I sit in mine and Ginny's room sorting my things out as Fred sits beside me. "Whatcha doing?" He asks.

"Adjusting my stuff so when we have to leave I can," I say to Fred. "Why?"

"I just want to talk to the prettiest girl I know," he says smirking slightly. I roll my eyes. Since he learned Draco and I split he's been hard core flirting and it worked. Him and I got together finally.

"Stop," I say as I push my clothes to one side. My other things like my spew badges and books and such.

"So are you worried?" He asks. I nod.

"Obviously," i say to him as I push my school stuff in neat piles under the bed. I reluctantly push my quidditch uniform with it. "I'm gonna miss quidditch. Ya know I got an offer to join a professional team if I would if continued this year they would have taken me."

"I'm sorry," he says, "I miss quidditch too. Sucks we got banned our last year George and I."

"But that fight was kinda great," I say softly, "besides I'm doing the right thing."

"Yeah," He says, "I'm proud of you." I smile at him. I reach out for his hand, lacing my fingers with his.

"I'm glad you're here for me Fred," I say to him. He smiles back.

"I always will be," He says. As he looks at me I could tell now he was staring down at my lips. Wanting desperately to make the move he's wanted to make since he met me.

"You wanna kiss me?" I ask him.

"More than anything," he says. I smile.

"Do it," I say softly. He softly presses his lips to mine as my free hand reaches to cup his cheek. We move softly until a loud scoff echos in the room. As I pull away and reopen my eyes I see Ginny watching us. "Sorry," I mumble to her. As she walks past us to her bed her older brother drapes his arm around me.

"Ya know when you said you had a thing for someone new I thought you meant Blaise," Ginny says in a mild disgust, "not my older brother."

"It's been almost 2 months," I say to her, "but I've had a small crush on your brother for years okay."

"Fine Fine," She says, "But can you do it at his house?"

"I mean we could totally have you over tonight?" Fred offers and I smirk.

"Possibly," I say to him smirking, "but we have to wait for the mission to go through."

"Ahh yes that," Fred sighs. I nod.

"Speaking Of which," I say to him, "We better get ready. Wanna get my wand for me? It's on my bed." He nods and hands me my wand. I point it to my hair and eyebrows and turn them to a soft ginger Weasley red colour. "What do you think?"

"It's weird," he says as he plays with the weird ginger locks. I'd even kept my hair growing to keep myself looking more unlike my actually self. This letting me disguise myself easily.

"It's necessary," I say to him, "for my safely and for your families too."

"Fred! Y/n! Come on we have to go!" Arthur calls. I smile at the boy before waving to Ginny. Fred and I apparate downstairs meeting the others. Arthur counts the numbers then sends us to apparate to Pivet Drive. As we all pile into the empty house the others look at me curiously.

"You were right it is strange," Lupin says to George as he looks to me.

"Well can you tell immediately that it's me?" I ask them. Most say no. And in look back to Lupin. "In my Visions I saw they talking about wanting to kill me. They know i have the magic. And ya know I'd like to not die. This helps avoid this."

"Have you experienced any more of the abilities?" Tonks asks curiously.

"Well I learned I can take pain from others. But I feel the pain," I say to them, "and I can manipulate dreams. I experimented with it on Fred."

"Neat," Tonks says.

"Can you transfer the pain from one person to someone who isn't you?" Bill asks. I shrug.

"I haven't been able to experiment with it. I don't want it to be too much for the other person," I say to them.

"Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Muggle Prime Minister?" Harry calls across the room.

"He can get along without me for one night," Kingsley says. "You're more important."

"Harry!" I say running towards him wrapping my arms around him. He hugs back weakly. As he draws back he looks to my hair.

"Disguise?" He asks I nod.

"Harry, guess what?" Tonks says from her perch on top of the washing machine, and she wiggles her left hand at him; a ring glitters there.

"You got married?" Harry yelps looking from her to Lupin.

"I'm sorry you couldn't be there, Harry, it was very quiet."

"That's brilliant, congrat—"

"All right, all right, we'll have time for a cozy catch-up later!" roars Moody over the hubbub, and silence fell in the kitchen. Moody drops his sacks at his feet and turned to Harry. "As Dedalus probably told you, we had to abandon Plan A. Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He's made it an imprisonable offense to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here, or Apparate in or out. All done in the name of your protection, to prevent You-Know-Who getting in at you. Absolutely pointless, seeing as your mother's charm does that already. What he's really done is to stop you getting out of here safely. Second problem: You're underage, which means you've still got the Trace on you."

