find so badly that he couldn't think of anything else? The man who had
the answer, the answer to his problem…

“Wake up!”

Harry opened his eyes to see the blurring shadows of the night. It seemed as though the sun had
not risen yet and when Harry sat up, he could barely see Ron on his bed, looking at him. Harry sat
on his cot still, feeling his scar prickling.

“You were mumbling in your sleep, mate. Pretty sure it wasn't one of *those* dreams,”
Ron teased, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “*Oi!*” He exclaimed feeling the
hurdle of Harry's pillow in his face.

“Was I?”

“Yeah. `Gregorovitch.' You kept saying `Gregorovitch.'”

Harry squinted at Ron, but only saw the blurry figure of red hair and white pajamas. Feeling
around him, he tried to locate his glasses, pushing them up his nose. “Who's
`Gregorovitch?'”

“Beats me. You were the one calling out his name in sheer ecstasy.” Ron earned another thrown
pillow in his face.

Harry leaned back against the wall, rubbing his scar. It was bothering him. The name was
bothering him. He remembered hearing it from somewhere, but he couldn't figure out where. “I
think Voldemort's looking for him.” He didn't even question it.

“Poor bloke,” Ron shook his head, looking downcast.

Harry was wide awake now. Taking the sheets off of him, he swung his legs over the side of the
bed, feeling his feet chill against the wooden boards. Trying hard to think of where he heard the
name `Gregorovitch' before, all he could think of was the mountainous horizon and the village
that was cradled in the valley.

“I think he's abroad.”

“Who? Gregorovitch?” How many times had they said his name now?

“No. Voldemort. I think he's somewhere abroad, looking for Gregorovitch. From what I could
see, it was nothing like Britain,” Harry explained, closing his eyes. The burning in his scar
seemed to lessen.

“You reckon you were seeing into his mind again?” Ron looked worried as he sat up in his bed,
glancing at Pidwidgeon who had his head burrowed into the depths of his wing.

“Do me a favor and don't tell Hermione,” said Harry immediately. He knew that if Hermione
found out about his dreams, she'd be beside herself with worry. And he felt guilty enough
making her worry about himself as it was. He smiled wryly. “Although how she expects me to stop
seeing things in my sleep…”

He closed his eyes. Why did the name `Gregorovitch' sound so familiar? Merlin, he didn't
need this right now.

“I think…he's got something to do with Quidditch. Maybe…I don't know. That's all I
can come up with,” Harry explained, glancing in Ron's direction. Had he been a player? No. A
broomstick maker?

“Quidditch? Are you sure you're no thinking of Gorgovitch?”

Harry blinked. “Gorgovitch?”

“Dragomir Gorgovitch, Chaser, transferred to the Chdley Cannons for a record fee two years aago.
Record holder for most Quaffle drops in a season,” Ron threw this information out as if he was
*Quidditch Through the Ages*.

“No. It's definitely not Gorgovitch.” Harry knew who Ron was talking about.

Ron glanced outside his window before looking back at Harry. “Well, happy birthday anyway.”

“Wha-Oh! Wow, I forgot! I'm seventeen!” Harry realized, looking down at his wand. Picking it
up eagerly, he looked around the dingy attic to see of anything he could summon. Looking at his
broom, he grinned. “*Accio Firebolt!*” In an instant, he felt the hard wooden handle of his
broom clutching in his hand.

“Slick,” Ron snorted, watching Harry. He was the last of the three to celebrate his
18th birthday. But for Ron, he felt uneasy. He had no idea why, but he did as he watched
Harry start to summon Ron's possessions in a frenzy which woke up Pigwideon.

Harry was overly excited as he looked around the room. Gazing near the door, he tried to tie the
laces of his trainers by magic, only to have them tie several times. With another wave of his wand,
he untied the laces and then sat down on the floor in pure satisfaction.

“I'd do your fly by hand, though,” Ron advised, snickering when Harry immediately checked
it.

“You'd do my fly, eh?” Harry smirked, looking in Ron's direction.

“Oi. I didn't mean it like that. Get your mind out of the rabbit hole.” Ron flushed with
embarrassment before reaching under his bed to retrieve a rectangular-wrapped present before
tossing it toward Harry.

“A bit of a stretch from the usual tradition, eh?” Harry chuckled, unwrapping it with ease. “A
book?” He blinked, wondering how all of a sudden Ron had given him a very Hermione-like
present.

