Harry Potter and the Phoenix's Flight

by The Velvet Ghost (velvet9409 @yahoo.co.uk)

Rating: PG-13

Fandom: Harry Potter

Category: Action/Adventure, Humor

Spoilers: Though OotP, Set 6th Year.

Disclaimer: As always, I don't claim to own Harry Potter or any of the characters by JK Rowling, although some of the characters are my ideas (Jinx, the Galvez sisters) so ask my permission if you wanna use any of them.

Summary: There are surprises in store for the sixteen-year-old Harry Potter, even before he even starts school. His year ahead is full of mystery, action, adventure, laughs and tears, more than he could ever imagine.

Chapter One: You Know What Day

When the sun rose on the morning of July 31st, Harry Potter found himself excited because of two things: firstly, that it was his sixteenth birthday at last, and secondly, that it was finally saturday. He didn't know which wait seemed longest between the year and the week. It could well be the week. Saturday was a big event for Harry, and he always anticipated them eagerly, because saturday was the day he could escape from the horrible Dursleys. Once a week, he was allowed to spend the day with a member of the order of the phoenix. These visits were a beacon of hope in the comparative gloom that was his school holiday, and July 31st was the outing he was looking forward to. Today he was going to be spending the day with Lupin. In his last letter, he had hinted that they might do something special for Harry's birthday, and when Harry hadn't done anything special for his birthdays ever, this was certainly something to excited about.

He woke up at about half past seven, which was quite a lot earlier than normal. Most other days he preferred to languish in bed, after all, there was nothing else to do, but today, there was a reason for him to wake up. Lupin was going to pick him up at about nine o' clock, so according to the clock on his bedside table, he had an hour and a half to get dressed, pack his bags and sit hopefully by the back door in the kitchen. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had strictly banned Order members from using the front door.

"We don't want the neighbours to see your... your friends calling at our house," his aunt had sniffed, trying to sound casual, though her nostrils had practically stuck together.

Mad-Eye Moody, to Harry's delight, had disobeyed this rule and swaggered up to the front door in all his grizzled glory to hammer on the wood with his gnarled fist and growl, "Open up, muggles, I don't have all day," and when Harry had been unable to fix a knot Dudley had tied in his shoe laces, Moody undid it with magic. Uncle Vernon nearly died with rage, though didn't say anything, probably too scared of Moody. He had that effect on people, with the magical eye, half a nose and so forth.

Chuckling at this memory, Harry rolled over in bed and pulled off the covers, rubbing his eyes. Lupin would stick to the Back Door Only rule, he was sure, though Harry almost hoped he wouldn't. Antagonising the Dursleys was now one of his favourite hobbies. It was even better when adult wizards did it though, especially watching Dudley's reaction. Hagrid had picked Harry up the week before for a day at London Zoo, and Dudley's last encounter with Hagrid had been for the wizard to give him a curly pig's tail. Harry's cousin had stayed upstairs all that day with his back to the wall.

Downstairs, Harry could hear the Dursleys talking in the kitchen over breakfast, and after a moment, he managed to pick out Uncle Vernon's gruff voice.

"... better be better than the last two... totally unacceptable... neighbours could have seen... cloak and everything..."

"... can't even complain," said Aunt Petunia's nipped voice, and Harry distinctly heard her sipping tea through pursed lips. He'd heard it enough times over the last sixteen years to recognise that sound.

"... have to say something if any more such behaviour... personal rights... our nephew, we'll do what we like with him... don't see what they have to complain about... fussy... always knew that their kind... petty problems with the boy... wild accusations of favouring Dudley..."

Harry knew what that last bit meant, and he grinned quite wickedly at the thought. Uncle Vernon was talking about Hagrid's reaction when he'd seen Dudley with a gigantic plate of bacon and eggs, and Harry with a slice of bread and a sliver of jam. He kept listening as he pulled on his only good pair of jeans, looking for a belt to keep them up. Dudley's trousers were, after all, four sizes too big for him, and he didn't want to have his jeans start to fall in public again as they had done when boarding a train with Moody two weeks ago.

"Don't know WHAT the neighbours would say..." said Aunt Petunia's voice, followed by some rough mumbling from Uncle Vernon about going to buy a paper.

"Want to come, Dudders?" he then said, cheerily.

"Mno," was the only reply Harry heard from his massive cousin, and he was clearly eating something as fast as he could. Obviously, Dudley would be having his real breakfast now, and when Lupin arrived, Harry would be treated to a huge plate of the best food, while Dudley would be pretending to eat a rice cake.

His uncle laughed heartily, probably ruffling Dudley's hair, and the door shut as he left to go buy the latest tabloid and a gossip magazine for Aunt Petunia. Harry pulled one of his Gryffindor jumpers from Mrs Weasley over his head and checked his appearance in the mirror. His hair, as always, refused to lie flat, no matter how much he brushed it, so he left it to its own devices. Once his glasses were on, he set about packing a day bag to take to Lupin's house. In his letter, Lupin had told him to pack some homework, so that he could do it in wizard company for once. Harry packed his potions essay, a few text books and lots of spare parchment. After a few minutes of cramming it all in to fit, he got all his necessities together, and in they went. His wand, some money, and a small bag of owl treats for Hedwig. She always got grouchy when she was hungry and he had nothing to give her, so to avoid the possibility she wouldn't deliver his letters, he always kept something at hand.

It was half past eight by the time he got downstairs, just in time to slide into a seat at the table and have a slice of rye bread thrust into his face by Aunt Petunia. "Eat quickly," he snapped. "There's only half an hour until your... friend arrives."

Aunt Petunia insisted on calling the Order, "his friends", though you could see in her eyes she despised the fact he had friends at all. There were several words that seemed to be completely censored from the Dursley's house: wizards, magic, Harry, the Order of the Phoenix, Hogwarts, Saturday and Mad-Eye Moody seemed to be along the list. To the Dursleys, they were: that kind, you-know-what, the boy, those people, that place, you-know-what-day and "that horrible man". It got quite confusing sometimes to hear Aunt Petunia having a conversion with Uncle Vernon about the boy and that kind, performing you-know-what at that place, with all those people and "that horrible man" invading their house on every you-know-what-day.

Harry took the rye bread uninterestedly, picking it apart bit-by-bit and flicking most of it into the potplant in the corner when Aunt Petunia wasn't looking. Dudley glared at him beadily from the other side of the table, and after the sixth or seventh flick, he mouthed, "I'll tell Mum..."

Harry grinned. "Be my guest," he whispered, flicking some rye bread at Dudley, trying hard not to laugh as it landed in his ear.

Dudley shook his head angrily. "Mum! He's flicking rye bread at me!"

When Aunt Petunia turned around, the whole slice of rye bread was gone and Harry was at the sink washing up. He looked innocently over his shoulder. "When I'm all the way over here?" he said.

"Hmm," his aunt said, frowning, biting her lip. He could see that she knew he had been doing something to Dudley, but she couldn't accuse him properly, so she turned around again and started buttering more bread.

"MUM!" Dudley howled.

"Oh, Dinkydiddidums, Mummy's sorry," said Aunt Petunia motherly. "But if all that horrid boy can do is throw crumbs at you then he's very silly, isn't he? Here, have a sandwich..."

And not another word was said on the subject as Dudley ravished the sandwich his mother handed him. Harry beamed into the washing up.

"What are you smiling at?" his aunt snapped at him across the kitchen.

"I just can't wait until Lupin arrives," said Harry. "So we can go do something fun for once. The Order are great."

Aunt Petunia made a noise like a boiling kettle, about to shout at him for saying one of the filtered words, but there were three knocks on the front door that distracted her. "That'll be... your friend," she said, remembering in time, drying her hands on a tea towel and heading for the door.

Harry grabbed his bag off the floor and clattered eagerly into the hall just as she pulled open the front door.

"Professor - " he started, beaming, but when he saw who it was, his face fell. "Snape?"

"Potter," said Snape, silkily, casting him a mere glance. He was about to say something to Aunt Petunia when Uncle Vernon came up the path behind him, his merry whistling ceasing as he saw Snape.

"It's not one of those Denture Menders, is it?" he said, suspiciously.

Snape turned around with a raised eyebrow and a dry remark of, "No, it isn't."

"Why are you here?" said Harry, pulling the attention back, realising he'd put a little too much emphasis on 'you'.

Snape stepped back to allow Uncle Vernon into his own house, and the two swapped disapproving glares for a moment before the professor decided to answer Harry's question. "Lupin regrets to say he's away doing something important this morning, and so unfortunately, I have to have you until his return. Though rest assured Potter, I'm no happier about this than you."

Uncle Vernon looked up from his paper in the kitchen, a great deal more interested in Snape than he had been before.

"But - " began Harry. He fell short when he realised he didn't really have a good excuse for not going with Snape, apart from that he loathed the man. He glanced from Snape to Aunt Petunia, wondering which was worse. After a moment or so's thought, he decided that a day out was a day out. He sighed. "Okay, okay, I'm coming."

"What a shame," said Snape, coldly. He gave a curt nod to Aunt Petunia. "Lupin is supposed to have him back for seven PM, but knowing Lupin's pathetic concern for punctuality, expect eight o' clock or later."

She smiled politely, opening the door for Harry to step out, and as he followed Snape dejectedly up the path, he heard Uncle Vernon say to Aunt Petunia through the open door, "What a nice fellow."

"Mmm, much better than that horrible man," was her reply, before the door shut.

Harry kicked a stone as he followed Snape up the gravel path. This was just great. He had to spend the whole morning with Snape, and there were no promises that Lupin would be free at all. On his birthday as well. This was one of his worse presents ever, second only to the visit from Aunt Marge, though the way things were going, he half-expected her to come marching down the street with all her dogs in tow.

"Stop daydreaming Potter and hurry up," said Snape icily, glancing over one bony shoulder at Harry. "I have things to do today, if you hadn't realised."

Harry took his time to amble angrily up the path, kicking out at a pot gnome and smashing it accidentally on the rockery. He stopped, leaning over to pick it up, intending to hide it or fix it, but Snape snapped,

"Potter! What on earth are you doing?"

"Give me a second," Harry mused, slotting the head back in place.

Snape tutted, folding his arms and drumming his fingers impatiently on his biceps. "Potter! If you continue to waste any more of my time - "

"You'll take points off Gryffindor?" said Harry, bitterly, perfectly aware that Snape could hear him, not really bothered, taking his time to make sure none of the gnome had broken off. His hatred of Snape had definitely increased because of... the events of last year. He instantly blocked the idea from his head, resorting to his usual strategy of not thinking about it at all. If he didn't dwell on it, it didn't hurt.

Snape's fists curled, and he hissed, "You want to keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to me, Potter. We might not be in school but you'll be spending a good deal of your day with me, and unless you want me to turn it into living hell, I suggest you pick up the pace!"

Harry opened his mouth to reply with something scathing, but heard from the front window, "He's broken one of the gnomes!" He glanced up, and saw all the Dursleys peering at him from under the net curtains. They gasped, dropped the drapes and huddled out of sight again.

Harry made sure the gnome was as fixed as he could make it, placed it on the ground and then reluctantly followed off after Snape.

"Where are we going?" he said, jogging every few moments to keep up with the professor's swift pace.

Snape didn't bother to reply, so Harry supposed he'd just have to wait and see. Maybe, he thought, this was all a trick and Snape would lead him into a large, abandoned building where all his friends and the Order would jump out for a surprise party. However, the professor turned a sharp left down between two hedges, beckoning him to follow.

Harry saw a complete dead-end ahead. "Um, Professor?"

"I know it's a dead-end, Potter, I don't have the brain of a Hufflepuff that you seem to possess," said Snape silkily. "Don't step in that," he added, glancing at a half-eaten dead bird on the floor.

Harry glared at the professor's back, taking a very melodramatically wide step over the bird, followed by a sarcastic, "Thankyou for pointing that out, I never normally look where I'm going or what my feet are sinking into."

"I know," said Snape in a deceptively pleasant voice, leaving Harry feeling rather stupid after all.

They walked in silence to the end of the path between the hedges, where Snape looked around carefully, making sure no muggles were around to see. Harry yawned obviously and widely, and earned himself a glare from Snape as the professor slipped an empty crisp packet and a watch from his pocket. Checking the time, he offered the packet to Harry, who stared at him.

"Professor, it's empty."

"I know it is, Potter, take a hold of it, you stupid boy," Snape snapped. "Couldn't you have guessed it was a portkey?"

