Awakenings
Chapter 7 — The Wheel of Destruction
By Lady Alchymia
On Friday morning, Harry was already awake and in his wingchair when Remus appeared at his door, juggling two teacups in front of him and something large and awkward behind his back.
"It’d help if you closed your eyes," he said wryly.
Harry obediently squeezed shut his eyes and grinned hugely as something smooth cool and heavy was placed across his lap. A twang sounded. Harry’s fingers found strings and a long neck.
"Um … football?"
"You peeked!" Remus said, messing the boy’s hair. "Happy birthday, Harry."
Harry beamed at a handsome tan and walnut-coloured guitar. "Brilliant! Thanks, Moony!"
"I’m afraid it’s second hand," admitted Remus.
"You’d never know," Harry said truthfully, holding it up admiringly.
Although he could see it wasn’t brand new, there was barely a scratch on it. It looked to have been cleaned and polished to within an inch of its life. Harry didn’t even want to think of how many orchids it cost.
"And there was no case," Remus continued apologetically, "but I’m assured it has never been whacked over anyone’s head."
Harry laughed at that. He strummed the guitar, relishing the resonating, tuneful sound. "It’s fantastic! Thank you so much!"
Remus rocked on his heels, well pleased. "Bill Weasley helped me pick it out. He seemed to know a lot about it."
Harry tried a few of the chords Susan Bones taught him. To his delight, he produced real music. Not a lot of it, perhaps, but it was definitely recognisable as music.
"Keep that up — I might just retire my earplugs," Remus said teasingly.
Just then, Ron and Hermione came bounding noisily into the room with more presents for the birthday boy.
"Or not," Remus whispered to Harry.
From Ron, Harry received a bag of joke products and sweets, from Hermione, an intricately carved chest with layers of charmed compartments to hold his letters and keepsakes.
"Everybody needs a place for their treasures," she said fondly.
Remus went off to organise breakfast, and Hermione raced after him, determined he follow her instructions to the letter for a ‘healthy birthday breakfast’ full of fruit and yogurt. Her constant vigilance freed Ron and Harry to vanquish Ron’s magical sweets in peace.
Harry never had such a happy birthday morning. At lunchtime, he even received a guitar lesson from Bill Weasley. Heading into the drawing room, Harry and Bill discovered the twins had been busy. Balloons and sparkling party decorations filled the room, many of which spun and honked at you when you passed by, along with brightly-coloured banners such as: ‘Potterfest16!’; ‘He-who-kicks-Voldemort’s-butt’; ‘Marauders Rule!’; ‘Scars R Us’; and ‘Sooo not the Heir of Slytherin!’
"Hey! Who made up that one?" Harry complained, pointing out ‘Dementors’ Tasty Treat!’
Bill laughed and pushed him towards the piano, where his first lesson was in using the keyboard to tune a guitar. He also passed on some much-needed tips on chord diagrams, time signatures, and other basics. The Weird Sisters’ songs were still well beyond Harry, but he relished hanging out with the pony-tailed, fang-earring wearing, Treasure Hunter. Bill was just so — so cool. He never made him feel like a dumb kid. He would even invite his opinion, as if asking an equal. They were still going when Tonks arrived.
She stood awkwardly in the doorway and called out, "Happy birthday! Safe to come in?"
Harry elected to block out the memory of their last encounter (she’d brought him a present). Opening her gift, he found an old-fashioned brass door-bolt, much like the kind used on a bathroom door. There was a note:
This bolt will automatically engage whenever you are in a compromising situation.
Love, Tonks!!
Harry laughed out loud: just what he always wanted.
Dressing for the party proved more difficult than Harry expected. He finally settled on a black linen shirt and black trousers and shoes. It just felt right, somehow, subdued for Sirius — but cool, like Bill. He rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, like Bill did, and took a shot at taming his hair, dragging a wet comb through it this way and that.
"It keeps sticking up," Mirabella observed helpfully.
"Thanks," Harry grunted, pulling harder.
"It’s kind of like a peacock," she said dreamily. "I like peacocks ... all those pretty green eyes ..."
"I am not a peacock!" grumbled Harry, though his hair, at least, seemed inclined to disagree.
Before heading downstairs, Harry picked out some family photos to take with him. The top of the piano seemed a good spot for his parents and Sirius to enjoy the party. He looked for a photo of Remus amongst Sirius’s collection, and found one, but Peter Pettigrew was in the photo, too, which didn’t please Harry at all. He’d definitely need to get a new one. Down in the festive drawing room, he was just arranging his family across the piano when Potterfest16! exploded into life with guests tumbling out of thin air, broomsticks and luggage flailing.
"HARRY!" they shouted, thoroughly testing the new Charmed Dumbers installed to keep noise inside the room. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
What followed was but a joyful blur of hugs and handshakes and high-pitched squeals of girlish laughter. Harry couldn’t stop smiling. With the exception of Luna Lovegood, who was in Scandinavia, and Marietta Edgecombe, who was very much not invited, all the DA members were present, as were Fleur, Tonks, Bill, Charlie, Oliver Wood, and Viktor Krum, the latter two now playing first grade together for Puddlemere United. Everyone jumped and laughed when a loud gong sounded. Resplendent in matching lime-green top hats, Fred and George swiftly assumed command of festivities, reeling off lists of warnings and party games as if briefing the guests for a military campaign.
"Mayhem is serious business," Fred declared solemnly, pacing like a general before his troops, "but we know you’ve got it in you!"