“Not just your average book, mate. Pure gold. *Twelve Foil-Safe Ways to Charm Witches*.
Explains everything you need to know about girls. I wish I had known about it last year when I had
to deal with Lavender…Major disaster. But this book. This book will solve all your problems. Fred
and George gave it to me last year and I've learned a lot. And then I would have known what to
do with…,” Ron trailed off. “Anyways, yeah.”

Harry raised his eyebrow at his best friend. Had he really consulted advice about girls from
this book? He had a vague thought that the last part was about Hermione. It was no secret that last
year, he noticed Hermione's jealousy toward Ron and Lavender's relationship. He felt a
twinge of loneliness.

“Let's go see if Mum's got breakfast on the table,” Ron interrupted his thoughts,
rubbing his stomach fondly.

Harry grinned and rolled out of his bed after Ron whose room seemed to be in a disarray of
misplaced objects.

When they arrived in the kitchen they found a pile of presents on the table. Bill and Monsieur
Delacour were finishing their breakfasts, while Mrs. Weasley stood chatting to them over the frying
pan.

“Arthur told me to wish you a happy birthday, Harry. He had to leave early for work, but
he'll be back for dinner. We've left our gift for you. There, on the top,” she smiled
brightly, pointing to an orange-wrapped box with her spatula. “Why don't you open some while I
make you lot some breakfast?”

“Thanks Mrs. Weasley,” said Harry as he sat down at the table, retrieving the said present and
opening the wrapping. Resting inside was a watch very much like the one Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had
given Ron for his seventeenth; it was gold, with stars circling around the face instead of
hands.

“It's tradition to give a wizard a watch on his seventeenth birthday, when he becomes of
age. I'm afraid it isn't new like Ron's. It was actually my brother Fabian's, but
he was never careful about his possessions, it's a bit dented in the back-“

Harry hadn't known what she was babbling on about as he had taken her into a fierce hug. He
placed his emotions and thoughts into that hug, hoping to convey how grateful he was for everything
she had done in the past six years for him. Pulling away after a few moments, he felt her hand on
his cheek, patting gently. As she pulled back, she twisted her wand in a wonky motion that caused
the pan to drop a few pieces of bacon.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” Hermione's face appeared in the kitchen, flushed as if she had been
running. She smiled, presenting a neatly wrapped parcel, placing it on the rest of the presents.
“It's not much, but I hope you like it. What did you get him?” She turned to look in Ron's
direction, however it seemed as though he pretended to not hear her.

“Com on then! Open Hermione's!” Ron exclaimed loudly.

Harry glanced between the both of them before going through his third present. Inside laid a new
and polished Sneakoscope. “Thanks, Hermione,” he grinned in her direction before going about
opening the other presents. Bill and Fleur had given him an enchanted razor of which Monsieur said,
“It will give you ze smoothest shave you will ever `ave, but you must tell it clearly what you
want…ozzerwise you might find you `ave a leetle less hair zan you would `ave liked….” The Delacours
had given him French chocolates while Fred and George proceeded to give him a partaking of the
latest merchandise from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Upon the arrival of the Delacours in the kitchen, Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to leave do
to the overcrowded room. Harry gathered up his presents before Hermione snatched them away.
“I'll pack these for you,” she brightly suggested, heading upstairs. He stared after her for a
moment before following Ron toward his room.

“She's rather chipp-“

“Harry, will you come in here a moment?” Harry stopped and turned to see it was Ginny who
stopped Ron mid-sentence. Ron was about to say something when Hermione appeared, nudging him in the
ribs. Feeling anxious, Harry followed Ginny into her room.

He noticed that there were posters of the Weird Sisters and a picture of Gwenog Jones, Captain
of the all-witch Quiddich team the Holyhead Harpies. The room was small, but incredibly bright
compared to Ron's room. An old desk stood facing the open window, which looked out over the
orchard where he and Ginny played two-a-side Quidditch with Ron and Hermione. However, it housed a
large, white marquee, no doubt for the wedding.

With a steady gaze, she looked at him, almost expecting something. “Happy seventeenth.”

“Yeah…Thanks,” he mumbled, realizing how awkward this really was.

“I couldn't think of anything to get you,” she admitted, not finding any shame in this.

“You didn't have to.” It was true. Harry hadn't expected anything from her after he
broke things off in the past year.

She seemed to ignore this.

“I really wanted to get you something useful. You know? Something you could take with you, but I
just couldn't.”

