A few days had passed since Harry's telephone conversation with Ron, and the thing which he had been dreading all week was finally upon him. Harry awoke in bed that morning feeling worse for wear than when he'd collapsed, exhausted into the bed the night before. Just as he'd predicted, his head throbbed with a spectacular headache due to his polishing off nearly half a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey before he'd passed out. Although the scar Voldemort had gifted him with so many years ago had not prickled or pained him in the past ten years, the insistent headache Harry was experiencing now conjured up memories of the sort of pain that he had once felt there. Harry continued to lie in his bed, staring at the ceiling and dreading what the day was to bring. It was already around eleven o'clock on a cool, bright, late August morning. In just an hour he would be joining Ron, Hermione, and all the other Weasleys, minus Percy, Charlie, and their wives, for lunch at the Burrow.
Though he had not seen the inside of it for nearly ten years, Harry had once considered the Burrow as much his home as he now did the small, cozy flat he resided in. Although he felt a pang of guilt every time he declined an invitation from Molly or Arthur Weasley to visit, he had long since been unable to bring himself to set foot inside. He knew that his ghosts would whisper to him from every corner of that old home. Everywhere he looked would be Fred, the lost Order members, even Ginny.... Just thinking of that house brought back memories of him learning of Mad-Eye Moody's death, George losing his ear, and other painful events. No, it was simply too much to bear. However, bear it he would as he had already agreed to grace his quasi-family with his presence. Just as Harry's mind began churning up excuses he could use to worm his way out of the lunch, a rapid tap tap tap upon the bedroom window drew Harry's attention. Bobbing up and down, wings flapping madly, a roll of parchment clutched in its beak, appeared to be a feathery tennis ball. Harry threw back his bed covers, swung his legs over the side, and after stuffing his feet into a battered old pair of carpet slippers, he stood and crossed to the window. Sliding the glass upwards, the feathery blur shot inside the bedroom. It immediately began circling around and around Harry's head. "Come here, Pig!," Harry shouted crossly as he snatched wildly at the ball of grey feathers that was Ron's owl.
Finally convincing the owl to hold still long enough to take the letter from him, Harry began to unroll the parchment as he sat back down on the edge of his bed. Hermione's neat handwriting filled the page. Already having a strong idea of the letter's contents, Harry sighed and began to read anyway.
Dear Harry,
I know you don't want to come today but don't even think of skiving off this lunch! Ron's parents, especially Molly, are so very excited to be seeing you at last after all this time. Truth be told, so am I! It's been weeks since I've even heard a single world from you! I am your best mate and I do not appreciate being ignored after all we have been through together. Honestly, Harry! What are you thinking holing yourself up in your flat all alone? Everyone here loves and cares about you even if you do behave like a giant, whiny prat. At any rate, I expect to see you at noon. If you aren't here, I will arrive on your doorstep and make you come, even if I have to Imperius you to do so!
Love always,
Hermione
p.s. Do try to be at least cordial to Ginny and her boyfriend, won't you?
Harry rolled his eyes as he finished reading the post script of Hermione's note. Cordial to Ginny's new boyfriend? Okay, so even he wouldn't dream of causing a scene in front of the entire family, but Hermione couldn't honestly expect him to be nice to the guy, could she? Rummaging through a drawer on his bedside table, Harry produced parchment, ink, and quill and set out to write a response.
Hermione,
I'll be there, keep your knickers on! I can't promise niceties, but I will promise to keep my wand, and maybe my fists, to myself at least. See you in a few hours.
Harry
Harry rolled up the bit of parchment, sealed it magically, then began attempts to chase down Pigwidgeon once more to send off his reply. Finally seizing him in his fist out of midair, Harry tied his note to the miniscule owl's leg and then unceremoniously stuffed him out the window, slamming it back shut as he mumbled "Stupid feathery git" under his breath. Turning toward the wardrobe, Harry decided that he might as well dress for the day. After pulling on the rumpled jeans laying at the bottom, he flicked through the hangers full of t-shirts trying to choose one that wasn't too wrinkled. Finally selecting a brown the color of bowtruckles that Ginny had once told him brought out his eyes, he quickly pulled it over his head. Flopping down upon his bed once more, Harry slipped on and laced up his worn out trainers, finally deeming himself dressed. Harry stood and looked into the mirror above his writing desk on the wall opposite the bed. He brought a hand up to his messy hair and began to fuss with the untidy dark locks. "Hopeless," he declared and then giving up he snatched up his wand and left the room.
Harry stood in the kitchen staring at the watch on his wrist. Surely it had only been a few minutes since he'd awoken. He'd watch the news, perhaps make a cup of tea to help ease his headache. He was shocked to find that it was already 11:45. With another sigh he decided that he'd be better off to just leave now rather than delay the inevitable and prolong his suffering. Walking to the end of the drive leading up to his flat, Harry looked around momentarily for any curious Muggles, then turned on the spot and Disapparated. With a faint pop Harry had left the drive of his flat and reappeared almost immediately in front of a welcoming looking house with several stories and nearly as many chimneys. Chickens pecked about the front yard, boots littered the porch, and a flower pot that had presumably once held a plant of some sort stood busted and leaking dragon dung fertilizer all over the top step. Harry smiled widely to himself for the first time in as long as he could remember. He had returned to the Burrow at last.
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