well if You-Know-Who doesn’t suspect that you’re missing,” Mr. Weasley replied.
“That’s a brilliant idea, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said, grinning.
“I can use some contacts at the Ministry to ensure the press is alerted to where you’re going to be when you want them there. I think Percy might also be able to help us with that endeavor,” Mr. Weasley said, smiling.
“Thank you,” Harry replied, his throat feeling suddenly tight.
They were interrupted when Ron came through the door, beaming and carrying his own Apparition license.
“Eyebrows and everything,” he said, grinning.
“Well done,” Harry said, clapping him on the back.
“Congratulations, son. I knew you had it in you,” Mr. Weasley said.
“Thanks, Dad,” Ron replied, his ears turning bright red.
The receptionist rose from her chair and opened a door to the right of her desk. “Congratulations to both of you. There is an Apparation point located right outside this door you can use,” she said, looking hopefully at Harry once again.
Mr. Weasley put an arm around each of the boys and began ushering them towards the door. Harry took a few steps before stopping.
“Isn’t there an Apparation point in the main lobby, Mr. Weasley?” he asked.
“Yes, there is,” the witch answered before Mr. Weasley could open his mouth. She appeared suddenly nervous and unsure of herself. “We have this separate location since our testees are usually so anxious to use their new license. Right through this door.”
She attempted to steer them through the exit, still smiling, but Harry detected a panicky look in her eyes.
“Thanks, but I think I’d like to take the walk,” he said, stopping despite the pressure of her hand on his shoulder.
She grabbed his arm, trying to halt his progress. “Mr. Potter…Harry, there really is no need-“
“Oh, but I think there is,” Harry said, pulling his arm free and leaving through the same door they’d arrived.
“What are you on about, Harry?” Ron asked, following him towards the lift.
Mr. Weasley smiled knowingly. “Boys, I need to get up to my office. I trust you can make it back on your own?”
“Yes, Mr. Weasley. We’re right as rain…and thank you,” Harry replied.
“Think nothing of it,” Mr. Weasley replied, heading in the opposite direction.
When Ron and Harry reached the main lobby there were a number of reporters still mulling around hoping to catch Harry’s exit. They spotted him almost instantly and began to move towards him. Harry raised his hand in the air, flashing his new license for all of them to see. Several flashbulbs snapped the pose.
“I did it,” he cried jubilantly, knowing there would no longer be any questions as to why he was there.
He and Ron shared a smile as they sprinted to the Apparation point and Disapparated in time to escape the questioning reporters.
***
When they returned to Grimmauld Place, after a long and very public walk through Diagon Alley, they found a birthday feast fit for a king awaiting them. They’d made several stops along the way, including a visit to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Fred and George had gifted Harry with his birthday present while they were there, claiming it was better opened away from Mrs. Weasley’s prying eyes.
Harry opened the package to reveal two bottles of Ogden’s Firewhiskey.
"Those are Everlasting Party bottles," Fred said.
"Guaranteed to last for the length of any single party," replied George.
"Or at least until you pass out," said Fred with a grin.
As they traveled along the busy street, they’d run into several classmates and had their photographs taken several times. All in all, Harry thought it was a very successful outing.
Upon their return, he was overwhelmed by the amount of food Mrs. Weasley had prepared. A knot of guilt twisted in his stomach over his planned deception, and he attempted to impress upon Mrs. Weasley how grateful he was for her kindness.
She brushed him off as if it was nothing, but Harry thought he saw a look of understanding in Mr. Weasley’s eyes.
"Mmm, roasted lamb," Ron said, sitting down and pulling a plate towards him.
"Never mind the food, Ron. How did you do?" Hermione asked, biting her lip anxiously.
"How’d I do with what?" Ron asked through a mouthful of potatoes.
Hermione was flabbergasted. "With what? With your test, of course. Honestly, Ron. Where have you been all this time?" Hermione asked.
"Oh. Passed," Ron said, shoveling another forkful into his mouth.
"I knew you could do it," Hermione exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.
Ron’s eyes flew open wide before a very self-satisfied smile crossed his face, causing Fred and George to snigger.
"And you, Harry? How did you do?" Ginny asked, sidling up next to him and taking the chair next to his.
"Got my license," Harry said, grinning.
