HARRY:

The morning of the wedding was an absolute whirlwind of activity. Breakfast was a rushed affair, everyone just stopped at the table long enough to grab a slice of toast and continue with their preparations. I knew better than to try to help, seeing as I still looked like myself, so I merely stood in the corner, out of sight of any windows, and watched the chaos unfold.

"Oi, Cub, do you want to come with us to the village to nick a couple hairs from the first ginger kid we see?" Fred called.

"Not looking like that, she can't!" Bill said.

George nodded and waved Lucy over. "Right, right, Cub, get over here, let us charm your hair red."

"No!" Fleur protested. "She is wearing a klein blue dress of mine that no longer fits me! Blonde hair will be much more flattering!"

"I don't know if I know a spell that will charm her hair the same color as yours," Fred admitted.

"It's alright, I do," Fleur said, beckoning to Lucy. "I have an idea."

"Do what you think is best," Lucy said as she hurried over to Fleur.

"I was thinking that since you will not have the same polyjuice as Harry to properly disguise you, it would be best to give you a slightly more elaborate backstory. You can be a childhood friend of mine who does not speak English. Plus, it would give you an excuse to stick by Harry's — I mean, Barny's — side," Fleur added with a smile as she transformed Lucy's hair from brown to a shimmery silver-blonde. "He can ensure you do not miss anything because of the language barrier."

"That sounds great!" Lucy exclaimed. She glanced over at me. She'd already covered her scars, but I knew my girl, I knew she was blushing under the makeup. "Assuming you don't mind, of course?"

"Spending time with you? Never," I replied with a smile. I turned to Fleur. "What should her false name be? I can introduce her to anyone who asks."

Fleur considered this for a moment, looking back and forth between Lucy and me a couple of times. "Mirielle. Mirielle Alarie."

"Mirielle Alarie," I repeated. "You got it."

"How would you like your hair styled for the wedding, Mirielle, while I am here?" Fleur asked.

"I trust your judgement far more than my own," Lucy replied. "Do what you think is best."

Fleur beamed as she did a complicated bit of wandwork that tied Lucy's hair up into a braided crown. She whispered something in Lucy's ear that made Lucy giggle and look my way.

"My work here is done," Fleur announced after a second, tucking her wand away. "All you need now is your dress, which can wait until you are back."

"Thank you," Lucy said, turning to give Fleur a quick hug. "I'll be back soon to help you get ready."

Lucy didn't glance my way again before following the twins out the door. Once they'd disappeared, I figured I might as well get into my dress robes so I had one less thing to do once they got back, so I climbed the stairs to Ron's room, dodging a number of frantic wedding preppers on the stairs as I went. When I got up to Ron's room, I found Hermione and Ginny up there with him.

"I keep forgetting to tell you," Ron said when I arrived, "but Mum found a Puddlemere United sock somewhere in the house after you arrived and wanted to know if it's yours."

I shook my head. "No, it's not mine. Why would I care about Puddlemere?"

"Well, Oliver Wood plays for Puddlemere, as their reserve Seeker, but unless he's been coming around to visit, I have no idea why there'd be a Puddlemere sock here," Ginny replied. "Anyway, we're just hiding up here... I mean, we're helping by staying out of the way. Where's Lucy?"

"She went into the village with the twins. I think Fleur's starting to get ready. Oh, and she charmed Lucy's hair so it's the same color as her own, Lucy's going to be Mirielle Alarie, a childhood friend of Fleur's who doesn't speak English. I — Barny Weasley, rather — will be her... escort? Date? I don't know, I don't think I have a specific title, but Lucy and I will stick together to try to keep each other out of trouble."

"Sounds good," Hermione said, nodding.

"GINNY!" someone shouted downstairs. "GINNY, WHERE ARE YOU?"

Ginny sighed heavily. "Bridesmaid duties call. If any of you see Dean before I do, tell him I'll kiss him if he finds me after the ceremony with a spiked butterbeer in hand. I reckon I'm going to need it to get through today. COMING!"

With that, she got to her feet and stomped downstairs, leaving the three of us alone for the first time in what felt like ages.

Hermione cast a quick silencing spell and looked at Ron. "Show us that Deluminator."

Ron obliged and clicked it, and the one light that had been lit in that room went out.

"See, if we wanted to take out lights, we could just use Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder," Hermione muttered.

Ron studied the Deluminator. "Still, it's cool! And from what they said, Dumbledore invented it himself!"

"I know," Hermione replied, "but surely he wouldn't have singled you out in his will just to help us turn out the lights!"

"D'you think he knew the Ministry would confiscate his will and examine everything he'd left us?" I asked.

Hermione nodded. "Definitely. He couldn't tell us in the will why he was leaving us these things, but that still doesn't explain..."

"Why he couldn't have given us a hint while he was alive?" Ron finished for her.

"Well, yes, exactly. If these things are important enough to pass on right under the nose of the Ministry, you'd think he'd have let us know why, unless he thought it was obvious?"

"Thought wrong, then, didn't he?" Ron snorted. "I always said he was mental. Brilliant and everything, but cracked. Leaving Harry an old Snitch — what the hell was that about?"

"I've no idea. When Scrimgeour made you take it, Harry, I was so sure that something was going to happen!"

I reached for the Snitch and held it up. "Yeah, well, I wasn't going to try too hard in front of Scrimgeour, was I?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

I grinned. "The Snitch I caught in my first ever Quidditch match? Don't you remember?"

Ron connected the dots faster than Hermione did. "Oh! That was the one you nearly swallowed!"

"Exactly." With that, I pressed my lips to the Snitch, but to my disappointment, nothing happened.

"Writing!" Hermione said suddenly. "There's writing on it, quick, look!"

I scrambled to rotate it, and once I had, I found five words written in Dumbledore's handwriting: I open at the close. As soon as I'd read the words, they vanished.

I blinked. "'I open at the close,' what's that supposed to mean?"

We repeated the words several times, trying to glean something from them, but when nothing occurred to us, the discussion turned in the direction of the sword.

"And the sword. Why did he want Harry to have the sword?" Ron wondered aloud.

"And why couldn't he just have told me? It was there, it was right there on the wall of his office during all our talks last year! If he wanted me to have it, why didn't he just give it to me then?" I added.

"And as for this book, The Tales of Beedle the Bard, I've never even heard of them!" Hermione said.

Ron's jaw dropped. "You've never heard of The Tales of Beedle the Bard? You're kidding, right?

"No, I'm not! Do you know them, then?" Hermione asked.

I looked at Ron, somewhat surprised that he seemed to know a book Hermione didn't.

"Well, of course I do! Oh come on! All the old kids' stories are supposed to be Beedle's, aren't they? 'The Fountain of Fair Fortune, 'The Wizard and the Hopping Pot,' 'Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump.'"

Hermione giggled. "Excuse me? What was that last one?"

"Come off it! You must've heard of Babbitty Rabbitty — "

Hermione giggled louder as she interrupted him. "Ron, you know full well Harry and I were brought up by Muggles! We didn't hear stories like that when we were little, we heard 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs' and 'Cinderella' — "

"What's that?" Ron asked. "An illness?"

"So these are children's stories?" Hermione asked, ignoring him as she studied the book closer.

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I mean, that's just what you hear, you know, that all these old stories came from Beedle. I dunno what they're like in the original versions."

"But I wonder why Dumbledore thought I should read them?" Hermione sighed. "Anyway, I think we ought to start getting ready. I'll see you two outside."

Once Hermione left, Ron and I got changed into our dress robes. The heat in his top-story room was stifling, so I made my way downstairs hastily. By the time I returned to the kitchen, Lucy was back and leaning over a large goblet on the table, sprinkling red hairs into what I knew was polyjuice potion.

She turned and smiled right at me. "Perfect, you're already dressed! Alright, this should last you several hours. Just let me know the second you start to feel it wear off, and we'll leave so you don't change back in front of everyone."

