Disclaimer: I own nothing; it all belongs to J.K.Rowling. I’m just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Harry sat next to Ginny at the extended Weasley dinner table, staring in numb disbelief at the sight before him. He shook his head to clear it; certainly, this was a joke. Maybe, after everything that had happened, he’d finally lost his mind. After blinking several times with nothing changing, he realized he was seeing things correctly: the Dursleys were standing in the kitchen of the Burrow. If he’d been a gambler, he would have bet this was something that would never happen.

They looked remarkably out of place in the warm, rag-tag Weasley kitchen; it was so different from the sparkling, gleaming white of the kitchen on Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon’s face was purple with rage, and he was panting heavily; obviously, he’d been yelling. Aunt Petunia was pale, and her forehead crinkled with displeasure. She looked around the kitchen in distaste, and Harry desperately hoped she wouldn’t insult the Weasleys. Dudley cowered behind both parents, his hands trying unsuccessfully to shield his overly large backside. All of the assembled guests stared warily at each other for several moments in silence.

Finally, Harry rose to his feet, dread washing over him in waves. As he trudged up to meet his relatives, he had a strong desire to be anywhere else. He felt as if he were walking up to his own execution. Whatever had happened, the Dursleys were obviously not going to be happy, and he would have given anything for the people in this room not to witness the coming encounter.

"Aunt Petunia," he began, biting his lip, but was interrupted by a shriek from his aunt as the fireplace sparked with green flames. An instant later, Professor Dumbledore’s face appeared. Dudley let out a shriek of his own, as Vernon tried to shield both his wife and son behind him. Mr. Weasley walked toward them, trying to calm them, but it only seemed to panic them further, and they backed away towards the door.

Aunt Petunia stared into the fireplace. "You," she hissed, pointing a shaky finger towards Dumbledore. Harry stared at the two curiously.

"Hello, Petunia," Dumbledore calmly responded. "I am happy to see you have arrived safely."

"What’s going on, sir?" Harry asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Voldemort has launched a number of attacks today, I am afraid, including one on Privet Drive. There are Ministry people there now, administering Memory Charms. The Death Eaters never managed to get inside; obviously, their confidence in their curse breaker was overrated. The damage to the house was rather extensive, however, and is being repaired as we speak. I am also arranging for some additional protective wards to be put in place. For the moment, we thought it prudent to remove your relatives from the site." The aged Headmaster turned towards Bill, who was still seated at the table. "Bill, I am going to ask that you head over to Privet Drive now and see that the wards we discussed are activated."

"Of course," Bill replied, kissing his mother on the cheek and Disapparating with a ‘pop.’ All three of the Dursleys shrieked as he vanished.

"Why don’t we just set some extra plates for dinner, then?" Mrs. Weasley smiled, trying to bring calmness and order to the situation, although Harry could tell she was nervous. He knew she wasn’t fond of the Dursleys, but he was incredibly grateful to her for making an effort for his sake.

"We won’t be eating anything here," Vernon replied rudely. "I demand you use that…that thing and send us back home immediately." He gestured furiously at the cup in Remus’s hand that had been used as a Portkey.

"We shall return you as soon as we are certain of your safety. Certainly, you do not want any harm to come to your family," Dumbledore said firmly, yet gently. "I shall call again as soon as it is safe for you to return." With that, he was gone, and the fireplace was empty once again.

Harry could see that Uncle Vernon was close to exploding, and he was beginning to panic. He had to separate them from the others before the situation got out of hand. He really didn’t want any of his friends to witness the consequences of Uncle Vernon losing his temper. This was going to be a bad one, and he’d prefer for it to happen in private.

"Let me take you out into the sitting room while everyone finishes their dinner," Harry said, pointing his finger in the direction he wanted them to go.

Uncle Vernon whirled on him. "You! You God-damned, little freak. This is entirely your fault. Do you have any idea what they did to my house?"

"Wait just one minute–," Mr. Weasley said angrily, but Uncle Vernon wasn’t listening to anyone at this point.

He spun to face Aunt Petunia, who flinched in anticipation of his words. "I told you all those years ago that we should never have brought it in the house, didn’t I? Didn’t I?"

He rounded back on Harry and began stalking towards him. "You’ve brought nothing but trouble since the day they left you on our doorstep, and I’ve had enough."

