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SIYE Time:20:26 on 28th March 2024
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Harry Potter & the Veil of Shadows
By elaithin

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Category: Post-DH/AB
Characters:All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Fluff, General, Romance
Warnings: Death, Extreme Language, Sexual Situations, Violence
Rating: R
Reviews: 306
Summary: Moving on, strange dreams, mysterious newcomers, Death Eaters, the Veil of Shadows, and a little bit of life, laughter and love. Join Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione for their last year at Hogwarts - and the first year of the rest of their lives as they learn that just because Voldemort's gone doesn't mean life's going to be easy!
Hitcount: Story Total: 160518; Chapter Total: 9031





Author's Notes:
Thanks to the excellent beta team of TeyriJen IcarusPhoenix & KitJordan. A little less fluff-focused this chapter as life begins to move on...




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Chapter Three- "Life, Laughter & Love"

* * * * *

Sunlight filtered slowly into Ron and Harry's room at the Burrow as Harry drifted into wakefulness. The room still looked half-wrecked, but that had nothing at all to do with what the Death Eaters had done to the house. In fact, it had much more to do with the fact that Harry and Ron were steadfastly avoiding any sort of cleaning in the room, living quite comfortably as though they were two bachelors sharing their first place (A state that was not too dissimilar to the living habits of teenage boys). This met with frequent disapproval from Hermione and Ginny, of course, but Mrs. Weasley had so far let things be. Neither Ron nor Harry expected that to last very long, but the pair was thoroughly enjoying it while it did. While they enjoyed the lack of having to clean their particular space, by unspoken agreement, they were hoping it was something that would help prompt Mrs. Weasley out of her quiet mourning.

When they'd first come home, the place had been a mess. The Death Eaters had been through everything what looked like several times and had taken their frustrations out on the Weasley's home when they'd found nothing of value or import. The overhang over the front porch was collapsed, so they'd been forced to only use the back door by the kitchen. The damage to the family room was similar, and it had torn Harry's heart to see the beloved structure in such a state. Molly Weasley's famous kitchen had been completely trashed, and all the other rooms were in various states of disrepair - though not completely ruined. The house could be repaired, but it would take work. It was though the Burrow itself was a metaphor for the shape the wizarding community itself, and that was not something Harry found comforting at all.

Those first few days were still a confused jumble in his mind, of all the conversations with McGonagall and Kingsley, of everyone trying to set the Ministry right, mourn their dead, and move on with their lives. This was an ongoing process, of course. Though everyone was staying at the Burrow, things still did not feel quite... right. They'd stayed in the tents the first few nights, while repairing the bedrooms. The life, laughter and love Harry had always associated with his adopted home was absent, making the place seem empty and hollow. He began to wonder, really, whether anything would ever be the same.

There had been no funeral for Tom Marvolo Riddle. There would be no marker, no sign that he had ever even lived. His body had been burned to ash and a few fragments of bone - Harry had cast the Incendio charm himself. There would be no parts of him, no forbidden or ancient Dark Arts to bring him back from beyond the veil. The cold part of Harry found this to be an eminently agreeable arrangement. It was just, he thought, that a man who had committed so much evil in the name of defying death would be denied even the most basic remembrance. Another part of him railed at the concept - everyone deserved a funeral, that part insisted, no matter what they'd done in life. But it was just too risky. A grave for 'Voldemort' would be nothing more than a shrine to every maladjusted wannabe Death Eater in Britain.

Remus and Tonks' service had been nearly unbearable. Harry greatly regretted that he'd never been able to get as close to Lupin as he had been to Sirius, even though he'd greatly admired the quiet werewolf. And just like Fred, it seemed abominable that the world could be deprived of so unique and enjoyable a person as Nymphadora Tonks Lupin. He was grateful that they had had some small amount of time together, because he knew the joy the vivacious Auror had brought into the tragic life of the reserved Professor. He'd been able to get through the last Marauder's funeral (not easily, but easier), mostly because of Ginny's quiet presence at his side, and the fact that he had met and been able to hold his godson, Teddy, in his arms for the first time. At his request, Andromeda had agreed to have Lupin and Tonks buried next to his parents in Godric's Hollow, where a simple grave marker had been added for Sirius as well. Harry had added identical epitaphs to his parent's grave, Sirius' marker, and Remus and Tonks' as well - just two simple words. 'Mischief Managed'. He didn't think his mother - and especially not Tonks - would have complained.