"I don't—"

"The Trace, the Trace!" Mad-Eye says impatiently. "The charm that detects magical activity around under-seventeens, the way the Ministry finds out about underage magic! If you, or anyone around you, casts a spell to get you out of here, Thicknesse is going to know about it, and so will the Death Eaters. We can't wait for the Trace to break, because the moment you turn seventeen you'll lose all the protection your mother gave you. In short: Pius Thicknesse thinks he's got you cornered good and proper."

"Meaning we have to move now before anyone else has a chance to," I say as I take Fred's hand.

"So what are we going to do?"

"We're going to use the only means of transport left to us, the only ones the Trace can't detect, because we don't need to cast spells to use them: brooms, thestrals, and Hagrid's motorbike," Moody says,  "Now, your mother's charm will only break under two conditions: when you come of age, or"—Moody gestured around the pristine kitchen—"you no longer call this place home. You and your aunt and uncle are going your separate ways tonight, in the full understanding that you're never going to live together again, correct?"

"So this time, when you leave, there'll be no going back, and the charm will break the moment you get outside its range," I say to Harry, "not that I think you'll care."

"We're choosing to break it early, because the alternative is waiting for You-Know-Who to come and seize you the moment you turn seventeen," Moody says, "The one thing we've got on our side is that You-Know-Who doesn't know we're moving you tonight. We've leaked a fake trail to the Ministry: They think you're not leaving until the thirtieth. However, this is You-Know-Who we're dealing with, so we can't just rely on him getting the date wrong; he's bound to have a couple of Death Eaters patrolling the skies in this general area, just in case. So, we've given a dozen different houses every protection we can throw at them. They all look like they could be the place we're going to hide you, they've all got some connection with the Order: my house, Kingsley's place, Molly's Auntie Muriel's—you get the idea."

"Yeah," Harry says.

"You'll be going to Tonks's parents. Once you're within the boundaries of the protective enchantments we've put on their house, you'll be able to use a Portkey to the Burrow. Any questions?"

"Er—yes," Harry says. "Maybe they won't know which of the twelve secure houses I'm heading for at first, but won't it be sort of obvious once"—he performed a quick headcount—"fourteen of us fly off toward Tonks's parents'?"

"Ah," says Moody, "I forgot to mention the key point. Fourteen of us won't be flying to Tonks's parents'. There will be seven Harry Potters moving through the skies tonight, each of them with a companion, each pair heading for a different safe house."

"No!" he says loudly, his voice ringing through the kitchen. "No way!"

"I told them you'd take it like this," Hermione says with a hint of complacency.

"I made the potion," I say proudly, "not that it matters."

"If you think I'm going to let six people risk their lives—!"

"—because it's the first time for all of us," Ron says.

"This is different, pretending to be me—"

"Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry," Fred says earnestly. "Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever."

"If I get stuck dating a Harry I'll be sick," I say looking to Fred.

"You can't do it if I don't cooperate, you need me to give you some hair."

"Well, that's that plan scuppered," George says, "Obviously there's no chance at all of us getting a bit of your hair unless you cooperate."

"Yeah, fourteen of us against one bloke who's not allowed to use magic; we've got no chance," Fred says.

"Funny," Harry says, "really amusing."

"If I have too I will rip the hair from your head Potter," I say as I fold my arms over my chest.

"If it has to come to force, then it will," growls Moody, his magical eye now quivering a little in its socket as he glares at Harry. "Everyone here's overage, Potter, and they're all prepared to take the risk."

"Let's have no more arguments. Time's wearing on. I want a few of your hairs, boy, now."

"But this is mad, there's no need—"

"No need!" snarls Moody. "With You-Know-Who out there and half the Ministry on his side? Potter, if we're lucky he'll have swallowed the fake bait and he'll be planning to ambush you on the thirtieth, but he'd be mad not to have a Death Eater or two keeping an eye out, it's what I'd do. They might not be able to get at you or this house while your mother's charm holds, but it's about to break and they know the rough position of the place. Our only chance is to use decoys. Even You-Know-Who can't split himself into seven."

"So, Potter—some of your hair, if you please."

"Now!" barks Moody. As we watch carefully Harry pulls some hair out and hands it over to Moody.

"Good," Moody says, limping forward as he pulls the stopper out of the flask of potion. "Straight in here, if you please." He drops the hair into the mixture and it bubbles.

"Ooh, you look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle, Harry," Hermione says, before catching sight of Ron's raised eyebrows, blushing slightly, and saying, "Oh, you know what I mean—Goyle's potion looked like bogies."

"Right then, fake Potters line up over here, please," Moody orders. Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Fleur line up in front of Aunt Petunia's gleaming sink.

"We're one short," Lupin says and they look to me.