Mad-Eye Moody just grunted and continued strolling through the crowd, casually summoning contraband alcohol from disappointed boys’ bags.
"Now, while you’re off dumping your gear," George said, clapping his hands and grinning wickedly, "we’ll be setting up the Wheel of Destruction — no exceptions!"
Groans and laughs sounded from pockets of the room.
"What did George say?" Harry asked Michael Corner over the escalating hubbub.
"You’ll find out soon enough, mate," Michael said with a wink, leaving Harry to idly wonder if he’d be needing a boat to punt through what was left of his house by the time the twins were through. He could hardly wait!
Leaving Ron to deal with the boys, Harry escorted his female guests to their third-floor dormitory opposite his and Remus’s bedrooms. The girls gasped with delight at all the exotic beds. Then they saw their drawings and there were renewed squeals of pleasure. Comparing beds and portraits, the girls were oblivious to their host, who leaned casually against the wall, beaming at them.
"Harry! Did you do this?" Parvati Patil demanded in disbelief, holding up her portrait. "It’s beautiful!"
"So’s the subject," Harry said simply.
Parvati dissolved into giggles and showed off her drawing to Lavender Brown. Harry grinned; he’d only meant the drawing showed an accurate memory of Parvati, but it felt rather cool making a girl blush. He looked on as Cho Chang dived onto her feathery swan bed and shrieked with laughter, then he held his breath as she reached up and pulled down her drawing for a closer look. A slow smile grew on her face and she rolled off the bed and came over to him.
"I just love my bed!" she said happily, hugging him. Surprised but pleased, Harry returned the hug. Pulling back, but not quite letting him go, Cho asked about her drawing.
"It’s fom the first time I saw you when we played Quidditch together."
Cho grew misty-eyed. "And you’ve had it all this time ... it’s just wonderful, Harry."
Harry didn’t think it wise to reveal he’d only drawn it a few days ago — and needed to go back that far to find a memory without her crying.
"You can keep it, if you like," he offered, "I can always do another one."
Cho positively glowed.
Angelina Johnson held up a bathrobe and pyjamas from the end of her bed.
"Look at this!" she called to the girls. "It says Dumbledore’s Army! These are great!"
The guests’ DA robes were all in assorted colours, with an embroidered phoenix crest on the breast pockets. Harry was pleased to see the girls making a fuss over them.
"Conjured for you by Dumbledore himself!" he declared, and they continued the tour, catching up with the boys on the way downstairs.
Gossip had already spread about Harry’s indoor Quidditch pitch and the guests were well-impressed with the vast room and charmed sky, but they hadn’t yet seen what was in the basement — no one had — Harry made sure of that.
"Time to tiptoe," he pleaded.
The group dutifully tiptoed after him, eyeing with some trepidation the ‘QUIET!!! Screaming banshee sleeping!!!’ sign on the curtains concealing Mrs Black. Stopping at the door to the basement, Harry double-checked its Dumber was at the strongest setting. He led the group down the stone steps and waited at the closed lower door.
"Are we all here?" he asked, in a low voice. "Can someone close the top door?" Crammed in together on the stairs, nervous giggles and whispers started. Harry grinned up at his guests and said, "Dumbledore did this, I swear, I kid you not!"
He swung the door open, flicked on the lights then stood aside for the guests to file past him. There were roars of laughter and squeals of delight as the group beheld a brand new, state-of-the-art tenpin bowling alley.
Dumbledore had set up two lanes, side-by-side, complete with scoring seats, ball return, and charmed scoreboards. The whole room had the look and feel of 1940s’ retro Americana. Shiny-red benches curved in tiers around the bowling end of the room. Harry hung back as the pure-blooded amongst his friends tried to work out how to play the strange Muggle game. Ernie Macmillan made a spectacular running-dive for the pins before Justin Finch-Fletchley pointed out the bowling balls. Hermione seemed the most comfortable with the game and tried to show the others how to play, taking several strikes in a row, but only the Muggle-related guests appeared impressed.
"Dunno why you’d wanna play a stupid Muggle game anyway," Ron grizzled, wincing as his fingers got stuck in the ball, "it’s useless." He swatted at the air. "Clear off, Bruce."
"I like to learn ..." Viktor ventured, but Hermione was busy glaring at Ron.
"Just because you can’t just wave your wand around doesn’t make something useless!" she declared, flinging her hand around for effect. She spun around on Viktor, her eyes blazing. "Here, Viktor," she said, yanking his thumb from his ball, "I would love to show you!"
The ball fell on Viktor’s foot, but he didn’t seem to notice.
Harry didn’t fancy the way Ron was glaring at Viktor’s backside and testing the weight of his ball.
"Time to go back upstairs," he declared quickly.
He held the door open for a group of the girls, and as he trailed behind half-a-dozen pairs of shapely legs, Harry found himself very glad, for the first time, that the stone steps were so steep.
Up in the ground-floor dining room, all trace of the Order of the Phoenix had been camouflaged and Mrs Weasley’s delectable party food was eagerly set upon. The food was charmed to float freely along the table giving everyone a chance at their favourite dishes. Harry grinned at Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, who were bouncing curry-pies over the head of a worried Neville Longbottom. Harry laughingly flicked mini cream puffs into Ron’s open mouth. He didn’t miss — much. Milling around, saying a proper hello to his guests, Harry spotted Susan Bones at the end of the room talking to Remus, and he picked his way around the table to greet her (and maybe even score a birthday kiss). Alas, she merely smiled and wished him a happy birthday.
"So, do you know about this Wheel of Destruction thing?" Harry asked Remus, who was enjoying one of Molly Weasley’s pork pies.