He had not placed Wormtail there with them- ultimately, Harry had no idea what had become of the traitorous Marauders body and also found that he didn't particularly care. It was cold, probably, but he had used up all his grief for the people he actually gave a damn about. After everything Wormtail had done in his pathetic life, Harry just couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for the rat. Even if Wormtail's momentary act of compassion to Harry had cost him his own life - Peter Pettigrew had made his bed long ago.

The funeral for Severus Snape had conflicted Harry the most. It was the only matter he'd consented to be interviewed on, having still not decided how much of the true story of Voldemort should be made public. It was still hard to reconcile the vengeful, spiteful Potions Professor who'd so hated his father, the Death Eater who'd revealed the prophecy to Voldemort, and the man who had utterly failed to teach him Occlumency with the quiet bravery of a man who had hoodwinked the Dark Lord not once but twice, mercifully killed Albus Dumbledore at the famed wizard's own request in order to save the soul of an ungrateful boy (despite the cost to his own soul to kill the only man who understood him), had quietly done his best to protect the students of Hogwarts, even under the Dark Lord's reign, and had ultimately been casually tossed aside at Voldemort's whim - but still found a way to help the son of his hated rival. He'd spoken honestly at Snape's funeral - Snape had not always been a good man, and he had done horrible things in his life, but Harry had not lied when he had publicly proclaimed him the bravest man he'd ever known. For Severus Snape had done good things too, more than anyone ever knew, and all in the name of an unrequited love. Snape had loved his mother all his life, and had gone against his own nature to try to do the right thing in the name of that love. That, more than anything, caused Harry to respect the late Professor, and after all of this, no one had complained at his insistence of burying the man next to Albus Dumbledore (At least, not to Harry's face. If they'd done otherwise, he didn't particularly care). Professor McGonagall had also consented to ensure that a portrait of the Potions master would be added to the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts.

Cho's had been hard in a different way, one that still tore Harry up inside whenever he considered it. He'd thought he'd loved her - was it only three years ago? He knew now that it hadn't been love, not even close. But in the confused, awkward state Harry had been in that whole year, after Cedric's death and then Sirius', there had never really been a chance for them. But she'd still been his first crush, and to know they'd never have a chance to even really be friends had been almost hurt for him. But the really devastating part had been that he didn't feel worse about it, and thought he should have.

By the end of Fred's funeral later that afternoon, he knew he was a wreck. The funeral had been memorable, with George really coming out of his shell for the first time to send his brother off properly. But everyone was looking equally rough, even with that until later, when they were back at the Burrow. Percy, of all people, had passed out bottles of firewhiskey so they could send Fred off in style... only moments after their parents had retired for the evening. Percy was, most of the time, still as uptight as he'd ever been, but everyone recognized that his attempts to change were a form of tribute to his younger brother. Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasley brothers had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, drinking ever increasing quantities of the magical liquor and raucously sharing more and more outrageous stories of Fred's life. (Fleur had not partaken in that portion of the festivities, claiming illness. She did, however, order her husband back downstairs to be with his younger siblings.)

Harry was also quite certain there was more to the evening than he could recall - particularly as he pondered the disheveled state he'd seen Hermione in when he'd blearily woken up to hear her sneaking out of his and Ron's room. He'd been ready to put it off as a dream until he saw the nervous looks passing between the two the next morning at breakfast. It made him wish very much that he could, in fact, remember whatever else might have happened that night - Particularly when Ginny was giving him an odd look or two herself.

Later that night, they had received a surprise owl bearing a package - inside had been Ron and Hermione's wands. The black-feathered owl was a beautiful bird, and had seemed quite aware of it, too. It had nipped unpleasantly at Harry's fingers as he'd been untying the letter, and left huffily after declining the owl treat it had been offered. After that behavior, they hadn't been surprised to find that the bird belonged to Draco Malfoy. Malfoy's brief letter explained that he thought Ron and Hermione might want them back, and - tersely, and very formally - had thanked Harry for his honesty in the deposition he'd formally given to the Ministry. Draco and Narcissa would not be tried as Death Eaters, though Lucius' fate was still undecided. Harry found that he couldn't exactly drum up any sympathy for the elder Malfoy's probable fate. He knew that if Lucius somehow wriggled free yet again and found himself at odds with Harry in the future, Harry had decided he would hex first and ask questions later. Ginny had only too readily agreed to that.