"So I'll be just like Cinderella," I joked, recalling the conversation I'd just had with Ron and Hermione.

"What?" Lucy asked, tilting her head at me.

"Right, you were raised by wizards too. I'll explain later." I crossed the room and stared at the potion. "That's a lot of polyjuice potion I have to drink."

"Oh! I know!" Lucy jumped up and rushed over to the counter. "We can drink awful liquids together! You know how much I hate coffee, and Mrs. Weasley made sure there was plenty for everyone to get through today, so if you drink that, I'll drink this at the same time. Deal?"

I sighed. "Alright, deal."

"On three," she said, wielding her mug. "One... two... three!"

I lifted the goblet to my lips and choked down the awful potion. Once the last drop was gone, I set my glasses on the table and doubled over, hands on my knees, and coughed, fighting the urge to just throw it all back up.

Lucy clapped me on the back, panting. "We did it, Barny, good show."

I straightened up once the transformation was complete and looked at Lucy with a smile.

Lucy's eyes bulged in horror. "Oh, this is creepy!"

"It's a bit strange for me too, seeing you like that," I replied as I gestured to her now-blonde hair.

"No, no, don't look at me!" She shielded her eyes. "Oh dear Merlin, this is awful."

"What? Why?" I asked.

Lucy kept her hands over her eyes as she talked. "Okay, so, remember how I told you I knew that you were the real Harry for a reason other than the fact that you were right next to me the whole time?"

"Er, yeah, I do. You never explained what you meant."

"You were the only one who looked at me like that," Lucy said, pointing at my face with one hand and shielding both of her eyes with the other, "and you're still looking at me like that, but you're not you, and oh, this is just awful, this feels so wrong, I only want you you to look at me like... like that!"

"Like what?" I inquired as innocently as possible.

"Like you're in love with me," she hissed. She peeked through her fingers at me. "I guess I'm going to have to get used to this, aren't I?"

"Only until the end of the wedding," I replied.

Lucy sighed and dropped her hand, staring at me for a long second. "I'd say it's nice to meet you, Barny, but it really isn't."

"You still look lovely, you know," I said in a whisper. "I think I prefer the brown hair, but, well, this isn't bad either."

"I wish I could say the same about your disguise," Lucy muttered. She grinned ruefully. "Alright, I ought to head upstairs now that you're all set, but I'll see you soon. The twins are outside, helping with the decorations while they wait for you and Ron to help guide people to their seats. Where is he, anyway?"

"Trying to style his hair. I didn't bother, seeing as mine was going to change anyway."

"Right, well, when he comes downstairs, the two of you can join the twins."

"Where will you be?" I asked.

"I'll be helping around the house once I get changed," she replied. She touched the necklace around her neck, a silver star. "I transfigured the necklace from the Slug Club Christmas party, by the way. We can match if you'd like. Anyway, I'll meet you outside as soon as I can. Have fun, Barny!"

"Yeah, thanks, Mirielle," I retorted.

Lucy smiled. "Fleur told me that name means 'to admire.' Fitting, no?"

Before I could reply, she turned on her heel and hurried up the stairs.

I smiled back at her, belatedly, and shook my head. I loved her so much. I admired her, truly. Fleur was correct about that.

Little did she know I was already wearing the watch that was secretly a locket with the matching picture inside. Little did she know I had been wearing it every day since we'd taken the picture. I'd tell her later.

Soon enough, Ron appeared downstairs, and we went to find Fred and George, who handed us both seating plans.

"Looking good, Cousin Barny!" George said.

"Looking good, maybe, feeling hot, definitely," I grumbled, hating the way my dress robes fit too snugly in my new skin.

Fred nodded emphatically. "When I get married, I won't be bothering with any of this nonsense. You can all wear what you like, and I'll put a full Body-Bind Curse on Mum until it's all over."

"She wasn't too bad this morning, considering. Cried a bit about Percy not being here, but who wants him?" George replied.

"Lucy would," I said with a shrug. "He, er, was told about it, right?"

"He was. Never heard back." George sighed. "Just as well, though. The only guests at weddings should be the enthusiastic ones."

"Either enthusiastic ones, or ones who are very, very opposed to the marriage. More fun that way. A good bit of wedding day drama is always interesting," Fred piped up.

"Oh blimey, brace yourselves — here they come, look," Ron said, pointing at the distant edge of the yard where, sure enough, people were appearing and beginning to congregate into something of a line as they approached.

We split off to escort guests, and I got to lead a happy-looking Tonks and a bizarrely miserable-looking Remus to their seats, and I passed along Ginny's message to Dean, who laughed and said he'd do his best. I returned to the front of the marquee to see Ron talking to someone who introduced himself to me as Xenophilius Lovegood.

"My daughter and I live just over the hill, so kind of the good Weasleys to invite us," he said, shaking my hand. He turned to Ron. "But I think you know my Luna?"

Ron nodded. "Yes. Isn't she with you?"

"She lingered in that charming little garden to say hello to the gnomes, such a glorious infestation! How few wizards realize just how much we can learn from the wise little gnomes — or, to give them their correct name, the Gernumbli gardensi."

"Ours do know a lot of excellent swear words, but I think Fred and George taught them those," Ron replied.

With that, Ron led a group of warlocks into the marquee, while I waited for Luna and her father talked to someone he recognized in the queue of guests.

Luna, like her dad, was dressed head to toe in bright yellow, and she had a massive sunflower in her hair.

She smiled brightly at me. "Hello, Harry!"

"Er, my name's Barny," I replied after a second.

"Oh, have you changed that too?"

"How did you know — ?"

"Oh, just your expression," she said. "I've been meaning to ask, have you tried my suggestion on a full moon yet?"

I blinked. "What?"

"I mentioned it to Lucy over a year ago, back when I believed it was merely a rumor," she replied, remarkably serious for once, "but Daddy interviewed a werewolf last week, who wished to remain anonymous, who said it is true that if you say a werewolf's name from a place of love once they've transformed, they will transform back."

I blinked several more times. "Really?"

"Yes, really!" Luna smiled. "I believe you specifically should try it. I know you are thinking of her now, I can see it in your aura. You love her very much, more than anyone." She turned to her father then, who had just said farewell to his friend. "Daddy, look, one of the gnomes actually bit me!"

Xenophilius smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "How wonderful! Gnome saliva is enormously beneficial! Luna, my love, if you should feel any burgeoning talent today — perhaps an unexpected urge to sing opera or to declaim in Mermish — do not repress it! You may have been gifted by the Gernumblies!"

Ron, who passed us going the other direction as I led the Lovegoods to their seats, failed to stifle an amused snort.

Luna was unbothered, though. "Ron can laugh, but my father has done a lot of research on Gernumbli magic."

I inhaled deeply to steady myself. Luna was Luna. The Quibbler was The Quibbler. The rumor about werewolves was surely just that, a rumor. Surely just a sick joke about how no one would ever love a werewolf enough to transform them back, a conspiracy rooted deep in anti-werewolf rhetoric.

"Really? Are you sure you don't want to put anything on that bite, though?" I asked.

"Oh, it's fine. You look smart. I told Daddy most people would probably wear dress robes, but he believes you ought to wear sun colors to a wedding, for luck, you know."

"Seems wise," I replied.

Once they were seated, I returned to the front of the marquee to find Ron escorting an elderly witch with a feathery pink hat.

"...and your hair's much too long, Ronald," she was saying, "for a moment I thought you were Ginevra. Merlin's beard, what is Xenophilius Lovegood wearing? He looks like an omelet." She stopped abruptly to glare at me. "And who are you?"

"Oh yeah, Auntie Muriel, this is our cousin Barny," Ron said.

"Another Weasley? You breed like gnomes. Isn't Harry Potter here? I was hoping to meet him. I thought he was a friend of yours, Ronald, or have you merely been boasting?"