“You didn't have to,” he repeated, looking at how the sun cast shadows on Ginny's hair,
making her look lovelier than usual. He realized that she wasn't tearful or weepy. Having six
other brothers seemed to toughen her up. He liked that.

His heart started pounding when she took a step closer to him. “I know. But I thought of
something you could remember me by. In case some veela comes out of the blue and you decide to go
for it.”

“I really doubt that I'll be having any kind of `dating' status when I'm gone.” He
laughed, realizing the only female contact he would have was Hermione. And even then, it wasn't
as if he'd consider any serious feelings about her.

“There's the silver lining I've been looking for,” whispered Ginny before she leaned
into him, her lips capturing his own in what seemed to be the most passionate kiss they had shared
since they were together. However, something was off. Something he couldn't shake off as he
responded to her kiss. As much as he tried to brush it off, the nagging voice in his head that
vaguely reminded him of Hermione would not shut up.

The door sprang open, causing the two to break apart quickly. Harry turned to see Ron standing
there, Hermione closely behind with an apologetic expression on her face.

“Oh. Sorry.” Ron didn't seem to mean it.

“Ron! That was a bit uncalled for. You know very well they were in here,” Hermione mumbled under
her breath, loud enough for Harry to catch it. Ron's ears were positively scarlet as he was
giving Harry a look of annoyance. Hermione gripped his arm, trying to tug him away from the scene
as she and Harry shared a look. He wanted to lock the door, have a few more moments with Ginny. He
wondered if there had been more time, what they would have said to one another. However, when the
door opened, it seemed all of it came back to him. Why he and Ginny couldn't have a
relationship. All the reasons for staying away from her. All of the happiness had gone when Ron
opened the door.

Ron watched as his sister brushed past him and down the stairs without a word or a second
glance. He knew she would be furious with him by the next day, but he didn't care. He knew what
had been happening in her room and he knew that it was wrong of Harry to lead her on like that.
However, the constant nudging of Hermione only heightened his annoyance.

“You dumped her. Do you know what you're doing when you're trying to mess around with
her feelings like that?” Ron explained, almost exasperated.

“Ron! You can't blame him. After all, I'm sure Gin-“ Hermione started, quickly
interrupted by Ron.

“No! He's the one that broke things off with her. She needs to move on.”

“I was not *messing* with her feelings. She's not the only one broken up about it, Ron.
You would rather I have stayed with her, risked her life? Why don't I ask her to come with us
so it makes you feel better about it?” Harry argued, getting heated.

“Harry,” Hermione's voice warned, her hand on his arm. “You know you're both trying to
get a rise out of one another. There's no need to fight over this. Just drop it.”

“But he's the one snogging her! Just getting her hopes up! She's only sixteen!” When did
Ron start sounding like a father?

“For Merlin's sake! It's not like us to end up married-“

“It may as well be! She's fancied you since she met you!”

At this, Harry fell silent. He knew that marriage was a long ways off when his life wasn't
even long enough to last another day. However, the thought of Ginny in a white dress standing next
to a tall, faceless man didn't bring as much grief as he would have thought to his mind. They
were young. The one thing that was bothering him was that the faceless man had a future. Had a long
awaiting future while Harry's was in an impending battle of life or death against
Voldemort.

“Ron!” Hermione's voice chimed in. “Stop it! It's his birthday! Don't say anything
else to him!” She looked at Harry who gave her an appreciative glance.

“It won't happen again,” Harry promised.

Ron looked relieved, but still tense. “Right then…That's it then.”

The tension, though still in the air, seemed to diminish as the rest of the day went on.
Thankfully, Ginny had not sought another one-on-one session with Harry for the time as she must of
understood what would happen if they did. Upon Harry's birthday dinner, the house was floating
with aromas coming from the Weasley kitchen. Charlie, whom had arrived earlier that day was in an
aggressive debate with Mrs. Weasley over the length of his hair while Fred and George were
bewitching green and white lanterns to read the number seventeen. Since the dinner would have
stretched across the Burrow to accommodate the guests including Tonks, Remus, Charlie, and Hagrid,
several matching tables were lined up across the garden, end to end.

Harry kept glancing at George whose head had nearly healed after his ear went missing. While
Harry knew what it felt like to be stared at with a physical imperfection, he couldn't get used
to the hole that was left in George's head.

