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Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related concepts are owned by someone who isn't me. The rest of this they wouldn't want to own, so we'll call that stuff mine.

Author's babble: This has taken a huge amount of time for many reasons, not the least of which was an identity crisis (for the fic I mean; I'm fine, thanks). Is this just a romp or are we telling a story here?

Based on reviews, the Story won, so I've decided to pare away the truly raunchy bits for the version posted on fanfiction.net. I'll keep them intact on this site, so we'll see how it goes.

And now for something completely different.

Holly Polter

= Chapter: P2 - Patronum =

As Harry saw it, everyone was moving at half-speed.

Bill climbed the stairs toward his mother; one step, then another. Remus aided Charlie to standing, inspected his splint at the shoulder, the elbow, the forearm. After they shared a look, they moved together past Hermione towards the kitchen. Hermione, who appeared to be crying as much as Molly, had stepped into Ron's arms.

Sirius said something to the twins. It was muffled in Harry's perception, but they both must have understood as they stopped staring at Ron and Hermione and instead bent down to pick up a broom, a cloak, whatever else had been left in the pile in the entryway that they'd brought back from Azkaban.

Ginny took a step up the stairs to follow Bill.

Harry spoke to her retreating back, "Has anyone seen Holly?"

Ginny stopped, turned to face him and then shook her head, her lips clamped shut as if afraid of letting something escape. After Harry stared at her for a bit, she said, "The Dementors... got her."

A similar cold gripped him.

"But that's happened before, right?" Ginny tried to reassure him, "She'll come back?"

All he could do was acknowledge the effort. "Right. Yeah. Okay."

His head stung. There were too many things which had just happened for him to process them all. He closed his eyes tight, but his mind flashed to the sound of a man choking, then the vision of a body being pulled onto iron spikes. He shook his head and was overwhelmed by the smell of bowels emptying in death. His first instinct was to run from those memories, to force himself to think of something else. That wasn't what Holly had taught him, though.

All those ugly thoughts? We all have them. Proof of our inherent cruelty, lust, fear, jealousy -- you can't master your mind if you're unwilling to accept all of it, and yourself, for what is truly there. If you fear a memory, you have to find it, face it, acknowledge that it happened. Don't try to judge it; just see it clearly. Then, you add it into your self. Integrate it. Catalog it. Store it for later reference, because that fearful moment might someday help you in ways a walk in the park on a sunny day never could.

Easier said than done. Still, it gave Harry something to do for a while.

The Weasleys collected a few hours later by the fireplace in the kitchen. Their mum still appeared emotionally stricken, which was just as unsettling to Harry as it was to them.

Harry stood with Hermione and Sirius, intending to wish them well. Ron gave him an odd look. "Aren't you coming?"

Harry blinked in confusion. "I really should stay. Let you, the family, handle this."

The redheads shared doubtful looks. Bill piped up, "After we rescued you from Azkaban? I barely know you and even I know, if you don't come with us, you'll end up doing something bravely stupid and then we'll have to go out and do it all over again."

"He has a point," Sirius said from behind him, "You should go with them." Harry felt a squeeze on his shoulder-- an unspoken reassurance that Sirius wasn't just being polite.

Harry smiled and stepped forward to stand next to Ron. He then said, "Hermione should come, too."

"Harry, I..."

"Because otherwise you're stuck here with Sirius, Remus, and a house-elf who thinks you'd make a good pack animal."

Her eyes widened. She made no protest when Ron and Ginny grabbed her hands and pulled her into the group queueing for the Floo.

Sirius gave them each a wave as they were whisked away.

While Floo travel was still a dizzying, sooty mess for him, Harry felt he exited the fire much more gracefully than his previous attempts. He then stumbled anyway, trying not to step onto a pile of folded notices bearing the seal of the Ministry. "What's with all the post?"

"The Trace," Bill said, "it must've kicked off warnings of possible underage use of magic by Ron and Ginny. Since we're purebloods, it's up to Mum to hold them accountable."

Ginny suggested, "Toss 'em into the fire?"

"You wish. The proper thing to do is to have Mum sign the forms and send them all back. Doesn't matter right now, though. Stack them somewhere."

Ginny nodded and collected them up, stowing them in the writing desk near the garden window. "Now what happens?"

After a moment of no one answering, Ginny said, "All right ... Bill, you need to go to the hospital to see to Charlie and find out what they plan to do next with Dad. Ron, get Harry and Hermione situated. I'll take Mum into the bedroom and help her get into some warm clothes. Fred, George..."

"Yes, Generalissima?"

"Find Percy. Bring him home."

That night before bed, Harry & Ron explained to Hermione the process of events that she had missed. She gasped and 'ooh'-ed and exclaimed as appropriate, ending in a long, tearful hug for Ron. After that, Hermione touched Harry's shoulder and said, "I'm glad that you're alive." She then left the bedroom.

"What's her problem with you?" asked Ron.