Harry rolled his eyes and reluctantly nipped the corner of the packet. "Am I allowed to ask where it's going to take me to?"

"No," came the short reply. "You can wait seven seconds."

Snape slipped the watch back into his pocket as Harry counted. Seven, six, five... he yawned again, this was so boring... three, two... one...

There was that familiar lurch behind his stomach, and the dark hedgeway before him vanished, the rubbish-sodden ground beneath his feet disappeared, and he felt himself flying straight forwards in a whirl of colour and noise...

Harry felt ground suddenly thump the bottom of his feet, and his knees buckled dangerously. Another shape materialised behind him, giving him the last push it took for him to fall forward with a shout of pain. Everything stopped spinning suddenly, the dizziness melted away, and after a moment, Harry recovered enough to ask, immediately, "Where are we?"

Snape sighed exasperatedly, grasped him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him upright. "Are you pathetic enough to need somebody to see for you? Open your eyes, boy, do it yourself for once. Weasley might be happy to bounce along after you like a puppy, but I am not."

The snipe against Ron made Harry scowl, wrenching his eyes open and pulling away from Snape. "Don't talk about my friends like that," he snapped, but any thoughts of further arguing left him quite suddenly as he looked around. He couldn't be in Snape's house, surely? It certainly looked like the sort of lounge Snape would own, but... Snape trusted him in his home? "Is this your house?" he said, amazed.

"Surprise," came the dry reply.

It was quite a spacious room, and dimly lit, the windows shadowed by thick drapes of a wine colour. The floor was wooden, the walls were cream and covered in paintings and photographs, and all the furniture was the same crimson colour as the curtains. Harry glanced at the photos above the sofa, and perhaps to draw his attention away, Snape said, "I suppose I'm obliged to offer you something to eat. Or will you be happy with the squashed rye bread in your back pocket?"

Harry frowned, scooping the mush out of the pocket of his jeans. He'd forgotten he'd stuffed it there after breakfast. He felt an inward sparkle of delight as Snape winced, the crumbs from the bread pattering down onto his spotless floor.

"Something to eat would be - " Harry began. He was about to say nice, but then remembered the end of the year with a pang, and said, " - nice but no, I'll be... fine with my..." He held up the handful of mush. "...squashed rye bread, thankyou."

Snape's right eyebrow arched a fraction, but he said nothing. Both of them were remembering times they would rather not, and so to avoid any more awkward silence, Harry asked,

"What time is Professor Lupin expected to be back? Well... just Lupin now, I suppose."

Snape shook his head slightly. "No, it is indeed Professor Lupin, and how am I supposed to know, Potter?"

Harry glared at him from under his unruly fringe. "Seeing as though he gave you the message he'd be away..." he said, vaguely. "And why Professor again?" His eyes widened behind his glasses. "He's got his job back!"

"Hurray," Snape muttered wryly.

"Is he the dark arts teacher?" said Harry, and it couldn't disguise the eagerness in his voice. The despicable, twisted look on Snape's face was all the answer Harry needed, and he gave a whoop of happiness, barely resisting the urge to dance. It was even better knowing that Snape was fuming because of this. He'd been trying to get the dark arts job for sixteen years now, and Lupin had beaten him for the second time.

"Potter, stop jigging around like a lunatic, you're getting bread all over the floor," Snape snapped. "Professor Lupin will hopefully be back as soon as possible, so he can take you as far away from me as possible."

"Just because you're jealous," said Harry, grinning.

Harry expected a sharp comment or one of Snape's usual insults, but the man's face fell from spite into hollow recollection. Harry frowned slightly, his bouncing ceasing, and they he realised what must have hurt Snape like that. Everybody always said Snape had been jealous of Harry's father, and last year, Harry had found out a good reason to suggest Snape hated James for a far different reason.

They looked at each other for a moment, Snape without his usual glare, and Harry without his usual irritating-Snape expression.

"I wouldn't mind a drink though," said Harry after a moment.

"What?"

"A drink." Harry mimed it with his handful of hot, sticky bread, and another lump fell onto the floor. "Ooops. Sorry."

Snape scowled, drawing his wand and giving it a few precise flicks. A mop appeared next to the sofa. "I think you know what to do, Potter. Water?"

Harry couldn't believe this guy. He was making him clean his house! The cold-hearted -

After a moment, Harry realised Snape had offered him water, and he nodded. "Yes please."

Snape smirked, a horrible, cold twisted kind of smirk that Harry knew very well. Another flick, and a bucket of water appeared next to the mop. "Enjoy."

The potions master then left the room, his long black coat billowing in the breeze, and Harry gaped. "It's only a few crumbs!" he shouted vaguely, but there was no reply. Grumbling, he grabbed the mop and twirled it around the bread on the floor. Stupid Snape, he thought. Cleaning? On his birthday, and a saturday as well. Not only had Snape ruined the day he'd expected to spend with Professor Lupin, but it was also one of his escape days, and his birthday. Furiously, he mashed the bread up on the end of the mop, not caring what a mess he made. Sirius wouldn't have done something to him like -

What he'd just thought hit him quite suddenly, and he fell silent and still, as a wave of realisation washed over him. Sirius wouldn't even know it was his birthday... he wouldn't know anything... if Sirius was here, he would strangle Snape for making Harry clean, especially on his birthday. It was all Snape's fault...

Harry wiped his face with the back of his hand, determined not to have an emotional breakdown in Snape's lounge, stuffing the mop back in the bucket with a clang and a slosh.

"Finished so soon?" said a silky voice behind him, and Harry turned to glare up at Snape. To his surprise, the professor handed him a large glass of water though. With ice. A lump very nearly came to Harry's throat.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"My pleasure," Snape said, wryly, eyeing him with quite a suspicious frown.

Harry glanced up, and then down quickly, as he realised there were a few rebellious tears in his eyes. "I did the floor."

"Speak up boy, or I'll have to enhance you with a few sonorus charms."

"I said I did the floor!" Harry half-shouted. He fell silent again, surprised at the volume and anger of his own voice. He took a sip of the water, wiping his face with his sleeve again.

"That will do," Snape said, smoothly. "Walls do not have ears, but the neighbours do."

"Not my fault you have nosy neighbours," Harry muttered, loud enough for Snape to hear him, his head still bowed, taking another sip of the water.

"I do apologise," said Snape coldly. "Next time I buy a house, I'll have to visit all the surrounding houses to check whether they listen with paper cups at the walls, just in case an over-emotional teenage boy is in my house."

"I am NOT over-emotional," snapped Harry.

"As you wish, Potter," said Snape, in a vague voice that Harry didn't like at all.

He glared up at the repulsive potions master through his moppy black hair. Now he could identify with his father. Snape was so despicably vile sometimes that it was impossible to not hate the greasy, sallow-skinned vampire-look-alike. He wanted something spiteful to say, anything, anything that would stab Snape to the heart.

His eyes fell upon the photographs above the sofa again, on one in particular, black and white, of a black-haired boy in Hogwarts graduations robes, holding a scroll, smirking into the camera. It could only be Snape. "Who's the ugly guy in the hat?" said Harry, scathingly.

"My father," said Snape, with a grimace. "I don't know how on earth he acquired that degree, he was even more stupid than you. I hated him."

Harry's insult fell flat on his face, and he glared hatefully at the rest of the photographs, sitting in an armchair without asking for permission, drinking his water in silence. "And I'm not over-emotional," he said, suddenly, as though remembering they hadn't finished that debate properly yet.

Snape was now sitting behind a desk in the corner, writing with a black quill, and didn't seem to hear Harry.

"Whatever you think," he added, loudly.

"Dear me," said Snape, lazily. "You are having some trouble with maintaining a regular volume today, aren't you? From squeaking and whispering to bellowing at me across the room... I can't wait to see what gems you have for me next..."

Harry just glared at him, hating him so much it wasn't possible. He wanted to just pull his wand out of his bag and jinx his ugly, hooked-nose right off his greasy face. He checked his watch, hoping past hope that Lupin hurried up with whatever he was doing, because if he didn't, Harry had the sneaking suspicion that he and Snape would just hex each other to tiny pieces by dinnertime.

He put his head in his hands, trying to drown out the irritating scratch of Snape's quill. "I hate Saturdays," he murmured to himself.

Chapter Two: The Chance For Farewell

Harry had only mentioned his moments of weakness concerning Sirius to one person he'd spent a day with from the Order, and that had been Mrs Weasley. Molly was like the mother he'd never had, and she was one of the only people he knew would never discuss his problems with anybody. Her advice had been to try and not think about it, to concentrate on other things, calm his breathing, and remember that Sirius wouldn't have wanted him to get upset because of anything anybody else did to him.

It took Harry half an hour to achieve the frame of mind that said he did not care about Snape, or anything he might have to say. When he was calm again, he sat back in his chair, taking the last sip from his water and taking a deep breath that suggested he was approachable again.

"Calmed down, have we?" said Snape, without looking up from whatever he was doing.

"Yes, thankyou," said Harry pleasantly.

"If you're under the impression I was expressing concern, you're wildly mistaken, Potter." Snape slid a piece of paper from the top of his pile, jotting on the one underneath absent-mindedly.

"Nice to know you care," said Harry. He put down his empty glass with a soft clunk. Maybe one more stinging remark at Snape, then he promised himself to stop provoking fights. "So, how's Voldemort?"

Snape looked up at him swiftly, with a hiss of, "Shut up, Potter. If you want to be alive for your meeting with your precious Lupin, don't talk about things you don't understand." He slid off another paper, looknig back down. "I would have thought some sense would have been knocked into you by now. What more do you need to realise what a pathetic, arrogant little idiot you are? And to think, people have died to save you..." He scoffed. "Meaningless."

Harry went a little paler, and he whispered, "Don't talk about that. You know nothing."

Snape raised an eyebrow, looking perfectly cool and scournful. "Oh, I see. Nobody can mention Perfect Potter's hurtful experiences at all, God Forbid anybody should upset poor, traumatised little Potter, but it's perfectly alright for him to attack others in an attempt to get some attention. Well, that seems perfectly reasonable."

Harry shook slightly. "I'm not my dad, okay? Don't blame me for what happened, because it's - not - my - fault."

"What are you talking about, Potter?" Snape sneered into his work, jotting distractedly still.

"You know," said Harry. "I saw."

Snape actually shrugged, and said, "If you're not going to elaborate Potter, you should know that mind games on me rarely succeed and you're not proving anything. Of course, you wouldn't know, as your brain isn't even fit to be pickled in a jar in my office. Easier read than a muggle child's book."

"Maybe it's your washing powder, you know, it makes things go greyer," said Harry, pointedly, staring right at his greasy face. "Or you could try some fake tan, it would make your legs less pale - "

"Shut up, Potter," Snape growled, in a tone of voice that firmly suggested the conversation was over. "You have one... less than pleasant memory of mine. I have hundreds of yours."

"Oh yeah?" Harry sneered.

"Miss Chang," said Snape, smirking suddenly.

Harry fell silent instantly. Damn Snape, he thought. Trust him to go straight for the heart.

"What was it she said?" Snape continued, looking up idly and stroking his chin with the tip of his quill. "Oh, yes... "I really like you, Harry..." How simply sweet..."

"You're lucky Evans was there, Snivellus..." Harry hissed.

"Go on, Ripper, you bark at him boy!" Snape snapped back, in perfect imitation of Aunt Marge's voice.

"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" said Harry, and he didn't need to imitate anything, his voice was enough like his father's anyway.

Snape raised his wand absent-mindedly, still marking as though Harry wasn't there. A thrill of horror shot down Harry's spine, and he didn't even have time to move before Snape spoke. "Legilimens," he said, silkily.

Harry's mind was washed into submission as memories began to replay around his head. His eyes widened automatically, and he knew Snape was watching him intently, though he didn't know how he knew. He was too absorbed in memories... the day he had the big fall-out with Cho, about Hermione... the day he turned down Draco Malfoy on the Hogwarts express... the Death Eaters at the World Cup... the day he found himself failing at Occlumency... and then seeing Sirius disappearing back into the veil. That one played again and again and again, over and over until finally -

Harry found himself on all fours on the floor, panting, tears streaming down his face, shaking so much he could hardly see properly. "No," he whispered, sobbing.

Snape's feet were in front of him, his cloak swaying gently. "I have something important to say to you, and show you. But before that, this is a direly serious warning Potter. Never, ever provoke me again." Snape grabbed his arm, pulling him roughly to his feet. "Lupin!" he shouted.

