--Page 335, American Edition, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

o – o – o – o – o – o – o

"For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good feellllooowww! That nobody can deny!"

Fred and George’s enthusiastic bellowing drowned out the rest of the singers as the birthday boy’s cake was levitated out and set on the table. Seventeen Weasley Wizard Wheezes’ Golden Sprite Candles adorned the cake, shooting sparkles into the air and covering the frosting. The words "Happy Birthday Harry!", which had been expertly charmed onto the cake, blinked red and gold.

"Blow out the candles, Harry!" Ron urged.

Harry smiled and looked around at the gathering surrounding him for his first real birthday party. He still found it amazing that most everyone had made it. Tonks, Moody and Lupin had arrived at the Burrow several hours before in order to set up additional defensive spells and Hagrid had Flooed in shortly before lunch, bringing with him a plate of rock cakes to share. Many of his classmates were there as well. Neville, Dean, Seamus and Luna had all shown up, along with many of the members of the DA.

He took a deep breath and blew out the candles. Everyone cheered.

"What’d you wish for?" asked Ron, as Harry was handed a knife to cut the cake.

"Hush, Ron, he can’t tell you or it won’t come true," Hermione said.

"That’s only a Muggle superstition," Ron countered. "It doesn’t make a difference if he tells anyone or not. Come on, Harry. What’d you wish for?"

At Ron’s insistence, Harry froze. Truthfully, he hadn’t wished for anything. He’d completely forgotten about the tradition of making wishes when you blew out birthday candles. He scrambled to come up with something that wasn’t too morbid, but nothing came to mind that wouldn’t destroy the high spirits of everyone at the party.

I wonder, Harry thought, what everyone would say if I told them that I wished to live long enough to have another birthday, or that I wished Dumbledore hadn’t died. Or that I wished that I could kill Snape. He shook his head ruefully. That would certainly put a damper on things.

Ron must have taken Harry’s movement as refusal because he broke into to Harry’s thoughts. "Fine, don’t tell me," he said indignantly, but his tone was playful. "I’m only your best friend."

"Right." Harry tried to smile. "Who wants cake?" he asked, steering safely away from the depressing topic.

Wrong question, Harry realized, a moment too late. As soon as he spoke a chorus of "I do!" echoed through the room. He grinned. "I suppose the easier question would be: Who doesn’t want cake?"

"I’ll just have a small piece," said Hermione.

"Sure thing," Harry replied, passing the piece over.

"None for me, Potter." Unsurprisingly, that was Mad-Eye Moody. He sat perched on the windowsill, presumably on the lookout for any Death Eaters who might be trying to crash Harry’s birthday party.

"Alright. Anyone else?"

"Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley interjected, "let me cut the rest of the cake. You sit down and enjoy yourself. It’s really only tradition for the birthday boy to cut the first slice or two. Go on now."

Chastened, Harry relinquished the knife to Mrs. Weasley with a smile and went to join his friends on the sofa. Ron and Neville shifted apart to make room for him to sit as Mrs. Weasley continued to pass around cake.

Soon everyone had been served. Harry took a bite and was surprised to find the middle of the cake filled with gooey chocolate. Another bite and he got a burst of strawberry. Around him his friends were gobbling down their own cake.

Tonks spoke up, her mouth full of cake. "Molly, this is delicious. I don’t know where you found the time to make it. You’re already so busy with the wedding preparations."

"Well, it’s true that I’ve had a bit of help," Mrs. Weasley said. "Dobby and a few of his friends have been helping with some of the baking lately. Professor McGonagall hasn’t needed nearly as much work done up at Hogwarts now that the school’s not opening in the fall and she offered the help; I’m practically feeding an army here."

"You’ve been using house-elves?" Hermione exclaimed, dropping her fork. Harry had to elbow Ron to keep him from laughing at the look of appall on Hermione’s face.

"Well, yes dear," Mrs. Weasley replied, as she removed the remaining cake from the table and headed towards the kitchen. "They are rather bored at Hogwarts, what with no one too cook for and no preparations for the upcoming year."

"But still—"

"You going to be starting up S.P.E.W. again, Hermione?" Seamus joked.