The day after that had been hard as well, though for very different reasons. That had been the day Kingsley - in his official role as (Interim) Minister of Magic, had very publicly presented them all with the Order of the Merlin. Harry hadn't known about it at all, and the Weasleys had conspired to get him to the Ministry for the ceremony on the pretext of some legal nonsense relating to Gringott's. Shocked was a mild term for what he'd felt when they'd flooed into the Ministry and been greeted by a barrage of cheers, applause, and the flashing lights of cameras. Harry would admit he'd probably never become accustomed to his notoriety, which had only increased with Voldemort's final defeat. (His picture on the Daily Prophet later that day, he noticed, kept running out of the frame, only to be dragged back by the photo-images of Ron and Ginny.)

That horrible statue was gone, he'd been particularly pleased to note, with a raised dais in its place. Arthur had told him later that a new - more accurate - version of the 'Fountain of Magical Brethren' was being sculpted to eventually go there. Ginny had led the bewildered Harry up to the stage, where he'd been presented with an Order of Merlin, First Class. Orders of Merlin, Second Class, had then been presented to all the surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army, both groups which had led the fight against Voldemort in the second war. They'd even gone so far as to grant posthumous awards to everyone who hadn't survived - George had left bearing Fred's, and had later presented both of the medals to the teary Mrs. Weasley.

Harry had found the entire experience far more difficult and unpleasant than any of the funerals they had attended.

Under Molly and Arthur's expert direction, they had all gotten to work on restoring the place after that. Fred's funeral - and wake - had purged most the morose undercurrent that had filled the Weasley home, even if that desperately wanted feeling of normalcy had not yet returned. Nearly two weeks of progress by the virtual army of Weasleys (born and otherwise acquired) significantly showed in the Burrow's improved condition, and Harry was glad for it. Slowly but surely, they were all beginning to move on. Life, and the world, would not be simply put on hold simply because they were grieving.

Harry was startled out of his quiet reflection, however, when a voice called out his name at a volume he had never believed possible, minus a howler or the use of the Sonorus charm.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" thundered the immediately recognizable voice of one Molly Weasley, startling him enough to where he fell on his face, getting tangled up in the bedclothes as he'd he tried to hop out of his squashy, well-used bed. As he stared around in shock for a moment, he saw Ron start awake as well - though the redhead managed it much more uncharacteristically gracefully than he himself had. Harry thought his friend deserved at least a scowl for managing that.

"Oi," Ron groaned sleepily, rolling over to look over at his best mate, giving Harry the sort of look one gives a man heading to his own demise. "You've done it now, mate. I don't know what you did, but best you head down there before she really gets into her stride. There's no stopping her once that's happened."

"GET YOURSELF DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT, YOUNG MAN!"

This last was even clearer as the door to the room had slammed open, revealing not actually Molly Weasley, but Hermione. She actually had a look of panic on her face as she strode purposefully towards Harry's bed. She kept nervously casting glances towards the doorway before speaking. "Harry..." she began, "I really think you should go down there - "

Harry was already pulling on the closest clothes he could find - a pair jeans and a t-shirt (decorated with a golden snitch across the front, a gift from Ginny) piled up on the floor beside the bed. Somehow he didn't think clean was of particular importance right now. "I think I picked up on that, Hermione," he said cheekily, but the effect was lost as his friend was bounding towards the door. This was not, he noticed, until she'd given Ron a swat and told him to get his lazy arse moving as well.

If nothing else, she and Ron's new found relationship was certainly having an effect on her language. His friends were open with their affection around each other, but not demonstrative about it. One would think that they were taking things very, very slowly. That is, if one didn't count the number of times Ginny or Harry had caught them in compromising positions. And given what he sleepily recalled from the night of Fred's wake, Harry rather suspected that the relationship had progressed much farther than either Ron or Hermione would admit openly.

For his part, Ron ignored his girlfriend's order, grunted, fluffed his pillow, and tried to roll over. "'Least you know you're really part of the family now," he muttered. "Gettin' the middle name an' everything."