Harry knew what was coming, as Uncle Vernon drew his hand back and swung with all his might towards Harry’s head. He quickly ducked and moved to the side, drawing his wand on his Uncle. His hand shook as he held it there, and he was intensely aware of all the eyes in the room staring at him in shock. Could this have gotten any worse? Very quietly, he said to his Uncle, "This isn’t summer break, and I’m perfectly capable of using this. Keep your hands to yourself, and let’s go in here so we can talk about it."

Harry was beyond embarrassed that they had all witnessed this, and he refused to meet anyone’s gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Mr. Weasley restraining Mrs. Weasley in her chair. The look of fury on her face was intense enough to melt an iceberg. He followed the Dursleys into the sitting room, aware of their fearful eyes on his wand. Remus followed them in, and Harry turned to face him. Still keeping his eyes on the floor, he said, "Let me just talk to them a minute. It would be better if we keep them separated from the Weasleys while they’re here."

Remus put his fingers on Harry’s chin and forced him to raise his head until they were staring at one another. Harry kept trying to avert his eyes, but Remus remained quiet until Harry looked at him. There was an odd, very sad look on his face that Harry couldn’t read. He knew how to handle the Dursleys -- he’d been doing it for years -- but he didn’t want Remus to watch and wished he’d just leave the room.

"I’m not going anywhere," he stated firmly, seeming to read Harry’s mind.

Harry could see that arguing would do him no good, especially since he wanted this over with as quickly as possible. Turning around to face the Dursleys, he said, "I’m very sorry about the damage to the house, but Professor Dumbledore will take care of it. I promise you, when you go home, you won’t notice any difference."

"No, it’s your fault." Uncle Vernon raged.

"This isn’t the Weasleys’ fault," Harry continued as if he had never been interrupted, "so please don’t take it out on them. You don’t have to eat with them, but please just be civil. It’s Christmas."

"You were a friend of hers, weren’t you?" Aunt Petunia suddenly asked Remus.

"Do you mean your sister?"

"My sister was dead to me long before she got herself blown up," Aunt Petunia screeched, and Harry cringed at the silence that descended upon the other room. He wished he could crawl in a hole and hide. Why, oh why, do they all have to witness this?

Remus’s face had paled considerably, and his jaw set in anger. "I see."

Harry put a restraining hand on Remus’s arm. "Yes, Aunt Petunia," he said quietly. "Just have a seat, and we’ll see how it’s going." He wanted to separate his aunt and Remus before anything else was said. He was horrified to see Mrs. Granger entering the room. She walked with Hermione’s purposeful stride and took a seat with the Dursleys.

"Hello, I’m Jane Granger. My daughter goes to school with your nephew. My husband and I are dentists; we have a practice in Cardiff, and were just as shocked as you must have been to discover this whole world of magic."

Harry thought Uncle Vernon was going to leap out of his seat upon hearing the M-word, but Mrs. Granger seemed to calm them. She was dressed sophisticatedly and had an air of affluence about her that the Dursleys were certain to be drawn. He could already see Aunt Petunia sitting up more primly and adjusting her skirt, as Uncle Vernon puffed out his chest. When Mr. Granger entered, Uncle Vernon actually stood and shook hands with him. Harry let out a deep sigh of relief, silently thanking Hermione for being Muggle-born. "I’d like you to meet my husband, Herman," Mrs. Granger said graciously.

Remus leaned over and whispered in Harry’s ear, "Why don’t we leave the Muggles to talk and go and have our dinner?"

The reality of the situation rose up and bit Harry on the arse. He really didn’t want to face the Weasleys right now, but he couldn’t think of a good excuse to get around it. Once again, Remus forced him to raise his head. "Harry, you have nothing to feel ashamed over. Your uncle’s behavior is not your fault."

Harry swallowed but didn’t answer, as Remus guided him back into the kitchen. He pulled back but was stopped by Remus’s chest, as all eyes turned to them when they entered the room. Remus ran his hand up and down Harry’s arm in reassurance and moved him forward. He flinched as his scar burned painfully, but managed to avoid crying out as he made his way back towards his empty chair. The others were having pudding, but his dinner remained where he’d left it. Ginny smiled at him as he sat, and he saw the concern in her eyes. He braced himself, waiting for the questions to start, but she just leaned over and said, "We put a Warming Charm on your plate so it wouldn’t get cold."

Harry didn’t think he’d ever been more grateful to her for anything in his life than he was right then for holding her silence. "Thanks," he muttered, allowing his teeth to unclench. He really wasn’t hungry anymore, so he picked up his fork and pushed the food around on his plate.