"Oho!" said Remus, licking off his fingers, "they’re setting that up already? Excellent!"
"What is it?" pressed Harry.
Remus’s eyes twinkled. "But that would ruin the surprise."
"Tell me!" Harry demanded, laughing.
"Ah, let’s just say it’s a little treat from Messrs Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs."
"It’s one of yours? What — does it blow up or something?"
"No, no," said Remus, "nothing like that. Let’s say the destruction is of a more — shall we say — personal nature."
"Would we be doing magic?" Susan asked, plucking a chocolate-dipped strawberry from the air.
"No, it’s the Wheel that reads the cravings of the group. Mind you," Remus said, nodding to Harry, "given your history ... well, I wouldn’t be wishing too hard for anything."
"You blow up one Muggle ..." Harry said, shaking his head. Drawing Susan well away from Remus, he confided in the girl’s ear, "She really did deserve it, you know."
Harry was rewarded with a satisfying giggle, but then he happened to look down. The floating melange of party food thinned, revealing a birthday cake in the shape of a large lightning bolt. He felt Susan tense as well.
"D’you like the cake, Harry?" Tonks called out cheerfully. "My mum made it!"
Harry looked down the table at her happy face and tried to smile.
"Oh, right," he said, raising his drink to her, "uh, it’s really ... uh ... please thank her for me."
Remus handed Harry a knife and lighted the candles with a flourish of his wand. The crowd started singing Happy Birthday, but Harry cut them off. Slamming his knife through the middle of the cake, he pushed the two flaming halves apart.
"Ah, Harry?" Remus said, chuckling, "that happens after you blow the candles out."
"It’s Neville’s birthday, too," Harry pointed out, beckoning his dorm-mate to join him.
Fresh congratulations poured in from around the table, and Neville blushed to the roots of his hair when his cheeks were kissed simultaneously by Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott. Colin Creevey captured the moment with a great flash of his camera, and the room sang a fresh round of Happy Birthday.
"Ready, Neville?" Harry said as the clapping died down.
Together, the boys each blew out one end of the cake. Harry sliced into his end and handed the knife over for Neville to do the same. Cheers and calls of "Speech! Speech!" echoed around the room. After thanking everyone, especially Mrs Weasley for all the food, Harry turned towards Remus.
"I don’t know how you managed to pull all this off," he said, "but I really appreciate it, thank you so, so much." Harry smiled around the room, waiting for the applause to die down again. "Now these two," he said, nodding down the table to Fred and George, "I’m very grateful for all their brilliant work in the poolroom, and for this party, but I have to admit I’m a little scared right now about whatever this wheel thingy is they’re setting up."
There was laughter at that, but George held up his hands, a butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth expression on his face.
"Harry, Harry," he tutted, shaking his head sadly, "don’t you trust us by now?"
Leading his guests back to the drawing room, Harry spied the presents on top of his piano and smiled to himself; even Dudley would be jealous of this haul.
"How about some music, Harry?" prompted Lee Jordan, rubbing his hands together. "What takes your fancy?"
"Oh, you choose," said Harry. "The song that’s playing sounds good."
"What song?" Lee said blankly.
"The Sinatra one," Harry said.
Lee gave him an odd look. "Er, Harry, mate, the music box isn’t even turned on yet."
Sure enough, there was no sound coming from the great brass-horn of the state-of-the-art music box they’d rented for the party. Harry frowned; he really didn’t like hearing things no one else could. There was some hissing in the singing, as if from a radio or an old vinyl record. It sounded like ... no, it couldn’t be ...
Following the singing to the piano, Harry rifled amongst the presents, at last locating the source: a sagging, lidded basket. Curious, he lifted the lid.
"Fly me to the Moon ..." crooned a black and white Diamond Python. Harry burst out laughing. "Do you mind!" hissed the snake.
"Sorry," Harry said, delighted, "you surprised me."
"Harry? Why are you hissing?" Ron looked over Harry’s shoulder and gasped. "Crikey!"
"Oooh! Are we opening presents now?" Parvati cooed. She peeked over Harry’s other shoulder and shrieked.
"Close the lid, boy, close the lid!" demanded the snake.
"Right, sorry," Harry apologised. The lid went back on and Harry looked around sheepishly at the gathering crowd. "Okay," he said, unable to find a card, "who gave me the snake?"
"Snake!" yelped Viktor. His hawklike eyes scanned the floor fearfully.
"Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Viktor," Ron said, smirking at the Bulgarian’s discomfort, "it’s safely tucked away."
"Yes, well, he will be shortly," Harry said. "Back in a tick."
Harry scooped up the basket and headed for the kitchen, where he set it down on the counter and lifted the lid again.
"Sorry about that," Harry started to say then looked around as Remus came into the room. "Do you know anything about this?" Harry asked him.
"Yes, actually," he admitted. "Can you guess?"
"Hagrid?"
"Got it in one," said Remus. "There’s a card and instructions around somewhere."
"Uh, hello?" said the snake a trifle impatiently.
"Oh, right, hello," Harry said to the snake. "My name’s Harry. How do you do?"
The snake rose two feet into the air and swayed a little from side to side.
"Very well thank you," it said pleasantly. "My name is Frank."
"Frank?" said Harry, trying not to laugh.
"Yes, well, perhaps it wasn’t my first name," said Frank, sounding a tad miffed, "but it’s the one I’ll answer to now."
"Frank it is," agreed Harry. "Frank, this is Remus." He added in English, "Remus, this is Frank."
