Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

“I never thought I’d get the chance to see you come of age, Harry!” said Sirius excitedly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, his voice choking with a sob. “I thought I’d lost this opportunity. I never imagined this day would come. You’re so much like your father. When he came of age, we celebrated just like this at Hogwarts. All those years have flown by in the blink of an eye. If your father could see you now, he’d be so proud.”

Harry’s coming-of-age birthday had reminded Sirius of James, and he seemed especially sentimental.

He had so much to say to Harry, all reminiscing about the past.

In that moment, sitting across from Sirius and listening intently, Harry seemed to have truly become James himself, Sirius’s dearest friend.

The others gave Harry and Sirius some space to talk alone.

The afternoon slipped away quickly, and by seven o’clock, all the guests had arrived, led into the house by Fred and George, who had waited for them at the end of the lane.

Lupin shook Harry’s hand with a pleased smile. Beside him, Tonks looked simply radiant.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” she said, hugging him tightly.

She went to sit with Fleur and asked with interest about the wedding preparations.

Lupin, meanwhile, sat with Sirius, and Mrs. Weasley brought them a bottle of wine.

A few moments later, Hagrid arrived. He had honored the occasion by wearing his best, and horrible, hairy brown suit.

“Seventeen, eh!” said Hagrid as he accepted a bucket-sized glass of wine from Fred. “Six years ter the day since we met, Harry, d’yeh remember it?”

“Vaguely,” said Harry, grinning up at him. “Didn’t you smash down the front door, give Dudley a pig’s tail, and tell me I was a wizard?”

“I forge’ the details,” Hagrid chortled. “All righ’, Evan, Ron, Hermione, Elaine?”

“We’re fine,” said Hermione. “How are you?”

“Ar, not bad. Bin busy, we got some newborn unicorns, I’ll show yeh when yeh get back —” Hagrid rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a small, slightly furry drawstring pouch with a long string, evidently intended to be worn around the neck. “Here, Harry — Mokeskin. Hide anythin’ in there an’ no one but the owner can get it out. They’re rare, them.”

“Hagrid, thanks!”

“ ’S’nothin’,” said Hagrid with a wave of a dustbin-lid-sized hand. “An’ there’s Charlie! Always liked him — hey! Charlie!”

Charlie approached, running his hand slightly ruefully over his new, brutally short haircut. He was shorter than Ron, thickset, with a number of burns and scratches up his muscley arms.

“Hi, Hagrid, how’s it going?”

“Bin meanin’ ter write fer ages. How’s Norbert doin’?”

Norbert was the dragon Hagrid had hatched from an egg during Harry’s first year, later handed over to Charlie for care.

“Norbert?” Charlie laughed. “The Norwegian Ridgeback? We call her Norberta now.”

“Wha — Norbert’s a girl?”

“Oh yeah,” said Charlie.

“How can you tell?”

“Females are lot more vicious,” said Charlie. He looked over his shoulder and dropped his voice. “Wish Dad would hurry up and get here. Mum’s getting edgy.”

They all looked over at Mrs. Weasley. She was trying to talk to Madame Delacour while glancing repeatedly at the gate.

“I think we’d better start without Arthur,” she called to the garden at large after a moment or two. “He must have been held up at — oh!”

They all saw it at the same time: a streak of light that came flying across the yard and onto the table, where it resolved itself into a bright silver weasel, which stood on its hind legs and spoke with Mr. Weasley’s voice.

“Minister of Magic coming with me.”

The Patronus dissolved into thin air, leaving Fleur’s family peering in astonishment at the place where it had vanished.

“We shouldn’t be here. Come on, Sirius,” said Lupin at once. “Harry — I’m sorry — I’ll explain another time —”

“I’m not leaving!”

“Sirius!” Lupin’s voice was filled with warning. “We can’t be seen by the Minister.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll come back later. Don’t rush to bed, Harry,” said Sirius, standing up quickly. “You too, Evan. I need to discuss the next plans. Don’t worry, I promised I wouldn’t get involved, but there are some things you must be aware of.”

The two of them and Tonks quickly left. They reached the fence, climbed over it, and vanished from sight. Mrs. Weasley looked bewildered.

“The Minister — but why — ? I don’t understand —”

But there was no time to discuss the matter; a second later, Mr. Weasley had appeared out of thin air at the gate, accompanied by Rufus Scrimgeour, instantly recognizable by his mane of grizzled hair.

The two newcomers marched across the yard toward the garden and the lantern-lit table, where everybody sat in silence, watching them draw closer. As Scrimgeour came within range of the lantern light, Evan and Harry saw that he looked much older than the last time they had met, scraggy and grim.

“Sorry to intrude,” said Scrimgeour, as he limped to a halt before the table. “Especially as I can see that I am gate-crashing a party.”

His eyes lingered for a moment on the giant Snitch cake, then on Harry’s face.

“Many happy returns.”

“Thanks,” said Harry.

“I require a private word with you,” Scrimgeour went on. “Also with Mr. Evan Mason, Mr. Ronald Weasley, and Miss Hermione Granger.”

Strange. What did Scrimgeour want with them?!

“What do you want us for?”

“I shall tell you that when we are somewhere more private,” said Scrimgeour. “Is there such a place?” he demanded of Mr. Weasley.

“Yes, of course,” said Mr. Weasley, who looked nervous. “The, er, sitting room, why don’t you use that?”

“Very good, you can lead the way,” Scrimgeour said to Ron. “There will be no need for you to accompany us, Arthur.”

Evan saw Mr. Weasley exchange a worried look with Mrs. Weasley as he, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up. They walked to the house in silence.

Had Scrimgeour, somehow, learned that the four of them were planning to drop out of Hogwarts? That didn’t seem to be it.

Could it be about Dumbledore’s will? The headmaster might have drawn one up when he knew his end was near — or perhaps he had made it long before, just in case.

If so, what might he have left them?

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