Harry was shaking too hard to even realise that next second, Professor Lupin had hurried into the room, with a disapproving, "That was far too harsh, Severus, Dumbledore told you - "

"Do not call me Severus," Snape hissed at Lupin. He was trying to push Harry in the direction of the door, but Harry was having none of it.

"Leave me alone!" he shouted, lashing out at Snape.

The potions master grasped his hand before it hit and snapped, "Help me!" at Lupin. "Don't just stand there on the sidelines for once!"

"Stop shouting," said Lupin, calmly, putting an arm around Harry's shoulders in a very fatherly way. "This isn't an attack on Harry. I don't know why you had to suddenly order me to jump out of nowhere and grab him."

Harry saw Snape shoot a withering, loathing look at Lupin, though thankfully, the potions master said nothing. Harry tried desperately to wipe away the tears on his face. "What's going on?" he said in a choked voice to Lupin.

"Dumbledore wants us to talk to you about what happened," he said kindly.

"I don't want to," Harry mumbled, rubbing his eyes frantically. The fact that Snape was seeing him cry was worst of all. He hated Snape, and the last thing he ever wanted was to show weakness in front of the slimy, cold potions master. Especially about Sirius...

"You do," said Lupin. "We promise it will help you to talk to us... we've also got something to show you. Don't worry Harry, nothing that happens today will go further than you, me and Professor Snape."

"I don't want it to go further than me," said Harry, shaking still. "You don't understand... you never will..." He wasn't speaking to Professor Lupin - he was staring at Snape, loathing him so much it physically hurt. "Especially YOU," he hissed at the potions master, surprised by the venom in his own voice, though he knew Snape definitely deserved it. "I HATE YOU."

"Harry," said Lupin, warningly, though still kind and quiet. "Come with me, and try not to get upset... Professor Snape is here to help you, no matter what you or he might think." Lupin shot Snape a quick look, as though telling him to stay back and keep his mouth closed, as he lead Harry out of the lounge and through into the corridor.

Harry had no idea where they were going, too busy trying to dry his tears on his sleeve and get a grip on himself. It was his birthday too, and Snape's idea of a present was to torture him with memories of... of...

Lupin opened the door of another room off the hall, leading him through and to Harry's gratitude, holding out an arm to stop Snape getting too close. It was dark and warm, the same sort of humidity as in a greenhouse, and in the middle of the room was a large black cauldron, bubbling with boiling water, pleasant plumes of steam occasionally curling off the rippling surface. For one wild moment, Harry had visions of Hansel and Grettle, thinking that perhaps Snape was going to boil him alive and eat him.

"What temperature have you got this set at?" Snape said impatiently to Lupin, bending down to cool the fire with a swish of his wand that he pulled from his sleeve. "I distinctly told you to let it simmer rather than boil."

"My apologies," said Lupin, with a slight incline of his head. "I can argue about potions with you later, Severus. Harry deserves to know what's going on."

"Well, tell him then," Snape snapped, distractedly, starting to sort through bottles on the shelf-top behind him. "But make it quick, Lupin, the potion will not keep forever."

Lupin nodded, turning to Harry, and handing him a tissue with a kind sort of smile. "Professor Dumbledore wanted us to talk to you about... about what happened, Harry. And you might not want to," he added, seeing Harry start to argue, "but he knows you've been keeping things bottled up, and it's not good. You've had nobody to talk to all holiday and Sirius's death was important to all of us... yes, even Professor Snape."

"Sirius would still be here," said Harry, sadly, wiping his face all the more frantically, "if HE hadn't been mocking him constantly about having to stay in the headquarters whilst everybody else was out doing something. He made Sirius feel useless. That's why he came to... to save me..."

Snape frowned. "Potter, your godfather - "

Harry opened his mouth to shout something at Snape, anything, something that would make him pay for even daring to mention Sirius, but Lupin said, quietly, "Harry... if you don't want to talk, there's something we have to show you instead. Professor Snape has spent a long time on this, so - "

"Get rid of it," Harry snarled.

"No," Lupin said, firmly. He sat Harry down in a chair, hands gripping his shoulders. "Just watch. You have two minutes only... please use them wisely. You can argue with anybody you like once the two minutes are over, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and every second you waste is a second you'll regret."

Snape pressed a small, crystal-topped vial in Lupin's hand and left the room, frowning still, shutting the door with a snap and leaving the professor and Harry in complete darkness.

"What is it? What's going to happen?" said Harry, worriedly. "Why - "

"Shhh," said Lupin, uncorking the phial. "You have two minutes..." Through the darkness, Harry just managed to pick out the form of Lupin pouring the bottle's contents into the simmering heat of the water.

Harry gasped, and at first, he thought that a huge sparkling pastel-coloured firework had gone off in the cauldron, lighting the room in soft green, pink and orange sparks. He held up his hands to shield his eyes at the brightness of the reaction - but a voice from the cauldron made him look. A voice he'd wanted to hear for so long now. The voice of somebody he thought he'd never hear ever again.

"Harry...?"

Was it a ghost? A shadow? Perhaps like Cedric, and his parents, and Bertha Jorkins, and Frank Brice... Harry didn't care what it was... all he knew was that it was real...

"Sirius," he choked. There were tears in his eyes. His godfather's ghostly silhouette smiled down at him from the cauldron he stood in, hidden from the waist down. He was just the way Harry remembered. So alive, so happy, so energetic... so real...

"I thought Snape would try something like this," he said, laughing slightly. "Thank him for me..."

"Why - how can - are you - ?" Harry couldn't choose a question to ask first, and so he chose a statement, dropping to his knees before the cauldron, his hands pressing flat on the metal belly, as though he wanted to slip through it and be with Sirius. "You're alive..."

"No," said Sirius, shaking his head. "I'm not. All you need to know is that I'm here... Harry... did you get out of the Department of Mysteries okay?"

Harry nodded, still pushing at the metal of the cauldron. Maybe if he pressed hard enough, it would vanish. He could join Sirius. They could talk as much as they liked, play chess, complain about Snape... forever. "Yeah... we all did..." he choked. "Sirius, I... you died to... to come and help me..."

Sirius smiled paternally, gazing down at his godson, with just the same longing look in his eyes as Harry thought would be in his own. "You would have done the same for me, right?"

Harry nodded frantically. "Of course I would... Sirius, when will I see you again? When will you come back?"

Sirius's smile was now sad, distant, full of hollow realisation. "Never... I'm gone, Harry, you have to accept that..."

"No," said Harry, shaking his head, tears now rolling down his face. "You're alive, you're right here... you'll always be here... you'll always live..."

"One minute," said Lupin, quietly, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder soothingly.

"Listen to me, Harry," said Sirius. There was such a serious tone in his voice that Harry looked up, pierced by his dead godfather's gaze, longing for things to be different. "There are a few things you need to know... so many things... things I've found out, being here, but there are too many to tell you. And most of it makes no sense to me, but they might help you understand the Order better..." He thought, quickly, ticking things off on his fingers. "There are a couple of other Order members here, they say that Dumbledore has more spies in Voldemort's ranks than just Snape. Specific people that nobody would ever suspect. I don't know any names, but nobody but Dumbledore knows that they're spies." Another thought came to his head, and he rushed, "Something about somebody's wife... one of the Death Eater's... she might be a spy, I don't know. I can hardly remember..."

"Thirty seconds, Sirius," Lupin warned.

Sirius gave up with the information, and looked so desperate to have just a few moments more, staring down at Harry with the look of a man heading to the gallows. "Harry... look after yourself. I'll always be there for you. And so will Ron... you'll understand later. And... you'll be getting a letter soon... look after the place for me, will you?"

"I will," Harry choked, even though he didn't understand. "Sirius, I... I don't want you to go..."

"I have to," said Sirius, sadly. "Take care, Harry... I'll see you again someday... I promise."

"Ten seconds," said Lupin. He turned to his lost friend, trying to stay calm and collected. "Goodbye, Sirius. Until next time."

"Bye, Remus... keep up the good work..." Sirius looked down at Harry, reaching out to him. "Goodbye Harry... never forget me..."

Harry reached out too, his fingers slipping straight through Sirius's smokey hand. "I won't," he said, shaking. "Goodbye... you... you mean a lot to me..."

"Remember me," said Sirius, one last time, his voice echoing out slowly, as though getting lost in time. "Never forget..."

And then he was gone, the pastel sparks sizzling out into the darkness, silence conquering the frantic goodbyes of the second's before. Harry felt nothing around his fingers, and saw nothing before him, heard no sounds at all. As though he no longer existed for a moment...

Lupin looked down at Harry, his hand still gripping his shoulder gently. For a moment, he wondered whether he should say something or not. Harry had just said goodbye to somebody, goodbye until the end of life itself, and even then, there was no definite promise that they would meet again then. Lupin knew how much Sirius had cared for Harry, and how much Harry idolised his godfather... goodbye would be the hardest thing...

But to his great surprise, when Harry looked up, past the tears in his eyes - there was a smile. Of joy, of relief, of happiness? Lupin understood almost immediately as he looked into the joyful, brimming tears in Harry's eyes. The boy had never had a chance to say goodbye and put things to rest, but now... now, he'd had that chance and he wouldn't regret not giving that final farewell.

"Thankyou," Harry said. The look on his face said he'd never meant anything so much in his life.

"My pleasure." Snape's voice spoke from behind Lupin, quietly, and it was only then that Harry noticed he was there at all. He'd managed to slip in without a sound. "Though, in truth, Dumbledore had the idea, and I despise taking credit for somebody else's mess."

"Not a mess," said Harry, wiping away his tears, still grinning in a lopsided kind of way. "Tidiest mess I've ever seen." He took a deep breath, managing to console himself enough to get a grip, adopting a slightly more serious expression. "Thankyou, I appreciated that."

"As I believe I said, it was my pleasure," Snape mused.

Harry wiped away the last of his tears, his heart feeling lighter than it had in months and months, getting to his feet, gazing longingly but joyfully at the spot where his godfather had been moments before. He grinned. Maybe this wasn't such a bad birthday after all.

"Something wrong, Harry?"

Harry and Lupin had left Snape's house shortly after the farewell from Sirius, strolled through the town for a while sharing memories of Harry's godfather, and now had found a rather nice little bridge overlooking the river. Lupin had bought Harry an ice cream, chocolate and mint, which he was slurping thoughtfully as they gazed out over the river.

"Sort of," Harry admitted. "I was thinking, Professor, and - "

"Remus," said Lupin. "There's no reason to stick to formalities out of school, Harry."

"Well, I was thinking." Harry took a lick of his ice-cream, thinking, trying to sum up what the problem was. "About that day... with my dad, and hanging Snape upside down by his ankles... you remember..."

"Yes, I do. Is it still bothering you?"

Harry swallowed his mouthful of ice cream, nodded and continued. "I guess I just don't like admitting that Snape was right about my dad... he was arrogant, wasn't he?"

"James?" Lupin pulled the chocolate flake from his cone, munching it for a second. "I suppose he was, in a way. Though really, his arrogance made him who he was. He was still a good person, Harry."

Harry nodded. He was still thinking. Today had been the first time that the subject of that day had been breached with Snape, and the potions master hadn't reacted too kindly at all. It must have affected him more than Harry thought. "But why though?" he wondered aloud.

"What?"

"Why? Why did that one day affect Snape so much? Why's he so touchy about it?"

Lupin smiled slightly. "Several things, I suppose. That day was most likely the final straw for Severus. Years and years of being ridiculed by James, and it caught up on him. There was another thing though... only something we had a vague idea about... or at least I did."

Harry gave him an imploring look, prompting him to go on. Lupin smiled again, and after a further lick from his ice cream, he said,

"I think that perhaps Severus was jealous of your father for a different reason. Not just Quidditch or popularity... your mother, Harry. Lily was incredibly beautiful, and everybody saw her as James's property, even though, admittedly, she despised him for quite sometime. Lily was indeed in Gryffindor, but she had several of the qualities favoured by Slytherin house. She was vivacious, ambitious, quite cunning at times. I think Severus probably liked her."

"My mum?" said Harry, horror-struck. "He can't like my mum! That's horrible! How dare he?"

"Don't worry," said Lupin, with a smile at the expression on Harry's face. "Severus started to despise her after that day by the lake. You've probably guessed that he wasn't exactly the most popular student in the school. He was occasionally in the company of Lucius Malfoy, but apart from that, he was a rather lonesome character."

"I'm never going to feel sorry for him, no matter what you say," said Harry, grinning slightly.