"Ughhhh Fine," I sigh, "But I want it to go on record as saying I was really hoping to avoid this."

"Altogether, then..." I look to Fred and kiss his cheek quickly before downing the potion. I make a face of disgust as the taste fills my mouth. The first thing I notice is my hair disappears turning from the fake red quickly to the purple. As it gets shorter it turns the dark brownish black. Next I could tell my chest was shirking turning me into a man. As all my features change I look into a pan pouting at my appearance. My jumper and skinny jeans now feeling very baggy. "Ewww I'm Harry."

"We all are," Ron says. The twins turn to each other and smirk.

"Wow—we're identical!"

"The fuck? You both always were," I say to them laughing slightly.

"I dunno, though, I think I'm still better-looking," Fred says examining his reflection in the kettle. "Y/n?"

"Nope Nope Don't look at me," I say to him.

"Bah," Fleur says, checking herself in the microwave door, "Bill, don't look at me—I'm 'ideous."

"Those whose clothes are a bit roomy, I've got smaller here," Moody says, indicating the first sack, "and vice versa. Don't forget the glasses, there's six pairs in the side pocket. And when you're dressed, there's luggage in the other sack." As I toss off my clothes I look down and chuckle at the site of Harry's body in a bra.

"Rather fetching in a bra Harry," I tease as I unhook it and pull on the matching outfit.

"Ive seen you strip normally but never like this," Fred teases me. I smirk.

"Do you have a thing for Harry?" I ask him, "or Harry in a bra?"

"I knew Ginny was lying about that tattoo," Ron says looking down at his bare chest.

"Nah I'm the one with the chest tattoo man," I say to Ron, "it's a Lily."

"Can confirm," Fred says.

"She got it in fifth year," Hermione says, "Harry, your eyesight really is awful." As I put on the glasses I step back.

"Oh Merlin it is bad," I say to him. As we finish dressing we each grab fake rucksacks and owl cages.

"Good," Moody says, as at last seven dressed, bespectacled, and luggage-laden Harrys faced him. "The pairs will be as follows: Y/n will be traveling with me, by broom—"

"Why am I with you?" I ask Moody.

"Because you are the only other person here who they want dead," Moody says and I nod.

"Fair," I shrug.

"Arthur and Fred—"

"I'm George," Fred say as Moody points at him. "Can't you even tell us apart when we're Harry?"

"Sorry, George—"

"I'm only yanking your wand, I'm Fred really—"

"Enough messing around!" Moody snarls. "The other one—George or Fred or whoever you are—you're with Remus. Miss Delacour—"

"I'm taking Fleur on a thestral," Bill says, "She's not that fond of brooms."

"Miss Granger with Kingsley, again by thestral—"

"Which leaves you and me, Ron!" Tonks says brightly, knocking over a mug tree as she waved at him.

"An' you're with me, Harry. That all righ'?" Hagrid says looking a little anxious. "We'll be on the bike, brooms an' thestrals can't take me weight, see. Not a lot o' room on the seat with me on it, though, so you'll be in the sidecar."

"That's great," Harry says.

"We think the Death Eaters will expect you to be on a broom," Moody says, who seemed to guess how Harry was feeling. "Snape's had plenty of time to tell them everything about you he's never mentioned before, so if we do run into any Death Eaters, we're betting they'll choose one of the Potters who look at home on a broomstick. All right then," he went on, tying up the sack with the fake Potters' clothes in it and leading the way back to the door, "I make it three minutes until we're supposed to leave. No point locking the back door, it won't keep the Death Eaters out when they come looking... Come on..."

"Alright Moody!" I say as I follow him onto the brooms.

"Please be careful, Hagrid," Mr. Weasley advises, who was standing beside them, holding his broomstick. "I'm still not sure that was advisable and it's certainly only to be used in emergencies."

"All right then," Moody says . "Everyone ready, please; I want us all to leave at exactly the same time or the whole point of the diversion's lost." As we kick off and start towards I watch around us cautiously. By as we get further we realize we are surrounded.

"Shit Moody," I say nervously as I grab my wand. "STUPFEY!" As green spells shoot past us we barely dodge. As I call out spells to hit the Death Eaters. As we keep moving a green spell hits Moody making him go limp. We go down and I start to panic. "Fuck me fuck me." I let go of Moody and let his lifeless body fall and take over the flying for myself. Catching up to Bill and Fleur. I follow them until we get through the field landing at the burrows yard. I jump off the broom and sigh as I reach the ground. I see Lupin, Harry, Tonks, Ron, and a couple of the others waiting for me.

"Moody's dead," I say weakly, "he got hit with a killing curse. I had to let him go to get through it. I'm sorry."