"Don’t give her any ideas Seamus," Ron replied through a mouthful of cake. "If we’re not careful, next year we could be celebrating HEAD."

"HEAD?"

"House Elf Awareness Day. She’d have house-elves parading the streets of Hogsmeade, handing out leaflets that say things like ‘There’s too many cooks in the kitchens, free the house-elves!’ or ‘Socks today, tomorrow the world!’ "

Everyone burst out laughing as Ron imitated the house-elves high, squeaky voices.

"Ron!!!" Hermione exclaimed, but Ron wasn’t finished yet.

"And you could have Harry speak to them!"

"Cor, Hermione!" Dean exclaimed. "That’s what you need! A celebrity spokesperson!"

"Like Sidney Knowles from Puddlemere," Fred cut in. "He shows up at all of his Firebolt endorsements with a blonde on his arm."

"’Cept in this case it’d be a certain red head!" George added knowingly, not bothering to lower his voice. Harry could feel his face turning scarlet and took a drink from his glass in an attempt to cover his embarrassment. Ginny was sitting right across the table and he didn’t want--

"Ron, you’ll be sure to wear something pretty for Harry, won’t you?"

Harry choked on his drink. His eyes watered and he felt someone whack him on the back. He vaguely registered the fact that someone, probably Ron, had hit Fred in the forehead with a piece of cake. As he sputtered and coughed, trying to shake himself back into focus, he could hear the room roaring with laughter.

"Harry, you alright?" Neville asked.

"Blimey… Fred, I think we’ve managed to kill off the Boy-Who-Lived! Not even You-Know-Who’s managed that. You think we’ll be in trouble?"

"Someone’s going to be killed," Ron growled, reaching for his wand. "But it won’t be Harry."

"Oh, I’m so scared!" Fred joked. "Is ickle Ronniekins going to hex his big brothers?"

"You should be scared. I’ve learned some pretty good hexes over the last few years. Plus I’m of age now so you can’t prank me all summer."

"What are you going to do with that thing?" George taunted, indicating the wand in Ron’s outstretched hand. "Poke us? Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat—"

"George!" Hermione scolded.

"What?"

"Do you really have to bring that rat up right now? It’s Harry’s birthday party and I don’t think he wants to be reminded—"

Ron didn’t wait for Hermione to finish to get his revenge. His wand was drawn in a flash, and before anyone could move, he hissed, "Homarus americanus."

"Blimey!"

"Would you look at that!"

"What the—?"

The change was instant. Before everyone’s eyes, Fred and George began to shrink. Their skin hardened and then brightened until it matched the colour of their hair (which had receded into their heads). Their eyes shrunk and became black and beady. Their feet melded together, creating a tail, and large antenna sprouted out of their foreheads.

Ron had transfigured the twins into lobsters.

Just as the room exploded in laughter, Mrs. Weasley returned from the kitchen. "What in Merlin’s name is going on in here?!" she exclaimed.

"It does seem a bit fishy in here, doesn’t it?" Hermione quipped, causing everyone to laugh harder. Fred’s claw snapped up in an attempt to pinch Ron. Harry couldn’t help but notice a few of his friends wiping tears from their eyes as they took deep breaths to calm down.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! You know you’re not supposed to turn your brothers into lobsters!" Mrs. Weasley shrilled. "You’re lucky that it’s Harry’s birthday or else you would be up to your room this instant! As it is, I’ll be speaking with you later. Ginny, dear, would you help me take your brothers up to the bath? I don’t want them drying out." Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand and in a moment’s time both twins were flapping in midair.

"All right," Ginny grumbled, getting up and following Fred and George toward the stairs. "I don’t see why I have to do it. It’s not like I turned them into lobsters. It’s Ron’s fault."

"Just remember that the next time you try to hex me!" Ron hollered up the stairs after the twins as they were floated up the stairs under the wand of Mrs. Weasley.

One thing was certain; life at the Weasleys’ was never boring.

As the laughter died down, Harry’s eye was drawn to Lupin. He and Tonks were speaking in hushed tones. Whatever they were discussing, they both looked rather serious. When Lupin stood and began to move toward the kitchen, Harry rose to follow him.

"Harry?" Ron called after him.