Harry thought for a moment. "I think she's upset because I went there to kill people. You, she has all the sympathy in the world for. You came only because I needed to be rescued, and then... your dad died."

"Yeah."

"Ron, I don't know what you would want to hear from me, but I will say that I'm sorry."

His friend appeared irritated. "Don't say that. I don't need your --"

"This isn't about pity!"

"Shut up for a mo'!"

Harry's mouth clicked shut.

Ron blinked several times. "I don't want your apology. Don't treat me weird. Just... be Harry like you are when ... y'know... we're getting along. I want... I need that. Be normal."

Harry scoffed.

Ron added with a smile, "Well, y'know, I wouldn't ask you out loud if I didn't expect that you were gonna have to work really hard to do that."

~oOo~

Harry woke up late that night. His nightmares were no longer creative mash-ups of odd anxieties -- he was seeing men dying by his hand. He slumped down to the kitchen. Not surprisingly, another Weasley was making tea when he got there.

"How's the arm?"

Charlie had the build of a footballer, and even in winter he had his sleeves rolled up to show off his muscles. "Just another scar with a story, now. Fancy a shot of whisky in your tea?"

"You're alright with that?"

"As long as you don't empty the bottle, yeah. Just don't rat me out to Mum."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

They sat at the table, letting the tea steep.

After a few minutes, Charlie said, "I'm surprised there's not more of us down here tonight. Well, not very surprised. Bill isn't even sleeping here."

"No? Where'd he go?"

"Back to the bank or something. Every chance he gets, he's out the Floo on some excuse or another. Then there's the twins. I don't know how this is hitting them, but whenever they're quiet, you can expect someone is going to be suffering soon."

"Yeah. Noticed that at school, actually. Loud Weasleys are always safer than the quiet ones."

Charlie turned away, and took another sip of his doctored tea. When he turned back, Harry saw that he was openly crying.

Harry looked into his eyes, utterly lost in how to deal with this.

Charlie didn't seem to mind. He just looked at him, almost as if Harry represented something else, though he didn't know what. Harry gave him the most sympathetic look he could manage.

"I never told him," he finally said. "I never... I could have, but I didn't. I should have trusted..."

Harry caught a vision from Charlie's thoughts, of a shirtless Oliver Wood saying something to him like 'it has to happen sometime.' Much guilt and affection flavored the memory. "Charlie... is that a big problem, being gay?"

Charlie looked briefly shocked, and Harry sensed him worrying that Oliver had told Harry about them. "It's not frowned upon unless you talk about it. So I never talk about it." Charlie glared at him with raw eyes.

"Doesn't mean your dad didn't know, then. He's pretty sharp."

"He might have suspected, but I never told him." Charlie gave him a suspicious look. "You don't seem surprised."

"Oh, I had no idea, but it's not like I've got cause to judge. I mean, Holly's like that with girls."

"Your tutor told you she was a lesbian?"

"Bisexual, and Lupin pretty much outed her in front of everyone right when they met her. She's fairly open about herself, so it wasn't much more than irritating to her."

"Brave, that."

Harry said, "I won't tell anyone that you're gay, but I think you should." Seeing Charlie's growing consternation, he added, "I mean, if you regret not telling your dad, then maybe it's time for you to tell everyone else. You have an opportunity here. Everyone will be in the same room."

Charlie's look of worry eased. He smiled ruefully and nodded. Then he snarked, "Everyone except Percy."

"Fred and George are still on the hunt, so I wouldn't count him out yet."

"I'll wait, then."

Harry gave him a conniving look. "Piker. Any excuse to put it off."

"Shut it!" Charlie replied with a laugh.

"Give me more whisky, then."

~oOo~

The morning Prophet announced the breakout from Azkaban, though a number of details were missing or being deliberately mis-reported. They portrayed Sirius as the most likely instigator, though his killing of Rodolphus Lestrange was mentioned as a sign that the escapees may not be unified in purpose. No mention was made of Harry or the Weasley's involvement. Most of the credit was being aimed towards 'Mymthora' Tonks, the only surviving Auror in any shape to take credit for preventing the wholesale emptying of the prison.

Most unnerving to Harry was the buried article that said the Dementors had already reconstructed the prison back to its original shape.

~oOo~

Harry was impressed by how naturally Ginny stepped into the role of family traffic cop. During a lull, she explained, "Bill wasn't doing anything, Charlie just came back from almost losing his arm and the rest can't coordinate a lunch date. I had to step up."

Ginny had discovered new value in her talent for mimicking voices. She posed as her mum while negotiating with the outside world, the Floo fire obscuring just enough details in her face to make the disguise credible.

Imelda Mincing at the Ministry was the first to receive Ginny's version of Molly's nigh-imperious tone - "I do not care where he left off on the paperwork. Send his personal effects home and I'd like a complete report on his pension and owed pay."

Then it was the hospital - "What do you mean, 'Would it be okay if the body wasn't there'? Where is my -- Arthur's body?"