A few silent moments passed as Harry finished dressing, deciding he might as well go ahead and throw on his trainers as well, before Ron's curiosity finally got the better of him. "What'd you do, anyway?" The redhead asked as he began looking around for some clothes of his own to throw on.

Harry didn't have to think much about that. "C'mon downstairs and you'll find out," he said quietly, a nervous lump finally beginning to form in his throat. "If I'm to be condemned, I'd like my best mate at my side."

"Always have been." Ron muttered mock-defensively. "Why would now be any different?"

"Because it's your mum, not Voldemort?"

Ron considered that a moment. "Too right, mate. On second thought, you're on your own. I want to live."

* * * * *

One week earlier

As Harry and Ginny came into place with a soft 'pop', he had to wonder if that slightly ill and very squeezed feeling that came with Apparition would ever fade. Ginny had Side-Along Apparated with him, of course, since she wouldn't be able to get her license for a few more months. He smiled faintly as he remembered her relentless teasing of Ron that she had successfully Apparated on her very first attempt, while she'd been back at Hogwarts last year. Even through Voldemort's reign and the terrible presence of the Carrows as "Professors", Snape had apparently done his best to keep the school as normal as possible.

Not that she'd had a good year by any means. Harry had known that she, Neville, and Luna had been leading the resistance in the school, but Ginny had still not spoken of it. He was certain she would tell him in her own way, in her own time.

"Merlin's pants!" Ginny swore out in shock, looking at the devastated front of Gringott's and the rather large hole in the cobblestone pavement in front of it. Much of the ancient bank's facing and trimwork had been reduced to rubble by the dragon's escape, though the remains no longer littered the street. "The three of you did this?"

Harry winced slightly at her exclamation - he still felt a bit guilty about it, actually. He was pleased to see a magical reconstruction crew working on repairs, however. The crews were using their wands to direct various pieces of stone and wood to where they were supposed to be. Charmed hammers and paintbrushes were working away of their own volition, and Harry could tell that, soon enough, no one would ever know that anything had happened to the venerable institution. "Yeah," he said simply as he watched the rebuilding for a moment. "They were waiting till they got the dragon back to fix the hole - Charlie was able to bring it back yesterday."

"I still don't think it's right, locking up an old dragon like that just to guard some gold," Ginny said with determination, aware that she was echoing Hagrid's sentiment - though the half-giant had expressed his opinion of the idea much more forcefully and colorfully.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I could handle the bill for the dragon as well as all the damage," he admitted with a grimace.

"You're not serious," she said, stopping in her tracks. Open astonishment decorated her features at the very idea. Harry had kept walking for a second before he realized she was no longer walking right alongside him. "Harry! They're not honestly making you pay for this, are they? They've already sacked Bill and Fleur - "

That particular fact had been much cursed at the Burrow of late. The goblins had been convinced, knowing of Harry's close association with the Weasley family, that Bill and Fleur had helped him plan his break-in. Ginny - and then Molly, Arthur, Bill, and Fleur - had all repeatedly assured Harry, Ron and Hermione that they did not blame them in the least for the goblin's assumption, particularly once they knew why they'd broken into the wizarding bank. George openly applauded them for it, but Harry was also quite certain that there was a different response entirely from Percy. Still, if Percy did blame them, at least he wasn't saying anything. That was progress, Harry supposed.

"Well, uh..." Harry stuttered, looking studiously at the stone pavement at their feet. He had neglected to mention that to Ginny - she had thought they were just coming here to pick up some money from his vault.

Ginny's eyes widened as she filled in the rest on her own. Knowing her boyfriend as well as she did, it was not particularly hard to put two and two together. "Harry, you didn't, did you?" she started, and pressed on when he didn't respond verbally. "You volunteered?!"

"Well..." he managed to stammer out. He was turning a deep red now, embarrassed at having been figured out so easily. "It only seemed right. I think I'm lucky not to be in Azkaban, honestly."

"Harry, these are goblins!" she admonished him in shock. "You never volunteer to give them money! They'll take everything you have!"

"I know," Harry said slowly, finally looking up from his feet. "That's why they wanted to see me today, to give me my final balance of accounts. They said that they were... closing my vault."

Truthfully, the loss of the money didn't really hurt him. It was money he'd never wanted, and between the Burrow and Grimmauld Place, he had somewhere to live. Harry would just have to get a job to cover the rest, just like everyone else.