"I knew you’d do it," she replied, leaning over and pecking him on the cheek. Harry felt his face burn.
"They did it despite Rufus Scrimgeour’s attempts to distract them," Mr. Weasley said, serving himself some of the dinner.
"What do you mean?" Remus Lupin asked, looking up in alarm.
"It was nothing," Harry said, shaking his head.
"What was nothing?" Remus asked.
"Scrimgeour had a bunch of reporters waiting to ambush Harry," Ron replied. "You know how he’s been after Harry to make appearances at the Ministry. He wanted them all to see him there. They tried to shoo us out after we finished our tests, too, but Harry wouldn’t let them do it. He strode right through the lobby flashing his new Apparation license so they’d all know why he was there. I’d love to see Scrimgeour’s face when he hears about it."
"He already did," Mr. Weasley said grimly.
"What happened?" Harry asked, alarmed by Mr. Weasley’s expression.
"He wasn’t happy. The evening edition of the Daily Prophet is already out and filled with your picture and several stories. Absolutely nothing about your support for the Ministry as he hoped, however. He sacked the witch who worked in reception at the testing center," Mr. Weasley replied.
Harry felt dreadful. He’d wanted to upset Scrimgeour’s plans, but he hadn’t meant to get the receptionist in trouble.
"Not your fault, Harry," Ginny said firmly, correctly reading his expression. "You can’t control what everyone else does. What you did was right, and you can’t help that Scrimgeour acted like a prat."
Mr. Weasley smiled fondly. "Although I won’t go so far as calling the Minister for Magic a prat," he said, his lips twitching, "Ginny’s right. It wasn’t your fault so don’t let him make you feel guilty."
"Enough of this," Mrs. Weasley said, frowning. "This is Harry’s birthday dinner. Let’s talk about something pleasant."
Harry remembered how upset she’d been the previous year when news of the war interrupted his birthday celebration. He knew she meant well, but she still wasn’t accepting the fact that he was part of this war, whether she liked it or not.
He was startled from his thoughts when Tonks entered the room looking pale and exhausted. Her mint green hair hung limply on her shoulders. "Sorry I’m late," she said, sinking wearily into the chair Remus had pulled out for her.
"You look terrible, Tonks," Mrs. Weasley said, alarmed.
"Rough day," Tonks replied with an attempt at a smile.
"Did they have you out at Azkaban again?" Remus asked, handing her a glass of wine and fixing her a plate of food.
Tonks nodded, sipping the wine gratefully. "That place is horrible."
"Azkaban?" Harry asked. "What are you doing at Azkaban?"
"The Ministry has had Aurors guarding the prisoners there since most of the Dementors fled," Tonks replied.
"Most of them?" Harry asked. "There are still some there?"
"A few of the older, more infirm ones," Tonks replied heavily. "Miserable creatures. I suspect some of the ones that stayed did so simply for the easy prey. They didn’t want to have to go and look for their own food. Doesn’t matter that there aren’t many left, however. The walls of Azkaban are nearly alive with their scent because they’ve been there so long. It’s a horrid place."
Mrs. Weasley shuddered. "I can’t believe they send you there. I remember when Arthur had to go out there once. It took him days to recover," she said tearfully.
Mr. Weasley comfortingly squeezed her hand. "Now, Molly. Someone has to guard the prisoners, don’t they? There really isn’t another option."
"I think the Ministry should consider building an entirely new prison, away from the effect the Dementors have had on Azkaban," Bill said. He and Fleur had recently returned from their honeymoon and both were tanned and appeared well-rested. "We could use charms to keep them incarcerated and house-elves to supply the food."
"Zat is what we do in France," Fleur said, staring at Bill adoringly. "Eet eez a much better way, I zink."
"Maybe after the war, something like that will be done here. Right now, all the Ministry’s resources are focused on You-Know-Who and the destruction he’s causing," Mr. Weasley said heavily.
The paper had reported new Dementor attacks almost daily while the Dark Mark had been seen more and more often in Muggle areas. During the past week, several buildings had caught fire in Birmingham and despite their
best efforts, Ministry officials had been unable to extinguish the flames.
"When we’re finished with dinner, I’ve made a treacle tart for pudding. That one is your favorite, isn’t it, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, glaring at both Bill and Mr. Weasley.