"Never say never," Lupin concurred, wisely. "However, it if makes you feel any happier, Severus no longer cared in the slightest about your mother. The rumour was that he'd found a girl out of school he was happy with, but nobody was quite sure how true that was."

"Bet it wasn't," said Harry. At the raised eyebrow from Lupin, he added, "It's not like Snape though, is it? He just... doesn't socialise. That's the thing."

"He might," said Lupin.

Harry shrugged, munching the last part of his cone and sprinkling the crumbs between his fingers. They fluttered to the dark waters of the river below and vanished out of sight, washed away in the flow. A metaphor for life, perhaps? Such petty little problems, washed away in the tide of luck and fortune bestowed upon him. Glancing further up the river, he was the flow held back by a large log, lodged in one of the sewage pipes filling the beautiful river with poison. Maybe that was Snape. Held back by one thing.

"Harry?" said Lupin.

Harry glanced up. "Sorry. Got lost for a moment."

Lupin smiled. "I noticed. It's five o' clock, Harry, you must be hungry... let's find somewhere to eat before I have to start thinking about getting you home to your aunt and uncle."

Despite the happiness inside him, Harry felt a momentary flush of realisation and disappointment as he remembered that at seven o' clock, he'd be back home with Dudley treating him like dirt. Lupin saw the expression on his face.

"Harry?"

"Don't want to go... back," he said. He had nearly said 'home', then realised that the Dursley's house was no more home than this bridge was.

"Only a month to go," said Lupin, kindly.

"A month too long." Harry sighed, leant out and snapped a twig away from a branch overlooking the river. He gazed at it morosely for a moment, then dropped it gently. It spiralled through the air, blown back into the tree by the wind - but to Harry's complete amazement, the movement of that one little twig was so great that the tree branches slipped loose from under the blocked log, and with a great crash, it sloshed down into the waters below. The river started to flow properly again with a relieved splash, the sewage was washing away...

"Impressive," said Lupin, smiling. "Even though I doubt you did that on purpose."

Harry smiled slightly, not really paying attention, too amazed at why nature was pelting him with so many metaphors. One little thing to solve all the problems at once. A coincidence with a log and a stick had him thinking the most deep things he'd thought in a good long time.

"Prof- Remus?" he said, wanting to ask something he never thought he'd ask.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Professor Snape isn't happy at all, is he?" Harry looked up at Lupin, wondering how much he knew, how much he would tell, and how much he would hide.

Lupin looked back at him, considering his expression, then saying, "I don't think he is, Harry. Not at all. Severus has been alone most of his life, because of one thing or another. Mostly, it was your father who caused him to be alone." Lupin sighed. "James got the girl, the friends, the money, the looks, the talent... though don't think your father was nothing but arrogance." He pulled his jacket closer around his shoulders, and then said, "It's getting cold, Harry... I have a story to tell you, about the day your father knew he'd gone too far, but only if we can go somewhere warm. I have a big meeting tomorrow and it won't do me any good to have a frostbitten nose."

Harry nodded, glancing out over the town. "There's a McDonalds over there, by the cathedral."

"There's a what?"

"A McDonalds, it sells food. Trust me on this one, Pr- Remus."

"Very well. Anything that isn't as bad as the motorway cafe I stopped at one the way here... you don't even want to know." Lupin smiled slightly. "Lead the way then, Harry. Oh, one thing." Harry jumped as Lupin scooped into his back pocket, pulling out a now mouldy handful of the bread that just refused to die. "What on earth is this?" said Lupin, slightly worried.

"Rye bread," said Harry. Seeing the look on Lupin's face, he smiled and added, "Long story."

Chapter Three: Birthday Boy

"Harry, I'm completely full, I'm afraid. Do you want to finish the McNuggets?"

"You don't have to call them McNuggets, you know," said Harry, smiling, taking the box gratefully. "Just nuggets. It might say McNuggets on the boards, but it's McEverything in here, McBin, McChair, McTable, McWaitress, McRevolvingDoor..."

Lupin gave him a slightly confused expression, opening his mouth, but Harry managed to predict his question straightaway and grinned.

"Yes, I am joking." He slurped the last remains of strawberry milkshake from the bottom of the container, then said, "So what was the thing about my dad you promised you'd tell me?"

"Ah, yes... I thought you'd bring that up," said Lupin. "Well... you know that James was a Seeker. Quite a good one at that. You must have seen the trophies in the trophy room?" At Harry's nod, he thought for a moment, then continued. "Professor Snape was quite a good player as well - a Seeker, like your father. I always spent my evenings in the library, and the Slytherins normally practiced Quidditch then, in view of the library windows. I used to watch them. Snape could have been of great use to the Slytherin team... but he was never a member. Due to a prank your father played on him."

Harry's eyes widened. "Why? What did he do? What happened?"

"Severus joined the team in third year, I think," Lupin explained. "Of course, your father was already on the team, and he heard about the new Slytherin Seeker. He hated the thought of Severus being a rival to him, as naturally, he thought himself better than Snape. I suppose I should have noticed he was planning something when he spent so long in the library all of a sudden, looking up charms and unbreakable jinxes and so forth."

"Did he attack - "

"Oh no," said Lupin, shaking his head. "It wasn't violent at all. We were lined up outside potions one day, when James just drew his wand and performed a charm, very calmly. Snape didn't even notice he'd done it until the last moment."

"What did it do to him?" Harry whispered.

"Something called an Anti-Catching charm," said Lupin. "It doesn't affect grip or reflexes in anyway, it just makes the victim unable to catch at all. James told Severus this little fact by throwing a tennis ball at him and telling him to catch it. Snape's fingers were as though they had been buttered - and the charm was unbreakable. He lost his place on the team."

Harry felt so incredibly guilty now it was almost painful. He could feel his meal squirming remorsefully in his stomach. "So why did that make my dad realise he'd gone too far? Didn't he find it funny?"

"I suppose it would have been," Lupin mused thoughtfully, "If the Slytherin Captain hadn't announced his removal from the team in front of all the crowds at the next Quidditch match. Severus stood there in all his robes, ready to play - and to just be told that he could go get changed... that affected both Snape and your father, Harry. James saw Snape's last hope slip away before his eyes that day, and to know that he'd caused it..."

Harry wasn't sure whether he felt better or worse now. Snape could have been a famous Quidditch player, if it weren't for the butter-fingers that Harry's father cursed him with. "My dad was pretty nasty," he said, mournfully.

"Not so. Your father actually apologised to Snape after that day - it was a mark of how truly sorry he was. James never held grudges. I'm sure he died with no malice in his heart at all... except towards He Who Must Not Be Named, of course, though I don't think any wizard could ever count that vile creature as a friend." Lupin put a hand across the table over Harry's, paternally. "Sirius died fighting the Dark Lord's ranks, Harry. The best thing you can ever do to get revenge on your godfather and honour his memory is to make sure those who killed him are given justice."

Harry nodded. He already fully intended to do just that. "What were all those pieces of information that Sirius gave me about? Stuff about spies and Ron and a Death Eater's wife? And a letter?"

Lupin smiled. "That was a very typically Sirius thing of him to do. He's left you clues, Harry, that will only make sense to you when you've most likely unravelled the mystery completely and you're looking back. That, or they were meant to lead you on a wild goose chase." He gave Harry another fatherly smile. "I didn't suspect for one minute that dying for adventure would quench Sirius's love of it."

Harry grinned, took one of the paper napkins, found a biro in his bag and wrote down -

MORE SPIES THAT PEOPLE WOULDN'T EXPECT

SOMETHING SPECIAL ABOUT RON

SOMETHING ABOUT A DEATH EATER'S WIFE

A LETTER

"I wouldn't spend too long pondering those, if I were you," Lupin mused, smiling still. "It was rather disobedient of Sirius to reveal hints of Dumbledore's secrets to you... I suppose I couldn't have expected anything less."

"Dumbledore's secrets? How do you know that - " said Harry, and he beamed, "You know what they mean! Oh, tell me Professor, tell me!"

Lupin chuckled. "Absolutely not. I know a few sketchy facts about one of the things on that list, and I won't tell you which one it is or what I know. The last one I can guess... the first one is Dumbledore's business, and the third thing is more than likely meaningless gossip that we won't hear another word of for years. The second thing could be anything really. Perhaps Sirius was just highlighting the value of friendship to you."

"No, I think it's something properly special," said Harry. "Sirius wasn't mushy like that. Maybe... maybe Ron's going to become Minister For Magic!"

Lupin laughed again. "Ghosts can't see into the future, Harry."

"Maybe there's a dead fortune teller in there with Sirius," said Harry, grinning.

"Or maybe not," said Lupin pleasantly. "Come now, it's almost six o' clock and I don't want to have you late home."

They stood up, gathered their bags, put their rubbish in the McBin that Harry mentioned earlier and left the restaurant, strolling slowly in the direction of the train station.

"Who's looking after me next week?" Harry asked, eagerly. "Do you know?"

"Yes, I do," Lupin replied. He smiled. "I think you'll be pleased. The Weasley family have offered to take you on a day out somewhere on the Saturday, you'll stay the night, and I believe they're planning to let you do your homework on the Sunday, seeing as though I wasn't of any help today."

"Great!" Harry beamed. He could see Ron and Ginny again, and maybe Bill and Charlie would be there, and the twins, and maybe -

He fell silent, remembering something.

"Professor?" he said.

"Remus," he was corrected.

"Remus?" he said.

"Yes, Harry?"

"What happened to Percy Weasley?"

Lupin shook his head sadly. "I'm not very sure. Molly desperately wants to forgive him, whilst Arthur never wants to see the boy again. I don't know about Percy's attitude, but the Ministry and Dumbledore have now bonded together, so I can't see why he would still hate the rest of his family."

"It's funny... Ron always joked that Percy would stab the family in the back," said Harry. "And he did last year..."

Lupin gave him a weak smile. "I'm sure this will all be sorted out in time, Harry. Blood is thicker than water, after all. Percy will come to his senses eventually, I'm sure."

"I hope so."

"We all do."

They continued in near silence, across the pleasant river bridge from before, back down the street that Professor Snape lived on, through a back alley, and then out into the country lanes leading to the train station and the steam engine that would take Harry back for another week of hell with the Dursleys. But really, he didn't feel so bad. He'd had a brilliant day with Professor Lupin, he'd had the chance to say goodbye to Sirius, he'd agreed to a cease-fire with Professor Snape, and he would be spending all of next weekend with Ron and his family. He was so lost in his eager anticipation that they arrived at the train station all too soon, and Lupin was standing on the platform while he hung out of the window to say goodbye.

"Thanks for everything, Remus," said Harry. "This has been the best birthday I've had in ages."

Lupin smiled. "It was my pleasure. Oh, before you go, I bought you something." He took a package wrapped in brown paper and string out of his bag and handed it carefully to Harry. "I heard about your dark arts club, and I thought you'd enjoy a few ideas to teach them."

Harry grinned, taking the package. "Thanks."

There was a loud toot from the whistle and a jet of steam blew up in a great cloud into the air.

"Remember to send me a message if you ever need anything," said Lupin. "And get straight off the train in your town, don't hang around! Professor Snape should be there to escort you home, you don't want to keep him waiting!"

The train pulled away out of the station, and Harry just had time to turn around and shout, "I wouldn't dream of it, Remus!" before he was whisked out of sight with the train, heading away into the evening sunset.

Lupin chuckled, suddenly struck by just how like James Harry was, putting his hands in his pockets and strolling away out of the station, whistling a jaunty tune that carried him out into the country lanes and back into town. He found a quiet spot, out of the way of muggles, and after checking for anybody around, he smiled, closed his eyes and vanished into thin air with nothing but a faint pop as evidence of his very existance. And several miles away by now, on the train back home, Harry Potter was asleep after a long, blissfully happy day.

"Potter."

"Wha'?"

"Potter, wake - up - now."

"Nffrf, gerroff my arm!"

Harry swatted out vaguely at whoever it was gripping his arm, his fingers scuffing velvety material and sallow, cold skin that he remembered from somewhere, but couldn't quite pinpoint it.

Then he realised he'd just slapped Professor Snape around the face.

He jolted straight awake and yelped as Snape's hands went for his neck, but the professor narrowly managed to get a grip and avoid strangling the living daylights out of Harry in a public place.

"Which part of wake up was it causing you the most trouble, Potter?" he hissed.