"This looks delicious, Molly." Remus said, seating himself in front of his own warmed plate. "I had to leave Tonks’s family in a hurry when I got the call and never got to eat my dinner."

Harry kept his gaze on his plate; he knew if he caught Hermione’s eyes, she’d be bursting with questions. He hoped Dumbledore would reappear in the fireplace before the Dursleys had to stay here too long. There was no way either the Dursleys or the Weasleys could keep this up for long.

As if on cue, Uncle Vernon bellowed from the other room, "Boy!"

Harry got up quickly and made his way there before he could yell anything else. Dudley stood next to his father with a panicked look on his face. "Yes, Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked.

"Show Dudley where the loo is. I assume you people use bathrooms?" he barked and turned his back on both boys, as he returned his attention to Mr. Granger. Uncle Vernon never even registered the appalled look on the other man’s face.

Harry resisted the urge to snap back; he wanted to keep things quick and quiet, he kept reminding himself. "Follow me," he said to Dudley, clenching his fists.

Dudley waddled behind him, trying to keep his rear out of view from any of the other houseguests. There was a bathroom directly off from the kitchen, so Harry sent him in there and returned to his seat to play wearily with his food.

"Are you all right, Harry, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly. Her face was red, and he knew from experience that she was close to losing her temper. He saw Remus send her a warning glare but ignored both of them.

"I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley, I’m just not very hungry."

Ginny reached beneath the table and grasped Harry’s hand in her own, gently squeezing his fingers.

The bathroom door opened, and Dudley stepped out, freezing in place as all eyes turned his way. Harry braced himself for what was coming, but Dudley didn’t say anything; he just stood there, staring at all the sweets scattered across the table. Harry had to hide his grin; he could easily imagine Dudley’s internal struggle over his desire for the pudding compared to his fear of the Wizards at the table.

Mrs. Weasley noticed his roving eye and asked coolly, "Would you like some pudding, Dudley?"

Dudley nodded and cautiously made his way over to the table. He sat down on the other side of Harry, where Mr. Granger had been. Harry watched him look at the others in the room cautiously, his gaze lingering on Ginny and her hand clasped within Harry’s.

Mrs. Weasley brought over a plate filled with a variety of samplings and placed it in front of Dudley. "There you are, Dudley. I’m not certain what your favorites are."

Dudley picked up a fork, than stopped midway to the plate, his eyes fixed in horror on the twins, both of whom were smirking back at him. Fred gave him a tiny, almost imperceptible mock salute.

Harry’s mind flashed back to the Ton-Tongue Toffee incident with pleasure, and he had to cover a laugh. "It’s fine, Dudley. They had nothing to do with making dinner," Harry assured his cousin. Maybe if Dudley could just relax a minute, he’d see they were really no different from anyone else and could be a lot of fun. And maybe Voldemort will send me a Christmas present.

Dudley began eating slowly, but soon warmed to the taste and began shoveling a bit of everything he could find into his mouth. In between bites, he looked over at Harry and asked, "So what did you do now?"

Harry looked over at Dudley. The question was fair enough; he supposed he did deserve some answers. Harry was about to reply when Ron stood up. "Hey. He didn’t do anything; this isn’t his fault."

Dudley looked over at Ron. "It’s always his fault. This is the second house he’s lived in that he’s got blown up. Fortunately, none of us died this time. Why were they at our house when you weren’t even there?"

"I suppose they thought I had come back there for Christmas," Harry said quietly, hoping Ron wouldn’t explode again. He could see the frozen expressions on the others, stunned by the words coming from Dudley’s mouth.

"You’re never there at Christmas. Dad thinks you’re going to get us all killed, too; he’s not going to let you come back."

Harry flinched before taking a deep breath; he only wished it were that simple. They would be much safer without him, but he didn’t think Dumbledore would see it that way. Ron had stood up again and was rounding on Dudley menacingly. "I told you it isn’t his fault. He’s the one they’re after, in case you hadn’t noticed."

"Oh, I noticed, all right," Dudley yelled back. "I noticed when those Dementoid things came after me just because he was with me."

Harry supposed Dudley’s sudden bout of courage came from seeing Ron as just another kid, not a wizard…that and the pudding. "Ron, it’s a fight you can’t win. Let it go," Harry said quietly. He didn’t count on Ginny, Hermione, Fred, and George all picking up where Ron left off.

