The days passed and spring turned into summer. George returned to the shop, Mr. Weasley went back to the Ministry, and Percy spent most of his time at Hogwarts. Harry had not mentioned to anyone what he had heard Percy say to Fred. He suspected, sometimes, that others had also made their way up to the meadow. Seeking—perhaps a visit with their brother or son, or just some time alone to think.
The kitchen at the Burrow was always busy, but that year on July thirty-first, with the stack of presents on the table, it seemed fuller than ever. So Harry, Ron, Ginny, George, and Charlie had gone out to the Quidditch pitch in the back field to get out of the stuffy house. Hermione had point blankly refused to join them when she was asked, saying that she would like to celebrate Harry’s birthday with her body in one piece.
Neither Harry nor Ron was used to holding a Quaffle, and the results were entertaining.
"What’s the matter with you three?” shouted Charlie from one of the goal posts. “You’re letting a girl beat you?”
It was true; Ginny was terrific on her broom. She seemed to have practiced a lot, and looked great. However, neither of them would ever admit it to her.
“It’s not my fault,” complained Harry. “This damn broom is terrible.”
The Cleensweep he had borrowed from George had certainly seen better years. And with either Fred or George using it for seven years at Hogwarts, Harry was sure that even his Firebolt wouldn’t look too great.
Ginny smirked. “Oh sure, Harry, blame it on the broom. We all know that you’re a terrible flyer, you don’t have to make excuses!” she called down the pitch, her red hair flying in the wind.
“Oh yeah?” replied Harry, before darting after her.
“Think you can catch me, Potter?” cried Ginny with glee, as she tore around one of the goal posts, Charlie, George, and Ron watching with amused expressions.
The entire afternoon was spent playing Quidditch. The boys had decided to gang up on Ginny, but even still, the four of them were no match for her. Her aim was amazing, and how she could make that little broom go so fast—Harry would never know.
“Reckon she’s been practicing,” said George, as they made their way back to the Burrow, looking dismally defeated.
Ginny just laughed. “Come on, boys. It’s somebody’s birthday, remember?"
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That evening, all the Weasleys seemed to be in attendance for Harry’s eighteenth birthday party. Even Bill and Fleur were there.
Harry stared down at the cake, which Mrs. Weasley had made from scratch. She seemed to have outdone herself this year. Covered in white icing and with red stars, with a big “Happy 18th, Harry” in the middle, this cake was even bigger and better than last year.
Harry cut the cake to applause, before they all began filling up with delicious food. After the cake he turned to the pile of presents, now in front of him.
He received new quills, ink and parchment from Hermione, who thought that it was highly unlikely that the Dursleys would send him his old ones he had left behind.
“Now you won’t have to buy any for the new school year,” she said grinning.
Harry smiled. Hermione had already announced that she was returning to Hogwarts for her seventh year –Harry and Ron, however, had yet to decide. Indeed, the idea of another year of school seemed to frighten Ron.
From Ron, he opened a somewhat more satisfactory gift than Hermione’s, though he didn’t dare say so.
“Thanks, Ron, I love Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans,” said Harry.
“No problem, mate,” said Ron leaning over to grab a handful from the box.
From Charlie he received a new set of Gobstones, from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, a big box of homemade fudge; a box of Weasley Wizard Wheezes from George, and from Percy a book called, An Advanced Wizards Guide to Transfiguration .
“I thought it might come in useful,” called Percy, across the room. “In case you decide to return to Hogwarts for a seventh year.”
Percy seemed to think that Harry’s look of disgust was a smile, and looked very pleased with his gift, obviously thinking it was the most sensible one of all.
Bill and Fleur had bought him a new set of very nice looking dress robes.
“We figured you might need new ones, considering how much taller you’ve gotten since the Yule Ball,” said Bill.
Finally there was one present to open. It was from Ginny, and looked strangely familiar. As Harry unwrapped the long present he gasped.
“Ginny, where did you—how did you— ”
Ginny laughed, “Before you get too excited, I didn’t buy it. Dad and I went to the Ministry, and they found your broom. After the battle, some of the employees were sent out to inspect the areas where, Mad-Eye and a number of Death Eaters fell. I guess they were looking for bodies or something. Anyway, they found your broom, and I asked them if I could return it to you—” but she was cut off by Harry, who was now hugging her so tight that she could barely breathe.
“Thanks Ginny,” whispered Harry.
“Hey,” she said laughing. “At least now we don’t have to listen to you complain about your broom. There are no excuses now!”
“There definitely aren’t,” laughed Harry.
He looked around the rest of the room. “Thanks everyone, the gifts are brilliant.”
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That evening, as Harry looked happily at his new gifts, he happened to catch sight of a very strange shape outside his window.
When Harry opened it, he realized that it was an owl. However, he had never seen this owl before. It wasn’t Pigwidgeon, or any of the other Weasley family owls, nor was it one of the handsome tawny owls from Hogwarts. Wondering who would be sending him something at this time of night, he untied the package from the leg of the owl, and gave it some water before it ruffled its feathers and flew off into the night.
Now very curious, Harry started to open the box. At the top of it was a note.
Dear Harry,
Happy Birthday! I meant to give you this last year, but then Tonks and I had to leave, and I never ended up giving you it.
After you came and talked to us in the fireplace during your fifth year, Sirius and I realized that you didn’t know hardly anything about your parents, and so we started this little project.
We contacted some old friends and started to make a collection of ours and others' memories of your parents and of the Marauders in general.
After Sirius died I didn’t have the heart to give it to you for your sixteenth, so instead I continued getting as many memories of your parents as I could. I hope you can enjoy these memories of your parents, as much as Sirius and I enjoyed being their friends. Think of it as being seventeen years of gifts from two old friends.
Have a wonderful birthday.
Remus.
Harry Potter: The Following Year by ginnygirl16
Chapter Notes: Thanks again to the wonderful RCC!
Chapter Endnotes: There you go! Hope you enjoyed it. Might I ask a favor of you? Please, please, please review! All of them will be responded to, and I love to hear your opinions!
--ginnygirl16