"Well if you say something then - "

"I DID say something, you stupid boy!" Snape snapped. Several muggles turned around to stare, and Snape glared at them coldly, grasping Harry by the arm and pulling him out of the carriage. "Are you TRYING to get me arrested for child abuse?" Snape snarled when they were out of ear-shot of the general public.

"Sorry," said Harry, straightening out his sweater huffily. "I didn't know it was you."

"Oh, well, that's perfectly alright! An innocent civilian tries to wake you up on a train, with all good intentions in their heart, and your response is to slap them around the face?" Snape laughed coldly. "I'm not surprised your aunt and uncle despise you."

Harry frowned, and was about to speak his mind, but decided against it at the last moment and just muttered, "Fine, I'm sorry. I won't slap you again."

"I hope so," said Snape. "For your sake at least. Come on, it's already quarter to eight... damn Lupin, couldn't meet a deadline if it came towards him tied to a broomstick... hurry up, Potter, I'm damned if I'm going to take the blame for your precious Lupin's mess!"

Harry tried vaguely to keep up with Snape's ridiculously swift stride, having to actually jog to keep up. He clasped the package tight in his arms, desperate not to drop whatever it was. Snape spotted it and frowned.

"What's that?"

"A birthday present from Remus," said Harry, stoutly.

It was hard to tell whether Snape was more surprised by the fact that it was Harry's birthday, that he'd got a present, or that he was on first name terms with Lupin. It only showed on his face for a second though, and in true Snape form, he acted as though he couldn't care less.

"Your birthday?" he said, coolly.

"Yes, I'm 16," said Harry. "The Dursleys might forget it, but not everybody does."

"I thought it was the fifth of November," said Snape, frowning slightly.

"No," Harry said in a very cold voice. "That's Malfoy." Everybody knew when Draco Malfoy's birthday was, It was generally the day that the Slytherin table collapsed under so many owls carrying presents and cards and cakes from his parents.

"Hmm," Snape droned, not really bothered at all.

The rest of their journey was in silence, which Harry wasn't sure whether he felt glad or awkward about. He had no real reason to despise Snape now. After all, not many people in the world would have conjured his godfather from the dead so that Harry could say goodbye. As they turned up Harry's street, the boy realised that maybe he hadn't apologised for his own actions clearly enough.

"Professor?" he said, jogging for a moment to keep up.

"No, Potter, I won't slow down. We're late as it is, and - "

"No, it's not that," said Harry, and the fact that he had interrupted so confidently seemed to make Snape take notice more than anything. "I... I want to say sorry... for going into your pensieve and finding about all that. And then mocking you about it."

Snape raised an eyebrow, looking down at him, and to Harry's relief his place slowed slightly. "An apology from Harry Potter? Lupin must have hexed you."

"No," said Harry, trying a weak smile, "I just wanted to sort of... call a cease-fire..."

"Potter, we were never at war." Snape picked up the pace again, and Harry hurried after him, sure he was going to fall over and break his nose if they kept this up much longer.

"Fine, a peace offering. I just wanted to say sorry, because what my dad did wasn't exactly fair. None of what he did was." He paused for a moment, and then said, "I found out about the thing..."

Snape gave him a very scournful look. "The thing, you say? Woe is me, Potter knows about the thing. How can I live, with the knowledge that Potter knows about the thing?"

Harry fished around in his pocket for something, found one of Dudley's old marbles and said, "Catch...", as he tossed it gently to Snape. Anybody could have caught it; it was such a gentle shot, it was impossible to miss. The professor instinctively shot out a hand to catch it, there was a loud noise like somebody sliding across a slippery floor and the marble shot straight out of his grasp to the floor.

Snape watched it roll away under a nearby car, tumble past the grate and fall with a graceful plop into the sewers below. Harry was too busy trying to sum up Snape's expression.

"Who told you?" the professor said, quietly, after a moment.

"I'm not going to say... but I want to apologise for the butter fingers thing, as well."

"There's no need to," Snape sighed. "Your father spent all of his sixth and seventh years kissing up to me, trying to make me forgive him so he could make my life hell once more. I don't need his hormonal son doing the same." He started to walk again. "Potter, pick up the pace, for the love of Merlin."

Harry hurried after him, and as they turned into the drive of number four, Harry noticed Snape was rubbing his hands on the pockets of his trousers agitatedly, as though trying to remove a stain. The professor knocked loudly, three times, with his bony, long-fingered hand. There was some movement from inside, which to Harry's total horror included barking, the door opened, and Harry got a split-second's view of Uncle Vernon's angry purple face before he was knocked backwards by something flying from the house.

"Aaargh!"

Ripper wrestled him to the ground, barking and snarling, shaking his great head around, spit flying all over Harry's face and clothes. Aunt Marge's voice was laughing from the hall, and so was Dudley's, the Dursley's were all laughing. Harry could well imagine Snape smirking too, but to his surprise, Snape said calmly, "Potter, how old are you now?"

"Sixteen," he choked, trying to pull back from those fangs.

"Read the papers, Potter?"

"No, you're not helping!" Harry choked, leaning back to get away from Ripper's jaws snapping at his face.

Snape sighed, as one would with an awkward child. "Due to some events, and don't think I wouldn't love to see you torn to pieces by a bulldog, but the ministry has decided to lower the age required to do magic by one year... now, even you can't fail to work out that - "

Harry realised then, with a flush of relief and excitement. "I'm of age!" He drew his wand from his sleeve, pointed it right at Ripper's slobbering jaw and announced, "Expello!"

Ripper was lifted up into the air, sailed through the air and knocked Harry's make-shift mended gnome to pieces. Harry looked up at everybody else in the garden. Aunt Marge stood in the hallway, gaping at him in horror, a new red leather hangbag swinging from her podgy arm. The Dursleys were all clustered on the front door step, looking as though all their worst dreams had come true. Snape, however, was smirking.

"A expelling charm? Couldn't you have thought of something a little more inventive, Potter?"

Ripper whimpered, getting to his feet and running over to hide behind Aunt Marge, tail between his legs, the gnome's head stuck over one of his ears.

Harry was on top of the world from that moment on. He could do magic. The Dursleys were like toys to him now. He had to admit, he showed off rather a bit after that by modifying Aunt Marge's memory, fixing the gnome, repainting his bedroom and turning Dudley into a red head, at which his uncle demanded he put it back. Uncle Vernon spent two hours with a pair of rabbit ears until Harry had enjoyed himself enough, and restored Dudley's hair colour and Uncle Vernon's proper ears. Over all, Aunt Marge's memory was modified so many times that by nine o' clock, she had no idea where she was or where she lived. They had to look it up in the phone book to make sure.

Snape had left rather quickly after the incident with Ripper, possibly because he didn't want to spend anymore time with an excited Harry, or because there was a very angry bulldog in the area, or because of Aunt Marge, or because he was sure the commotion in the house would bring muggles running like moths to a flame. Whatever his reasons, he excused himself, and the last thing the professor saw before he apparated away was Harry running into the house and chasing Dudley, who was screaming and falling over furniture to escape. It's not a surprise that Snape wasn't eager to hang around for coffee.

Having magic, to Harry, was like having a life again. The Dursleys certainly wouldn't be treating him like a slave or a ghost anymore. With all the excitement of demonstrating various hexes right under Dudley's nose, it wasn't until very late at night that Harry retreated back to his room and collapsed onto his bed, grinning. He could imagine the Dursleys all sneaking out of their various hiding places to check the coast was clear. Harry was so lost in his imaginings that it was a few moments before he realised he was lying on something hard and rectangular.

He reached behind his back and pulled out Professor Lupin's package. How could he forget? Any other day, he'd have ripped it open the moment he got home, desperate to find out what was inside. For a moment, he felt a prickle of guilt at casting aside Professor Lupin's kindness so quickly once he had something new to focus on. He'd have to write him a thankyou letter, for whatever it was.

Carefully, he untied the strings and pulled apart the paper. It was a book. A large, very heavy, glossy-covered book with the title SPECIALIST CURSES, HEXES AND JINXES emblazoned across the front in silver lettering. Intrigued, Harry opened it at the first page, and found a hand-written note inside.

"Harry," the note read, "I thought you'd find this interesting. Dumbledore told me all about the DA, and it sounds as though you did a good job. He's asked me whether you would be interested in making it into a proper club, with some help from me, though of course, I think you're becoming the expert here. Send me a letter with your owl if you think it's good idea. Happy birthday - Remus."

Harry smiled eagerly, turning the note over and taking out his trusty biro. He scribbled, "Thanks for the present, I'd love to!", and was about to call Hedwig to take a letter -

When something large, white and feathery suddenly seemed to completely cover his window. Harry leapt away, terrified that some sort of fluffy dragon was attacking the house, but he realised that it was just a cluster of owls, all carrying letters and packages. Suspiciously, he opened the window. They all rushed in, hooting loudly and dropping parcels and parchments on his head in what seemed to be a hailstorm of communication.

"OW! Stop that, come on, let's get some order! Get off my head!"

The owls settled in various places around the room, leaving Harry to rub his head and crouch down to the floor, sorting through the mountain of letters and boxes he suddenly had.

There was an important, official looking one in a clean white envelope that caught his eye. For a moment, he worried that he'd mistaken his birthday, that he was actually fifteen and was expelled from Hogwarts for all the magic he'd done, but when he opened it, he grinned even more.

Dear Mr Potter,

We are writing to notify you that the recently deceased Mr Claus I. Brisk has left you several items of property in his will. Please reply to this letter with acknowledge you have read the following and accept the property.

PROPERTY -

12 GRIMMAULD PLACE, LONDON AND ALL CONTENTS

Thankyou,
Andralyn Galvez (Ministry Of Magic)

Harry then noticed a hand-scribbled note on the end of the letter, in spiky, elegant black letters he remembered from somewhere, though couldn't quite picture exactly where.

PS - The department of magical law enforcement are watching you, they've noticed all the magic going on and they're just waiting for something to book you for, so tone it down, okay? Just between you and me.

He took his biro again and added, "Confirmed, I accept the property, signed Harry Potter", to the bottom, then put it on the Outgoing pile.

Next letter, he thought. He recognised one of the owls smiling up at him from the cluster around his feet. It was Errol, the Weasley owl. Old, and slightly battered, Errol's feathers were mostly sticking the wrong way but he looked rather proud at having survived another delivery. He had carried quite a large box as well. A present? Harry tore the spellotape off the top of the box excitedly, opened it up, and came across a large chocolate cake wrapped in cling film, a bundle of letters, and a bright yellow bag that caught Harry's eye instantly. He lifted it out carefully, and inspected it.

WEASLEY'S WIZARD WHEEZES proclaimed the bag, in lurid green and orange flashing letters. Harry grinned. Fred and George Weasley now owned their own joke shop business at 93 Diagon Alley. No doubt they'd sent him something dangerous. Brilliant.

It took an hour to get through all the presents, send off replies and thankyou letters. There were presents from Ron, Ginny, the twins and the rest of the Weasley family, Hermione, Hagrid and Luna Lovegood, along with the book Professor Lupin had given him earlier. By the time all the owls had left with their replies, Harry fell into bed and was straight asleep without even getting changed. His dreams were full of confusing thoughts of the day, from Professor Snape and his butter fingers, to Professor Lupin, Sirius's shade in the cauldron, all the presents, Ripper, the storm of owls... it was a good job that Harry hadn't noticed the last, unopened letter under all the paper littering his bedroom floor.

His name was inked in delicate, curly handwriting on the envelope, and the letter itself was from Cho Chang. She and Harry had been through a relationship of some sort during their last year, though they had parted on bad terms, and as far as Harry knew, neither of them were keen to pick the whole thing back up. If only he'd read the letter. Unfortunately, it was scooped away along with the rest of the paper the next morning, crumpled up, and stuffed into a bin, though really, Harry had quite enough on his mind without the troublesome Cho to confuse things even more.

His sixth year at Hogwarts would prove to be the most eye-opening of his life so far. Danger, romance, mystery, action and new discoveries were ahead of him, though as he slept on the night of his birthday with a headful of sleeping chaos, Harry Potter had no idea of the events in store for him that year.

It all began properly the next weekend, as a fluorescent yellow car pulled up outside number four, Privet Drive, and its drivers jumped out from the front seat, wearing identical grins and leather jackets to match the car. If the Dursleys thought Mad Eye Moody was a problem, they would have no idea what hit them when Fred and George Weasley arrived.

Chapter Four: The House of Fun

"This the place?" said Fred, glancing up at the house, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Looks like it. Different in the daylight isn't it?" George looked up and down the street at the identical gardens and houses, chuckling. "Which door is it we're supposed to use?"