He couldn't also help feeling guilty, because he had, after all, broken into a supposedly unassailable bank and caused significant property damage - the term almost didn't apply to the devastation they'd managed to leave as a calling card - before absconding with their dragon. The only thing that really bothered him was the small, stupid voice in the back of his head that kept pointing out that he would never be able to do anything - provide anything - for Ginny if he didn't have any money anymore.

Harry didn't think that would matter to her..but, well, what if he was wrong? The idea sent a momentary panic through him. For all his assuredness when it came to fighting Dark Lords, Harry knew very well that he could be downright stupid when it came to girls.

Ginny didn't offer a verbal response as she read the emotions scattered across her boyfriend's surprisingly expressive features. As much as he held things in, he always had - and always would be - an open book to her. So instead of lecturing him further, she simply took his hand, and casually led him towards the bank. She knew that quiet show of support would quell Harry's nerves more than anything else.

Harry felt his worry evaporate as Ginny took his hand, and only barely stopped himself from grinning like an idiot. He inhaled sharply as they passed through the doors of Gringott's, that knot of nervousness taking root in his stomach once again. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath Ginny had leaned in close and firmly told him, "Breathe, Harry."

"Right," he trailed, and exhaled deeply. "Might as well get on with this."

Looking around, it was hard to tell the inside had been damaged at all. Clearly, repairs had been made here, first. It looked the exact same as it had that very first time Hagrid had brought him here. He did not see Griphook, however, and wondered what had ever happened to the little goblin. It was hard to blame Griphook for his actions back in Bellatrix's vault, given that Harry had in fact planned to double-cross him as well. Of course, Harry also admitted to himself that he wasn't particularly upset since he knew that Gryffindor's sword was once again resting in the Headmistress's office back at Hogwarts. He only hoped Griphook hadn't gotten into too much trouble over the incident.

As they queued up, they found that the wait was not very long at all, and Harry's nervousness had faded to a resigned acceptance by the time they reached the counter. At the goblin's question, he replied, "I'm Harry Potter. I'm here to authorize payment for damages and settle my account."

"Very well," said the goblin (whose name-tag Harry couldn't quite make out.) The goblin pressed its little visor back on its head, shuffled some papers around for a few moments, and finally spoke again. "Press your wand here please, Mr. Potter."

He did so, the tip of his wand leaving a distinctive mark on the signature spot. He signed several other forms in this manner, before the goblin reached down and then lifted up a small bag to the counter. "Final balance, six galleons, five sickles and twelve knuts," it dutifully reported. (Harry still could not tell, at this point, whether the goblin was even male or female.)

He swallowed, lifting the extremely light bag. Well, it was done now, he'd just have to make his own way, and -

"Would Mr. Potter like to be shown to his family vault now?" the goblin asked in the same businesslike tone.

Harry and Ginny shared a quick look of confusion between them before he managed a reply. "Uh - you've just emptied it. I don't really need to see an empty vault, do I?"

The goblin frowned at him, and then checked something on the parchment in front of him, and then spoke slowly, as though he was explaining something to a very small child. "That was your personal vault, Mr. Potter, left in trust by your parents for the purpose of seeing you through your schooling. Your family vault passed into your ownership last year on your seventeenth birthday. Gringott's sent notification via registered owl to your residence of record at "The Burrow" in Ottery St. Catchpole that day. It is noted that the owl was unable to make delivery until the day after."

The day after his -

"The wedding - the attack," Ginny said aloud. "I remember now, Harry, the owl dropped it off after the Death Eaters finally left. With everything else going on, we forgot to tell you."

Harry was floored. He had never considered the possibility that there was a family vault. It made sense once he thought about it - the Potters were an old, if small, wizarding family, and there had never been any personal items in his vault. "Yes, I would," he said, finally giving the goblin his reply. "Take us there, please."

"This way," the goblin dutifully instructed, clambering down from its stool and heading away from the lobby.

"Don't I need a key or anything?"

"Not for the family vault, Mr. Potter. The door will recognize you, as well as your mate," the goblin replied by rote, flicking his eyes quickly over at Ginny, who'd flashed a fleeting grin at the description.