Frank nodded regally to the man. Remus offered a polite bow in return. Frank let Harry pull his body out of the basket and onto the black-granite counter. His scales felt smooth and dry, but flexible, too. They made diamond patterns all the way along his seven-foot body, giving him a silvery sheen. In the centre of his wedge-shaped head were four red scales in the shape of a diamond. He was really quite beautiful. Frank’s red tongue and hazy-blue eyes were examining Harry just as curiously.
"You’re quite a handsome specimen," Frank observed genially.
Harry snorted a laugh. "Thanks. You, too. Listen, I’m going to have to leave you for a bit. Can I get you some food? What do you like to eat?"
"Ooh, a little chicken mince would be lovely," said Frank, his mood clearly improving with the prospect of food. "That large man kept trying to feed me dead rats. Can you imagine?"
Harry just grinned. He retrieved a chicken fillet from the fridge and cut it into smallish pieces.
"Is this okay?" he checked, placing the bowl before the snake. Frank sniffed delicately at it with his forked tongue.
"Hmmm, yes," he hissed contentedly.
"He likes chicken," Harry told Remus, shrugging at the quizzical look on the man’s face.
"I do," Frank said serenely; he clearly understood English.
Swaying gracefully in the air, Frank touched his smooth nose to Harry’s chin and rubbed it affectionately. A rather silly grin grew on Harry’s face to own a living creature he could actually have a conversation with.
"Harry?" called Cho from the doorway. "Oh, there you are. We wondered where you’d gotten to."
Harry grinned and beckoned her over. "Cho, meet Frank."
Cho eyed the snake briefly and with clear distaste. "Will you be very long?"
"Nice to meet you, too," Frank sniffed, sinking almost invisibly into the black counter.
"I’ll be right there," said Harry. "I just need to put him somewhere safe."
Hedwig was half-dozing in her cage when her master entered the room carrying a python. Instantly alert, she hopped out and sought higher ground: perching atop her cage, her talons curling and uncurling around its metal stringers. Harry set Frank down on the desk and addressed the python in English.
"Frank, this is my owl, Hedwig. She’s very important to me..." Hedwig thrust out her chest proudly. "She’s strictly off limits, okay?"
Frank reared back, aghast. "What on earth do you think I would do to her? I’d never touch her!" he hissed emphatically. "It’s me you should be worried about!"
Harry sighed with relief and said, "Sorry, okay then." He turned to Hedwig, stroked her feathers and said in a soothing voice, "Hedwig, this is Frank; he won’t hurt you."
Hedwig delivered to Harry a look of deep disdain and fluttered down to the desk for a closer look. She advanced cautiously, gracefully extending one taloned claw towards the snake. Frank slid forward and rubbed his head against the soft feathers on her leg. Retreating, he curled up contentedly and gave Harry a decidedly smug wiggle of his head.
"I think she likes me," he confided.
Grinning, Harry dashed from the room, yelling over his shoulder, "Be good!"
"Finally!" said Cho, pulling Harry into the drawing room. "We’ve been waiting for you to come back and open your presents!"
"Oh, we don’t have to do that right now," said Harry.
Cho smiled coyly. "It’s either that or they’ll start the Wheel of Destruction."
Harry grimaced. "Presents it is."
Light pop was now playing on the music box. Lee was listening intently and nodding a lot as one person after another gave detailed song requests. The girls were curled up on the sofas. Harry settled cross-legged on the rug amongst them.
"This is from all the DA boys!" Colin Creevey said breathlessly, springing forward like a jack-in-the-box. "Everyone chipped in, but I picked it out!"
Inside a small box, Harry found potions vials and a black case about the size and shape of a Muggle calculator. There didn’t seem to be any hinge or latch to open it up. Colin immediately launched into an animated explanation of features, modes, and speeds.
"Colin — Colin — breathe!" Harry ordered. "What is it?"
"Oh," Colin said, surprised. "It’s a Snaparrazzi 630!"
Several of the girls gasped in delight.
"A snapper-what?" said Harry.
"It’s a camera," Colin gushed, "but not just any camera; it’s got all these fantastic charms! You just tell it what you want and it seeks out and takes the photos for you! Look, I’ll show you. Hold the camera up flat," Colin instructed, demonstrating with his own upturned hand. "You need to tap twice and say ‘I want to know."
Harry did this and the camera floated off his hand. Then a large, green eye — Harry’s eye — blinked open on one side of the case. Then the camera started drifting around the room, twisting and turning, literally looking for something.
"When the eye b-blinks," said Colin, his chest heaving, "it’s taking a photo." Right on cue, the camera winked at Harry then floated away. "And there’s developing potions in the box," Colin added.
Harry was well impressed. "Cheers, lads," he said with a bit of a wave. "Love it!"
The girls came forward with predictably girly gifts. From Susan, he received a dark green sweater, "Excellent colour," Harry said with a wink. She also gave him a beginners’ guitar lesson book. It had a picture of a pointy-toed minstrel on the cover, merrily strumming a guitar.
Harry smirked at the title. "Fretful Favourites?"
"I know," Susan said wryly, "but the exercises are really good."
"Cool, thanks very much," said Harry. "I’ll try them out tomorrow."
At least he knew he’d use Susan’s gifts; Hannah inflicted a set of hair-care products on him.
"Geoffrey swears by them," she assured him.
In similar vein, Lavender’s gift was a year’s worth of haircuts by her own hand. Harry wished her luck. Parvati gave him a black, flat-leather wristband with a stone disc centred on the band. Without asking, she tied it straight onto his wrist. Colours immediately started swirling within the cloudy stone.