Flicking her wand about, Hermione made green and gold streamers erupt from the end of her wand
and drape themselves rather artistically across the trees and bushes.

“Nice. You're really gotten an eye for that sort of thing,” Ron piped up, giving her work an
admiring expression as she turned the leaves of a crabapple tree to gold.

Hermione looked at him. “Thank you,” she replied, a bit confused.

“Yeah, no problem,” he grinned, giving her a thumbs up.

Harry turned his head and smiled inwardly, knowing that there was probably a section on
compliments in *Twelve Foil-Safe Ways to Charm Witches.* He coughed quickly as he fell in step
with Hermione as she changed other tree's leaves into gold. “Having a blast?”

“Oh yes, truly. I've given thought to a career in decorating,” she chuckled, looking at him
as she tucked her wand away. “But it's for your birthday after all. It's got to be special
now that you're of age.”

“You're making it more of a big deal than it is, Hermione. It's not like I've
defeated Voldemort. Then you can overdo it. Hell, I'll overdo it,” he chided, giving her a wry
grin to only have it dropped from his face at her serious expression.

“Don't joke like that, Harry. When you defeat him, it would be a great time for celebration.
But a time for collection. I'm sure that you may not be celebrating such things sooner than
others,” she explained, her voice dropping a few octaves so that others couldn't hear her.

It had never occurred to Harry how confident and knowledgeable Hermione seemed about everything.
It wasn't a matter of if he defeated Voldemort. It was a matter of when. As if she knew he
would pull through in the end.

“How can you be so sure?” He didn't realize he said this out loud as Fred and George were
now playing pranks on their Weasley brothers.

“Oh, I'm not, Harry. I'm not going to lie. I'm deathly afraid of what's going to
happen. But I just have the feeling that you'll pull through. Voldemort is weaker in certain
areas. Areas that you will have to your advantage,” said Hermione, watching as one of the golden
crabapple leaves drifted to the grown.

“Bu-“

“Let's not talk about this now. It's your birthday dinner. We shouldn't put a
raincloud on it now. There are plenty of other ways for that to happen,” she smiled, crossing her
hands behind her back and turning around to see Mrs. and Mr. Weasley setting up the food. Turning
to him, she frowned. “I'm sorry my present wasn't much. I know that your last one broke,
but there are surely more prac-“

“Hermione,” interrupted Harry. “You didn't have to get me anything in the first place. But
you did anyways. And I needed a new one. So it was the perfect gift.”

“Har-“

“Again, thank you. I really needed one.” He hoped he had shut her up about her present. He heard
her sigh and her feet shuffle before she fell into a pensive mood.

“Are you and Ginny all right?”

“There's nothing between us to have anything wrong in the first place.” Harry morbidly
replied, realizing that until Voldemort was defeated, there would be nothing.

“You seemed rather…charged when Ron decided to barge in.”

“Charged? Hermione, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.” He laughed for
the first time that day.

“I couldn't think of anything else to say,” she blushed, looking down at her feet.

“What? Did I hear right? You couldn't think? And more so, you couldn't think of anything
else to say?” Harry thought he heard wrong, earning a smack in the shoulder.

“What's going on?” Ron seemed to appear out of nowhere, squishing between the two of them
without notice.

“Nothing, Ron. Is the food out?” Hermione asked, flustered. Harry grinned suddenly, looking in
her direction.

Disregarding this exchange, Ron rubbed his stomach. “Yeah. Mum said she's got all the
fixings for you Harry. Your favorites. So why don't we just mosey on over and stack up our
plates?”

“Yes, shall we, Harry? I'm rather famished,” Hermione smiled, looking at Harry. She needed
no answer as the three of them walked over to the stretched tables, gathered by the other guests
and house members.

As Harry piled what seemed to be roasted chicken on his plate along with roasted potatoes, he
was swept in a fierce embrace by the familiar Tonks.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” She wished with a big grin on her face.

“Thanks,” he replied, looking at Remus who was beside her. It was odd. While Remus seemed
unhappy, Tonks looked simply radiant.

“Is that a ring on your finger?” Hermione gasped, rather loudly as she looked at a small
princess-cut diamond on Tonks's finger. Harry and Ron quickly moved to her side to see that
there was indeed, a ring.

“Oh! Remus and I got married,” Tonks made it sound like it was the most natural thing in the
world to say. As if she had been saying it her whole life.

“Married?! Since when?” Ron asked, seeing that Harry was completely speechless.