"No — he couldn't come — "

"Hmm. Made an excuse, did he? Not as gormless as he looks in press photographs, then. I've just been instructing the bride on how best to wear my tiara. Goblin-made, you know, and been in my family for centuries. She's a good-looking girl, but still — French. Well, well, find me a good seat, Ronald, I am a hundred and seven and I ought not to be on my feet too long."

Ron sent me a Help me look as he escorted her to her seat, but I had more guests to lead to their seats, so there was nothing I could do. The next time I saw him, I'd escorted another dozen guests to their seats and the queue was depleted.

"Nightmare, Muriel is. She used to come for Christmas every year, then, thank God, she took offense because Fred and George set off a Dungbomb under her chair at dinner," Ron explained. "Dad always says she'll have written them out of her will — like they care, they're going to end up richer than anyone in the family, rate they're going." He stopped suddenly and blinked hard. "Wow, you look great!"

I followed his gaze to see Hermione and Lucy hurrying up to us. He was right, Hermione did look great in a pretty light purple dress and matching heels, her hair straight and surprisingly long as it gleamed in the sun. But once I looked at Lucy, I couldn't look away.

She didn't look like herself, not really, with her scars covered and her hair the same color as Fleur's and pulled up into an elaborate hairstyle. She was wearing a great deal of makeup, too, surely to help disguise her since she never wore much at all, but I wasn't really looking at any of that. Fleur's blue dress fit her perfectly, and complemented her eyes well. Those eyes... Merlin help me.

Hermione smiled. "Always the tone of surprise. Your Great-Aunt Muriel doesn't agree, I just met her upstairs while she was giving Fleur the tiara. She said, 'Oh dear, is this the Muggle-born?' and then, 'Bad posture and skinny ankles.' Then she saw Lu — Mirielle, I mean, and said that the way she was showing off her muscular build was unladylike."

Lucy approached me and linked her arm through mine, and I patted her hand reassuringly. She knew damn well I had no qualms about her muscular build, "ladylike" or not.

"Don't take it personally, she's rude to everyone," Ron assured the girls.

Fred and George emerged from the marquee then.

"Talking about Muriel? Yeah, she's just told me my ears are lopsided. Old bat," George said. He sighed. "I wish old Uncle Bilius was still with us, though; he was a right laugh at weddings."

"Wasn't he the one who saw a Grim and died twenty-four hours later?" Hermione asked.

George nodded. "Well, yeah, he went a bit odd toward the end."

"But before he went loopy he was the life and soul of the party. He used to down an entire bottle of firewhisky," Fred explained, "then run onto the dance floor, hoist up his robes, and start pulling bunches of flowers out of his — "

I tossed my head back and cackled, and even Lucy, who wasn't supposed to understand English, pressed a hand over her mouth to hide her laughter.

"Yes, he sounds like a real charmer," Hermione interrupted.

"Never married, for some reason," Ron added.

Hermione shook her head at him. "You amaze me."

Everyone laughed loudly at that. Lucy stopped laughing abruptly after a second and tugged on my arm. I turned just in time to see none other than Viktor Krum approach.

"You look wonderful," he said to Hermione.

She dropped her beaded handbag in her surprise, and it made a disproportionately loud thump on the ground when it landed. "Viktor! I forgot you were — goodness — it's lovely to see — how are you?"

Ron looked murderous as he glared at the invitation Viktor had handed him, so I shot a pointed look at Fred, who immediately offered to usher Viktor inside before Ron's head exploded.

We were about to head into the marquee ourselves when Lucy suddenly broke away from me and started walking as fast as she could in her high heels toward the final guest to arrive.

"No way," George said, looking stunned.

"Is that...?" Hermione asked.

I jogged over to Lucy and caught up with her just as she snatched Percy's invitation out of his hand.

"I — my name is Percy, this is my brother's wedding, he invited me — I — I was hoping I'd be last to arrive, I just wanted to sit in the back and leave without causing a fuss — "

"Oh, Percy, I know," Lucy said softly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Percy blinked. "Lucy?"

She wrapped her arms around him suddenly, holding tight. He looked too stunned to hug her back.

"You — I thought — I heard that you — "

"I'm alive," Lucy interrupted as she let him go. "Surprise, I guess."

To my surprise, Percy reached out and pulled Lucy to him in a tight hug, embracing her in a way not unlike the way I'd seen every other Weasley embrace her.

Lucy patted his back reassuringly. "I'm alright. The wedding's going to start any minute, though, so why don't we head inside? You can stay at the back, if that's really what you want, but... Bill will be glad you're here, and so am I."

"I don't... really want anyone else to know," he said, releasing her. "Other than... whoever happens to be standing outside right now, and Bill. I just — it's Bill. It's Bill's wedding. I couldn't... I called in sick to work just so I could..."

"I understand," Lucy assured him. "I'll head inside with that lot. I'll tell Bill that you were here and no one else, alright?"

Percy nodded, looking rattled. "Right. Thank you. I — I'm just glad you're okay, Lucy."

"Thanks," Lucy said with a small smile. "And today, it's Mirielle, not Lucy." She turned to me and linked her arm with mine once again. "Alright, Barny, let's go."

Once we got within earshot of the others, Lucy nudged me.

"Explain to them," she whispered. "I'm going silent now, because I don't speak English. Or, should I say, je ne parle pas anglais."

I nodded and gestured to the others to head inside.

"He doesn't want anyone except Bill to know he's here," I said in a low voice. "Just act like he doesn't exist."

"Fine by me," Ron grit out.

We hurried to our seats, Lucy sitting in between George and me. Henry rushed in and lowered himself into the chair on George's other side, breathless.

"Of all the days for practice to run late," he panted.

George patted his knee. "It's alright."

Henry leaned forward just a bit to squint at Lucy and me. "Are you...?"

"Mirielle and Barny," I said with a grin. "Nice to meet you. Mirielle, tell the man that it's nice to meet him."

"Je ne parle pas anglais," Lucy replied, though she did wink at Henry, who grinned.

"Brilliant." He glanced at George. "Something's bothering you. What is it?"

Before George could answer, Fred appeared in the row behind us, Angelina in tow.

"Did I just fucking see Percy?" Fred hissed.

George nodded, but before anyone else could say anything, the crowd's murmuring reached a higher volume, and I turned to see that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were walking down the aisle, arm in arm. Bill and Charlie appeared a moment later, and they went to stand at the front, beneath the massive golden balloons the twins had enchanted. Fleur appeared on her father's arm, then, followed closely by Ginny and Gabrielle in their golden bridesmaid dresses.

The ceremony itself was led by the same wizard who'd led Dumbledore's funeral, funnily enough, but I had a hard time focusing on what he was saying. I was distracted by Lucy's hand on my arm, and the fantasy I let myself entertain for a moment that it would be us up there one day.

I only entertained it for a moment — I had to defeat Voldemort and survive, somehow, before I could even think about a future with Lucy — but I let myself hold onto that sliver of hope anyway.

Once the ceremony was over, the wizard directed us all to stand, and with a flick of his wand, the area was transformed into a reception hall complete with tables and a dance floor. Hermione wanted to congratulate Bill and Fleur, but Ron assured her that we'd do it later and we ought to find seats. By the time we emerged from the crowd, the emptiest table was the one where Luna was sitting alone, so Ron led the way over there.

"Alright if we join you?" Ron asked.

Luna nodded, smiling. "Oh yes! Daddy's just gone to give Bill and Fleur our present. You all look lovely!"

"Is your hand alright, Luna?" I asked as I sat down next to her, Lucy sitting on my other side.

"Yes, quite! Ooh, look, Bill and Fleur are about to share their first dance!"