"You're alive that's what matters," Lupin says.

"I watched him. Two inches over and I would be the dead one," I say as I take a deep breath. As we walk into the burrow I hide behind Lupin not wanting to see their faces.

"What's wrong?" Fred says, scanning their faces as we enter. "What's happened? Who's—?"

"Mad-Eye," Arthur says, "Dead." His eyes widen and then looks around.

"Is she?!" He panics But I step out toward him.

"I'm right here Freddie," I say to him as I step forward. As I reach towards him I realize I'm back to myself. He wraps his arms around my carefully. Acting as if he was too rough I'd shatter beneath him.

"You-Know-Who acted exactly as Mad-Eye expected him to," sniffles Tonks. "Mad-Eye said he'd expect the real Harry to be with the toughest, most skilled Aurors."

"Yes, and zat eez all very good," Fleur snaps, "but still eet does not explain 'ow zey knew we were moving 'Arry tonight, does eet? Somebody must 'ave been careless. Somebody let slip ze date to an outsider. It is ze only explanation for zem knowing ze date but not ze 'ole plan."

"No," Harry says aloud, and they all looked at him, surprised: The firewhisky seemed to have amplified his voice. "I mean... if somebody made a mistake," Harry went on, "and let something slip, I know they didn't mean to do it. It's not their fault," he repeated, again a little louder than he would usually have spoken. "We've got to trust each other. I trust all of you, I don't think anyone in this room would ever sell me to Voldemort."

"Well said, Harry," Fred says unexpectedly.

"Yeah, 'ear, 'ear," George says, with half a glance at Fred, the corner of whose mouth twitched.

"You think I'm a fool?" Harry demands.

"No, I think you're like James," Lupin says, "who would have regarded it as the height of dishonor to mistrust his friends."

"There's work to do. I can ask Kingsley whether—"

"No," Bill says at once, "I'll do it, I'll come."

"Where are you going?" Tonks and Fleur ask together.

"Mad-Eye's body," Lupin says, "We need to recover it."

"Can't it—?" Mrs. Weasley begins with an appealing look at Bill.

"Wait?" Bill says. "Not unless you'd rather the Death Eaters took it?"

"I'll go," I say as I look up, "I'll show you-"

"She's staying with me," Fred says as he looks up to them, "sending her back out there will get her killed."

"He's right," Lupin says, "they know it's you now. It's too dangerous."

"Fine," I say looking around the room.

"I've got to go too," Harry says. All eyes go to him.

"Don't be silly, Harry," Mrs. Weasley says, "What are you talking about?"

"I can't stay here," Harry says rubbing his forehead.

"If he goes I go," I say, "my job is still to protect him."

"You're all in danger while I'm here. I don't want—"

"But don't be so silly!" Mrs. Weasley says. "The whole point of tonight was to get you here safely, and thank goodness it worked. And Fleur's agreed to get married here rather than in France, we've arranged everything so that we can all stay together and look after you—"

"If Voldemort finds out I'm here—"

"But why should he?" Mrs. Weasley asks.

"There are a dozen places you might be now, Harry," Mr. Weasley says. "He's got no way of knowing which safe house you're in."

"It's not me I'm worried for!" Harry says.

"We know that," Mr. Weasley says quietly, "but it would make our efforts tonight seem rather pointless if you left."

"Yer not goin' anywhere," growls Hagrid. "Blimey, Harry, after all we wen' through ter get you here?"

"Yeah, what about my bleeding ear?" George says, hoisting himself up on his cushions.

"I know that—"

"Mad-Eye wouldn't want—"

"I KNOW!" Harry bellows. I look to Fred and we move so I can rest against his shoulder.

"Where's Hedwig, Harry?" she says coaxingly. "We can put her up with Pigwidgeon and give her something to eat."

"Wait till it gets out yeh did it again, Harry," Hagrid says, "Escaped him, fought him off when he was right on top of yeh!"

"It wasn't me," Harry says flatly. "It was my wand. My wand acted of its own accord."

"But that's impossible, Harry. You mean that you did magic without meaning to; you reacted instinctively."

"No," Harry says, "The bike was falling, I couldn't have told you where Voldemort was, but my wand spun in my hand and found him and shot a spell at him, and it wasn't even a spell I recognized. I've never made gold flames appear before."

"Often," Mr. Weasley says, "when you're in a pressured situation you can produce magic you never dreamed of. Small children often find, before they're trained—"

"It wasn't like that," Harry says through gritted teeth. His scar was definitely burning. He gets up and walks out.