An old, coughing wizard from the Department of Mysteries - "It's ours, so give it back, intact and presentable! Oh, do take a lozenge, would you?"

The undertakers - "Why did they send it to you? No -- never mind. For once they erred in our favour. What? No, we aren't 'coming 'round before five so you can meet your mates for a pint' - you're going to deliver it to us intact and properly shrouded, Thursday before dawn as promised ... or you'll get such a howler! Oh, you think that's an idle threat? MEMBERS OF THE WIZENGAMOT FEAR MY HOWLER! IT'S BEEN NOMINATED AS THE FOURTH UNFORGIVABLE!"

Even the offices of the Daily Prophet - "You will send early copy for my approval of any article mentioning Arthur Weasley or his family for the next week or else I shall burn your printing presses to the ground ...

"... I have no idea what you're talking about -- St. Mungo's has handled this with sympathy and discretion. You could learn a thing or two from them."

Ginny rose from her latest verbal battle to find Harry standing just outside the kitchen, smiling at her as she brushed green soot from her mum's apron.

"You're doing great," Harry said.

"Compared to what?" she snapped, tucking her hair back into place to aid her disguise.

"Compared to what I might've done in your place, which is not have a clue even where to begin. It's really fantastic."

"Oh, well it is rather fun, pretending to be a witch feared for her temper."

"That part's not much of a stretch."

She smiled, but then glared at him and said, "Shouldn't you be cooking something?"

Harry scooted off towards the kitchen. He and Ron had taken over the cooking duties and hadn't poisoned any of them yet, much to their relief. The bread was always too dense and the stews ranged from nearly tasteless to painfully spicy, but Ginny seemed grateful to them for taking over that burden while her mum remained disconsolate.

Hermione had done quite a bit as well in keeping everyone on task and trying to lift their spirits. Her latest ploy was to encourage everyone to focus on trimming the Christmas tree. After an hour of sullen half-participation from the others, she cast a few animations that finished the work for them.

They gathered the evening of Christmas eve, wearing their holiday best for a passable feast. This tradition they followed even without prompting by their mum. Ginny had helped her into her best robe to suit the occasion. The meal was made more tense, anticipating whether Percy would finally show his face.

All other markers on the Weasley family clock were pointed at 'Home', except Percy's. His had aimed at 'Work' or 'Traveling' for the most part. He'd become much more cunning at evading the twins in his time at the Ministry, and had yet to be tracked down despite their efforts. Harry suspected that Fred and George weren't putting their all into the hunt, as they'd both expressed a lack of desire to have Percy back in the fold.

Molly had spent most of the time knitting in her favorite chair, stealing glances at the family clock and then scowling into her lap. She nearly stuck Fred with a knitting needle when she noticed he hadn't set a place for Percy, but that was the most noise she'd made in a while. She made no remark when, after they'd all stared at the feast sitting on the table for ten minutes, Bill said, "No sense letting it get cold," and started serving.

They finished the repast and Hermione volunteered once again to manage the dishes, perhaps a little eager to use spells while away from school. Charlie was muttering something in collusion with the twins, though he kept shaking his head at them. Ginny was asking Bill about curse breaking but getting one-word answers, as Bill acted more interested in how the brandy sloshed in his tumbler.

Ron was staring at the fireplace. As green flames flared up, he muttered, "...about time,".

Out strode Percy, but when he realised that he was surrounded by his siblings, all looking somewhat murderous, his stance faltered. "I'm here," he declared rather pointlessly.

Mrs. Weasley stood from her chair. She pointed towards the pantry and then followed Percy in. The door shut and a stopper-like sound gave proof of the charm that sealed them from being overheard.

A few minutes later, Percy burst out of the pantry with a red hand-print on his face. He headed back towards the fireplace to Floo out, but Ron tossed a pail of red sand over the embers to cut off that escape. Percy scowled at him and then changed direction.

Harry was nearest the door to the mudroom leading outside. He moved into Percy's path. "You're not leaving."

"Out of my way, Potter."

Harry braced his arm across the doorway. "No, I mean, you can't leave. Either you're going to sort this out with your mum, or..." Harry looked over Percy's shoulder, seeing the twins, Ron, & Charlie all drawing their wands. "I was going to say 'you'll never get it sorted', but the truth is, the rest are gonna kill you the second you step beyond the property line."

"Is that a threat?" spat Percy.

"Of course it's a threat," Harry replied. With a softened tone, he said, "I get that your career was on the rise, and that associating with your father within the Ministry might have bollixed it, but that was work. This is family."

Percy, though wary, was still being aggro; "What would you know about family, Potter?"

For the first time in days, Harry felt fire in his heart. He glared, inducing Percy to take a step back.

"I know a lot about family," Harry said. "I learned most of it from you lot, since my family's dead. There's one thing you didn't -- and probably couldn't -- understand, until now. My mum sacrificed her life to protect mine and that sacrifice is what brought down Voldemort."

Percy blanched. By naming the Dark lord, Harry had finally captured his full attention.