Surely enough, the newlyweds were making their way to the center of the dance floor, and a reverent hush fell over the crowd as they slowly twirled in time to the music the band played. Lucy propped her chin in her hands, looking truly lost in thought as she watched the dance. Bill and Fleur were soon joined by Mademoiselle Delacour and Mr. Weasley dancing together, then Mrs. Weasley and Monsieur Delacour. When the song ended, more people made their way to the dance floor, including Luna, who stood by herself, spinning in a circle with her arms waving and her eyes closed.

Ron grinned as he watched her. "She's great, isn't she? Always good value."

Before any of us could agree, Viktor Krum appeared in Luna's empty seat.

"Who is that man in the yellow?" he asked.

"That's Xenophilius Lovegood, he's the father of a friend of ours," Ron said stiffly. He then got to his feet and extended a hand to Hermione. "Come dance with me."

"Alright," she replied with a surprised smile.

Krum watched them go with a curious expression. "Ah, are they together now?"

"Er, sort of," I replied.

"Who are you?" Krum asked, turning to Lucy and me.

"I'm Barny Weasley, and this is Mirielle Alarie. She's a childhood friend of Fleur's, she doesn't speak any English, but I agreed to be her date for the evening and ensure she enjoys the festivities."

Krum appraised us both with a nod. "I see. You, Barny — you know this man Lovegood well?"

"No, I only met him today. Why?"

He glared at Xenophilius across the room. "Because, if he was not a guest of Fleur's, I would duel him, here and now, for wearing that filthy sign upon his chest."

"Sign? The triangle? Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Grindelwald. That is Grindelwald's sign."

"Grindelwald... the dark wizard Dumbledore defeated?"

Krum nodded. "Exactly. Grindelwald killed many people, my grandfather, for instance. Of course, he was never powerful in this country, they said he feared Dumbledore — and rightly, seeing how he was finished. But that is his symbol, I recognized it at once: Grindelwald carved it into a wall at Durmstrang when he was a pupil there. Some idiots copied it onto their books and clothes, thinking to shock, make themselves impressive — until those of us who had lost family members to Grindelwald taught them better."

I considered this for a moment, doubting that Luna's dad would support the Dark Arts after how helpful he'd been to me in my fifth year. "Are you — er — quite sure it's Grindelwald's — ?"

"I am not mistaken. I walked past that sign for several years, I know it well."

"Well, there's a chance that Xenophilius doesn't actually know what the symbol means. The Lovegoods are quite... unusual. He could easily have picked it up somewhere and think it's a cross section of the head of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack or something."

"The cross section of a what?"

"Well, I don't know what they are, but apparently he and his daughter go on holiday looking for them." Lucy kicked me lightly under the table. She was right, I was doing a horrible job explaining the Lovegoods. I pointed at Luna on the dance floor. "That's her."

"Why is she doing that?" Viktor asked.

I shrugged. "Probably trying to get rid of a Wrackspurt."

Viktor didn't reply, merely taking his wand out of his pocket and drumming it against his thigh.

"Gregorovitch!" I said suddenly, recalling with a rush why that name was familiar.

"What about him?" Viktor asked.

"He's a wandmaker!"

Viktor nodded. "I know that."

"He made your wand! That's why I thought — Quidditch — "

"How do you know Gregorovitch made my wand?" Krum inquired, looking very suspicious.

"I... I read it somewhere, I think, in a — a fan magazine."

"I had not realized I ever discussed my wand with fans."

"So... er... where is Gregorovitch these days?" I asked.

"He retired several years ago. I was one of the last to purchase a Gregorovitch wand. They are the best — although I know, of course, that you Britons set much store by Ollivander."

We fell silent then as I thought about my vision. Voldemort must have been looking for him in search of a new wand, one that was not linked to mine. That must have been why my wand behaved of its own accord the night of the Seven Potters.

"Dance?" Lucy asked suddenly in a French accent. "Barny, dance?"

"Er — of course I'll dance with you," I said with a nod. I turned to Viktor. "Nice talking to you."

He nodded politely, and I guided Lucy to the dance floor. With our disguises, I figured I could afford to hold her a little closer than I would have otherwise.

"Dance, Barny," she said in the same French accent, this time with a silly smile. "Dance, Barny, dance, Barny, dance!"

"Enjoying yourself, are you?" I asked teasingly.

Lucy smiled wider in response. I focused on looking at her eyes, the only part of her that I could see that was truly her and not just for show. For her part, though, she was trying to avoid looking at me, not that I blamed her. I'd done the same to Parvati at the Yule Ball, back when I was wishing I was dancing with Lucy instead even though I had no idea why.

After we'd been dancing for a couple of songs, George appeared suddenly and extended a hand to Lucy.

"Dance with me for old times' sake?" he asked. He looked up at me. "Assuming you don't mind, Barny?"

"Dance," Lucy said, nodding at George and accepting his hand.

"I'll get you a drink, for whenever you get tired of dancing," I said in a low voice in Lucy's ear.

I patted Lucy's shoulder as I exited the dance floor gratefully. Grateful that I'd gotten to dance with her at all, wrong though it felt to be dancing in disguise. Grateful that I had an excuse to leave the dance floor — I had never been a very big fan of dancing, or of any physical activity other than Quidditch, really. I was far from the most coordinated person in existence, especially when I was on the ground and not on a broom. In fact, I thought it would be more truthful to say that I was among the least coordinated people in existence.

Just the same, I made myself a wallflower, helping myself to the contents of the waiters' trays whenever they passed and holding onto a glass of water for Lucy whenever she decided to return.

She looked like she was having so much fun, though. I watched from the sidelines as Mirielle Alarie was passed from person to person with each song change. George passed her off to Fred, who passed her off to Charlie, who passed her off to Bill, who passed her off to Fleur, who passed her off to Gabrielle, who passed her off to Ginny, who passed her off to Henry, who finally returned her to me, breathless and beaming.

"I think she's had fun," Henry said with a grin. "She's all yours now, if you'd like to keep dancing."

"Ah, I'd better not push my luck," I replied uneasily. "The fact that I survived a couple of songs without tripping and falling flat on my face is something of a miracle."

Henry laughed. "If you say so, Barny. Mirielle, it was a pleasure." He lifted Lucy's hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, making her laugh and shake her head at him. "Until next time."

I held out the glass to Lucy, and she accepted it and drained it in one go. While she caught her breath, I scanned the crowded space for a place to sit. To my surprise, I spotted none other than Elphias Doge sitting by himself in a corner of the room.

Lucy followed my gaze and nodded, so the two of us headed over to him.

"May we sit down?" I asked.

"Of course, of course," he replied.

I sat down beside him and leaned in. "Mr. Doge, I'm Harry Potter. The girl with me is Lucy Diggory."

Doge gasped. "Oh! My dear boy! Arthur told me you were here, disguised." He looked at Lucy for a second. "You as well." He turned back to me with a sorrowful expression. "I thought of writing to you, after Dumbledore... the shock... and for you, I am sure..."

"I saw the obituary you wrote for the Daily Prophet. I didn't realize you knew Professor Dumbledore so well."

"As well as anyone. Certainly I knew him longest, if you don't count Aberforth — and somehow, people never do seem to count Aberforth."

"Speaking of the Daily Prophet... I don't know whether you saw, Mr. Doge — "

"Oh, please call me Elphias."

"Elphias, I don't know whether you saw the interview Rita Skeeter gave about Dumbledore?"

"Oh yes, Harry, I saw it. That woman, or vulture might be a more accurate term, positively pestered me to talk to her. I am ashamed to say that I became rather rude, called her an interfering trout, which resulted, as you may have seen, in aspersions cast upon my sanity."

"Well, in that interview, Rita Skeeter hinted that Professor Dumbledore was involved in the Dark Arts when he was young."

"Don't believe a word of it! Not a word, Harry! Let nothing tarnish your memories of Albus Dumbledore!"

I bit back frustration, wishing it could be that easy.