"Wanna go to bed?" Fred asks. I nod. I take his hand and we walk up to mine and Ginny's room. I finish emptying my things and organizing then to clear off my bed as Fred makes himself comfortable. "Come on get into bed," he whispers as he looks to a sleeping Ginny.

"One second," I say as I hurry. As I bag my clothes and things I would need to travel. Then I climb into bed with Fred. His arms wrap around me and I smile Happily. Deep down I knew I wasn't. I knew that this was filling in for how Draco used to make me feel. Not that I don't fee anything towards Fred. I do. I have for a while. But it wasn't the same type of with every kiss I could see our future kinda love Draco and I had. But it was still love. And for now I was happy with him.

******

The next morning as I walk down stairs in one of Fred's T-shirt's and a pair of shorts I see Molly interrogating Harry.

"Ron, Y/n ,and Hermione seem to think that the four of you are dropping out of Hogwarts," she begins in a light, casual tone.

"Oh," Harry says. "Well, yeah. We are." I smile at them and sit down with them. A cup of coffee in my hand.

"May I ask why you are abandoning your education?" Mrs. Weasley says.

"Well, Dumbledore left me... stuff to do," mumbles Harry. "Ron and Hermione know about it, and they want to come too."

"What sort of 'stuff'?"

"I'm sorry, I can't—"

"Well, frankly, I think Arthur and I have a right to know, and I'm sure Mr. and Mrs. Granger would agree!" Mrs. Weasley says.

"Dumbledore didn't want anyone else to know, Mrs. Weasley. I'm sorry. Ron and Hermione don't have to come, it's their choice—"

"I don't see that you have to go either!" she snaps dropping all pretense now. "You're barely of age, any of you! It's utter nonsense, if Dumbledore needed work doing, he had the whole Order at his command! Harry, you must have misunderstood him. Probably he was telling you something he wanted done, and you took it to mean that he wanted you—"

"I didn't misunderstand,"Harry says flatly. "It's got to be me."

"It's what has to be done Molly," I say to him, "plain and simple. Besides all of us will be of age by the time term starts meaning it's completely up to us." She pouts and turns to the laundry.

"And that's not mine, I don't support Puddlemere United," Harry says.

"Oh, of course not," Mrs. Weasley says with a sudden and rather unnerving return to her casual tone. "I should have realized. Well, Harry, while we've still got you here, you won't mind helping with the preparations for Bill and Fleur's wedding, will you? There's still so much to do."

"No—I—of course not," Harry says.

"Sweet of you," Molly replies. I take a sip from the cup as I stretch. As Molly rushes off to grab preparation material Harry looks to me and smirks.

"So you and Fred?" He asks.

"Well," I say as I adjust the shirt, "it's pretty obvious huh?"

"It's pretty obvious he's liked you since 1st year," Harry chuckles, "especially since 4th year."

"Yeah," I say, "I know." He looks at my outfit and smirks.

"How did Mrs. Weasley take the news?" Harry asks.

"She practically had Bill and Fleur's wedding set up to be a double wedding," I chuckle, "she was very excited."

"Can't wait to tell her about Ginny and I," he says, "we'll have a wedding planned a week after we tell her."

"Sounds like her," I chuckle.

*****

As they wedding came closer multiple new things were happening. Fleur's mother, father, and sister were all here. And so was Charlie. "My favourite Weasley!" I scream as I run towards Charlie.

"Hey Y/n," he says hugging me. "How's everything?"

"It's good," I say as I pull back, "it's pretty great." Fred stands behind me watching me. "Although Freddie boy isn't pleased with me admitting you're my favourite Weasley."

"Whatever," Fred huffs as Charlie laughs.

"What are you now anyways?" Charlie asks as he ruffles my hair.

"18," I say, "ya know an adult. And Harry's 17 today!"

"Damn you kids are getting old," Charlie says, "I remember three years ago when I met you losers."

"Yeah we all were babies," I chuckle, "look how far we've come."

"Oh hey Charlie," Harry says as joins us.

"Hey Harry happy birthday," Charlie says as he ruffles Harry's mop of hair.

"So how are the dragons?" I ask him and he smiles widely as the four of us go to sit down at the table.

"Ya know fantastic as always," He says, "no major incidents or burns."

"That's good," I say happily, "maybe some day Fred and I can visit you in Romania to see the dragons."

"We can plan it," Charlie says smiling to his little brother. "You okay with that?"

"Of course," he says, "Anytime with her away from this house is fantastic." I look to Harry and pull out a small box  from underneath the table and push it towards him.

"It's your birthday present from me," I say to him, "I'd open it now." He nods and unwraps it to reveal a two bottles. One of gold liquid, the other a muddy colour. "There you have two perfectly brewed potions to help you stay alive. Glamour charms are also able to be used. They are week and easily wear off. But if your looking for a temporary fix it works."