"I’ll be right back," Harry replied over his shoulder.

When he reached the threshold of the kitchen he stopped. Leaning in the doorway he crossed his arms and surveyed the room. Lupin was standing by the fireplace, a large package in his hands.

"Are you leaving?" Harry asked abruptly.

Lupin spun around in surprise. "Harry! I didn’t hear you there. No, I’m not leaving until after dinner. I just came in here to get something that Professor McGonagall dropped off. Are you enjoying your birthday party?" Lupin asked, setting the box on the table.

"It’s brilliant," Harry replied, crossing the room so that he was standing next to Lupin. "It was really nice of the Weasleys to plan this."

"You know they think of you as part of their family."

Harry nodded. He smiled as he recalled the lecture that Mrs. Weasley had given him when he had arrived at the Burrow only days earlier. Now, with Dumbledore gone, he hadn’t wanted to place the Weasley family in any more jeopardy than they were already in. He had chewed on the idea of taking a room in a Muggle hotel instead of returning to the Burrow for the wedding, and he had made the mistake of saying so within earshot of Ron and Hermione. The two of them had lit into him on that! Eventually they relented when he swore that he wouldn’t take off without them, and everything had returned to relative normalcy.

But somehow Mrs. Weasley had managed to find out, because he had hardly opened the door to the Burrow before he was greeted with a scolding that put most Howlers to shame! Mrs. Weasley had made it very clear that he was not going anywhere and then had promptly cast Petrificus Totalus on him and left him lying there for twenty minutes to "think about what he’d done." The wizarding version of a time-out chair, Harry supposed.

It was nice to know that he could go to Ron’s parents for help if he needed to, even though he never would. He didn’t dare let anyone beyond himself, Ron and Hermione know all of his plans for looking for Horcruxes. It was too dangerous. But still…he had never really had that option before and it was comforting to know that it was there.

"Harry," Lupin continued, breaking Harry’s contemplation. "This may not be the best time for this; however, Professor McGonagall has been sorting through Professor Dumbledore’s affairs and recently came across a letter. It’s addressed to you."

Wordlessly, Harry took the proffered envelope. Turning it over in his hands, he ran his fingers over the lettering. His name was written there in the handwriting that he had come to associate with Dumbledore; the elegant, spirally script that he had seen so many other times and would never see again.

"I suspect you will wish to examine its contents in a more private setting."

An indistinct noise from his throat was Harry’s only response.

"He also indicated in his will that you were to receive his Pensieve," Lupin said, gesturing to the box on the table.

Harry froze. Of course he had. He couldn’t simply leave all of that evidence lying about. Proof that someone knew about Voldemort’s Horcruxes…proof of Dumbledore’s understanding of Voldemort. He would have to review the memories with Hermione and Ron before they left. With any luck, they might find some clues that Dumbledore had missed.

Concerned, Lupin moved toward Harry. "Harry, I know this is difficult…"

"No," Harry shook his head. He held out a hand to stop Lupin’s approach. "No, I’m all right."

"Are you sure?" Lupin asked. He looked skeptical.

"Really," Harry insisted. He was surprised at how much truth there was in that statement.

The truth was, he was all right. Or rather, he was better than he had expected to be. At least he was doing something, rather than sitting around moping at the Dursleys’ all summer. He, Ron, and Hermione had been researching throughout the nights, when everyone else was asleep, ever since the trio had arrived at the Burrow. Hermione’s sleep replacement spell was only a poor substitute for real sleep, and so they drank coffee to keep themselves alert as they searched. What they were searching for they weren’t sure, but anything that looked remotely useful was jotted down…searching spells… artifacts that had once belonged to the founders…potential locations of hidden Horcruxes…ideas to destroy the Horcruxes once they were found.

Hermione had somehow managed to convince Madam Pince to give her an Owl Access Pass to the library’s Restricted Section over the summer and the books had proven to be a veritable gold mine of information. Personally, Harry thought that Professor McGonagall, understanding that Dumbledore had left him with an important task of some sort, had a hand in convincing Madam Pince to part with her beloved books. They weren’t planning to leave until after the wedding, but when the time came, Hermione was confident that they would be ready for whatever was to come.