"Harry," Elphias continued, "Rita Skeeter is a dreadful — "

"Rita Skeeter? Oh, I love her, always read her!" Lucy and I looked up to see none other than Auntie Muriel approaching the table, champagne in hand. "She's written a book about Dumbledore, you know!"

Elphias looked pained. "Hello, Muriel. Yes, we were just discussing — "

"You there!" Muriel snapped at an unfortunate Weasley cousin. "Give me your chair, I'm a hundred and seven!"

The poor soul obliged immediately, and Muriel dragged the chair over to our table and sat down.

"Hello again, Barry, or whatever your name is," she said. "I'd say hello to your little girlfriend whose name I can't remember either, but I heard she's French and doesn't speak a word of English, so there's no point. Now, what were you saying about Rita Skeeter, Elphias? You know she's written a biography of Dumbledore? I can't wait to read it, I must remember to place an order at Flourish and Blotts! There's no need to look like stuffed frogs! Before he became so respected and respectable and all that tosh, there were some mighty funny rumors about Albus!"

Elphias reddened. "Ill-informed sniping!"

"You would say that, Elphias! I noticed how you skated over the sticky patches in that obituary of yours!"

"I'm sorry you think so. I assure you I was writing from the heart."

"Oh, we all know you worshipped Dumbledore; I daresay you'll still think he was a saint even if it does turn out that he did away with his Squib sister!"

Elphias looked aghast. "Muriel!"

"What do you mean? Who said his sister was a Squib? I thought she was ill?" I asked.

"Thought wrong, then, didn't you, Barry! Anyway, how could you expect to know anything about it? It all happened years and years before you were even thought of, my dear, and the truth is that those of us who were alive then never knew what really happened. That's why I can't wait to find out what Skeeter's unearthed! Dumbledore kept that sister of his quiet for a long time!"

"Untrue! Absolutely untrue!" Elphias insisted.

"He never told me his sister was a Squib," I muttered.

Muriel laughed. "And why on earth would he tell you?"

"The reason Albus never spoke about Ariana is, I should have thought, quite clear," Elphias said. "He was so devastated by her death — "

"Why did nobody ever see her, Elphias? Why did half of us never even know she existed, until they carried the coffin out of the house and held a funeral for her? Where was saintly Albus while Ariana was locked in the cellar? Off being brilliant at Hogwarts, and never mind what was going on in his own house!"

Lucy reached for the nearest glass of water and started drinking it like her life depended on it. Her way of not blowing her cover, or blowing up, no doubt.

I, on the other hand, had no such reservations, since I was disguised as an English-speaker. "What d'you mean, locked in the cellar? What is this?"

"Dumbledore's mother was a terrifying woman, simply terrifying," Muriel replied. "Muggle-born, though I heard she pretended otherwise — "

"She never pretended anything of the sort!" Elphias interrupted. "Kendra was a fine woman."

Muriel ignored him, though, and continued. " — proud and very domineering, the sort of witch who would have been mortified to produce a Squib — "

"Ariana was not a Squib!" Elphias hissed.

"So you say, Elphias, but explain, then, why she never attended Hogwarts! In our day, Barry, Squibs were often hushed up, though to take it to the extreme of actually imprisoning a little girl in the house and pretending she didn't exist — "

"I tell you, that's not what happened!" Elphias interjected.

"Squibs were usually shipped off to Muggle schools and encouraged to integrate into the Muggle community, much kinder than trying to find them a place in the wizarding world, where they must always be second class; but naturally Kendra Dumbledore wouldn't have dreamed of letting her daughter go to a Muggle school — "

"Ariana was delicate! Her health was always too poor to permit her — "

" — to permit her to leave the house? And yet she was never taken to St. Mungo's and no healer was ever summoned to see her!"

"Really, Muriel, how you can possibly know whether — "

"For your information, Elphias, my cousin Lancelot was a healer at St. Mungo's at the time, and he told my family in strictest confidence that Ariana had never been seen there. All most suspicious, Lancelot thought! Now, if Kendra hadn't died first, I'd have said that it was she who finished off Ariana — "

"How can you, Muriel? A mother kill her own daughter? Think what you are saying!"

"If the mother in question was capable of imprisoning her daughter for years on end, why not? But as I say, it doesn't fit, because Kendra died before Ariana — of what, nobody ever seemed sure — "

Elphias laughed derisively. "Oh, no doubt Ariana murdered her. Why not?"

"Yes, Ariana might have made a desperate bid for freedom and killed Kendra in the struggle. Shake your head all you like, Elphias! You were at Ariana's funeral, were you not?"

"Yes I was. And a more desperately sad occasion I cannot remember. Albus was heartbroken — "

"His heart wasn't the only thing. Didn't Aberforth break Albus's nose halfway through the service?"

Doge abruptly went pale with absolute horror. "How do you — ?"

"My mother was friendly with old Bathilda Bagshot. Bathilda described the whole thing to Mother while I was listening at the door. A coffin-side brawl! The way Bathilda told it, Aberforth shouted that it was all Albus's fault that Ariana was dead and then punched him in the face. According to Bathilda, Albus did not even defend himself, and that's odd enough in itself, Albus could have destroyed Aberforth in a duel with both hands tied behind his back. And I'll tell you something else! I think Bathilda has spilled the beans to Rita Skeeter. All those hints in Skeeter's interview about an important source close to the Dumbledores — goodness knows she was there all through the Ariana business, and it would fit!"

"Bathilda would never talk to Rita Skeeter!" Elphias protested.

"Bathilda Bagshot? The author of A History of Magic?" I asked.

Elphias nodded emphatically. "Yes. A most gifted magical historian and an old friend of Albus's."

"Quite gaga these days, I've heard," Muriel said.

"If that is so, it is even more dishonorable for Skeeter to have taken advantage of her, and no reliance can be placed on anything Bathilda may have said!"

"Oh, there are ways of bringing back memories, and I'm sure Rita Skeeter knows them all, but even if Bathilda's completely cuckoo, I'm sure she'd still have old photographs, maybe even letters. She knew the Dumbledores for years. Well worth a trip to Godric's Hollow, I'd have thought."

I froze, everything within me going cold. I'd been valiantly trying to maintain my composure throughout the conversation, but I couldn't stop myself from bursting out, "Bathilda Bagshot lives in Godric's Hollow?"

"Oh yes, she's been there forever! The Dumbledores moved there after Percival was imprisoned, and she was their neighbor."

My stomach dropped all the way to my toes. I was going to be sick. "The Dumbledores lived in Godric's Hollow?"

"Yes, Barry, that's what I just said!"

Silence fell then as the world seemingly crashed down around me. Why had Dumbledore never told me that most basic piece of information? The whole Ariana ordeal surely would not have come up, it sounded like a complicated web anyway, but... Godric's Hollow?

Lucy's hand found mine under the table. She squeezed it once before letting go in a hurry because Hermione was walking over to us.

"I simply can't dance anymore! Ron's gone looking to find more butterbeers," she said. "It's a bit odd, I've just seen Viktor storming away from Luna's father, it looked like they'd been arguing — "

Lucy abruptly jumped to her feet. "Something's coming."

The second the words left her mouth, a lynx patronus appeared in the middle of the dance floor.

Kingsley's voice boomed out of it.

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

Lucy immediately summoned her handbag into her hand, and it transformed into a rucksack that she tossed over her shoulders. She grabbed me by the hand, then Hermione by the hand, and charged into the panicked mass of people.

"RON! RON, WHERE ARE YOU?" Hermione screamed.

"Hermione," Lucy said in a remarkably calm voice, "once we find him, you're going to have to apparate us out of here to somewhere in the Muggle world."

"I've got it," she panted. "RON!"

The crowd around us was thick with both wedding guests and Death Eaters. I did my best to try to spot Ron over everyone's heads, since I was taller than both Hermione and Lucy, but I couldn't find him.

Lucy's head snapped to the side suddenly. "Take care of her!" I didn't even have time to follow her gaze before she faced forward again and tightened her grip on my hand.