"It changes colour with your moods," Parvati explained. Harry eyed the moodstone warily, fairly certain he did not want to be broadcasting his feelings so publicly.
"What do the different colours mean?" he asked her.
"That depends on you," she said happily. "It’s different from person to person. It might take a fair while to get a fix on you, months even, if you don’t feel very much very often."
"Right. Well, thank you," Harry said, trying to sound sincere.
Parvati leaned in and embraced him warmly. Harry was a little surprised, but he had few objections to pretty girls wanting to give him a hug.
"Happy birthday, Harry," Cho said, somehow managing to give Parvati a chilly glare and Harry a huge smile at the same time.
Displacing Parvati, Cho sat close to him on the floor and placed her present in his lap. The camera drifted past, its green-eye winking serenely at her. Her gift was a black leather satchel, Harry’s initials discreetly attached in silver on one corner of the flap.
"I charmed it to be light, no matter what you put in it," Cho said, "within reason."
Smiling broadly, Harry hugged Cho and risked a kiss on her cheek, too.
"Thank you," he murmured into her ear, taking a birthday-boy’s liberty of holding onto her for as long as he thought he could get away with.
More gifts were opened: Quidditch books, signed posters, and various games and novelties, but it was Viktor Krum’s gift (or the note attached, more correctly) that just stopped Harry dead.
Thank you for stopping me that night.
Viktor
A shadow passed over Harry’s face when he recalled the night of the third task. Cedric, writhing in agony as Viktor, under an Imperius Curse, cast Unforgivables at him. Harry looked up into Victor’s sad, hooded eyes and nodded solemnly. Folding the note, he pushed it deep into his pocket. Then he opened the gift.
"No ..." Harry breathed, awestruck.
Very gingerly, he pulled from the wrappings a Bulgarian robe with KRUM emblazoned across the back. Blood and dirt were caked here and there — Viktor’s signature was on it, too. Every boy in the room groaned in appreciation.
"I think you maybe see Vorld Cup?" Viktor suggested with a lopsided grin.
Harry’s mouth worked up and down, but he couldn’t seem to get any sound to come out. Still grasping the Bulgarian robe, he clambered to his feet to heartily pump Viktor’s hand and stammer his thanks. Viktor stood back with his arms crossed, a look of pleasure softening his fierce face.
Turning to an equally dumbfounded Ron, Harry breathed, "Can you believe this?"
Ron’s eyes were wide as saucers. He just shook his head, his hand hovering near the robe but not daring to touch it.
"This goes straight to the poolroom!"
With cake and presents out of the way, the chaperones and older party-guests retired to the poolroom, leaving the teens to the twins’ tender mercies. Excited mutterings sounded as the boys rolled a great spoked wheel into the room and mounted it on the wall: the Wheel of Destruction! Labels such as Truth, Revelation, Song, Dance, Impersonation, Hidden Talent, Dare, Snog, and more were repeated at intervals on the outer rim. There seemed to be an awful lot of Truths and Snogs. Harry thought it definitely sounded like something his father and Sirius would cook up. He found Ron, and they squeezed in amongst the boys on the floor — the girls were already hogging all the sofas.
"Choose your victim!" George ordered the crowd, and he spun an inner, yellow wheel. When it stopped, a name in bold red lettering appeared.
"HARRY!" squealed the girls.
"And what you want from him!" called out Fred, and he gave the outer Wheel a mighty spin.
"Revelation!" George and Fred called out together when the Wheel stopped.
Harry sighed inwardly; he couldn’t say he hadn’t been expecting this.
"Make it good one, Harry, there’s a lad, or we’ll be here all night," George suggested helpfully.
The guests immediately yelled out their suggestions (all of which related to "You-Know-Who"). Harry stared up at the ceiling, trying to think of something unimportant but still newsworthy. Just then, one of the banners changed to, ‘Sooo not the Heir of Slytherin!’ Harry grinned at it.
"Hmmm," he said, casting a mischievous glance towards the Hufflepuffs. "There is something I was never terribly keen to make public knowledge." Everyone leaned forward eagerly. "There was a time," Harry said, shaking his head, "when even I thought I might be the Heir of Slytherin."
Startled gasps and laughs met this revelation.
"Why?" Hannah said. "Because you’re a Parselmouth?"
"You are Parselmouth?" blurted Viktor.
"Yeah, I am," Harry said to Viktor. "But no," he added to Hannah, a wry smile playing on his lips, "not only because of that." Harry looked around at his avidly listening audience. "This goes back to first year ..." He toyed with his water bottle and took a swig, drawing it out for effect. "The Sorting Hat was very insistent I would do great things ..." There were resigned nods at this. Harry cast a lazy eye around the room and added serenely, "In Slytherin!"
Harry could not have hoped for a better reaction. Laughter and dismay erupted around the room.
"No!" Ron breathed, aghast.
"How d’you end up in Gryffindor then," Seamus called out.
"Had a little chat with the Hat and asked it not to put me there," said Harry simply. "Then down in the Chamber of Secrets, the Hat brought me the sword of Godric Gryffindor and I finally knew for sure I was sorted into the right house."
"I wonder what Snape would’ve done to you in Slytherin?" Neville snickered.
Harry shuddered. "Give me new nightmares why don’t you ..." He looked around the group, smirking at the dazed faces. "So, worthy revelation?"
"You are Parselmouth?" Viktor repeated, still in shock.