He heard each of the twins loudly voicing their opinion, which exactly matched Ron’s; Hermione was lecturing on the fact that it was a Ministry official who was technically at fault; but it was Ginny’s strong, angry voice he heard loudest of all. "If you noticed the Dementors, than maybe you should have also paid proper attention to what happened after they arrived. If it weren’t for Harry, you wouldn’t even be here right now. He saved your sorry arse, and from what I’ve seen, I couldn’t blame him if he’d left you to them."

Harry watched her in amusement. Her face was red with anger, and she had her hands on her hips as she stood in front of Dudley. She was petite, but seemed to grow ten feet in her fury, and she had never reminded Harry more of Mrs. Weasley than she did at that moment. Dudley seemed to lose a lot of his swagger by being outnumbered, and he shrank back as Uncle Vernon came storming into the kitchen to see what was the matter. Aunt Petunia and the Grangers followed closely on his heels.

Dudley jumped up and ran behind his father. "Dad, Harry made them attack me."

This had been one of Dudley’s more common methods of getting Harry in trouble when they were children, and Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. Despite the fact he wanted nothing more than to get the Dursleys out of here and away from the Weasleys, he’d had enough. This day just couldn’t get any worse.

"No one is attacking you, Dudders; just a disagreement, is all it is," he said calmly.

Uncle Vernon had been looking for an excuse to lose his temper all along. "I will not take any more of this. Petunia, we’re leaving; let’s go." He stalked towards the door and yanked it open. Petunia and Dudley followed him meekly, as Harry sighed in resignation. Mr. Weasley jumped up and was about to follow when Harry grabbed his arm. "Let me do it, Mr. Weasley; they won’t listen to you."

He seemed about to protest when Harry turned to face them all, looking into their eyes for the first time since the Dursleys’ arrival. "Look, I know you’re all trying to help, and I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am, but I really do know the best way to handle them. Just let me, okay?"

He turned and walked out the door, seeing the three figures of the Dursleys marching towards the road. He had to grin; they’d never be able to handle the walk into town. In all the time he’d been living with them, he’d never seen them walk further than out to the car in the drive. He should just let them go and bring them back after they’d sat down in the road, waiting to be rescued.

"Aunt Petunia, wait," he called. He easily caught up with them, despite the fact they’d kept walking, but froze in horror as multiple ‘pops’ suddenly filled the air. Aunt Petunia shrieked as the black-robed and masked Death Eaters turned towards them. Harry counted seven dark figures as he drew his wand. The first Death Eater blasted a slicing curse at the four of them, while the other Death Eaters ran towards the house. "Diffindo!"

"Harry, duck!" he heard Ginny’s voice yell, and he quickly obeyed as she fired a curse over his head towards the Death Eater who was coming up behind him. He quickly raised one of the defensive shields Tonks had taught him around himself. Ginny reached him, staring in horror at his blood-covered chest and face. "Are you okay?" she questioned tentatively, her eyes moving over him rapidly, unable to find the wound.

"It’s not my blood," he replied curtly. "You cover my back, I’ll cover yours. We’ve got to get back inside so you can Floo out of here."

"So we can Floo out of here, Harry. It’s you they’ll be after once the idiots catch on to the fact that you’re here."

She was right. Harry hadn’t really registered it, but none of the Death Eaters had called him by name or taken any more notice of him compared to the others. He decided now was as good a time as any to try his Legilimency skills to see if he could learn anything. He and Ginny stood back-to-back, wands at the ready. He tried to close his mind off to the sounds echoing around him and concentrate only on what was in his head.

His senses seemed to kick into overdrive as random bits of thoughts and, more acutely, feelings assaulted him from all sides. Fear. Anger. Hate. Fun - someone was enjoying this. The thoughts and feelings were quite intense and far too jumbled for him to determine where they originated. Harry felt light headed and nauseous, and he stumbled against Ginny, using her back to support some of his weight.

"Are you okay?" she demanded, firing off another curse as she guarded his back. Harry replied affirmatively and decided this wasn’t the place to test the Legilimency. Even if he learned something, he’d never be able to tell where it came from, and, besides that, he couldn’t afford to pass out now.

"Ginny, your mum needs some help," Harry cried, seeing Mrs. Weasley trying to defend the Grangers, who were obviously terrified and unsure what to do. Harry covered Ginny as she made her way back over to her mother’s side. He silently prayed that Mrs. Weasley would force her into the Floo and back to Grimmauld Place. He had no doubt that Ginny could handle herself and was good in a fight, but he also couldn’t help his desire to see her safely away from here. Not certain if he could do it, he tried to extend his own shield to cover her until she reached her mother. He could detect a faint blue glow around her and hoped he’d succeeded.