"Front, I think," his twin replied. "Yeah, something about not using the back door. I can't remember. We'll use the front anyway."

They grinned. Both of them knew very well they weren't supposed to use the front door, but still, they raised their hands and knocked three times on the door each, ending with a pleasant little tune.

The door swung wildly open, and Uncle Vernon's purple face stuck out.

"Back door only!" he hissed.

"Oh, sorry, forgot," said Fred, grinning.

"Likewise," said George. "Is Harry ready?" Catching Uncle Vernon staring in horror at the matching yellow leather suits and car, he winked. "It'll be the next fashion craze, matching your car with your suit. You saw it here first."

"Fred! George!" Harry bounded down the stairs, beaming, throwing a bag over his shoulder.

"Hey Harry! How are things?"

Harry pushed past Uncle Vernon to get out onto the step, "Great, really great! Thanks for the presents, by the way!"

"No problem," Fred grinned. "I hope they were put to good use, Harry."

"Oh, they were," said Harry. "Dudley's still got the marks."

Uncle Vernon cleared his throat loudly. Fred, George and Harry all gave him identically contemptuous looks. "Yes?" said Fred.

"I would appreciate you collecting the boy and then leaving," Harry's uncle said, stiffly, from under his quivering moustache. "The neighbourhood - "

"Fine then, time to take you somewhere you're welcome, Harry," said Fred, loudly, and both the twins put their arms around his shoulders, steering him down the path to the car. Something in George's hand caught Harry's eye, but by the time he'd glanced round at it, George had dropped it to the floor and Fred yelled,

"RUN!"

Harry had no idea why, but they all tore down the garden path and leapt into the car as Uncle Vernon started bellowing at Petunia to shut the windows. George hammered a button on the dashboard and a roof and windows zoomed into place over the car; Harry had a split second's view of what looked like a firework on the front door step and then -

BANG!

The windows were showered in bright pink and green swirling paint. Harry jumped away, almost landing in Fred's knee. The twins were both choking with laughter.

"What did you do?" said Harry, starting to laugh as well.

"See for yourself," said George, and he pressed another button on the dashboard.

Windscreen wipers clicked out from the side of the car and scraped the paint away from the windows, gave them a shine and after Fred handed each one a knut, they zoomed away again. Harry stared out at the Dursley's house, torn between total amazement and the desire to die laughing on the spot.

The garden and the front of the house was splattered with the same green and pink swirling paint. It was all over the windows, all on the car, all on the plants, the gnomes were now wearing rather funky little disco outfits and Ripper, who had been emptying his bladder on the side of Uncle Vernon's car, was frozen to the spot, leg still in the air, little more than a bright pink and green heap of paint.

The funniest of the lot was Uncle Vernon in the hallway, still holding the front door. He looked like a very lurid snowman, and his face was set in the most horrified expression Harry had ever seen in his life. As they watched, a large drip of paint fell from his moustache onto the toe of his new work shoes.

Fred started the car and it sped away down the street, Harry and the Weasleys laughing fit to burst at the sight of the fluorescent house on Private Drive. After a tap on the wheel from George, the car faded into invisibility and they took off into the sky. In minutes, the Dursley's house was nothing but a glowing spot far below them as they coasted through the clouds.

"That was brilliant!" said Harry, grinning, as George removed the invisibility, "What was it?"

"SuperSplatterDecorator 2003," said Fred, turning around in his seat to look at Harry. "One galleon each, just new. They come in blue and orange, yellow and purple, the green and pink as you saw back there, or a new one. Rainbow. That's getting pretty popular now."

"I might have to buy one of those to do the back garden," said Harry. "They want to match, don't they?"

Fred and George both laughed.

"They wear off in an hour or so without a sealing charm," said George, driving the car up to emerge from the sea of clouds, into very top of the sky. "So we can't get done for breaking the secrecy code of conduct. That only applies for actual magic, or something that lasts for an hour or more."

"What happens to the paint? Does it just disappear?"

"Turns invisible," said George. "We spent about a year developing that. You should see our bedroom back at home. Total mess."

"So," said Fred. "Happy birthday for last week, by the way. Of age now, are you?"

"Yep," Harry grinned. "I gave Uncle Vernon rabbit ears, and I hexed my Aunt Marge's dog, and gave her a wart right on the end of her nose and everything."

"That's the boy," Fred chortled. "Ron and Ginny have been dying to see you all summer. And Hermione too, she's at The Burrow now. Oh, and Mum says she got your letter, and yes, we can go and sort out your new bachelor pad tomorrow."

Harry laughed. "It's not my bachelor pad, don't be stupid. How am I ever going to bring girls home to that when there's Sirius's mother in the hallway screaming if anybody rings the doorbell?"

"Dunno, it'd be a talking point."

They all laughed, and George took a bag of toffees from the glove compartment, which he offered round. Harry had experience of Fred and George's sweets and so had to decline with a polite, "but thankyou anyway." They spent the rest of the journey talking happily about the weekend ahead, the summer behind them and the next year at Hogwarts. Fred and George had left during their sixth year in strike against Professor Umbridge, and, they assured Harry, would not be coming back.

"But she's left," said Harry, as the cruised over the village near The Burrow. "Peeves chased her away at the end of the year."

Fred grinned. "Oh, did he? You know, that poltergeist's not so bad really."

"Have you heard the current news from Hogwarts?" George asked over his shoulder. "Apparently Peeves is being a complete pain. Even more than normal. Of course, it's just a rumour, but loads of people have said that he's almost torn the school apart."

"He does that anyway," said Harry. "He threw a bundle of walking sticks at me on my first day. Percy had to threaten him with the bloody baron."

"Shame Peeves didn't kill Percy," Fred muttered.

Harry decided it was best not to press the subject, but luckily, the awkward silence didn't last very long, as The Burrow appeared below them a few moments later.

"Hold onto your glasses!" said Fred, putting his foot down on the accelerator. The bright yellow car descended from the clouds like a fluorescent meteor and screeched to a halt in the yard a few seconds later. Harry felt as though his insides had been turned upside-down from the sudden drop.

"Harry!"

He looked up at the shout from above, and saw Ron, Hermione and Ginny hanging out of an upstairs window, waving frantically at him. He grinned and waved back.

"How you doing, mate?" Ron shouted.

"Fine!" Harry yelled back. "Better now I'm here!"

"Come on, people, we haven't got all day now!" Fred interrupted. "You three get down here, we're supposed to be there by now!"

"Where are we going?" said Harry eagerly.

Fred and George grinned in the exact same way. "Just you wait," they both said at once.

Harry was instantly intrigued. "Oh, tell me, please!"

"Latest project we've finished," said George.

"And you four are the beta-testers," said Fred.

"What? What is it?" said Harry, gripping the back of the seat. From the looks on Fred and George's faces, wherever they were going, it was going to be marvellous.

"You'll see," said Fred, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Put it this way... it's untested, unentered before now, full of magic and if you don't come out covered in paint or feathers or gunge, we'll be severely disappointed." He papped the horn loudly several times and turned back to the house. "Come on, time costs money, people!"

Ron, Hermione and Ginny came out of the front door and scrambled across the yard, laughing and racing each other. The second Ron pulled open the car door and hopped in beside him, Harry blurted, "Where are we going?"

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes House of Fun," Ron said, grinning from ear to ear, strapping up his seat belt.

"Where?" said Harry.

Ginny buckled herself in, slammed the car door and Fred started up the engine again. In a few seconds, they had climbed up into the sky and were sailing over the clouds, the breeze blowing in their hair.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes House of Fun," said Ron, again, still grinning. "Fred and George's new place. They won't tell us much about it but it sounds amazing."

Fred chuckled, handing around the toffees. "George and I were considering buying an old muggle warehouse to base the House of Fun, but we decided we'd need much more space..."

"So, we had a look at the building laws of Diagon Alley..."

"And we found a rather interesting loophole. Building underground costs quite a lot of money and can be complicated, but..."

"There's nothing about building into the sky," both twins grinned.

Harry's eyes widened. "You've built a flying House of Fun?"

"Precisely," said George. "The most exciting wizarding place on Earth."

"Absolutely huge. It's taken us ages, and cost all the profit we've made so far. But once we're open to the public..."

"What sort of stuff is there?" asked Ron through a jawful of toffee.

"Oh, everything beyond your wildest dreams, dear youngest brother," George chortled. "Magic, slides, hidden areas to discover, pools full of all sorts of horrible sticky stuff, paint bombs consealed behind every unimaginable place possible and more gunge than you can shake a wand at."

"Cool!" Harry, Ginny and Ron breathed.

Hermione looked a little worried. "How safe is it?"

"It's perfectly fine," said George, smiling. "Trust us, Hermione. Any hexes or jinxes in there are first-year stuff. If you don't know the counter-charm, we highly overestimated you."

"But... gunge," she said with a painful look on her face.

"Cleaning charms on the way out," said Fred. He turned to peer at her between the gap in his chair. "Couldn't you have guessed?"

"Well, of course, but... I'm not so sure..." she said. "Has it been tested for safety and so forth?"

"Ah... it will have been, by the end of the day," said Fred.

"You're the testers," said George.

"Sounds good to me," said Ron, taking another toffee. "Come on, Mione, it'll be fine. This is Harry's day off, right? It's gonna be great!" He popped the toffee into his mouth, and leant forward. "Hey George, what about trick staircases?"

"Way ahead of you, bro," said George. "Half the place is pressure pads to change something. The whole thing is a flying, magical headquarters for chaos."

Harry, Ginny and Ron all grinned with excitement. Hermione bit her lip, but said nothing, reaching into a denim satchel she had on her lap and taking out a muggle book. Harry was surprised when everybody in the car groaned with exasperation.

"What's that?" he asked, tilting his head to look at the cover - INCREDIBLE FACTS YOU NEVER KNEW.

"Oh, it's brilliant!" Hermione gushed, sitting up eagerly, suddenly very bright. "I found it in one of the muggle London shops, it's the most - "

"Boring pile of junk ever written," George finished.

"What's it about?" asked Harry.

"Four-hundred pages of useless facts about stuff that won't ever help you in anyway," Fred groaned.

"It is not!" Hermione bristled. "It's really interesting, honestly! There's some really, really fascinating facts in here... for example - " She flicked through the book, and then announced, " - In Texas, it's illegal to graffiti on somebody else's cow."

"So if you ever go to Texas, make sure you graffiti your own cows and not some other poor person's," said Ron, rolling his eyes. "Hermione, that book's completely useless, I wish you'd just stop badgering us with annoying little facts so much."

"The world record for most children to one woman is 69," Hermione said, promptly, "and - "

"Zip it," said Ron, snatching the book off her. "Or the book goes out the window."

Hermione spluttered, and open her mouth to argue, but Ron waved the book threateningly over the car door and she shut up.

They flew for about an hour or two solid, over forests and hills and fields, cities and towns, roads and motorways, even over the top of the small mountain somewhere, until London was just visible on the horizon. Fred pressed the descend pedal slowly and the car swooped downwards, making all the passengers groan as one, and then with a slight bump, they touched down on an empty road off the main streets.

"Now, don't do anything that might make the muggles notice us," said Fred.

Harry stared at him. They were riding in a fluorescent yellow car, both the drivers were barely legally allowed to drive it, and both of them were wearing matching leather yellow suits, not mentioning there were four people squashed in the back of the car, and Ron was wearing a jumper emblazoned with "CHUDLEY CANNONS". Fred didn't seem to notice, and pulled out into the main traffic smoothly.

The ordinary shoppers turned to stare at the car, following it down the street with their wide-eyed gazes. Fred chuckled.

"Oh, I love attention," he commented, glancing out of the window. "Nine o' clock, George, give her a wolf-whistle for me!"

Ron and Harry grinned at each other as George leant out of the window and whistled at a blonde in a skirt going past. Hermione tutted.

"You wouldn't know what to do with her," she muttered.

George grinned. "You're going to be really popular when you grow up, Hermione... at the local book club."

Fred chuckled and steered the car into a backstreet, heading for one of the underground parking lots. Hermione frowned, buried her nose back in her book of useless facts, and didn't look up until a few minutes later when they all got out of the car. Fred went to pay for a ticket as George fussed with his hair in the wing mirror.

"So can you tell us what it's like now?" said Ron. "Properly? Not just vague hints about slime?"