Ron burst into view and rushed forward, grabbing hold of Hermione's arm.

The world dissolved into blackness then, and when I opened my eyes, we were surrounded by people. I wondered for a second if we'd left the wedding at all, until I realized that we were surrounded by people dressed like Muggles.

"Where are we?" Ron asked.

"Tottenham Court Road. Walk, just walk, we need to find somewhere for you to change," Hermione panted.

Lucy and Hermione practically dragged us along down the crowded street, half-walking, half-running.

"Hermione, we haven't got anything to change into," Ron said.

I groaned. "Why didn't I make sure I had the invisibility cloak with me? All last year I kept it on me and — "

"Don't worry, we've got it sorted," Lucy interrupted.

Hermione nodded. "Just try to act naturally until — this will do."

She turned abruptly into a side street, and we followed her until it turned into a dark alleyway.

"When you say you've got it sorted...?" I started.

"We've had the essentials packed for days," Hermione explained, reaching shoulder-deep into her little handbag and pulling out a change of clothes for Ron, "but we both just had a feeling about today, so we packed the rest once you two were outside with the twins and everyone else was distracted getting ready."

Lucy handed me my invisibility cloak out of her rucksack. "Put that on. The polyjuice will wear off soon, I was about to suggest we leave when..." She left her sentence unfinished as she reached into the rucksack and handed Hermione a hair tie.

"Thanks," Hermione said, immediately pulling her hair back out of her face.

Once I was under the invisibility cloak, everything hit me at once. "The others — everyone at the wedding — "

"We can't worry about that now. It's you they're after, Harry, and we'll just put everyone in even more danger by going back," Hermione said.

Ron nodded before I could argue. "She's right. Most of the Order was there, they'll look after everyone."

"We ought to keep moving," Lucy said, her voice still surprisingly calm. "We can change later, Hermione."

We returned to the main street, Hermione wedged between Ron and Lucy with me bringing up the rear, invisible. Across the way from us, a group of drunk men started wolf-whistling at Lucy and Hermione, who paid them no mind.

"Just as a matter of interest, why Tottenham Court Road?" Ron asked.

"I've no idea," Hermione replied, "it just popped into my head, but I'm sure we're safer out in the Muggle world, it's not where they'll expect us to be."

Ron nodded, glaring at the men across the street. "True, but don't you feel a bit — exposed?"

"Where else is there? We can hardly book rooms at the Leaky Cauldron, can we? And Grimmauld Place is out if Snape can get in there. I suppose we could try my parents' house, though I think there's a chance they might check there."

"We're drawing too much attention, since those bastards won't shut up," Lucy muttered. "We need to get off the street."

"In here," Hermione said, gesturing toward an all-night café.

It was empty inside, thankfully. I slid into a booth first, and Lucy sat down next to me while Ron and Hermione sat down on the other side of the table with their backs to the entrance.

"The polyjuice is wearing off," I said in a whisper only Lucy would be able to hear.

"Harry's polyjuice is wearing off," she repeated in a slightly louder voice to Ron and Hermione.

"You know, we're not far from the Leaky Cauldron here, it's only in Charing Cross," Ron said.

Lucy shook her head. "Not an option, Ron, sorry."

"Not to stay there, but to find out what's going on!" he hissed.

"We know what's going on! Voldemort's taken over the Ministry, what else do we need to know?" Hermione snapped.

"Okay, okay, it was just an idea," Ron mumbled.

The waitress appeared then, and Hermione ordered three cappuccinos. Two workmen entered as the waitress left, and they settled into the booth next to us.

"I say we find a quiet place to disapparate and head for the countryside," Hermione whispered. "Once we're there, we could send a message to the Order."

"As long as it doesn't get them into trouble, though they might've been arrested already," Ron added with a worried look.

The waitress returned with the coffee then. Lucy's hand shot out for her cup, and she downed it all with a grimace.

Ron openly gagged on the first sip of his coffee and set the cup down immediately. "Let's get going, I don't want to drink this muck. Hermione, have you got Muggle money to pay for this?"

"It's been sorted," Lucy said.

"I've got it." Hermione reached into her bag with a sigh. "I reckon it all fell to the bottom in the shuffle."

The two workmen made identical movements, and before I could even reach for my wand, Lucy was on her feet with her wand slashing.

"STUPEFY!" she shouted.

Red light cracked through the air, and both Death Eaters crashed to the floor, unconscious, their wands rolling uselessly away along the floor.

Hermione looked up, startled. "What? Who — "

The waitress reappeared then, and her jaw dropped as she stared in disbelief at the men on the floor.

"Official government agency business, miss," Lucy said, still sounding shockingly cool and confident. "We're undercover. I believe the word the general public uses for us would be 'spies.' Please leave now and do not speak of this to anyone. It's for your safety."

The waitress hesitated, then turned on her heel and disappeared.

"That works," Ron said, getting to his feet to inspect the unconscious Death Eaters. "That's Dolohov, I recognize him from the old wanted posters, and I think the big one's Thorfinn Rowle."

"Never mind what they're called! How did they find us?" Hermione asked, her voice high-pitched and almost hysterical. "What are we going to do?"

"Ron, get the lights," I said.

"Colloportus," Lucy said, pointing her wand at the front door. She drew the shutters closed with another flick of her wand.

Once the lights were out, I shed the cloak and got to my feet. Hermione pushed herself up across the table from me, eyes still wide and terrified.

"What are we going to do with them? Kill them? They'd kill us. They would have tried just now, if Lucy hadn't sorted it first," Ron said as we stared at the prone figures.

Heavy silence fell then for several seconds.

Hermione found her voice first. "We just need to wipe their memories. It's better like that, it'll throw them off the scent. If we killed them it'd be obvious we were here."

I shot a glance at Lucy. Her face was stone, giving no outward indication of whatever she was thinking or feeling as she looked at the men.

"Harry?" Ron asked, looking at me. "What do you think?"

"Lu?" I asked without taking my eyes off of her.

"Better than killing them," she said, her face still a perfect blank. "I've never done a Memory Charm, though, Hermione, so you'll have to do it."

"I can do it," Hermione said. "Are we in agreement?"

Lucy nodded, so I nodded.

Hermione did the spells, and we all worked together to put the Death Eaters back in their booth like nothing had ever happened.

"But how did they find us? How did they know where we were?" Hermione wondered aloud once they were sorted. "You — you don't think you've still got your Trace on you, do you, Harry?"

Ron shook his head. "He can't have. The Trace breaks at seventeen, that's wizarding law, you can't put it on an adult."

"As far as you know. What if the Death Eaters have found a way to put it on a seventeen-year-old?" Hermione asked.

"But Harry hasn't been near a Death Eater in the last twenty-four hours. Who's supposed to have put a Trace back on him?" Ron replied.

Silence fell again. I felt horrible, thinking that might have been how they found us.

"If I can't use magic, and you can't use magic near me, without us giving away our position — "

"Shut up," Lucy interrupted, turning to look at me with narrowed eyes. "We are not splitting up, Harry. We just need a safe place to hide for now and figure out what to do next."

"Grimmauld Place?" I suggested.

Hermione shook her head. "Don't be silly, Harry, Snape can get in there!"

"Ron's dad said they've put up jinxes against him," I argued, "and even if they haven't worked, so what? I swear, I'd like nothing better than to meet Snape!"

"But — " Hermione started to protest.

"Hermione, where else is there? It's the best chance we've got," I insisted. "Snape's only one Death Eater. If I've still got the Trace on me, we'll have whole crowds of them on us wherever else we go."

"And, historically, I can handle Snape," Lucy added, crossing her arms over her chest. "I agree with Harry."

"Alright," Hermione said. She never really could argue with Lucy, not effectively anyway.

"I hope the waitress actually believes me and just goes home," Lucy said with a sigh.