Mr. Weasley had made his way over to Uncle Vernon and Dudley and was trying to cover them as best he could. Both were panicking and trying to get away. Harry grabbed Aunt Petunia under the arms and dragged her over towards the shed, trying to find some cover. He suddenly felt very guilty for wanting her gone from here just a few minutes before. He looked up as he heard Hermione cry as she leaned over her collapsed father. Ron was beside her, doing his best to shield both of them. It was chaos.

Remus sprinted across the yard, dodging curses as he ran to get to Harry. Before he could speak, an explosion burst from the kitchen, and green flames immediately erupted from the windows of the Burrow. There went their Floo escape. One of the Death Eaters shouted "Morsmordre," and the Dark Mark rose above the Burrow. Harry suspected the intent had been to cause damage, and whoever fired it had got lucky by blocking their escape in the process. He felt sick from seeing the nauseating image of the skull rising above a place he’d always thought of as his real home. Someone is going to pay for this.

He noticed Charlie Disapparate and assumed he was going for help. Remus was tending to Aunt Petunia, as the Death Eater whom Harry had stunned regained consciousness and moved in from behind. Calling on all his Martial Arts training, Harry delivered a roundhouse kick to the man’s midsection, doubling him over. He proceeded to vent some of his rage and frustration, delivering blow after blow until the man dropped to the ground. "Stupefy," Harry snarled, knocking him out again.

Suddenly, Harry recognized a voice he hadn’t heard in nearly two years. "Potter’s here. You have your orders; forget the Muggles."

A black rage rose in Harry’s heart. It wasn’t right that he should still be alive, that he should be here at all. "Wormtail," he spat.

The balding little man seemed to lack his former meekness, and he smiled cruelly at Harry. "We meet again. The Dark Lord wishes to speak with you."

A loud rumbling filled the air, and the ground shook beneath them. Some of the walls of the Burrow came down, as great flames soared up towards the sky. Harry had to turn his face from the intense heat. It was at this moment of uncertainty that Peter sprang towards Remus, wrapping his hand around his old friend’s throat. Remus grabbed Wormtail’s arm with both hands and was trying to pry it off, when his body suddenly went rigid, and he appeared to be choking. Wormtail let go, and Remus staggered several paces before falling to the ground, his body curling up in intense pain. Wormtail leaned over him and wrapped his hand around Remus’s throat once again.

Harry stared in confusion, uncertain what was happening until an image of the graveyard in Little Hangleton flashed before his eyes. Voldemort had replaced the hand Wormtail had cut off with a silver one. The way to kill a werewolf was with silver…

"Nooooo," Harry screamed, launching himself at Wormtail and dragging him off Remus’s body. A rage like he had never known before exploded in Harry. This man was responsible for Harry losing every important parental figure in his life; he wouldn’t take Remus, too. For the first time in his life, Harry thought he felt enough hatred to kill.

Wormtail grabbed onto Harry’s wrist and started to reach for something inside his robes. Harry suspected Wormtail had a Portkey and knew he couldn’t allow himself to be taken. He used his Martial Arts skills to raise his body off the ground and kick out at Wormtail, who was forced to release Harry’s wrist before the Portkey carried him away.

Other members of the Order were Apparating in, and, seeing they were outnumbered, the remaining Death Eaters Disapparated away. A final, brilliant explosion of sickly green rocked the ground as the Burrow collapsed in on itself, sending soot and debris flying into the air all around them. Harry felt a sharp thump of pain on the back of his head, and he knew no more.

A/N: Ducks any flames that might be coming my way. Sorry for the evil cliffy, but…ending it worked here.

I got a few questions asking if I was going to have Harry and Ginny go any further than snogging. The answer is no. There is one more heavy snogging session that I can think of that gets carried away, but as I remember sixteen, sometimes the hormones are more in control than the brain. Harry is sixteen, Ginny still fifteen; I’m not comfortable with them going any further than a good snog. I’m not comfortable with it in the Muggle world, and I think the Wizarding world is much more old fashioned.

As for James being a Seeker or a Chaser, the editors at the Lexicon say that although James played with a Snitch in Book 5, it’s easier to impress the girls with a Snitch than with a Quaffle. Until JKR comes out and states definitively, they’re staying with her word that James was a Chaser.

Thanks to my betas, Mistral and ChaoticK, for all their hard work, and repeadedly fixing my punctuation mistakes. I’ve gotten better about the exclamation points, thought, right?