George tweaked his quiff back into place. "You'll see when you get there, we've told you, Ron. Well... there is one thing you have to choose... there are different rooms, see. Playhouse, jungle, labyrinth or magical catastrophe... or... the Ultimate Room."

Everybody shivered when he said it, as though the words themselves were an incantation to a spell.

"What's in there?" said Ginny.

George smiled, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Something for everyone. Imagine this... take your normal, muggle play centre. Like for kids. Then make it about a thousand times bigger, with nets and ropes and slides and ball pools and ladders and tunnels and hidden rooms and everything... then add gunge, slime, paint, feathers, confetti, glitter... a few magical creatures... puzzles to solve... codes to crack... and a whole lot of magic."

Everybody watched the sparks flare in his eyes, and a universal flush of excitement went through every heart.

"I want that one," said Ron.

Ginny and Harry nodded frantically.

Hermione mumbled something about whether they had a library or non-gunge room.

"I don't know, you're all going to have to decide," said George. "Unanimous vote... if Hermione doesn't want the Ultimate Room..."

Harry, Ron and Ginny all leapt on Hermione, pleading with her and talking so fast and so loud that she couldn't hear them, eventually shouting, "Alright, alright, I'll go in the Ultimate Room if you're that bothered!"

They all cheered, George chuckled, as Fred came back with the ticket and stuck it to the windscreen of the car. "Well, the sooner we get there, the more time you'll have. Let's go."

Whistling, the twins led their four beta-testers out of the underground car park and up into the hustle, bustle and bright dry sunshine of London. Cars of every colour and make (save, perhaps, bright yellow that matched the drivers' suits) zoomed past on the street below like a great rainbow snake, and buildings rose to the sky in the distance. A sort of timeline was visible over the skyline of the city, with the modern, brand new silver skyscrapers with gleaming windows and working lifts, to the carved stone from the Victorian ages, a few Tudor-style decorations on the outside of houses to the west, and red-brick chic of the 1950s to the east.

"Which way to The Leaky Cauldron?" asked Fred.

"It's just down this street, then through an alley over there, past the chocolate shop and the library, then there it is. You can sort of see the roof," said George, "if you lean over like this."

Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket to stop him plummeting fifty feet over the side of the building they were on, but George just laughed, swatting her off. "I'm joking. Come on you lot, hold onto the railing, down fall and kill yourselves, Mum'll never forgive us." He set off down the steep track, descending right into muggle London. They all followed, Fred first, followed by George, Ginny, Ron, Harry and then Hermione at the back, muttering to herself.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry, holding back to talk to her.

"I'm not sure I approve of all this," she said. "It all sounds very risky to me."

"It'll be fine," said Harry. "Don't worry. Fred and George wouldn't do anything that dangerous... I mean, I know they're a little wild sometimes, but they wouldn't hurt us."

"Hmm," she said, unconvinced.

Harry's feet met the stone slabs of the path, and he turned to offer Hermione a hand down, but she was already down beside him and tying her hair back into a neat half ponytail on the top of her head.

"Have we got everyone?" said Fred, doing a quick check. "Right, let's go! Stay close together, we don't want you wandering off into muggle London. And watch the cars, muggles are terrible drivers!"

Harry thought this was a little rich coming from somebody who had parked his car lengthways across three spaces, but said nothing, following after Fred and George as they made their way over the zebra crossing. Ginny and Hermione started to talk about OWLs, and Harry wasn't surprised to hear Hermione had got all the top marks she had expected.

"What did you get, Harry?"

"Pretty good," he said. "Can't remember exactly. I got enough to be an auror though."

"You mean you passed potions?" said Ron. Harry nodded. "Whoa, that's great! You see? It was all Snape's fault that you got bottom marks in class."

"I suppose," said Harry. "What did you get?"

"I did alright, I guess," said Ron. "Not as good as Bill or Percy, but not bad really."

"Yeah, and we're glad you didn't get as much as Percy," said Fred, butting into the conversation with a reprimanding tone that Harry had rarely heard from him before. "He isn't a part of this family anymore, remember?"

"So... the fight's still going on...?" asked Harry, tentatively.

Ron nodded, and when Fred was caught up checking a map again, he said in an undertone to Harry, "Even though the ministry have... well, accepted the whole Voldemort thing, Percy still thinks Dad should have been with the ministry all along. They had an argument through the floo network a few days ago, and they've only been talking through howlers ever since. We get woken up every moment by Percy bellowing at Dad about loyalty to the authorities. As if he's got any right to talk about loyalty."

"I just wish they'd stop fighting," said Ginny, with a slight sigh. "As Dumbledore said, we should stick together as families at a time like this. I've heard that he's planning to call off the House Cup this year, to stop rivalry between houses, and there'll be more lessons together."

"I hope we're with Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff," said Hermione, brightly. "It's really nice getting to know some of them."

"As long as we're not with Slytherin," Ron muttered. "I'm so sick of all of them now. Especially Malfoy. You know, some people are a bit evil sometimes, but nice the rest of the time, and you forgive them, but he's just... evil. There's no other word for him. You know what, Harry? He's been on the side of everybody against you. You Know Who, Umbridge... if they don't like you, he's their best friend."

"He's just jealous, Ron," said Hermione. "Harry's popular, famous, a hero... he's the opposite of all of that."

"Malfoy just wishes he was half of what you are," said Ron spitefully.

"Have you heard about all of that Malfoy stuff?" asked Hermione, but before Harry had an opportunity to find out about "the Malfoy stuff", Fred and George led them inside the Leaky Cauldron pub.

"Anybody want drinks before we get to the House of Fun?" said George. "No food or drink allowed in there except what you find, remember."

"No, come on, we want to see what it's like!" said Ron. "We'll get something to eat later, come on!"

"Alright, alright, keep your hair on," said Fred. "Follow us then, and stay close together, Diagon Alley's always packed on a Saturday." He drew his wand, conjured identical yellow leather fedoras, handed one to George and jammed the other on his head where it clashed horribly with his hair. "Just passing through, Tom," he added to the innkeeper.

Tom smiled toothily at them, beckoning them outside to the yard. Fred opened up the gateway to Diagon Alley, lead them through and Harry instantly had a rush of being home at last. The winding cobbled street was full of the sound of people talking, gold clanking, somewhere there was a pipe playing a gentle tune to the morning sun and the smell of cooking and magical smoke filled the air. Every shop sold ancient magical objects, or potions ingredients, spell books, cauldrons, wands, robes, magical creatures, all sorts of fascinating things that sent shivers of excitement up any wizard's spine.

"Which way is your shop?" asked Harry, looking expectantly up the air for a floating building.

Fred chuckled. "It's made invisible, Harry. Muggle-repelling charms too. We forgot those at first, then a muggle helicopter sort of... found the House. What a mess that was."

"Took us months to repair the damage," George nodded.

They strolled down the packed wizard street, passed the shops and the shoppers and shopkeepers, under archways and down steps and down alleyways and up steps, until finally, the brightest building in the entire street caught Harry's eye around the corner. It was painted fluorescent orange, with bright pink and green spots, with the familiar logo WEASLEY'S WIZARD WHEEZES emblazoned above the main window.

"Nice colour scheme," said Harry, grinning, as Fred took a large iron key from his pocket and fitted it in the lock.

"Nice sarcasm," Fred replied with an equally wicked grin. He opened the door, and the most curious smell came floating out like water from an open container. It was like smoke and fruit and sugar and sunshine, all at once. It was the scent of pure mischief.

"Mind that," said George, absent-mindedly, gesturing to a machine lying under a nearby shelf that was belching great green bubbles into the air. Hermione stepped to the side to avoid a particularly large and sticky-looking bubble, but to her surprise, it floated after her.

"Welcome to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," said Fred, holding out his arms, grinning at them all. "The modern headquarters of magical mischief."

"Where's the funhouse?" said Ron, eagerly.

Fred and George swapped grins, then ducked down behind the counter, unfolding several panels. Everybody crowded around to watch, except Hermione, who was still being pursued by the obsessed green bubble.

Harry watched over the twins' shoulders as they opened up the last panel, and a large, red button was revealed.

"Hold onto your hats," said Fred, winking at him, slapping the button.

Harry's only possible likening of that experience was of to being inside a blender with no blades, but full of paint that didn't stain and water that could be breathed. He felt himself being tossed around and whisked back and forth, shooting up and up into the air, flapping frantically to keep himself afloat, and then quite suddenly, he hit something hard above him and fell with a thud to the floor. He was entangled with Ron in a crumpled heap, in a room that had no walls or ceiling or floor, just bright blue everywhere, stretching away for miles on end.

"Where are we?" said Ron, groaning, sitting up and rubbing his head.

"The House of Fun?" suggested Harry. "Where are Hermione and Ginny? And Fred and George?"

"You don't think something's gone wrong, do you?" said Ron in a worried voice.

"SELECT WORLD," said a loud voice from nowhere.

Ron and Harry jumped, looking around wildly for the source of the voice.

"Hello?" said Harry, nervously.

"JELLO," said the voice. "LOADING JELLO."

"Uh-oh," said Ron.

There was a loud splat suddenly on their heads, and Harry yelled with surprise as he was hit full on in the face by a bowl of cold, slimy, strawberry jelly.

"Eurgh!" said Ron, wiping the green variety from his eyes. "Get off us!"

"TOFFEES," said the voice. "LOADING TOFFEES."

"Duck!" yelled Harry, as he saw several brightly coloured papers zooming from far away. The two boys hit the floor as Ton Tongue Toffees rained down on their heads, getting stuck in the cold jelly, pattering a tattoo on the back of Harry's head.

"It's not funny!" Ron shouted.

"MONEY," said the voice. "LOADING MONEY."

"Wahey!" said Ron. "Money, money, money!"

"TOUGH LUCK," said the voice. "NO MONEY FOR PESKY LITTLE PREFECT BROTHERS."

"Huh?" said Ron. "Wait - Fred? George?"

There was wild laughing and cackling from nowhere, the sound of somebody thumping a desk from merth. Ron sighed exasperatedly. "That wasn't funny," he said, sounding remarkably like Hermione. "Come on, why are we here?"

"We've put you in the Ultimate Room," said one of the twins. "Basically, boys versus girls. Somewhere in the area is the esteemed Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Whistle. You find that, and blow it, and you win. The winning team get prizes. The losing team get SURprizes."

"Nice surprises?" asked Ron, hopefully.

"I don't know, it depends what you think is nice. Anyway, stop interrupting me." Fred, or it might have been George, cleared his throat. "Now, the doorway will open in about thirty seconds. After that you're free to do what you like. Your wands have been confiscated though, so you're running on raw magic."

"Oh no, Fred, I'm rubbish at raw magic!" Ron complained loudly.

"Then do it the muggle way," said Fred. He chuckled. "You've got two hours to find the whistle. After that, you're coming out, and if neither team has found the whistle you're in for the gunging of a lifetime. Are we clear?"

"What sort of things are in there?" asked Harry.

"Well, your usual funhouse stuff, gunge, slides, bla bla bla. BUT! The Ultimate Room plays on your own memories. Don't worry, only nice ones. So, it's basically places you've been, avec un twist," Fred chirped, with a very bad French accent, "and some people from your memories will pop up as well. Only nice people or people that we can make fun of. And you can do what you like with that, they'll only fight back if you want them to."

"You've not got Voldemort in there, have you?" said Harry.

"Harry, nobody else knows what he looks like apart from you, how are we supposed to know which of your memories is Voldemort? But don't worry, any nasty memories are cut out, so there's no Death Eaters or Voldemort or whatever. This is your enjoy time. Have as much fun as you can while you're safe, okay?"

"Okay!" said Harry and Ron, beaming.

A square of light a few metres away shone into view, starting to expand into a magical doorway.

"Go get 'em, tigers," Fred chuckled, and with grins to each other, Harry and Ron sprinting for the door, leaping straight through, sucked into the Ultimate Room and towards the call of adventure.

Chapter Five: The Members of Magic (Part One)

An hour and a half later, Fred and George were in the laboratory of the WWW shop, testing a new range of fake, inflatable mice that could expand and fly away on command - the perfect distraction to any gruelling lesson.

"Pass us some more of that dye," said Fred, nodding at a large bubbling purple pot on the top shelf.

George had just reached out to grab it when there was four loud thumps and splats from the main room. Leaving Fred to carry on with the fake mice, George dusted off his hands and went into the next room. He was greeted, to his great surprise, by the sight of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all lying in a heap on the floor covered in bright blue gunge.

"What on earth happened to you lot?" he said.