"Thanks," he say and I smile.

"Don't go around telling people I can make liquid luck. Some will abuse the power," I say looking to Fred who rolls his eyes.

"I would never!" Fred says and then looks to Harry, "she even brewed it in the store hiding it from Mum and Dad."

"They would of asked questions," I say to him, "we don't need as many eyes on us as we have. Unfortunately your birthday party tonight will have some more questions about us dropping out."

"What?" Charlie asks and Fred pulls him aside.

"I'll see you at the party boys," I say to them, "I have some work to do."

"Of course," Harry says, "always the one to keep busy aren't you?"

"Well, can you blame me?"

*****

"Happy birthday, Harry," Tonks says, hugging him tightly as the party starts.

"Seventeen, eh!" Hagrid says as he accepts a bucket-sized glass of wine from Fred. Fred turns to me and overs a normal size glass and I gladly take it. "Six years ter the day since we met, Harry, d'yeh remember it?"

"Vaguely," Harry says, grinning up at him. "Didn't you smash down the front door, give Dudley a pig's tail, and tell me I was a wizard?"

"I forge' the details," Hagrid chortles. "All righ', Ron, Hermione?"

"We're fine," Hermione says, "How are you?"

"Ar, not bad. Bin busy, we got some newborn unicorns, I'll show yeh when yeh get back—" I avoid looking at Hagrid or the others. "Here, Harry—couldn' think what ter get yeh, but then I remembered this." He pulls out a small, slightly furry drawstring pouch with a long string, evidently intended to be worn around the neck. "Mokeskin. Hide anythin' in there an' no one but the owner can get it out. They're rare, them."

"Hagrid, thanks!"

"'S'nothin'," Hagrid says with a wave of a dustbin-lid-sized hand. "An' there's Charlie! Always liked him—hey! Charlie!" Charlie approach's, running his hand slightly ruefully over his new, brutally short haircut.

"Hi, Hagrid, how's it going?"

"Bin meanin' ter write fer ages. How's Norbert doin'?"

"Norbert?" Charlie laughs. "The Norwegian Ridgeback? We call her Norberta now."

"Wha—Norbert's a girl?"

"Oh yeah," Charlie says.

"How can you tell?" asks Hermione.

"They're a lot more vicious," Charlie says. He looked over his shoulder and dropped his voice. "Wish Dad would hurry up and get here. Mum's getting edgy."

"I know," I say to Charlie as I clasp Fred's hand.

"I think we'd better start without Arthur," she calls to the garden at large after a moment or two. "He must have been held up at—oh!" All at once we see the silvery blue light form into a Weasel.

"Minister of Magic coming with me." The Patronus dissolves into thin air, leaving Fleur's family peering in astonishment at the place where it had vanished. Fred looks at me quickly changing my hair from the bright purple to the Ginger. While I alter my features slightly to disguise myself.

"Harry look at me," I order attempting to disguise him too.

"No, there isn't any time," Tonks says.

"We shouldn't be here," Lupin says at once. "Harry—I'm sorry—I'll explain another time—" He seizes Tonks's wrist and pulled her away; they reached the fence, climbed over it, and vanished from sight. Mrs. Weasley looks bewildered.

"The Minister—but why—? I don't understand—" But there was no time to discuss the matter; a second later, Mr. Weasley appears out of thin air at the gate, accompanied by Rufus Scrimgeour, instantly recognizable by his mane of grizzled hair. Fred tightens his grip on my hand. The two newcomers march across the yard towards the garden and the lantern-lit table, where everybody sat in silence, watching them draw closer.

"Sorry to intrude," Scrimgeour says, as he limped to a halt before the table. "Especially as I can see that I am gate-crashing a party."
His eyes linger for a moment on the giant Snitch cake. "Many happy returns."

"Thanks," Harry says.

"I require a private word with you," Scrimgeour goes on. "Also with Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger. And Miss Y/n Cultven if she's here."

"We'll get her," Fred says leading us off.

"Of course," He says smirking slightly.

"Us?" Ron asks, sounding surprised. "Why us?"

"I shall tell you that when we are somewhere more private," Scrimgeour says. "Is there such a place?" he demands of Mr. Weasley. That was the least thing I hear from them until Fred pulls me into the shed. I undo the spells and look at him nervously.

"Is this a good idea?" I ask. He looks behind me.

"We don't have a choice," he says, "come on." I pull my hand away from him as we walk inside.

"Thanks Fred," I say softly. He walks off and I sit beside Harry.