Harry added, "Are you seriously willing to toss away that sort of power? The power of family?"

Percy sneered at him. "Except that you've been saying it didn't work- that he's back. Where's your power of family now?"

"Either I'm wrong about him being back and my mum did him in, which means that the power of family is exactly what I said, or I'm right that he's out there, which means you're fighting for the wrong team. What if I'm right?"

Percy's head snapped back and he appeared to be trying to recover his balance. He rubbed his sore cheek. A sullen look came over him. He walked back through the living room into the shadowed pantry where his mother still was cloistered. His brothers all gave him the evil eye as he passed through, though they put their wands away.

Ginny idled over to stand alongside Harry in the doorway. She whispered, "How did you do that?"

"It's just the truth. I told him what I felt."

"No, I mean, you forced the words into my head at the end; Percy's head, too, by the way he reacted."

"I... I'm not sure. Why are you the only one asking?"

"I suspect the answer to both questions is gonna be Mind Arts. Hols has been teaching me the Occumulul-- Occlumlu-- the mind defence thing. Amongst other things."

"Oh, yeah. How're you two... er... doing?"

A blush escaped Ginny's control and she turned away to look at the fairy lights on the Christmas tree. She said airily, "We're getting along just fabulously. She's a great, um, tutor."

Harry smiled. "Yeah, I remember some really enjoyable lessons in 'um'. Are you finding 'um' difficult?"

Ginny shoved him in the shoulder. "You'll be pleased to hear that Holly thinks I'm quite talented. A natural, she said."

"A natural... at what?"

"Ummmm... body-enhancing magic," she said. "Why? Are you suggesting something else?"

Bill growled, "Ginny, stop it."

"What's your problem?"

He strode up to loom over her. "Flirting with Harry, now? Here? With... with Dad--"

"Thanks, Bill. Obviously I must've forgotten that our father was murdered. Must be the festive atmosphere." Ginny pulled at her black woolen skirt as if to twirl it around, but the excess starch kept it board-stiff and perfectly pleated.

Bill said, "How did you get to be so cold?"

"Maybe because I had to fight off an evil spirit all on my own for ten months while my brothers ignored me completely, just as they always do."

"I wasn't here for that," he replied. "In fact I recall speaking to you at length when you all came to Egypt. I had to make sure your head was screwed on straight."

"Had to go to you, though, didn't I? You couldn't be bothered to make the trip home yourself. 'Oh, Ginny got possessed by the Dark Lord? Well, a plaster and kiss on the noggin ought to do for that!' And the second we had to leave, you patted my head and goosed me on my way, never to write or visit again!"

Harry had the good sense to back out of that argument on the pretext of refilling his mug of cider, wherever it was. Unfortunately, this wasn't the only argument now in process. It was like Percy's arrival was a lit fuse that had finally burned its way to the powderkeg.

"... never trusted us ..."

"... it was a SPIDER! How is that funny? What made you think ..."

"... not my responsibility ..."

" ... abandon the family ..."

" ... and Fred always speaks first ..."

"... coddled me like an infant ..."

"... at least they thought about it..."

"... ran out as fast as you could! Never intending to ..."

"... treated Dad like an idiot..."

"... not two sickles for any of us..."

"... of course Bill's been out shtupping that French twist ..."

"... how you can call her loose when you ..."

"... gave up money for a way out ..."

"... humiliate us all ..."

"... accio wands ..."

Of course that last one only Harry could hear, as it was whispered by Hermione. The moment after she'd run off to stash them, angry words were replaced with shoving, and then with fists.

It occurred to Harry later that night, as he stared up at the ceiling in Ron's room using only one eye since the other was swollen shut, that it wasn't necessary for him to start throwing punches as well, but if he hadn't he would've felt left out. If anything, getting clobbered by his quasi-family helped to smash out the guilt he'd felt over being the cause of it all. When Molly gave him the black eye, he'd nearly wept in gratitude.

And for some reason, he thought of Dobby.

~oOo~

In the morning they all descended to the kitchen, still bruised and swollen from the night before. Only their mum was absent, the door to her bedroom still closed.

Charlie asked Bill, "So... how's Fleur's accent coming along?"

Bill blushed but turned away. He muttered, "Seen Oliver lately?"

Hermione gasped.

Charlie chucked a candle at Bill's head.

George said, "That explains it."

"Explains what," replied Fred.

"Why he'd give up the Quidditch career for dragon handling - who'd want to explain that to every groupie?"

Percy scoffed and said, "You didn't know?"

"How did you know?" said Ron. "No one tells me anything."

"Are we doing this again? Want to see blood on the walls? NO!" Harry bellowed, "It's fucking Christmas. So, shut it! All of you!"

They all looked at Harry, but sank back into their individual sulks.

Ron muttered, "Is that a special kind of Christmas there, Harry?"

Hermione whinged, "Ron..." but the rest started snickering. They might have laughed, but every one of them winced when they moved too abruptly.