"There was a statue that exploded," said Ron, panting, wiping slime off his face. "There was the whistle in his hand so I leant out to grab it and it sort of... exploded."

George wrinkled his freckled nose. "Oooh, tough call. The exploding statue is an automatic game over. We'll have to do a little charmwork to stop the whistle being placed there again. Any other problems apart from that?"

"We ended up in Hogwarts and Hermione wouldn't come out of the library," said Harry.

Hermione had received the least of the slime, but was checking her precious book of stupid facts frantically. "Oh no, all the back's gone blue!"

"Scourgify," said George, with a raised eyebrow, pointing his wand at Hermione's book. The slime shivered, and with a hiss, it dissolved into plumes of blue smoke that spelt out YOU'VE BEEN GUNGED for a moment then vanished. George smiled to Hermione. "Easy, wasn't it?"

To Harry's surprise, she smiled back. "I suppose so."

"So apart from the exploding statue and the library, that got the thumbs up, huh?" said George, grinning.

"Yeah!" they all chorused.

George chuckled. "Brilliant. We'll open to the public on Monday then. Hey, Fred!"

"What?" his twin called from the other room.

"Get the car keys, we've got to drive this sticky lot home!" George eyed them for a moment, and then added, "Maybe a good cleaning charm would be in order first though. Close your eyes, you lot!"

Harry shut his eyes tight, and held out his arms as Fred instructed him to. A moment later, Fred's cleaning charm shot up his legs like a shiver and all the gunge was hissing and evaporation away, filling the room with the smell of blueberries.

"Alright, open your eyes," said Fred.

Harry opened his eyes, thankful he felt clean and gungefree once more. He took off his glasses to polish them on his sleeve, but everybody else started to laugh.

"What?" he said, looking around at them all.

Hermione took a mirror from her back and handed it with a sheepish grin. He snapped it open, and started to laugh as well at his reflection. There were two perfect circles of blue gunge around his eyes where his glasses had been.

"Nice look, Harry," Fred grinned. "Suits your eyes."

"Shut up," Harry chuckled, looking up at Fred like a really mad blue panda.

"Oh, Fred! George! Where have you been? Suppertime was hours ago and - oh, hello Harry dear, how are you?"

Mrs Weasley came over from the sink as they stepped into the kitchen, giving him a tight, affectionate hug as he smiled and said, "Fine, thanks, Mrs Weasley."

"Good," she said, fondly, and then her expression turned serious again, "Now, where on earth have you all been?"

"The House of Fun," they all chimed at once.

She groaned. "Oh Fred, George, I told you not to - "

Everybody listen half-heartedly, sinking into chairs around the kitchen table as she lightly admonished the twins, busy taking plates of food from the side and sliding them onto the stove. They'd arrived a few minutes ago at The Burrow by Fred and George's magical car, and Fred had fussed for a while about a greenfly splattered across the wing mirror before they stepped into the warmth of the kitchen.

"Really," she said, lighting the stove with a flick of her wand. "You shouldn't test things like that on children."

"Mum, they're hardly ickly dinkies any more," said Fred, grinning at them all. "Of age and everything! Let's see some magic, Harry!"

"No, let's not," said Mrs Weasley, promptly. She started to look through cupboards for pumpkin juice and a jug, as another person strolled into the kitchen, her bright pink hair gleaming in the sunlight.

"Tonks!" said Harry, grinning, getting up.

She winked. "Wotcher, Harry. Nice to see you, mate."

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

Tonks sat down in the empty chair at the table, ruffling her spiky pink hair with one hand. "Doing my Service Degree for Auror Training. Should get me promoted."

"A Service Degree?"

Ron chuckled. "She's basically our slave but she doesn't like doing slavery, so she calls it service." At the reprimanding smirk from Tonks, he said, "I call it slavery, but there you go."

"Yeah, it's like having a bright pink, really tall house-elf," George sniggered.

Tonks grinned again. "Yeah, well, you'd better all give me a good recommendation for the 'slavery' I've been doing for you."

Mrs Weasley bustled over, setting down plates of chicken and chips in front of everybody and placing a large pitcher of pumpkin juice in the middle of the table. "I think you're doing a marvellous job dear," she said, smiling to Tonks, "Just ignore the boys. They don't appreciate a woman's work."

Fred and George snorted at exactly the same moment.

"So you're staying the night, Harry?" said Tonks, helping herself to juice.

"Yep," said Harry happily. He went to pick up his knife and fork, but at a horrified look from Ron, he grinned sheepishly and used his fingers instead.

"We're sorting out his pad tomorrow," said Fred, smirking. "So it's okay for Cho Darling to come around on weekends."

Harry's face muscles seemingly vanished in an instant. He stared up at Fred's grinning face in horror. "How do you - I mean - that's - "

Fred nipped Ron's nose with a chuckle. "You might wanna get Ronny boy to sellotape his mouth together when he sleeps."

"You sleep talk?" said Harry, looking outraged.

Ron blushed darkly. "I didn't know," he mumbled.

Tonks grinned and cuffed Harry on the arm. "You old dog, Harry."

"Have you heard anything else from her?" Fred asked, casually, swiping the pumpkin juice and draining the last remains.

Harry made a choking noise that his love life was being discussed so freely over dinner. "I - this isn't exactly - "

"Leave him alone, boys," said Mrs Weasley, frowning at her sons. "He doesn't want to talk about that horrid girl, and if he does, some of us don't want to hear it. Fred! Don't drink straight from that jug! You can wash that now, you know where the glasses are, they're just behind you."

"I'll do it!" said Tonks, brightly, jumping up and snatching the jug off Fred. Next second, there was an ear-splitting crash that made everybody jump. Tonks cringed at the broken glass around her feet. "Sorry," she said, sheepishly.

"That's quite alright dear," Mrs Weasley sighed. "Here, take the dustpan and clear it up, and we won't mention it on your report."

"Thanks Mrs Weasley." She bent down, cleaning the shards up very carefully, and then glancing up at the teenagers with a grin. "By the way, I met your new teacher yesterday. Phwew, wait until you see him."

"Professor Lupin?" Harry smiled. Lupin wasn't exactly the world's best looking man. His robes were generally in varying states of shabbiness, and his brown hair was turning grey, despite being fairly young.

"Nah, the other one," she said. She carried the mess carefully to the bin and tipped it in, making sure none fell out onto the floor. "The new guy."

"Why? Has somebody quit?" said Ginny, curiously.

Ron clasped in hands together in prayer. "Please let it be Snape... oh, I'll give anything..."

Harry remembered what he had learnt from Professor Lupin last week, about the slippery fingers hex, and for a moment, he considered telling the others - but then he realised he definitely didn't want to. The knowledge that his father had done that to Snape still made him feel rather guilty.

"Professor Snape does a lot of work for the Order, Ron," said Hermione, frowning. "You should appreciate that."

"Should," he said. "But I don't. And I probably never will. Pass us some more juice, Mum."

"You've had quite enough, Ron, and I think it's about time for bed now. We're up early tomorrow and we want a good start at cleaning. Merlin knows how dirty it's got since last summer." Mrs Weasley took their plates from the table, sliding them into the sink and shooing them all towards the stairs and bed. "Chop chop!"

They all hurried up the stairs, and Fred, George and Tonks bounded after them like a little troop of excitable puppies around lots of kids. Ginny and Hermione disappeared into Ginny's room with smiles of, "Night!", and Ron lead Harry up one last flight of stairs to the landing his bedroom was one. The plaque that was usually rather plain and old was now a bright shade of orange, and his door seemed to be covered in splatters of the paint from one of the decorating fireworks.

Ron noticed Harry looking at the splodges, and said, "People who agreed were let off with less splattering. You should see what they did to the shed."

Harry smiled. "I don't think I do."

Laughing, Ron opened the door and lead Harry in. There was a sleeping bag already laid out for him ready, a pillow lovingly tucked inside, and Ron grinned, "Excellent!", as he spotted the two large bags of Bertie Botts his mother had left them. He jumped onto his bed, grabbed one of the bags and tore it open. "Bean, Harry?"

Harry took one carefully. It was orange, which was generally a safe colour, and so he popped it into his mouth. Ron picked up a brown one and smirked.

"Do you dare me?" he said.

Harry grinned. "Yeah. Eurgh, carrot!"

Ron laughed at his screwed up face, then slipped the bean in his mouth and chewed carefully. Harry could see a lot of hope in his face that the bean wasn't something... unsanitary.

"Wahey, chocolate!" he said after a minute.

Harry grinned and sat on the bed with him, taking a few beans and sorting through them. "I've got an idea for a game. We pick a bean - "

The door opened and Tonks shot in, laughing, flushed in the face. "You've gotta hide me!" she said, wiping her forehead and still grinning wickedly.

"Why? What have you done?" said Ron. "You haven't knocked one of the walls over or something, have you?"

"No, I put an ever-lasting whoopy cushion in Fred's bed," she laughed, shaking her bright pink hair. "The noises are going to keep going until they can find a way to destroy it. They're trying to flush it down the toilet."

Evidently, they had succeeded, as next second a prolonged, high note of flatulence zoomed down the pipes from ceiling to floor, leaving a ringing echo. The pipe had quite good acoustics really.

Ron, Harry and Tonks all laughed as there was strangled cheering from Fred and George on the floor above.

"Do you want a Bertie Botts, Tonks?" said Harry, offering her the packet.

She sat cross-legged on the floor on Harry's sleeping bag, taking a yellow one and throwing it into the air, catching it with her mouth. She looked thoughtful for a minute, then said, "Weird. Dunno what flavour that was. Maybe pineapple-flavoured something."

"Ginny got a strawberry-flavoured-ice cream flavoured one once," said Ron, digging his hand into the bag. "What were you saying about a game, Harry?"

"We each have to choose a bean for each other, then guess if it's going to be nice or nasty," Harry explained. "And I'll start." He handed Tonks a bright blue bean. "Nasty."

"Oooh, unfair Harry," said Tonks, grinning, taking the bean. "No food's a true blue colour, you know. Blueberries are actually purple. So if it's blue, it's normally a cleansing product or some nasty plant that grows in a jungle somewhere. Oh well." She flicked it into her mouth, and chewed. After a moment a smile curled her face. "Toothpaste. Very strong toothpaste I might add. Eurgh, nasty." She took a red bean from the bag and gave it to Ron. "Nice, I bet."

This continued for about an hour, with everybody getting different degrees of nasty or nice taste, until Tonks said she'd better go and unblock the whoopy cushion from the toilet. Harry and Ron took turns outside whilst the other got changed, then Harry wriggled into his sleeping bag, Ron got in bed, and they both listened to Fred and George tattling to Mrs Weasley about Tonks putting ever-lasting whoopy cushions in their beds for a while before Ron spoke.

"Hey, Harry?"

Harry sat up to peer at Ron over the edge of the tangerine-coloured bed spread. "What?"

"Have you heard from Cho yet?" Ron asked, curiously.

Harry frowned. "No, I haven't. And I'm glad."

Ron smiled slightly, crawling to the end of his bed to get a better look at Harry on the floor. "So you're saying that's all definitely over with you and her?"

"Definitely," Harry said stoutly. "Anyway, she was going out with Ginny's ex-boyfriend, wasn't she?"

It was Ron's turn to frown. "Hey, hey, we don't mention that boy under this roof. There's a list of unmentionable people spellotaped to the kitchen door now. You-Know-Who, Cornelius Fudge, Percy - " he spat, as though swearing " - and that boy. Whatever his name was. And Dean Thomas! Traitor, going after MY little sister."

Harry chuckled. "So possessive, Ron."

"Well, you get all offensive when I say the name... Cho!" Ron grinned at Harry's reprimanding scowl. "Chochochochochocho!"

Harry beat him over the head with a pillow until he stopped, and after a good bout of laughing, they both squirmed back under the blankets in their beds. All was quiet, and Harry thought Ron was asleep until -

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"Listen... how are you feeling about... you know...?"

Harry shrugged. "Not bad... I supppose. Professor Lupin and Professor Snape talked to me about it."

"Snape?" said Ron, wrinkling his nose. "What would you want to talk to Snape for?"

"I didn't really want to," said Harry. He told Ron all about the meeting with Snape, Lupin coming in after the legilimens attack, then Sirius's ghost rising from the cauldron to say goodbye. Still, he didn't tell Ron about the butter fingers hex. Even though he hated Snape, he felt that the man deserved just a little dignity.

Ron listened to all this quietly, and then nodded w