"All right!" Harry declared with satisfaction. "Two revelations!"
"And that’s enough!" Hermione blurted in a high-pitched voice. "Harry doesn’t need to be interrogated about Lord Voldemort on his birthday, does he?" she challenged the room.
There were a few muttered grumbles, but enough of Harry’s guests agreed with Hermione to ensure the Wheel of Destruction spun its merry way through new victims and challenges — mostly Dares involving joke-shop merchandise. Harry suspected the entrepreneurial twins were not above exploiting a roomful of unpaid test dummies, and soon the teens were tripping over slinky ears, plaited nostril-hair, bouncing eyeballs, and some sticky, pink substance that might have been Lavender at some point.
Predictably, the girls were the first to grow weary of joke shop goo and mess, but the boys outnumbered them. To be fair, Ernie did make an excellent Mr Potato Head, and the girls had a good deal of fun moving his body parts about. But the challenges weren’t confined to joke-shop products. When Ron’s left nostril returned to normal size, he was dared to let Lee Jordan’s tarantula crawl inside his mouth for ten seconds (he didn’t last one). Hannah Abbott was dared to do the same and lasted eight then disappeared from the party for some time in order to brush her teeth and gargle very thoroughly. She wasn’t the only one to ‘need the loo’ for long stretches of time in an effort to evade the Wheel.
Ginny alone seemed impervious to the Wheel, though Harry did not find this surprising — none of the boys wanted to risk the wrath of so many big brothers, especially when two of them were Fred and George. The twins were at their flamboyant best, lifting jinxes only when they felt like it and relishing every cringe-inducing moment, insisting it was ‘only a game’. Harry spotted the three Ravenclaw boys tightly shutting their eyes, their foreheads creased in concentration. When the Wheel next stopped, the twins stared and everyone else laughed.
"George!" chorused the Ravenclaw boys gleefully.
George and Fred exchanged a significant look and both could be seen muttering under their breaths whilst the Wheel of Destruction decided George’s fate. The outer Wheel stopped on Snog. George rubbed his hands with glee.
"Excellent game this!" he declared. "Let’s see, let’s see," he said, making a show of parading around the room, but his eyes were kept returning to only one girl, "if the lovely Miss Chang would oblige?"
Rowdy cheers and laughter erupted, the male half of the room aggressively goading the girl to comply. Cho blushed deeply. Harry’s stomach clenched. She wouldn’t!
Apparently, she would.
"There’s a time rule young lovers," warned Fred, checking his watch. "One minute! No more, no less."
Gleeful catcalls and whistles rent the air as Cho and George kissed, George pulling the girl into him so enthusiastically her feet left the ground and she was obliged to cling to him. Jealousy stabbed at Harry’s chest as he tried not to watch, tried to tell himself he didn’t give a fig who she got with. That he had no hold over her. That they were history. That he was well over her anyway. That she could snog anyone she wanted. That it was just a stupid game. A really stupid game.
Sixty seconds never took so long. Harry was convinced Fred gave them at least twice that! Cho and George finally broke apart, George quite reluctantly, and the Wheel of Destruction spun to life again.
"PARVATI!" boomed Fred.
George still had his eyes fixed on Cho, who was blushing and hugging a pillow. When Parvati’s task appeared, Fred leered and the room bubbled with laughter — with giggles from the girls and sniggers from the boys. Fred waved a hand majestically around the room.
"Your choice of partner, my lady. Of course," he added blithely, "if you can’t decide, the Wheel will be happy to choose for you."
Parvati was not about to leave matters of such consequence to the mob.
"Okay then," she said gamely, "let’s see what we have on offer."
A wicked grin tickled her lips as she cast an appraising eye over the boys. For their part, the boys sat up alertly, backs straight, trying hard to look both impressive and uninterested at the same time. Harry, still fuming about George and Cho, was busy shredding the label of his water bottle when two well-shod feet stopped in front of him.
"Has to be the birthday boy, don’t you think?" Parvati said, grinning down at him.
The girls giggled madly. The boys pelted Harry with water bottles — not all of which were empty. Harry shot a glance at Cho; as expected, she didn’t look happy. Well, she did it, he thought resentfully. Jeers and laughter sounded when Harry accepted Parvati’s outstretched hand. With half an eye on Cho, and not to be outdone by George-sodding-Weasley, Harry pulled Parvati to him and kissed her as he never kissed Cho Chang. Snogging Parvati Patil was scarcely a chore, and their sixty seconds wasn’t nearly long enough.
"Lucky bastard," Ron muttered when Harry sat back down.
Harry smiled smugly, but his smile faded when he glimpsed Cho’s face. The ever so destructive Wheel kept spinning, indifferent to anything but the strongest cravings in the room.
Whilst Michael Corner and Padma Patil kissed, Ron whispered leeringly in Harry’s ear, "So, you and Parvati?"
Harry choked back a laugh.
"Get real," he whispered back.
Ron caught him looking at Cho, who was still hugging her pillow and looking anywhere but at Harry — or George. Saving the best for last, the twins pulled out their new Soothsayer Mints.
"Sixty seconds, ladies and gentlemen," Fred declared, holding up a mint, "pure, unadulterated truth! Ask whatever you like, but you only get one question. And let’s keep it clean, shall we? Remember, you may be the next victim!"
George spun the Wheel and stared at it fixedly. The next victim was Cho Chang. With Veritaserum now in play, her challenge came as no surprise.
"Truth!" George cried cheerfully, rubbing his hands together. "Excellent, excellent!"