Harry could only hope that she was right.

"Very well, if you are certain…" Lupin drifted off uncertainly.

"I am."

They stood there in awkward silence. Neither of them seemed to know how best to break the stillness. Harry noticed that Lupin seemed to having some sort of internal debate. He kept opening his mouth as though he wanted to say something, only to close it again. Finally he took a deep breath and spoke.

"Would you like to see a memory of your parents?"

"What?" Harry asked, flabbergasted at the non sequitur.

"Well, I know you have precious few memories of James and Lily. I brought the Pensieve with me today to give to you and I thought... If you don’t want to, I understand."

"No, I want to!" Harry exclaimed. "I just – you surprised me, that’s all. But — of course I want to see my parents!"

"All right, then," Lupin said, smiling at Harry’s outburst.

"What memory were you thinking of?" Harry asked.

Lupin considered the question for a moment before he spoke. "Do you remember last Christmas when you said that my lycanthropy was just a ‘problem’ I had?"

Harry nodded. Of course he remembered. He treasured every story that had been told to him about his parents. "You said that my dad used to call it your ‘furry little problem’ and that most people thought you had a pet rabbit."

"Yes, well there was one time that it got a bit out of hand."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"Your mother," Lupin chuckled, "overheard him and decided to help me look for my missing rabbit."

"The one that didn’t exist."

"Exactly. It was the one time that Dumbledore –" Lupin stopped abruptly. "It just occurred to me… You do realise, Harry, that Professor Dumbledore will be in this memory?"

Harry’s heartstrings clenched as he answered. "Yes."

"And Sirius?"

"Uh-huh."

"And Peter?"

This time it was Harry’s gut that clenched. To think that Peter Pettigrew had once been a friend of his father’s — even for a little while — made him see red. But he wanted to see his parents, and for that he would gladly put up with the rat’s presence. Harry nodded.

"I know."

Lupin watched Harry for a long moment before responding.

"All right." Lupin nodded. "You know that the Marauders were pranksters while growing up. Most of the time the pranks that we played were aimed at the Slytherins, although our own housemates and Filch were victims of more than their fair share of pranks as well. It wasn’t even unheard of for us to prank a teacher from time to time. We could usually manage to trick Professor Slughorn, and we even surprised Professor McGonagall a few times. The only person in the castle who always seemed to know what we were doing before we did it was Professor Dumbledore. That wasn’t for lack of trying though! The number of times we tried to prank Dumbledore…we never did manage to surprise him."

"He must have seen right through you," Harry teased lightly.

"Of course he did!" Lupin replied with a laugh as he lifted the top off the box on the table to reveal Dumbledore’s Pensieve. "There were many times that he would allude to knowing about a prank before we even pulled it. Some veiled phrase or gesture, and then his eyes would twinkle and you just knew that he knew what you were going to do." Lupin shook his head. "But we could never confirm it."

"That sounds just like Dumbledore," Harry replied with a sad smile.

"Come here, Harry," Lupin said, beckoning Harry over to the Pensieve. It was just as Harry remembered it, swirling with silvery memories. Harry watched as Remus took out his wand and, placing it to his temple, extracted the memory.

"Are you coming with me?" Harry asked hopefully.

"I can’t," Lupin replied. Harry’s face fell, causing Lupin to elaborate further. "Unfortunately, the memories are not the only thing silver about a Pensieve. The stone basin is able to capture memories because of a varnish of silver gilded over the edge of the bowl. I can’t enter a Pensieve without the silver poisoning me." Lupin paused for a moment to study Harry. Harry’s disappointment must have shown because Lupin quickly continued. "I will, however, await your return," he said in a reassuring tone.

"All right," said Harry. He looked down to study the Pensieve. Lupin’s memory swirled around, the texture not quite liquid, not quite mist. Taking a deep breath, he bent forward and entered the Pensieve, noting the familiar falling sensation that had accompanied all of his other excursions into the basin.

Finally it stopped.

He was abruptly thrown down onto solid ground. After taking a moment to regain his balance, he picked himself up. Brushing grass stains from his pants, Harry took a moment to assess his surroundings. He had landed on Hogwarts front lawn on a crisp autumn day.