The Floo fired up, heralding Mrs. Weasley's arrival, encumbered by sacks, her arms full of wrapped gifts.

Charlie was the first to recover. "Mum... we thought you were still asleep!"

"On Christmas morning? Hah! Not since Bill turned three. Any other day of the year I can depend on the majority of you having a lie-in, but if there's one thing I've learned about being a Weasley it's to be suspicious of too much quiet. As it was, I had to retrieve all the gifts I'd hidden at Headquarters in case our holiday was spent there. Now, what has all of you so long in the face?"

George offered, "Harry was just saying it's Fuc --"

Harry stood suddenly from his chair. "Hang on -- I do have something to say. Something important."

Mrs. Weasley set her burdens down on the table and sat attentively on the bench beside her daughter.

"I know that I asked most of you already to join me in my fight. I don't think you or I, any of us, knew how costly that might be." He imagined seeing the reminder of the cost laying heavily on all their shoulders, like tar. "I don't want to cost you anything more. I think you should all step back from the Underground Army thing. Be a family. It's what you do best."

Molly rose and gave him a gentle hug, murmuring, "Oh, you sweet boy."

She then stepped back and smacked the back of his head.

"The Weasleys stand together with you, because you are family. If you think for one moment that we won't be right there fighting alongside you when you kill that monster, you're in for a re-think."

Bill said, "Mum, are you talking about the snake?"

"Oh, that bitch snake -- 'Nagini', was it?"

Harry nodded. That was the name Riddle had used for the snake in his vision prior to the Quidditch World Cup.

"It'll be stripped, grilled and served to the Wizengamot with a dressing of Doxycide if I have my way, but I was referring to... Voldemort."

"Mum," Ron marveled, "you said the name!"

"Vole. Dee. Morrr... tuh. Silly, stupid name. Fred, George; you pride yourselves on being funny. I dare you to make that name -Voldemort - into a laughingstock in the eyes of the public."

Harry grinned. "Hols likes to call him Riddle; that's his muggle father's name."

"He's a half-blood?" Molly's voice had risen in disbelief. "Why doesn't anyone ever mention that?"

Ron said, "Well, they'd have to be brave enough to say the name first before they could spread nasty rumours about him, true or not."

Molly waved her arms around, proclaiming, "That will be quite enough of talking about people that we don't like, for the rest of the day. Let's have a proper Christmas."

Perhaps compared to a normal Weasley festivity, it was bit subdued, but they gave heartfelt looks of appreciation for the gifts given and received. When they wanted to thank their father for something, they'd turn to the mantel over the fireplace, where his spoon from the family clock was propped upright in a toothbrush holder.

~oOo~

At dawn of Boxing Day, they were again gathered in fine robes, this time to peer into the foggy marsh surrounding the Burrow, awaiting a delivery. Two men in black robes arrived guiding a cart carrying Arthur's enshrouded body to the front gate. The two gentlemen then assisted with positioning the cart behind the garden by the base of the main chimney, where they propped him at a slight tilt for display. They took a look around, trying to find their path out through the thick fog before deciding to just pick a direction and go.

Molly, with Hermione's assistance, brought out a few decorations and swapped out Arthur's funerary shroud for his favorite robe and waistcoat outfit. Each of the family members stepped up to whisper something into an ear, then stood in a line beside the cart. Harry and Hermione stood a few steps off from Ginny.

Harry whispered to Hermione, "What'd you decide to say?"

"Couldn't think of anything, so I kissed his cheek. How about you?"

"I said I was sorry."

Molly then muttered something.

Harry felt a wave of grief pass through him and drain out through his toes. Left behind was just a calm, not unlike a mild Cheering Charm. He could see all the Weasleys lose some tension from their shoulders.

Amos Diggory came around the side of the building just then. "Are we ready to accept mourners yet?"

Molly said, "Oh come in, Amos, come in! You're the first, I'm sure."

"I'm sure I'm not, and that's why I had to intrude. You see, there's quite a gathering out there waiting for you. I've set up some tables, and Xeno Lovegood is out there duplicating chairs, though he seems rather particular about where each one should be placed. There are at least three staked on the ice covering your pond."

Molly blushed. "I... I forgot. I shrouded the house late Christmas Eve so that none of you would wander off before we could come together as a family again." With a wave of her wand the fog dissipated, revealing two dozen or more people in their orchard. They were busy setting up a marquee, several tables and otherwise preparing for the reception of guests. The two men who had brought the cart headed off toward the now-visible car path, Disapparating once they were just past the gate.

Visitors began to trickle in soon after. The first batch were their other neighbors and members of the extended Weasley family, but soon enough there were associates and co-workers and families of friends, and fellow students as well. Many brought food - potluck for the day or wrapped packages of food for later. There were a few gifts and many scrolls and letters left in a basket someone had conjured.