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied. Despite wanting to hear more about what was happening at Azkaban, he couldn’t help but be pleased with the prospect of Mrs. Weasley’s treacle tart.
Conceding to Mrs. Weasley’s desire for a happier subject, the rest of the guests let talk of the war rest for the moment. The remainder of the dinner was spent pleasantly with laughter and the twins’ teasing of Ron about his first failed attempt at gaining an Apparation license.
All of them were so immersed in the festivities that no one noticed the kitchen door opening once again. Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the kitchen with a wary expression, carrying a stack of empty trays. She walked towards the sink and placed them next to it, glancing with distaste at the countertop.
"Narcissa," Mrs. Weasley said pleasantly. "Would you care for something to eat?" Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley didn’t jump up to serve her as she usually did when someone entered the kitchen.
Ginny leaned over and whispered in Harry’s ear. "I don’t believe it. She brought the trays down. She must be hungry; she hasn’t eaten all day."
Mrs. Malfoy appeared affronted by the invitation. "I’d prefer to take a tray upstairs," she said stiffly.
"Well, there’s plenty of food, and I see you’ve brought down some trays. You’ll just have to clean them up since there aren’t any clean ones left, and then you can help yourself," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling. She turned towards her own dinner without a backward glance.
Mrs. Malfoy stood slack jawed, staring with revulsion at Mrs. Weasley. Her long, bony white fingers gripped a tray in shock. "Certainly, there are house-elves to do such things," she said, aghast.
Mrs. Weasley smiled and shook her head. "Oh, not since Kreacher left for Hogwarts. Not that he was ever much help anyway. No, we all have to pitch in with the chores around here if we want anything to get done."
"Malfoy Manor has a full staff of house-elves. Certainly it won’t cause any difficulties if I have one of them come to work here," Mrs. Malfoy said haughtily.
"No," Remus said harshly, sounding angry. "We discussed this when you arrived. You proved it yourself that a house-elf’s loyalty cannot be guaranteed."
Harry’s stomach clenched as Narcissa raised her nose in the air without apology.
Hermione folded her arms across her chest and scowled at the mention of the house-elves. Harry knew it was taking all her self-restraint not to start arguing over elfish welfare. She had to know her pleas would fall on deaf ears. Still, he knew Hermione well enough to realize she’d be unable to stay silent for long.
"I’m expected to prepare my own food?" Mrs. Malfoy asked incredulously, her pale blue eyes widening in disbelief.
"Only if you want to eat," Mrs. Weasley said, still smiling although her tone had turned frosty.
Harry leaned back in his chair and grinned, feeling this was one of the best birthday gifts he could have received. Still stung over the reminder of Kreacher’s betrayal, Harry didn’t think Mrs. Weasley was making the Malfoys’ stay nearly as unpleasant as it should be. Narcissa Malfoy had met her match in Molly Weasley, however, and Harry didn’t think the arrogant woman had any idea with whom she was dealing.
He glanced over at Fred and George, who were leaning back in their chairs sipping wine and swinging their heads back and forth as if watching a net ball tournament. Ginny was biting her lip to keep from laughing. No one said a word.
Narcissa was furious. She glared daggers at the entire party. Harry thought she would turn on her heel and storm from the kitchen, but her hunger must have overridden her pride. She grabbed a tray and slammed in into the sink, disdainfully wiping it off.
Walking stiffly towards the table with her head held high, Narcissa’s cold gaze roamed over the many delectable items, finally resting on the cake with the words Happy Birthday, Harry written on top.
Her ice blue eyes locked on Harry. "This is your birthday dinner," she said arrogantly. It wasn’t a question.
"It is," Harry said, smirking.
Narcissa put the tray back on the counter. "I’ve lost my appetite," she said, her gaze sweeping over the Weasleys and the other guests. "I’m surprised there are so many willing to get so close to you. The people who do have a nasty habit of ending up dead."
Harry gritted his teeth and forced himself not to flinch. His face must have paled, however, for Ginny immediately grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
She turned towards Narcissa and said, "While those nearest you have the nasty habit of ending up in prison."
Narcissa’s eyes narrowed, but before she could retort Mrs. Weasley sharply said, "That’s enough."
Narcissa turned on her heel and left the room with her nose in the air.
Harry let a breath out through his nose.
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