Cho paled. Harry leaned forward, dead keen to hear some straight answers from her for once. Reluctantly accepting a mint, Cho swallowed and looked around the group anxiously. No one said anything for a moment.
"Do you still fancy Harry?" piped up Ron. Harry glared furiously at his traitorous best mate.
"Yes," Cho admitted, blushing. Harry spirits soared. Good old Ron!
Good old Ron started to ask another question. George brusquely cut him off.
"Only one question, nostril-boy!"
"Do you fancy anyone else?" Ginny asked Cho, sneaking a glance towards George.
"Yes," breathed Cho, mortified. Harry’s spirits sank somewhere below his feet.
"Who?" George asked at once, his eyes glittering.
Cho seemed strangely relieved by the question and reeled off a long list of names, most of whom were Wizarding rock stars and elite Quidditch players.
"What do you want to do when you leave school?" Katie piped up when Cho looked to be struggling again.
Grateful for the save, Cho described her ambition to become a Healer, itemising each of the many Quidditch injuries she’d had over the years.
While Cho was running down the clock, Harry hissed in Ron’s ear, "What d’you do that for? She’s gonna think I put you up to it!"
"Thought you’d want to know," Ron whispered back smugly.
Harry pushed him away and clipped him across the back of the head for good measure. Ron just grinned at him, which did nothing to improve Harry’s mood. Yes, Cho said she still fancied him, but she fancied lots of blokes by the sound of it! The Wheel of Destruction spun without mercy through several more party guests. Harry was deeply put out when his name appeared once again. Even worse, the Wheel wanted Truth! Groaning deeply, he got up and dragged Fred from the room.
"Hey," complained the redhead fussily, "watch the dragon hide." Out on the landing, he regarded Harry curiously. "It’s not like you to be squeamish. What’s up?"
"There’s stuff people can’t know about me," Harry said seriously, "about Voldemort and me. It’s just not safe." Fred nodded for him to go on. "Promise me you’ll Silencio me if I get asked about him. About prophecies — anything like that."
"No problem," Fred said easily.
"Look, I’m serious," Harry said, crossing his arms. "People have died. Promise me!"
"On my honour as a Marauder," Fred said stoutly.
Harry knew he’d never get a better oath than that. Returning to the party, he scanned the room warily; it occurred to him he’d rather be facing Death Eaters. Pull yourself together, Potter, he ordered himself sternly; you’re a Gryffindor! Checking Fred had his wand ready, Harry accepted a mint. He felt a familiar dizzy sensation — then nothing. Lavender, freshly reconstituted, was first to pounce.
"How do you really feel about Hermione?"
"Adore her," Harry said automatically. "Love her to bits. She’s smart and funny and has the biggest heart of anyone I know. She’s the only person who’s never given up on me. She’s stood by me through the darkest times in my life, and that’s saying something. She drives me completely nuts, but I don’t know where I’d be without her. She —"
"Are you in love with her?" cut in Cho. Harry felt Ron stiffen beside him.
"No," said Harry, feeling both annoyed and relieved to get that out of the way.
"Are you in love with Parvati?" asked Ginny.
Harry’s no came so quickly that everyone laughed — well, everyone but Parvati.
"What would make you truly happy in life, Harry?" asked Susan.
Harry was grateful for such a safe question, though one he was forced to consider truthfully. Would killing Voldemort make him happy? Relieved, certainly, but happy?
"Have my parents back." The words just slipped from his lips and the room went rather quiet. "Talk to Sirius again. Stop hearing Mum screaming when —"
Harry broke off; he couldn’t finish the sentence; he knew it was a lie. A part of him ached to have any memory of his mother, even a terrible one. The room was completely silent now; no one seemed inclined to ask anything else. Susan looked miserable. Harry reconsidered her question. What would make him truly happy in this life? Not in some fantasy or afterlife.
"A family of my own." The words just slipped out. And even though his cheeks pinked at so simple, so ordinary, a dream, Harry knew it was true. "Someone to love. Couple of kids." He couldn’t help smiling at the thought of more specky kids with dumb hair being inflicted on the Wizarding World. "Be there for them," he said simply. "Help them grow up."
There was a heartfelt chorus of "awws" from the girls — even Parvati. Harry took a lesson from Cho and racked his brains, trying to think of truthful things that weren’t too personal before his mind went off on its own again.
"Play Seeker for England," he said, and the boys laughed. Before Harry could stop himself, he blurted, "Get Voldemort out of —"
"Silencio!" Fred cried.
Harry’s throat gagged shut. When his time was up, Fred lifted the hex.
"Get Voldemort out of where?" Terry Boot asked eagerly.
Harry cleared his throat.
"My life," he said shortly. He had actually been going to say ‘my head’, but ‘life’ seemed to satisfy the group.
The Wheel spun again, and again, with Snogs and Truths that destroyed the composure of many a hapless teen and sent at least three (not all of whom were girls) fleeing the room in fear for their dignity. Then it was Susan’s turn to swallow a Soothsayer Mint. She seemed to be holding her own until Ernie asked her which teacher she once had a crush on. Susan blushed deeply and laughed into her hands.
"Lockhart."
The boys laughed; the girls sighed in sympathy.
"Fancy anyone right now?" Justin asked teasingly.
Susan tried hard to say no, but yes came out. She was still blushing and laughing. Harry leapt to the rescue, asking what she wanted to do when she finished school.
"Become an Auror," Susan said with relief. "Practically my whole family’s in law enforcement, so it’s kind of expected, but it’s been ages since they took any new candidates."