Harry was more intrigued by a third depository table around the side of the house that was accumulating various small objects, with a written tag tied to each. At first, given the seemingly mundane and innocuous nature of the objects, he thought they might be used portkeys like he'd seen at the World Cup. Instead he was surprised to find gold and silver watches, brass devices, carved wooden boxes and the occasional distended envelope with something more than a letter inside.

He picked one up and read its tag:

'My tiepin. It was enchanted to ring like a bell at dawn, hoot for lunch, whistle for tea, & clap for the end of the work-day. Never realised Arthur was the one who made it so. Loved it before, would appreciate it again. ~ R. Perkins'

Molly surprised him when she spoke. "You can see it either way, really. Are they being selfish to ask for something to be re-enchanted, or is it just a reminder and thanks of the good that he'd done for them? There is no guarantee of return so if the bauble is worth something, it's a kind way to give us -- the bereaved -- a little extra help without making it seem like charity. Most of the watches will be those."

Harry picked up another packet and read the label.

'Silk purse. Used to double any coins or gems put into it. Saved me from begging on the street more than once. Swear on Merlin. ~ M. Fletcher'

Molly read the tag over his shoulder. "And then there are the scurrilous cads who will try to get a free enchantment out of our sentimental nature. Toss that one into the fire, dear. I doubt the purse is even made of silk."

~o~

The gathering grew in size, spreading out to fill the garden, the orchard, the pond and down the lane towards Ottery St. Catchpole. Many people who had arrived just past the sunrise were still there by midday, as if they wouldn't leave until told to do so. Harry was sitting with Ron when he asked him about it.

"It was like this when we lost Uncle Bilius. They come until they feel everyone expected has arrived, then they shuffle off. I s'pose it's meant to show how much someone will be missed."

"And you're supposed to just... mingle all day?"

"Some people like to make a speech, but no one has to." Ron nodded towards a makeshift podium where a wizened old warlock was babbling about bendy billiard cues.

Harry stood up. He had no reason to do it. No one had asked him. Being the center of attention certainly wasn't his favorite thing, but in this case, for this man, he'd discovered a need to speak.

He strode over to the podium. A minute later, the man noticed Harry waiting and hurriedly ended his reminiscence with, "Ah, Arthur, I'll miss you."

The warlock nodded to Harry while tapping his own throat with his wand, and then walked off. Harry took his position.

"Sonorous." He felt a swelling in his throat. It didn't obstruct anything but was an odd sensation nonetheless. "Uhh... hi. You may not know me but I'm Harry Potter."

Harry looked up at the crowd and suddenly was caught by waves of pressure that seemed to be coming from them. Every person there was looking at him, and there were a few hundred at least. Emotions were rolling at him in discordant tones and rhythms and it made him dizzy for a moment, until he could center his mind. Once he'd caught his breath, he re-invoked the Harry he wanted to be at that moment, then spoke.

"I haven't known Arthur Weasley for as long as most of you. In fact, he could only convince me to call him Arthur a few months ago. But I'm absolutely blown away -- I mean, overwhelmed.

"There are so many people here today. I mean, I knew that Arthur was a nice guy. Very pleasant. Able to put even a really nervous kid like me at ease by asking an odd question about the meaning and function of a rubber duck." Harry chortled, but then took a drink of water to cover for it."That was Arthur to me- the man who couldn't quite understand muggles, even though they fascinated him. It's no surprise that he would make it his job to protect them from jinxes and the like.

"A nice man, was Arthur. Mind you, the rest of the family is a bit batty... ," he paused to allow some titters to subside, "but Arthur never minded that. I think he liked that about them.

"Yet that doesn't explain all of you being here."

Harry paused again to change the tone of his delivery to something more forceful.

"Nice men die all the time. They die at home or in hospital or when falling victim to something, whether accidental or, uh, malicious. Nice men like that are missed. Their family grieves for them, and friends offer a pat on the back and shot of whisky and the usual, 'Ahh, whatsisname- he was a nice fellow. Cheers.'"

Harry noticed something in the corner of his eye; the previous speaker was grumping a bit. Harry gave him a nod to apologise for using him as an example.

"That doesn't explain all of you coming here. I think the difference is that Arthur Weasley was a good man. Good. Loving, kind, patient with his family and with strangers. Good with a quick joke. Willing to offer advice, but wouldn't be offended if you chose to ignore it. Arthur spoke as quietly as needed but firmly when necessary. He represented his ideals in his every action.

"That's why you're all here. He was a Good man. And I think you're also here for the same reason I am; there's a hole where Arthur was. I... I'm going to miss him. You will, too. Because he won't be there to add his honest opinion any more. His jokes will need to be told by someone else. Someone else will need to disarm the traps and protect the unwary and say nice things to strangers... and calm down frightened young boys with a silly question.

"That's what I wanted to point out. Missing him isn't enough. We need to carry on with his work. If you came here to find a way to deal with the loss of Arthur Weasley, here it is; be him, every once in a while. Add the intentions of a Good man to your life, for Arthur. I don't know how many of you will do it, but let me say that if just a tenth of you strove to add a good Arthur-like deed every once in a while... well, we might be able to keep up with all the good that Arthur Weasley could have done, that he can't do now that he's gone.