* * * * *

A rather long and bumpy mine car ride later, Harry noted that they were heading the same direction as when he'd been here a little over a week prior. They passed the waterfall which removed all enchantments, and a team of goblins who were settling the old, blind dragon back into its nest. He thought he saw a flash of red hair that might have been Charlie, but they didn't even come close to slowing down enough for him to tell. The car stopped only very shortly before reaching the Lestrange vault. "Vault 47," the goblin driving the car sounded, and the three of them got out.

Stopping in front of the door, Harry felt Ginny give his hand a quick squeeze. He turned to smile weakly at her, and Harry knew he didn't have to tell her that he was nervous.

"Here goes," he said, thoughts of being rejected by the door and sucked into the vault, with only his skeleton to be found years later briefly flitting through his mind. He placed his palm flat against the center, felt a tiny prick, and the door just dissolved.

"Oh, my..." Ginny breathed, as they walked inside.

The vault was easily as big as the Lestranges, and very nearly as full. There were piles and piles of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts everywhere, along with artwork, gems, jewelry, antique furniture, a collection of swords and any number of other miscellany. Harry was, to put it mildly, astonished. He had never heard anything about the Potters being this rich (though it definitely explained why Draco Malfoy had wanted to befriend him when they were eleven), and was having a great deal of difficulty wrapping his head around all of it. After a moment's thought, though, he finally figured where the majority must have come from - the Black fortune had passed to him with Sirius' will, just like Grimmauld Place and "ownership" of Kreacher. And the Blacks had apparently been indecently wealthy.

"Gin.." Harry trailed off, his voice raspy.

"Yeah?" she asked faintly, just as astonished, wide-eyed and open-mouthed as he was.

"I think we could have afforded that dragon after all..."

Ginny's face snapped over to meet his as soon the words were out of his mouth. Harry looked down at her, his face questioning her silently as she pulled herself tight against his chest. She could feel his confusion still, however, so she looked up and explained, "You said we, Harry," she answered quietly, an undeniable pleasure in her voice that had absolutely nothing to do with the room they were in or its contents. It was the first time Harry had automatically referred to them as a 'we', and that made her happier than anything in that vault ever could have. She smiled as she said it and Harry felt that his heart could have just stopped with the way she lit up the room.

"Just catching on, are you?" Harry replied. He'd meant it to be teasing, but it came out much softer than that.

However, as Ginny brought her lips tightly against his, Harry felt a moment of inspiration hit him.

* * * * *

As Harry trudged down the stairs to the Burrow's kitchen with Ron trailing sleepily behind him, he was decidedly unsurprised to find the whole Weasley clan seated and waiting for him. His gaze flickered over to Mrs. Weasley's clock - the normal one - and noted that it was half-past nine. They'd actually let him and Ron have a bit of a lie-in today. Maybe the Burrow was farther along than he'd reckoned.

His eyes landed on Ginny first, naturally enough, and she was flushed from embarrassment and avoiding looking at anyone else. Bill and Fleur had odd, stunned sort of expressions on their faces. Percy looked as though he was wrestling with a particularly difficult ethical problem, and Charlie was looking rather like someone had just given him his very own dragon. George was grinning like mad, however, for the first time that Harry had seen in weeks. He quietly tossed Harry a 'thumbs-up' gesture, and Harry let his eyes wander over the rest of the room as he sat down next to Ginny. Mr. Weasley had a strange, slightly sad expression on his face, and Mrs. Weasley was huffily scrubbing at plates in the sink, muttering quite a bit to herself.

He tried, very carefully, to look calm and in control as he saw Hermione. Her mouth was unabashedly hanging open in astonishment, the letter hanging in her hands. A quick glance confirmed everyone else had their letters, though Ginny's remained unopened in front of her, the wax seal with the logo of Gringott's Wizarding Bank still firmly attached.

It was at this point that Ron finally caught on to everyone's expressions as well. "Bloody hell," he muttered, and was even more shocked when neither his mother nor Hermione reprimanded him for his language. "Right then - well, obviously Harry knows what he did. But is anybody going to tell me?"

Mrs. Weasley whirled around at this, having not heard the two of them come down over the noise of her banging pots and own muttered tirade. If Harry hadn't known before where the Weasley children got their tempers from, he saw the full force of it bearing down on him now. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione mutely hand Ron his own letter.