"You did really well," I assured her. "You definitely saved us a lot of trouble."

Lucy reached for the table and downed Ron's cup of coffee. "Yes, well, I've certainly tried. Let's leave. Ron, you can give the light back, and I can revive them right before we disapparate."

"I reckon you should apparate us," Hermione said. "You know Grimmauld Place well enough."

Lucy nodded. "You got it. I'll apparate us across the street, we can walk from there. Alright, let's go."

Once we were outside, Ron clicked the Deluminator, Lucy whispered "Rennervate," and then the world around us disappeared before reappearing as a neighborhood.

"We're alone, but we should still hurry," Lucy muttered, sprinting forward and up the stone steps. She tapped the door with her wand and shoved it open as soon as it budged. Once we were all inside, she slammed the door and immediately began whispering every locking spell she knew. She straightened up after a minute and looked around the hall. "Okay. We should be okay."

"So where are these jinxes they put up against Snape?" I asked.

"Maybe they're only activated if he shows up?" Ron guessed.

"Well, only one way to find out," Lucy said, pushing past us and walking down the hallway with her wand drawn.

"Severus Snape?" Mad-Eye's voice whispered in the darkness.

"Nope," Lucy replied as she kept walking forward.

Something whooshed around us, and my tongue curled in on itself. I watched Lucy's wand cut through the air, and my tongue returned to normal. Ron and Hermione coughed behind me.

"Nice Tongue-Tying Curse, Alastor," Lucy said softly. "What else do you have for us?"

Suddenly, a figure appeared at the end of the hallway, and I recognized it at once as the wasted corpse of Albus Dumbledore. It raced toward Lucy, wand drawn.

Hermione screamed, and Ron jumped forward to protect her.

I rushed forward to Lucy's side. "No, no! We didn't kill you!"

Just like that, the figure exploded in a cloud of dust, coating the entire hallway.

Walburga's portrait began shrieking. "Mudbloods, filth, stains of dishonor, taint of shame on the house of my fathers — "

"Oh, just shut up," Lucy said in between coughs, waving her wand lazily at the portrait.

The curtains fell over it, and Walburga fell silent.

"That was... that was..." Hermione said, terrified.

"It's alright," Lucy replied calmly. "It wasn't really him. Just something to scare Snape. Let me just..." She waved her wand around us. "Homenum revelio."

When nothing happened, I exchanged a confused look with Ron.

"What was that supposed to do?" Ron asked.

"Reveal human presences," Hermione answered, regaining her composure a bit. "No one's here except us."

"And old Dusty," Ron added.

Lucy nodded. "And old Dusty. Let's go upstairs."

The two of us led the way to the drawing room on the first floor. Lucy ignited the gas lamps with a flick of her wand while Hermione dropped onto the nearest sofa and pulled her knees to her chin.

Ron peeked out of the nearest window. "Can't see anyone out there. And you'd think, if Harry still had a Trace on him, they'd have followed us here. I know they can't get in the house, but — "

I shouted in pain before I could stop myself, hand flying to my forehead as my scar burned suddenly. Lights and shadows flashed across my vision as anger coursed through me, only for a second before fading to nothing but pain.

"What did you see? Did you see him at my place?" Ron asked, rushing over.

"No, I just felt anger — " I panted. "He's really angry — "

"But that could be at the Burrow! What else? Didn't you see anything? Was he cursing someone?" Ron pressed.

"No, I just felt anger — I couldn't tell — "

"Your scar?" Hermione said loudly. "Again? But what's going on? I thought that connection had closed!"

My scar was still burning. It hurt so much I could barely see. "It did, for a while. I — I think it's started opening again whenever he loses control, that's how it used to — "

"But then you've got to close your mind! Harry, Dumbledore didn't want you to use that connection, he wanted you to shut it down, that's why you were supposed to use Occlumency! Otherwise Voldemort can plant false images in your mind, remember — "

"Yeah, I do remember, thanks," I snapped.

"Leave him alone," Lucy said softly from where she stood at my side. "Clearly it hurts. Yelling at him won't help. We can talk about it once it passes." She stepped forward and tilted her head. "A patronus is coming."

Surely enough, Mr. Weasley's weasel burst through the window and came to a halt in the middle of the room.

"Family safe," it said. "Do not reply, we are being watched."

Ron collapsed onto the sofa next to Hermione, who wrapped her arms around him.

"They're alright, they're alright!" she assured him.

Ron looked up at me, wide-eyed and apologetic. "Sorry, Harry, I — "

"It's alright, not a problem. It's your family, 'course you're worried. I'd feel the same way, I do feel the same way," I said.

"I don't want to be on my own. Could we use the sleeping bags I've brought and camp in here tonight?" Hermione asked after a moment.

"Of course," Ron said immediately. "Whose bag are they in?"

The pain in my head was becoming unbearable. I needed to get out of there.

I choked out a quick "Bathroom," and walked out of there as fast as I could without running. I'd only just managed to close and lock the door when Voldemort's fury possessed me entirely, and the room disappeared.

The blond Death Eater from earlier was on the ground, writhing in agony.

"More, Rowle, or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini? Lord Voldemort is not sure that he will forgive this time. You called me back for this, to tell me that Harry Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure. Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!"

Draco Malfoy appeared, pale and terrified with his wand pointed at the figure on the ground.

The vision disappeared in a flash, and I was on the floor of the bathroom.

Lucy was there, sitting next to me, studying me with sad eyes.

"Welcome back," she whispered. She extended a hand to me, and I let her pull me up into a sitting position. "I'm guessing you don't want Ron and Hermione knowing about this?"

I shook my head. "They caught Rowle," I whispered back. "Draco's torturing him."

"Ah."

I tilted my head at her in confusion. "No other insight? No reprimand?"

She shrugged. "Nothing I say or do can help anyone in that situation right now. How are you feeling, though? You alright?" When I hesitated, she laughed humorlessly. "Right. Of course not." She got to her feet and pulled me up. "You'd better head back out there. I told Ron and Hermione I'd change in here once you were done. If you take too long getting back, they'll come to investigate."

"Alright," I said. I reached forward suddenly and pulled her close, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered as she hugged me back.

After a long second, we reluctantly broke apart, and I made my way back to the drawing room, where four sleeping bags had been arranged in a line in the middle of the room. Hermione had changed out of her wedding attire and was instead in her pajamas, and Ron was sprawled on top of the sleeping bag next to her, snoring already in the clothes he'd donned in the alleyway.

I lowered myself on top of the sleeping bag next to his and glanced at Hermione. "I don't know how he does it, truly."

"Yeah," she said with a faintly amused smile. "I'd be impressed if I wasn't so jealous. Are you alright? You looked rather ill as you bolted out of here."

"I think the stress of it all just caught up with me at once," I lied. "It was either that or the fact that I had a decent amount of champagne at the wedding."

Hermione snorted. "Right. Well, if you get the urge to be sick again, kindly do so as far from me as possible. I feel a bit queasy myself, just thinking about... you know."

I nodded. "We're really doing this, aren't we?"

"Yeah," Hermione replied with a heavy sigh as she burrowed into her sleeping bag, "we really are."

We laid there in silence until Lucy returned. She had changed into a light grey t-shirt and baby blue and white striped shorts, and she'd scrubbed all of the makeup from her face. Her hair was back to its natural brown, and it cascaded around her shoulders in pretty waves. The charm bracelet dangled from her wrist, and I wondered offhandedly if it had been there all day and I just hadn't noticed, or if she'd had it stowed in her rucksack for safekeeping. The necklace was still around her neck, though, the way I was still wearing the watch. I wondered if she'd noticed.

She must have noticed me staring at the charm bracelet, because once she'd snuggled into her sleeping bag, she propped her head on her hand and nodded at me. "Yeah, I've been wearing it all day. Your rucksack is in mine, by the way, the one I got your for your birthday. I packed your belongings in there separately."