"As for me, I've already vowed to do my 'Arthur'-best to improve the lives of those around me, starting with his family. Starting with this speech."

Harry was tempted to stop there. He probably should have, but...

"There's one thing, though. One un-Arthurish thing that I feel I have to do."

He felt the tone of the audience change in response- a hint of curiosity. He could feel their attention building towards him. He let it collect for a few seconds.

"I'm going to track down the creature that did this to Arthur and burn it until it screams," Harry declared,"And I'll keep burning him until he can't scream any more."

The rage was kept in control. He let the heat simmer away from his face and consciously relaxed his shoulders.

"Thank you," he said, invoked a silent Quietus, and then left the podium for the next speaker to have their say.

Of course, he had no idea who came after him as he was enveloped in Weasleys soon after.

~o~

Harry noted a peculiar behavior in most of the people approaching him later that day. Despite being much older than him, they all apologised for interrupting him.

They shook his hand. More than a few of them said something to the effect of, 'Let me know if you need any help for that hunt of yours.'

He was trying to keep a tally of names with faces and handshakes in the back of his head. Amos Diggory, of course; old Algie Longbottom; Josiah Plunkett; Augustus Pye - the healer from St. Mungo's who had tried to save Arthur; Arnie Peasegood; Dirk Cresswell; Violetta Hobday (though her husband seemed a bit less enthusiastic about the prospect).

A notable exception to this courtesy was a quartet of Aurors led by Kingsley Shacklebolt. He didn't recognise the other two, introduced as Gawain Robards and Niles Proudfoot, but Tonks was the fourth, hanging behind, looking guilty.

"Mr. Potter," said Kingsley, "you and the Weasleys had a lot of trouble over this holiday."

"Yes. We did."

"That trouble also resulted in the death of a number of well-known people; highly-valued people."

Auror Robards continued, "Director of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones is not pleased. Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour is not pleased."

Niles smiled and shook Harry's hand. "But that's all."

The rest of the Aurors walked off, but Tonks lingered, her hands stuck in her back pockets. She wouldn't look him in the eye.

"How 'bout you, Tonks?"

"M'not happy, either."

"Yeah," Harry replied solemnly.

"But that's what war is about, isn't it?"

"So I'm told."

She let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah. I'm still in with the Underground Army if you'll have me; because it's the right side. Not chuffed to be following you, you nutter. You truly are starting to frighten me."

"Why?"

Tonks voice rose in reply; "Maybe 'cause you don't seem all that upset following your recent murderous ramp--"

Harry shushed her.

"... rampage." She had dropped her voice, but the anger was still evident. "Just... do you really know what the hell you're doing?"

"No!" he coughed out. "I've got a tight hold on my head right now, because this day is for the Weasleys. As for the rest, I'm willing to listen if you've got some ideas about what else I should do. About earlier, at Azkaban? I was told that Riddle was going to break his people out of there, and I knew no one would be able to stop him. I wanted to make sure he paid dearly for that victory."

"You did that," she said.

Harry took a moment to cool down, then asked, "Why didn't you warn the other Aurors?"

"And what could I tell them?" Tonks protested. "You didn't really know what was going to happen. I honestly thought you and Snape'd get caught out or that this supposed attack would turn out to be some sort of sneaky switch or something. For Riddle to just... break the prison itself never even occurred to me, and if I'd gone out there to my colleagues, yelling for them all to prepare for it, what could they do?"

They fell into a silence for a bit.

"Conjure a really big mitt?" Harry suggested.

"Maybe a waterslide," said Tonks, "something to roll it away."

"Or just a well-placed wicket the size of the Tower Bridge."

"I can hear it now; 'We're under attack! Summon the Colossus of Rhodes and tell him to bring his cricket bat!'"

They collapsed into each other in laughter, ending up kneeling on the ground. Harry let out a last chuckle. "So, am I forgiven?"

Tonks looked him in the eyes. "No."

"No?"

She gave him a quick size-up, then said, "No. You're a twelve-stone sack of trouble, and I'm keeping my eye on you." She then stood up to stroll away.

"Be sure you watch my left side," he said, "it's the better one."

Tonks said over her shoulder, "No, Potter, that'd be your backside. The one I will kick soon, mark my words."

~o~

Dumbledore came for the wake near twilight. He first approached Molly, spending several minutes in quiet discussion and consolement. While Molly appeared more upset by the end of it, she was nodding and thanking the old wizard.

It took several minutes for the headmaster to weave his way through the crowd to where Harry was, by which point Harry decided that their conversation should be more private. He led their way around the chicken coop, out of sight of the main congregation.

"I don't want to hear it, sir."

"Harry, please. Sit with me a moment." Dumbledore pointed towards a weathered bench by the briar hedge that in warm months would separate the chickens from the vegetables.

Harry sat down on the bench.