“For a few weeks now…We wanted to tell you, but with everything that was happening, it
didn't seem like the right time,” Tonks laughed, looking at Remus fondly.

“Oh! I'm happy for the both of you! Congratulations!” Hermione squeaked, giving the two of
them fond embraces. “You both deserve some happiness.”

“Harry? Are you all right with this?” asked Remus tentatively as the four of them turned to
him.

He hadn't said a word. “I'm happy for the two of you. It's great news,” he grinned,
clapping Remus on the back and returning a fierce hug to Tonks.

“We al-“

“Out of the way, out of the way!” sang Mrs. Weasley as she came out with a cake in the shape of
a Snitch that was the size of a beach ball. For a moment, Harry took no notice of it until Ron was
salivating over the abundant of sweet cake to make him realize that it was his **own** birthday
cake. To save herself the strain and hefty trip to the garden, she had levitated it with her wand,
placing it on the middle of the table.

“That looks amazing,” Harry spoke in awe, realizing the work that went into making it.

“ Oh, it's nothing,” Mrs. Weasley flushed, giving Harry a smile. Over her shoulder, Ron was
giving him a thumbs up, mouthing a *Good job*. Harry grinned and ran a hand through his hair
as he watched Mrs. Weasley cut pieces of the cake, but keep them in tact so that it would be easier
later to pick it apart.

He turned to see Hagrid standing near him, placing his present onto the table designated for
presents, creating a large thump. “Seventeen, eh? Six year since we met, Harry, d'yeh remember
it?”

“Vaguely,” he joked, looking up at the half-giant. “Didn't you smash down the front door,
give Dudley a pig's tail, and tell me I was a wizard?” He would never forget that day.

“I forge' the details,” Hagrid chortled before turning to the other two companions. “All
righ', Ron, Hermione?”

“We're fine,” Hermione chimed, seeing as Ron was busy eating another piece of chicken. She
sighed and looked at Hagrid. “How are you?”

“Bin busy. But no bad. We got ourselves some newborn unicorns.” Hagrid's eyes lit up.
“I'll show yeh when yeh get back,” he paused to rummage through his dark coat, taking out a
small parcel, presenting it to Harry. “I made you some rock cakes, but I thought you could use this
too. Mokeskin. Hide anythin' in there an' no one but the owner can get it out. They're
rare, they are,” he squeezed the slightly small, slightly drawstring pouch with a long strong,
evidently intended to be worn around the neck.

Harry was more than grateful for the gift. “Thanks Hagrid!” It would hopefully come in handy for
when he left.

“An' there's Charlie! Always liked him - hey! Charlie!” Hagrid's rough voice boomed
over the garden, calling attention to everyone for a moment before the Weasley son came over,
locking hands with Hagrid eagerly.

“Hi, Hagrid! How goes it?” Charlie grinned, smoothing a hand through his newly shortened hair.
He was shorter than Ron, thickset, with a number of burns and scratches up his muscle arms.

“Bin good. I've bin meanin' ter write you fer ages. How's Norbert?”

Harry reluctantly recalled the baby dragon that hatched in front of him six years ago while he
was with Hagrid.

“Norbert? Oh! The Norwegian Ridgeback? Her name's Norberta now,” Charlie laughed, looking at
the four of them.

“Norberta? Norbert's a girl?” In all of the time that Ron could have spoken, he chose now to
do so.

“How can you tell?” chimed Hermione, her eyes brightening as if she had just opened a new
present.

“They're more vicious,” Charlie shrugged, looking over at his mother. “I wish Dad would
hurry up and get here. Mum's getting testy,” he chuckled hollowly.

They all turned to see Mrs. Weasley trying to hold a conversation with Madame Delacour while
glancing at the gate every other moment.

“Let's start now! Arthur must have been held up at the Minis-Arthur!” She gasped when a
streak of light swam through the crowd taking form of a silver light that resembled a silver
weasel.

Harry watched as it stood on its hind legs and spoke with Mr. Weasley's voice. “The Minister
of Magic is coming with me.”

**A/N:** Thank you for reading. :] Like I've said, the events are in coordination to HP7.
If you don't notice the differences, then reread the book. xD Nah. The little dispute between
Ron and Harry dealing with Harry's relationship is different. Also, Harry and Hermione's
conversation was also an add-on.

:'] Please review. And if you want to flame me, go ahead. xD I shall ignore your mean
ways.

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