"Harry!" Molly began, at only slightly less of a volume than when she had been calling him downstairs. "I will absolutely not stand for this! You are going to go back and.. and... undo it this instant! "

It took everything Harry had to keep a calm expression on his face and not completely flee from the room in embarrassment. "No," he replied simply, extraordinarily grateful for the reinforcement Ginny gave him by reaching over and clasping her hand in his, on top of the table.

He wouldn't have thought two simple letters would have made the room even quieter, but they somehow did. At this point, every pair of eyes in the room snapped back towards him, accompanied by expressions of open-mouthed astonishment. Ron was looking at him with an expression of abject horror, rather like he'd just told them all that Voldemort wasn't really dead, and was, in fact, Harry's father.

After all - no one, no one told Molly Weasley ''no' in her own kitchen.

"No?" she said, almost conversationally. "Harry, do you have any idea what you've done? The finality of this? Your parents didn't leave you that money, Sirius didn't leave you that money for you to, to... fritter it away! We are doing quite well enough on our own, Harry. This is... this is - well, it's just unnecessary!"

"Unnecessary? But -" Harry tried to explain, but was cut off well before he'd even gotten started.

"Yes, unnecessary!" she replied huffily, turning her back on him to face her plates once more, as though that was quite the end of it. She continued scrubbing the plates with excess vigor.

"Why don't we hear what Harry has to say, first, Molly," Arthur said, very quietly, and laid a restraining hand on Molly's forearm. Though he was touching her arm, Harry locked gazes with the older man, who was very carefully examining Harry's expression. The scrubbing stopped, and Harry watched as the Weasley matriarch very slowly and deliberately turned around once more, and stood behind her husband. Somehow Harry found the man's quiet presence even more threatening that Mrs. Weasley's tirade.

"I won't undo it," he said quietly, and he heard someone take sharp breath in response. "I won't take it back, and there is absolutely no way you're ever going to make me, Mrs. Wea - Molly," he said, hoping that the permission he'd been given to use her name had not been suddenly revoked.

"I've watched all of you struggle, year after year, simply because you value all the right things in life. I have absolutely no use for all of that money. That's what's unnecessary. Molly, Arthur - all of you - mean more to me than you can possibly imagine. You're the family I never had, but that never once stopped you from taking me in and treating me as though I was just another one of your boys. As far as I know, you never even gave it a second though. And you never did it because I was the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. You did it because I was Ron's friend, and you saw a skinny, mistreated little boy and you knew it was wrong, so you decided to do what you could to fix it. I don't recall you ever asking me if I wanted help then - you just gave it to me. That's what I'm doing now. But you can't possibly know what that will always mean to me... and I refuse to sit here and watch you struggle after everything you've all done for me. I won't stand for it - not one more damn minute. Whatever I've given you, it's far, far less than what I owe."

No one said anything else for a minute before Harry continued, looking down at the table as he fought the rising crimson in his cheeks. The rest came out barely above a whisper, but could be clearly heard in the room's still silence. "Erm... besides, everything I gave all of you was only half. Gin wouldn't let me do more than that. And I set up something for Andromeda and Teddy too - "

Arthur was the first to finally pull himself together and say something, and held up his palm to stop the flow of words from the black-haired wizard's mouth. "Be that as it may, Harry. This... this is just too much. We simply can't - "

"No, Daddy," Ginny interrupted sharply, raising her voice at her father for what was possibly the first time in her life. She would argue with her mother in a heartbeat - that was their way, after all. It was clear, though, that she was now speaking to everyone in the room. Molly's head jerked back at her daughter's tone, and Arthur fixed a curious stare on his daughter.

"You were always the ones who taught us to accept a gift gracefully. This is Harry's gift to us and it means very much to him to give. I won't let you take that from him, so you lot are just going to accept it, and say thank you, and that's the end of it." The youngest Weasley in the room folded her arms across her chest as she issued her statement with all the authority she had inherited from her mother, and was making it quite clear that she wasn't going to tolerate any further discussion on the topic.

Harry felt his throat go tight at Ginny's impassioned defense against him. He saw Arthur open his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by another quarter.