"I have some questions for the four of you, and I think it will be best if we do it individually. If you three"—he points at Harry, Hermione, and I —"can wait upstairs, I will start with Ronald."

"We're not going anywhere," Harry says, while Hermione nods vigorously. I watch them all nervously trying to act upon my suspicions and . "You can speak to us together, or not at all."

"Very well then, together," he says, shrugging. He clears his throat. "I am here, as I'm sure you know, because of Albus Dumbledore's will." We all look to each other in surprise. "A surprise, apparently! You were not aware then that Dumbledore had left you anything?"

"A-all of us?" Ron says, "Me, Y/n, and Hermione too?"

"Yes, all of—"

"Dumbledore died over a month ago. Why has it taken this long to give us what he left us?" Harry asks.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione says, before Scrimgeour could answer. "They wanted to examine whatever he's left us. You had no right to do that!"

"I had every right," Scrimgeour says dismissively. "The Decree for Justifiable Confiscation gives the Ministry the power to confiscate the contents of a will—"

"That law was created to stop wizards passing on Dark artifacts," I say harshly, "and the Ministry is supposed to have powerful evidence that the deceased's possessions are illegal before seizing them. Which I assume he's disappointed to not find anything."

"Are you telling me that you thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?" Hermione asks angrily.

"Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?" Scrimgeour asks.

"No, I'm not," retorts Hermione. "I'm hoping to do some good in the world!" Ron laughs.

"Regardless it's sick," I say harshly.

"So why have you decided to let us have our things now? Can't think of a pretext to keep them?"

"No, it'll be because the thirty-one days are up," Hermione says at once. "They can't keep the objects longer than that unless they can prove they're dangerous. Right?"

"Would you say you were close to Dumbledore, Ronald?" Scrimgeour asks, ignoring Hermione.

"Me? Not—not really... It was always Harry who..." Ron says. I look to him warningly trying to get him to be cautious.

"If you were not very close to Dumbledore, how do you account for the fact that he remembered you in his will? He made exceptionally few personal bequests. The vast majority of his possessions—his private library, his magical instruments, and other personal effects—were left to Hogwarts. Why do you think you were singled out?"

"I... dunno," Ron says, "I... when I say we weren't close... I mean, I think he liked me..."

"You're being modest, Ron," Hermione says.

"Definitely,"I say, "we all were rather close to Dumbledore." He looks at us curiously. As if he would get something out of us.

"The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore'... Yes, here we are...'To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it.'" Scrimgeour says then pulls out a machine looking like a lighter. "That is a valuable object, It may even be unique. Certainly it is of Dumbledore's own design. Why would he have left you an item so rare?" Ron shakes his head.  "Dumbledore must have taught thousands of students," Scrimgeour perseveres. "Yet the only ones he remembered in his will are you four. Why is that? To what use did he think you would put his Deluminator, Mr. Weasley?"

"Put out lights, I s'pose," mumbles Ron. "What else could I do with it?"

"'To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.'" Scrimgeour asks as he hands her the book. "Why do you think Dumbledore left you that book, Miss Granger?"

"He... he knew I liked books," Hermione says in a thick voice, mopping her eyes with her sleeve.

"But why that particular book?"

"I don't know. He must have thought I'd enjoy it."

"Did you ever discuss codes, or any means of passing secret messages, with Dumbledore?"

"No, I didn't,"  Hermione says, still wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "And if the Ministry hasn't
found any hidden codes in this book in thirty-one days, I doubt that I will." She suppresses a sob. He looks to me curiously.

"'To Y/n Ann Rea Cultven I leave her great grandmothers journal that she left to me as a token to her Great Grandmother'" Scrimgeour says as he looks to me as he hands me the worn book. "Any ideas on why he would leave you this." I wipe my eyes then look to him.

"I knew he had known my great grandmother. Before he passed he promised to lend me this book to help me learn more about her," I lie to him. He looks at me as if to catch me in my lie. Then he moves on.

"'To Harry James Potter,'" he reads, "'I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.'" He hands Harry the snitch. "Why did Dumbledore leave you this Snitch?"

"No idea," Harry says, "For the reasons you just read out, I suppose... to remind me what you can get if you... persevere and whatever it was."

"You think this a mere symbolic keepsake, then?"

"I suppose so," Harry asks, "What else could it be?"

"I'm asking the questions," Scrimgeour says,
"I notice that your birthday cake is in the shape of a Snitch,Why is that?"

"Well Harry, like most of us, is a fantastic quidditch player who loves their craft," I say and Hermione keeps up.

"Oh, it can't be a reference to the fact Harry's a great Seeker, that's way too obvious," she says. "There must be a secret message from Dumbledore hidden in the icing!"