The professor joined him, but he sat upright, taking a minute to observe the wall of the coop, the frozen ground, the light reflecting off the first flakes of a coming snowfall. Finally he said, "It is a terrible thing; to lose someone you know and respect."

"Yessir."

Dumbledore asked, "How are you faring?"

"Fine?" Harry replied, almost incredulous.

"What I mean is, are you having difficulty bearing the burden; for the lives that you have taken?"

"Oh, that. I've had nightmares," Harry said, "but not because I feel guilty. I just... keep seeing how they died. It was a fairly ugly business. Those moments are burned into my eyes."

Dumbledore put his hand on Harry's shoulder, gripping almost too tightly. "Harry," he said in the most grandfatherly tone imaginable, "Well done."

"Err... what?"

"I am astounded. Not only because you were right and I was wrong, but the planning, the execution, the outcome... it was a rout!"

"But we lost Arthur, sir."

The Headmaster sighed.

"Yes we did," he said, accompanied by rueful nodding. "I grieve with you all. The man was a -- ," but he then sat back with a look of concern. He reached over to grasp Harry's shoulder again. "Now hold on, there. Are you thinking that Arthur died because you went to Azkaban?"

"Well... yeah."

"And did the rain come because you were upset? Did your sneeze make the leaves drop from the tree? No, Harry. Arthur died because he was doing what he was supposed to be doing; defending the Ministry. He was attacked by a dangerous creature in the course of that duty. Now, if you had an anti-venin particular to the snake who had attacked him and didn't offer it up, I might blame you."

"Couldn't Fawkes have helped him?"

"I did ask him, and he tried."

Since Arthur still died, obviously that wasn't enough. "Thank him for me."

"Of course. But really, Harry; do not deny Arthur his due. It may be far earlier than he had planned, but it was a good death, as much as such things can be called good. His family is cared for and his children are all well on the road to becoming good people, good wizards. Even... the son he adopted."

From the other side of the hedge Ginny exclaimed, "Ron's adopted?"

"Yeah," Ron retorted, "Didn't you know? I'm actually a Dumbledore."

"It all makes sense now," added the twins.

Harry turned to see the four youngest of the family standing there with the same grin on their faces.

Harry groused, "Is privacy not a privilege in this family?"

We were watching your back," Ron explained, "And the adopted thing? Yeah, getting privacy is an ongoing war when you have siblings. You lost this battle."

"Should I concede?"

Four redheads traded looks of confusion. Ron said, "You're never going to learn anything about being sneaky that way."

Dumbledore smiled at them, then turned back to Harry. "Aside from expressing the sorrow that I share with you for the loss of a great, great man, I'm here to warn you about the coming term."

Harry sat up as the others gathered around the bench.

The headmaster said, "With Arthur no longer acting as our man in the Ministry, I need to reach out to a number of people who I feel might be agreeable to our position. This will take me away from the school more often."

"Honestly, I don't see that as making much of a difference, sir," Harry said, "You've been mostly absent all term."

Albus gave him a grudging nod. "Unlike last term, Madam Umbridge will know that I won't be around. She also knows about the truth underneath the story of the battle at Azkaban. As you heard from the Aurors, those in the know are aware that you have fought Voldemort once again, that he lost some troops to your wand and that you once again escaped his vengeance. Dolores's desire to squelch your influence will no doubt be greater than ever."

"What are you suggesting, sir? I wasn't going to brag about it but I'm not going to stay quiet -- not anymore."

Dumbledore took a moment to appraise him. Harry considered whether knowing the man's thoughts would make him feel better or worse, and decided he was happier coming to his own conclusions about them.

"Don't do anything to get yourself or your friends expelled," the headmaster warned. "That means you must never cast spells against the staff, and nothing Dark or lethal is to be used. Defend yourselves, of course. If you keep things civil, we can protect you."

Harry was fairly sure his shocked expression matched those of the redheads in their gathering.

Dumbledore stood up. "Now, I'm fairly certain that I was meant to give you some other rules to abide by, but my mind has already dashed off onto the next task in my day, and I fear I must run if I am to catch up to it." Dumbledore shook each of their hands once more, then strode off to the edge of the yard before Disapparating.

Ginny spoke first; "Did he just --?"

"You heard the man," answered Harry, "no spells against staff, nothing lethal."

Ron began to protest, "Yeah, but--"

"Aside from that," Harry added, "... anything goes."

Fred and George shared a look, then said in tandem, "Anything?"

"The staff clearly can't do shite, so it's up to us to impose justice. I want people to regret supporting Umbridge. I want anyone feeling the boot of the Inquisitor on their back to be coming to us for help. We're taking control of Hogwarts."

From outside their huddle came a challenging, "Oh you are, are you?"

They all stood up straight and turned to face Hermione. Harry registered her haughty expression.

"Yes. We are."

Hermione blinked several times, and then said, "I... I may have some notions about how best to do that."

Harry noted that the others were giving her looks of surprise, except for George. He was nodding and grinning.

~oOo~