Summer Flashbacks
The Portkey deposited Adrian in a slightly overgrown field about a hundred yards from the Burrow, which was precisely where it was supposed to, according to the instructions Molly Weasley had included in her invitation.
She had drawn a small map in the margin and underlined the arrival point twice, which told Adrian everything he needed to know about how seriously she was taking this celebration and how little she was leaving to chance.
He steadied himself as the disorienting lurch of Portkey travel faded from his limbs, then looked up to observe his destination..
The Burrow rose before him in the late afternoon sunlight, looking exactly like a building that should have collapsed under its own architectural instability years ago but somehow remained standing through sheer magical stubbornness and the love of the family who lived there.
The house appeared to be several stories of rooms stacked haphazardly on top of each other, held together by magic and hope, with a slightly crooked chimney emitting smoke into the warm summer air.
But today the Burrow was transformed beyond its usual charming chaos.
The vegetable garden had been expanded through what must have been days of careful magical effort into something resembling a small park.
Colorful banners and enchanted lights hung from every available surface, including several trees that Adrian was fairly certain hadn't existed in that exact configuration the last time he'd visited.
Long tables covered in jolly checkered cloths stretched across the lawn, already overloaded with more food than seemed possible for one family to have prepared. A small platform had been erected in one corner, suggesting there would be music later in the evening.
And there were people everywhere.
Fifty or sixty already, with more arriving by the minute, appearing with the soft crack of Apparition at various points around the property, or emerging from the back door of the Burrow with slightly unfocused expression of people who have just traveled by Floo.
Adrian recognized many faces from the Order of the Phoenix: Sirius stood near one of the tables with his head thrown back in laughter at something Remus had said, while Kingsley Shacklebolt stood in conversation with Mr. Weasley near one of the food tables.
Tonks was present as well, her hair was a celebratory bright pink and her expression more relaxed than Adrian had seen it since before the battle with Voldemort.
But there were also many people Adrian didn't recognize, presumably friends, neighbors, and extended Weasley family members who had been invited to celebrate the defeat of Voldemort and the return of peace to wizarding Britain.
Children ran through the garden in small packs, their laughter was carrying across the space. Elderly witches and wizards sat in conjured chairs beneath the trees, chatting amiably. The whole scene radiated an atmosphere of joy and relief that Adrian found both warming and slightly overwhelming.
"Professor Westeros!" A familiar voice called out, and Adrian turned to see Hermione hurrying toward him across the lawn around a group of young children engaged in what appeared to be an impromptu game of tag.
She looked healthy and happy, her bushy hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her summer dress were decorated with small embroidered flowers that looked like Mrs. Weasley's handiwork.
"Hermione," Adrian said warmly. "It's good to see you. How has your summer been treating you?"
"Busy," she said, and then reconsidered. "Good-busy, mostly. But complicated."
She fell into step beside him as they moved further into the garden.
"My parents have been asking a great many questions about last year. They keep seeing references in the Muggle news to unexplained phenomena that are obviously magical in origin, and I keep having to make decisions in real time about what I can tell them without violating the Statute of Secrecy. It's rather exhausting, actually—trying to bridge both worlds honestly without either lying to my parents or breaking wizarding law."
"That's a genuinely difficult position," Adrian said sympathetically. "How much have you been able to share with them?"
"Enough that they understand there was danger and that it's resolved now,"
Hermione said carefully. "They know Harry was hurt during an incident at Hogwarts, but I told them it was an accident rather than what it actually was. They were worried enough about that. If they knew someone had been deliberately trying to hurt students—"
She left the thought unfinished. "They were worried enough without knowing someone had actually been trying to hurt people."
"That sounds like wisdom rather than evasion," Adrian said. "Though I imagine it doesn't always feel that way."
"It doesn't," Hermione said, though she didn't sound entirely certain. "They wanted me to stay home this summer rather than spending time in the magical world, but I managed to convince them that I needed to visit friends and that it was actually safer now than it had been in years, which is true, it just required leaving out most of the context that made it true."
Before Adrian could respond, Ron appeared from the direction of the house carrying a large platter of small golden meat pies.
"Professor Westeros!"
His face showed delight the moment he spotted Adrian, and the platter was set down on the nearest table with an enthusiasm that made the pies slide slightly to one side.
"You made it! Brilliant." Ron wiped his hands on his trousers. "Mum's been cooking for three days straight. I think her theory is that every meal we missed during the school year needs to be personally accounted for, served all at once, today. There are four different pies just as a starting point, and I haven't even done a full survey of the far table yet."
"Your mother's cooking is always worth the journey," Adrian said, which was simply true. The few times he'd been invited to family meals at the Burrow, the food had been abundant and delicious.
"She's been absolutely in her element," Ron continued.
"Finally getting to throw a proper celebration without worrying about You-Know-Who showing up to ruin everything. Though she's also been driving everyone mad with the preparations.
Fred and George actually fled some place yesterday claiming they had 'urgent inventory' to deal with, which everyone knows was just an excuse to escape Mum's organizing."
"Where is Harry?" Adrian asked, noticing the absence of the third member of the trio.
"He's here somewhere," Ron said, scanning the growing crowd. "Probably got caught by one of Dad's Ministry friends who wants to hear some more about you defeating You-Know-Who. Harry's been very patient about it, but I think he's getting tired of telling the story over and over. Every time we go anywhere, people want to hear all the details."
"I understand that particular experience," Adrian said, with feeling.
His own summer had involved a not insignificant number of encounters with people who wished to discuss the battle in exhaustive detail, seemingly unaware that being the person who had lived through it made him somewhat less inclined to relive it on demand.
"There he is," Hermione said, pointing toward a cluster of people near the house. "With Sirius and Professor Lupin."
Indeed, Harry was visible now in conversation with his godfather, looking healthier and more relaxed than Adrian had seen him in years.
The tension that had always been present in Harry's shoulders had visibly eased. He laughed at something Sirius said, and Adrian felt a surge of satisfaction at seeing the boy so genuinely at peace.
"Come on," Ron said, already moving. " Let's go say hello properly. Then you have to try Mum's treacle tart, she made it specifically because you were coming. She said you mentioned it once and she wrote it down."
As they navigated through the crowd, Adrian took in more details of the gathering. He recognized several other Order members scattered throughout the garden.
As they navigated through the crowd, Adrian took in more details of the gathering. He recognized several other Order members scattered throughout the garden.
Mad-Eye Moody stood near the edge of the property, his magical eye spinning constantly in what was probably habitual vigilance even at a celebration.
Nymphadora Tonks was attempting to teach a group of young children some kind of game that involved changing her hair color on demand, much to their squealing delight.
Bill Weasley stood in conversation with Fleur Delacour, who Adrian noted with interest.
There were also many faces Adrian didn't recognize.
An elderly witch with a pointed hat decorated with stuffed birds was holding court near one of the food tables, surrounded by listeners as she told what sounded like an entertaining story involving a Knarl and a misunderstanding at the Ministry.
A group of middle-aged wizards were engaged in energetic discussion about Quidditch, their gestures growing increasingly insistent as they debated some strategy. Children of various ages ran everywhere, occasionally pausing to grab food from the tables before resuming their games.
The atmosphere was one of genuine celebration and relief.
These were people who had lived under the threat of Voldemort's return for over a year, who had survived a war that could have destroyed everything they loved, and who were now finally able to gather together without fear.
The joy was palpable and infectious.
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