"She's right, Dad," said Ron, breaking the silence. Harry's gaze snapped up to his best mate, a response echoed by Hermione only a split-second later. He was floored by Ron's acceptance - he had honestly thought the most resistance would come from his best mate. As the youngest of the boys, Ron had always felt the brunt of their financial situation more than any of the others, and it had always been a touchy spot in his and Harry's friendship. Their eyes locked, and everyone watched the silent conversation pass between them, until both young men nodded. Ron stepped over to his friend first, reaching down to embrace him in a quick hug. Then he added quietly as he got closer, "That was bloody brilliant, mate. Did you see the looks on their faces?"

The dam was broken, and the room erupting laughter as Harry finally felt himself relax - and barely avoid being tossed out of his chair as Mrs. Weasley enveloped him in one of her patented bone-crushing hugs. This was worth any amount of gold, he decided, as she said softly to him. "Thank you, Harry, you dear boy. If you only knew what this gesture means to me, to us. It was never expected or required, but if it's what you really want to do with it, then the only thing left to say is indeed thank you."

Molly was more serious than he had seen her, disregarding the times that she'd almost had steam coming from her ears because of her temper. Harry knew that for the first time, he was seeing a glimpse of Molly Weasley the adult, instead of the mother he's always seen through the eyes of her son and daughter. She was approaching him as an adult, letting him see the Molly that her children would probably never would, simply because they were her children. Harry was a different case - although he was hers, as well, adopted into the family without a word, he was also a man in his own right. Harry guessed that they now saw this gesture as it was intended. Not as the charity they would have rightfully refused, but one of a man repaying his debts.

Fleur was, surprisingly, the next to approach him. "Eet iz a beautiful gesture, 'Arry," she said simply, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead as Bill shook his hand. "You are very sweet. Ginny, eet would be very foolish to leet 'im escape again."

"Oh, that's not even remotely a concern." Ginny replied promptly, casually tossing her hair with a flick of her head. "Not as long as he knows what's good for him."

"So noted," Harry said under his breath, drawing laughs from several others.

"Harry," Bill chuckled slightly, giving him a strange sort of glance that Harry didn't recognize as the sort of look that an older brother gives to a younger sibling that he's very proud of. "I think that may be the most words I've ever heard you say in one go. Well done. And... thank you."

As the conversation picked up, Harry embarrassedly accepted the thanks of each of the Weasleys. His face had turned scarlet enough by the end of it to remove any doubt whatsoever as to whether or not he was one of the family. Talk began to turn into something more normal and as soon as the attention was off him for a moment, he turned to face Ginny. He watched the way her face lit up as she was animatedly discussing new brooms with Ron, and suspected they'd all be making a trip to Diagon Alley to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies very shortly. The smile on her face brought a sudden thought to his head. He might not have figured anything else about his life yet, but he knew that he'd love nothing more than to try to keep that smile on her face for the rest of his life.

Abruptly, he saw Ginny's eyes flick up to the family clock, and saw her smile even more broadly.

Wondering why, Harry's own gaze followed and found that a new hand had been added. Two, actually. One - Fleur - was logical enough. She had married into the family last year, after all, and had probably been added sometime around the wedding. But the other addition, that one was the most surprising, perhaps. The slight sparkle around it suggested it had just materialized, and Harry's own face stared back at him, from a small hand between Ron's and Ginny's.

"How did it -" he started to ask Ginny in a curious whisper.

She just placed a finger on his lips to hush him before giving a teasing response. "Magic," she answered, and explained further when he just rolled his eyes in response. "We've always thought of you as one of the family, Harry," Ginny continued, and pointed at the clock once more. "What that means is that you've finally accepted it, too."

Harry's eyes went wide in astonishment at the realization. "Suppose I have." he murmured, and leaned in to give Ginny a quick kiss.

Ginny pulled back, though, a devilish twinkle in her eye. "Or it means you've decided you want to marry me. Could be either, I suppose."

A look of panic spread across Harry's features as Ginny laughed openly, and then brought her face back to his for the abandoned kiss.


Just as their lips were about to meet, however, Bill and Fleur interrupted them as they were getting everyone's attention. To the surprise of no one, they announced that Fleur was a few months pregnant. The first Weasley grandchild was on the way, and at the news, the Weasley kitchen erupted into a mad scramble of celebration as everyone rushed over to congratulate the couple.

Life, laughter and love finally, really, truly returned to the Burrow. And, looking at the smile on the face of the beautiful red-haired witch next to him, for the first time in almost eighteen years, Harry Potter felt all was right with the world.

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