"I don't think there's anything hidden in the icing," Scrimgeour says, "but a Snitch would be a very good hiding place for a small object. You know why, I'm sure?"

"Because Snitches have flesh memories," she says.

"What?" Harry and Ron say together; the three of us consider Hermione's Quidditch knowledge negligible.

"Correct," Scrimgeour says. "A Snitch is not touched by bare skin before it is released, not even by the maker, who wears gloves. It carries an enchantment by which it can identify the first human to lay hands upon it, in case of a disputed capture. This Snitch"—he holds up the tiny golden ball—"will remember your touch, Potter. It occurs to me that Dumbledore, who had prodigious magical skill, whatever his other faults, might have enchanted this Snitch so that it will open only for you." Harry looks to me as I attempt to clear my mind of any suspicions.

"You don't say anything," Scrimgeour says, "Perhaps you already know what the Snitch contains?"

"No," Harry says.

"Take it," Scrimgeour says quietly. As Harry hesitates then takes it. The tired wings of snitch flutters.

"That was dramatic," Harry says coolly. Ron, Hermione, and I laugh.

"That's all, then, is it?" asks Hermione, making to prise herself off the sofa.

"Not quite," Scrimgeour says, who looked bad-tempered now. "Dumbledore left you a second bequest, Potter."

"What is it?" Harry asks, excitement rekindling in his voice.

"The sword of Godric Gryffindor," he says.

"So where is it?" Harry asks suspiciously.

"Unfortunately," Scrimgeour says, "that sword was not Dumbledore's to give away. The sword of Godric Gryffindor is an important historical artifact, and as such, belongs—"

"It belongs to Harry!" Hermione says hotly. "It chose him, he was the one who found it, it came to him out of the Sorting Hat—"

"According to reliable historical sources, the sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor," Scrimgeour says. "That does not make it the exclusive property of Mr. Potter, whatever Dumbledore may have decided." Scrimgeour scratches his badly shaven cheek, scrutinizing Harry. "Why do you think—?"

"—Dumbledore wanted to give me the sword?" Harry says, struggling to keep his temper. "Maybe he thought it would look nice on my wall."

"This is not a joke, Potter!" growls Scrimgeour. "Was it because Dumbledore believed that only the sword of Godric Gryffindor could defeat the Heir of Slytherin? Did he wish to give you that sword, Potter, because he believed, as do many, that you are the one destined to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Interesting theory," Harry says, "Has anyone ever tried sticking a sword in Voldemort? Maybe the Ministry should put some people onto that, instead of wasting their time stripping down Deluminators or covering up breakouts from Azkaban. So is this what you've been doing, Minister, shut up in your office, trying to break open a Snitch? People are dying—I was nearly one of them—Voldemort chased me across three counties, he killed Mad-Eye Moody, but there's been no word about any of that from the Ministry, has there? And you still expect us to cooperate with you!"

"No boys we mustn't play around this time is very dangerous," I say as cross my legs.

"You go too far!" shouts Scrimgeour, standing up; Harry jumps to his feet too. Scrimgeour limps toward Harry and jabs him hard in the chest with the point of his wand: It singes a hole in Harry's T-shirt like a lit cigarette. Ron and I jump up too and I push Harry back taking his place.

"Oi!" Ron says jumping up and raising his own wand.

"No! D'you want to give him an excuse to arrest us?"

"Back away," I order the Minster as he stares past me to Harry.

"Remembered you're not at school, have you?" Scrimgeour says, breathing hard into My face. "Remembered that I am not Dumbledore, who forgave your insolence and insubordination? You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It's time you learned some respect!"

"It's time you earned it," Harry says. The floor trembles with the sound of running footsteps and Molly and Arthur rush in.

"We—we thought we heard—" Arthur says looking at the scene of me centimeters away from the Minster blocking Harry.

"—raised voices," pants Mrs. Weasley.

"Your move," I say harshly as I grip my wand.
Scrimgeour takes a couple of steps back from Hs, glancing at the hole he had made in Harry's T-shirt. He seems to regret his loss of temper.

"It—it was nothing," he growls. "I... regret your attitude," he says, looking Harry full in the face once more. "You seem to think that the Ministry does not desire what you—what Dumbledore—desired. We ought to be working together."

"I don't like your methods, Minister," Harry says. "Remember?" Harry raises his scarred hand.

"I'll see him out," I say cautiously as I look to the others. They nod and I follow the minister out past the gate. As he walks to one of the Ministry car I send him one last look.

"We both want the same thing," he says as he looks back to me.

"I highly doubt that," I say as I turn and match back inside.