"You're a wonder," I said softly.

"Just a worrier," she replied with a small smile. She looked past me at Hermione. "It's alright. We're safe for tonight. I set up a couple of spells on the stairs so we'll know if any unwelcome visitors make an appearance and try to come up here. Sleep. We're going to need it."

I listened as Hermione rolled over in her sleeping bag.

Lucy looked back at me and offered me a small but brave smile. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Lucy," I replied, hoping I returned her smile in kind.

I managed to fall asleep quite soon after that, comforted by the proximity of Lucy. I awoke before dawn, though, and thoughts of the night before began to torment me.

I was angry with Dumbledore for never telling me about Godric's Hollow.

I hadn't gotten the chance to tell Ron and Hermione anything about that conversation, or to talk to Lucy about all we'd heard. But they were all asleep, and I was wide awake, so I stole silently from the room and headed upstairs instead of down, since Lucy had placed the enchantments on the stairs going down to the bottom floor.

As I walked and peered into various rooms, it was apparent that Grimmauld Place had been searched; every room was in disarray. I wandered all the way up to the top floor, where there were only two doors. The one facing me said SIRIUS on the door, so I pushed the door open, overcome by curiosity.

The room was full of elegant furniture covered in dust, a luxurious bed and imposing wardrobe and beautiful chandelier, but I barely noticed any of that because of the sheer number of pictures and posters that adorned every last bit of the walls and ceilings. Gryffindor banners, proudly red and gold, and pictures of Muggle motorcycles and Muggle models wearing nothing more than bikinis and swim trunks.

There were only moving wizard photographs that I could find, right next to Sirius's bed.

I recognized my dad instantly in the first one, all black curly hair and glinting glasses with a bright smile that hadn't been dulled by time as the photograph was aged. His arms were thrown around Sirius and Remus, Sirius on his right and Remus on his left, and Peter Pettigrew stood to Sirius's right. Sirius was beaming like my dad, but Remus and Peter both looked a little surprised. Happy, but surprised. Or was I just seeing it, since I knew that was how it had actually been, both Remus and Peter being pleasantly surprised by the fact that my dad and Sirius had loved them and wanted to include them in their little Marauders gang?

I reached forward and tried to take the photograph off the wall — it was mine, after all, since Sirius had left everything to me — but the top edge of the photograph didn't move. The photograph merely lifted like a hinge to reveal a third wizarding photograph beneath it.

Curiosity piqued, I adjusted my posture so I could see the picture better.

I noticed my dad's Animagus form first, all brown fur and majestic antlers. Next to him, interestingly enough, was a white horse even bigger than he was. Sirius, in massive fluffy black dog form, was jumping out at the camera from in between the deer and the horse, mouth stretched wide in a doggy smile. I had to squint to find Peter, who I spotted jumping down from my dad's antlers onto the top of the horse's head before turning to face the camera better. The loop was quite funny, if I let myself forget the truth of who the rat was and tried not to wonder too much about who the horse might have been.

I reluctantly tore my eyes away from the picture to look at the other one. This one was of Sirius in his Animagus form as well, curled around a pale, sleeping, presumably post-moon Remus in what I assumed was their dormitory.

I reached over to see if it was hiding a picture, like the other one, and to my surprise and delight, it was.

I watched as four people scooped up handfuls of mud to launch at each other, all in very formal attire. It was pouring rain, and they'd managed to find a rather massive mud puddle on the grounds. I watched as Sirius, in black dress robes, hurled a spectacularly large handful of mud at a girl who smashed a handful of mud into his face just a second later. The girl was remarkably pretty, with long black hair and a smile that suggested she was the happiest she'd ever been in that moment, in a dress that I assumed had once been a shade of green before it had been covered in mud. After she smashed the mud into Sirius's face, she turned to look at the other girl in the picture, whose back was to the camera and whose dress was too muddy to have a distinguishable color. Just before the picture looped, I watched this other girl rush forward and fully try to tackle a boy, whose back was also to the camera, into the mud, but he merely turned around at the last second, caught her, and lifted her over his head and spun in a quick circle, laughing. The picture looped again, and I watched the scene again. Sirius, flinging mud, then getting a mud pie to the face. The girl turning with a smile to look at the other girl, who got caught by the other boy and lifted into the air. Her face was only visible for a split second of the whole picture, but it was clear that she was laughing even harder than the boy who had snatched her.

I looked at the boy again, something about him feeling vaguely familiar. He wasn't my dad, I could tell that much. The boy had dark curly hair, like my dad, but no glasses. I wondered who Sirius would have possibly been engaging in an activity like this with who wasn't my dad, but after I'd watched the picture multiple times without figuring out why the other boy was so familiar, I straightened up and looked around the bedroom again.

There was a piece of parchment on the floor illuminated by the sunlight just beginning to stream through the window. I felt oddly drawn to it and stooped low to pick it up.

Dear Padfoot,
   Thank you, thank you, for Harry's birthday present! It was his favorite by far. One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself, I'm enclosing a picture so you can see. You know it only rises about two feet off the ground, but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for Christmas (no complaints there). Of course, James thought it was so funny, says he's going to be a great Quidditch player, but we've had to pack away all the ornaments and make sure we don't take our eyes off him when he gets going.

I dropped to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut, all of the air punching out of me. I gripped the letter with trembling hands and continued reading.

   We had a very quiet birthday tea, just us and old Bathilda, who has always been sweet to us and who dotes on Harry. We were so sorry you couldn't come, but the Order's got to come first, and Harry's not old enough to know it's his birthday anyway! Cass stopped by that night and stayed for a couple of days, she loves Harry so dearly. James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell — also, Dumbledore's still got his invisibility cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend, I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the news about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard.
   Bathilda drops in most days, she's a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore, I'm not sure he'd be pleased if he knew! I don't know how much to believe, actually, because it seems incredible that Dumbledore

I was still sitting there, reading the letter over and over and over and over again, when Lucy appeared suddenly in front of me.

"What is it, love?" she asked, her gentle hands coming forward to swipe the tears from under my eyes.

I hadn't even realized I was crying.

"It's a letter," I choked out. "From my mum. She... look... she made the letter g the same way I..."

Lucy lowered herself to the ground next to me and hooked her chin over my shoulder, skimming the letter quickly. "You're right. Her gs look just like yours." She unhooked her chin from my shoulder and reached under Sirius's bed. "Look, I think it's the picture."

I stared at the picture. The corner of it was torn, but it was otherwise unharmed. A dark-haired baby was racing around the scope of the picture while a pair of legs — my dad's, most likely — chased him. Chased me.

I dropped the letter and grabbed the picture with one hand and ripped off my tear-splattered glasses with the other as I buried my face against the crook of Lucy's neck, holding her as tight as I could without hurting her.

"They were real," I choked out. "They were all real, as real as you and me."

Lucy's arms snaked back around me. She rocked me back and forth soothingly. "You're so loved. Past, present, and future."

I sobbed ever harder, clutching the picture, clutching Lucy.

Their love for me was real. It was all real.

🩵💛❤️💜🩷

A/N: Hi everyone! Well, so begins the Camping Trip of Doom! It's not exactly a camping trip yet, but it will be soon enough.

So, about Chapter 254! It's going to be a very long chapter, with a new narrator. It is all going to be VERY relevant, I promise, but the transition may be a bit jarring at first. This new narrator is going to take over for a few chapters between now and Chapter 300, so I really hope you enjoy their perspective. Each chapter will be rather long (according to Google, Chapter 254 is longer than a novella and is in fact considered novel-length) so please feel free to take your time as you orient yourself to the new world in which you find yourselves.

Anyway, thank you for reading this long chapter followed by this long author's note! I hope you enjoyed this, and I really hope you enjoy Chapter 254 as well. I've worked very hard on it and I can't wait to share it with you all. Thank you for being here. Love you!