As the game progressed, Harry also came to the rescue of Hermione, Ron, and Neville. After the group had to sit through a Neville monologue on the feeding habits of his Mimbulus Mimbletonia, Harry was subjected to second Silencio until he could prove he could ‘play well with others’.
Only when all its victims had been sufficiently mortified did the Wheel of Destruction voluntarily jump off the wall and roll itself out the door. Where it went, Harry didn’t even want to know.
Lee Jordan quickly had the music box pumping out Weird Sisters’ hits. Literally. Half-sized musicians, colourful, ghost-like shades, squeezed out of the music-box’s horn and took stage, strutting like the rock stars they were, across the top of the grand piano. The sofas were pushed back and the carpets rolled away to make a dance floor. The girls were quick to start dancing; the boys were quick to hug the walls and watch. Harry was just tilting his head back to take a swig from a bottle of Butterbeer when Lavender whipped it out of his hand. Showing no hard feelings, Parvati grabbed his other arm. Giggling madly, the girls commandeered him for a succession of boisterous hits. Breathless and thirsty, Harry at last broke away from the dance floor and stumbled down to the kitchen for more water. Molly Weasley beamed at him.
"Having fun, dear?" she said. Harry just smiled breathlessly.
"Found another pair, Alastor," Remus told Moody ruefully as he joined them in the kitchen. "That’s four so far. I think we’re going to have to put an age-line across the airing cupboard."
"Were you ever sixteen, Remus?" chuckled Mad-Eye.
Back inside the drawing room, Ginny and George had their heads together over something or other, and Harry joined Ron in holding up a wall. Whilst Ron glowered impotently at Viktor and Hermione, Harry was busy working up the courage to ask Cho to dance. He’d just left the safety of the wall when George, oblivious to Harry’s intentions, beat him to the punch, sweeping up to the Ravenclaw beauty with a winning smile and a dramatic doff of his lime-green top hat. To the birthday boy’s mortification, Cho spotted him over George’s bent shoulder, and started to smile, but Harry was already backing away, as if remembering something outside that urgently required his attention.
Sitting halfway down the steps, Harry jiggled his knees fitfully. Cho did say she fancied him. That was something. But she fancied him before and everything still went completely pear-shaped. And now George was all over her. A burst of noise sounded then stopped again. Harry twisted around to see — Cho. She paused indecisively at the top of the stairs. With not a sensible thought in his head, Harry resorted to smiling at her. It seemed to work for she tiptoed down the steps to sit with him.
"So," she whispered, tucking her skirt beneath her, "just how quiet do we have to be out here?"
Harry stared into the girl’s face: her dark eyes, her full lips — so achingly close. It couldn’t hurt to just kiss her. It was his birthday, after all. Just one kiss ...
One kiss became two, two became three, and three became a fourth, which was the one that completely did Harry in. His destruction complete, all the lad could think about was how delicious the girl’s lips were, how effortlessly his fingers slipped through her silky hair, how good her caresses felt, how easy it was to wrap his arms all the way round her soft and curvy body.
The sound of Mad-Eye Moody’s wooden leg could be heard stumping below them. The teens sheepishly broke apart and scampered back up the stairs.
"You don’t want to …" said Harry, tipping his head towards the drawing room. Cho coyly shook her head.
"Insolent, headstrong boy!" cried Mafalda de Bourgh indignantly. "Just what do you think you’re doing with that girl?! In my day —"
"Sorry, sorry!" Harry shot over his shoulder as he and Cho fumbled and giggled their way through the attic’s obstacle course of brooding boxes and peeved portraits, the room illuminated by just a few pinpricks of fading sunlight through the roofing tiles. Then, through a slanting door, they stepped straight into Remus’s fragrant conservatory.
"Oh, it’s so beautiful!" cooed Cho, flitting with delight amongst all the hothouse flowers. "Who’s the green thumb?"
"Remus," said Harry. "Whatever you do, don’t ask him about his orchids; he’ll bend your ear all night."
Harry swung open the doors onto the cooler evening air. Beyond, beckoned a grassy broomstick landing-pad surrounded by a sea of roof gables and chimneys. Above, the twilight summer sun stretched an artist’s palette of pinks and yellows and blues across the London sky.
"Don’t go past the grass," Harry warned Cho, "or you’ll have left the house, and we’ll never get you back in again."
Cho skipped outside and threw her arms wide. Laughing and twirling, she tilted back her head to bask in the golden sunset. Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he gazed upon her lovely, glowing face.
"It’s so beautiful," she breathed, her eyes shining.
Harry managed a nod, unable to tear his eyes away from her lips, aching to kiss them again. After everything that had happened to them, he was still finding it difficult to believe Cho Chang was his, right here, only an arm’s length away. Catching her hand as she spun, he pulled her close, their lips met, and he was lost all over again.
The Sun was long gone by the time they returned to the party, and so, Harry was pleased to discover, was George Weasley. He and half the party had moved to the poolroom to play more games, whilst in the drawing room, couples were paired off on the dark dance floor. Finding a quiet spot to watch, Harry folded his arms around Cho’s tiny waist and smiled blissfully around the near-empty room, feeling as if all his birthdays had come at once. Twisting around, Cho melted into his arms and the teenagers made excellent use of their ill-lit corner.
After a time, they moved to the glittering dance floor, where Cho yawned happily and snuggled even closer. Harry smiled down at her. Wonderfully warm and tender feelings swelled up inside of him, more intoxicating than any love potion. In all his life, no one had ever wanted to hold him closely like this. No one — no one at all.