Everyone camped out at Snape Manor that night, not wanting to be by themselves, unsure if the ghost could follow them to their own homes. They felt safer together.

Harry, Draco and Ron all stayed in Harry's old bedroom. Harry opened the cupboard in the hallway, getting out some extra blankets for the others. He handed one to Ron and threw the other one at Draco. "Here, you can sleep with these."

Ron looked around the room, seeming to notice the single queen sized bed. "We're going to have to conjure another bed," he mentioned.

Harry nodded, taking his wand out of his back pocket. There was only room for a twin size bed and he conjured it beside his own. "There, someone is going to have to share, sorry," he said, indicating the small space and only two beds. Harry didn't mind at all, honestly, he wanted everyone as close as possible, considering what he thought about the ghost. But, the others might be annoyed to share.

Neither seemed to care, however, as Draco tossed his blanket on the bed, apparently intending to share with Harry.

Harry rushed through his nighttime routine, changed into his night clothes and brushed his teeth. He never shut the door the whole way, envisioning the door getting stuck like it had back at his flat. Ron had gone to use the bathroom down the hall. Draco was taking his turn in the bathroom attached to their room while Harry slathered some healing lotion on the scratches he'd received. They looked angry and sore. Harry still couldn't fathom how they'd gotten there.

Twisting the cap back on the healing lotion, Harry placed it on the nightstand beside his bed. He glanced around the room, every darkened corner seemed sinister and he pulled his blanket up tighter around his shoulders.

Draco finally stepped out of the bathroom and pulled back the covers on his side of the bed. He noticed the lotion sitting on the nightstand and met Harry's eyes. "Are you in pain?" he asked, climbing in and pulling the covers up.

"Well, not anymore, with the healing lotion. It feels much better," he answered, glancing towards the doorway as Ron walked in.

"I don't know if I can sleep," mentioned Ron as he climbed into bed. "I'm still too fired up after everything that happened at home."

Harry nodded. "Me either, I don't think I could sleep at all."

"What if we can't get rid of it?" asked Draco.

Harry didn't know what they were going to do. He wasn't sure why the spirit was there, or how it got there, with nothing to attach to. Unless, it was somehow attached to his own body somehow, Harry didn't know. And it scared him.

The next morning, Harry ran into Jensen in the kitchen making breakfast. Jensen always liked to cook himself, and the house elf stood in the corner seething at not being allowed to help. "Cella, you can make breakfast for the rest of the house when they wake up," Jensen finally told her, and she relented, disappearing with a pop.

Harry sat at the counter, watching Jensen cook. He picked up a paper napkin and proceeded to tear it into strips. "Jensen, can I ask you something?"

Jensen gave Harry a fleeting look before returning his gaze to the pancakes he was making. "Sure, kid, what is it?"

Harry tore a few more strips of the napkin before finally asking the question he was concerned about. "Could a ghost get attached to a person somehow? I'm worried, since the ghost seems to only show itself when I'm around."

Jensen removed the last pancake from the skillet and placed it on a plate. He turned to give his full attention to Harry. "Well, that's not really how it works, Harry. There has to be an object, they can't connect to flesh and blood like that."

Harry sighed. "Then how is this thing connected to me? Why all of the sudden?"

"I honestly don't know, Harry, but we'll figure it out," Jensen reassured, placing a calming hand on his shoulder from across the counter.

Feeling frustrated that he didn't know the answers to his problem, Harry got up and headed towards the door.

"Don't you want some pancakes, Harry?"

Truly, Harry wasn't hungry at all. He hadn't felt hungry since this whole thing started, but he sat back down at the counter and watched while Jensen piled a few pancakes on his plate. Reaching for the syrup, he poured liberally. He was cutting into them with his fork when Jensen joined him.

"You have a theory on who it might be, don't you, Harry?"

Harry dropped his fork, the clatter it made startling him as much as the question.

"What?"

"Last night, the look on your face, I've seen it before. It's the same look you had when you were telling Jupiter about your Uncle, and I overheard." Jensen put down his fork and laced his fingers together, propping his chin on them. "Is that what you think, kid?"

Harry could feel the blood draining from his face.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Jensen. "What makes you think it is him?"

Harry shook his head. "It's stupid, and I'm probably imagining it," said Harry, desperately not wanting Jensen to confirm what he thought. That he might be right about his Uncle haunting him.

"Whatever it is, it isn't stupid. Just tell me, Harry."

Harry shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "There was a smell," he shrugged his shoulders, it seemed so ridiculous. "That's all, but it was the scent of his cologne. I'll never forget it. It was repulsive."

But Jensen didn't look like it was ridiculous, if anything, he looked more concerned. "That is actually very important, Harry. In a lot of cases, people who are being haunted smell things that help us confirm who the spirit is. Now that we know who it is, we can work on finding what he's attached himself to."

Harry wasn't looking forward to telling his father who the ghost was or Draco for that matter. It would be hard on them all. Just when he'd thought he was done with his Uncle for good, he comes crashing back into his life as a freaking ghost.

He saw Ron first.

"You're up early," his friend said he walked down the staircase.

Harry gave a small smile. "Yeah, couldn't sleep."

"Are you all right?" asked Ron. They both stepped into Severus' study where his father was sitting at his desk.

"I've been better," said Harry, going with the truth. "Where's Draco and Fred?" he asked, wanting to tell them all at the same time.

"Draco should be down in a second, he was getting dressed when I left the room. I'm not sure where Fred is, I think he stayed in one of the room by himself last night."

Harry nodded. "He's a braver man than I," he went to sit on the edge of his father's desk. "Hey, Dad," he greeted his father, picking up a random book and flipped through the pages.

"Harry," his father gave him a look that clearly said he wasn't pleased Harry was sitting on the desk. "There are chairs for a reason," he mentioned a second later.

"Yeah, but I'm too lazy to move right now," he answered.

Severus just raised his brow in minor annoyance.

Fred and Draco both walked in. "Here they are," said Draco, they'd apparently been looking for them.

"What are you guys doing?" asked Fred, sidling up to Harry and leaning against the desk next to him.

"Nothing," said Harry, feeling the anxiety rise. He met Jensen's eyes, asking for help without saying anything.

Jensen nodded. "Harry and I think we know who the ghost is," he said, jumping right in where Harry daren't tread.

"Oh?" asked Severus, sitting up in his seat. "Who?"

Harry kept his head down prompting Jensen to answer the question. "We think it's his Uncle," he said, and Harry felt an arm instantly wrap around his shoulders.

Harry peered up from beneath his fringe, meeting his father's eyes. His dad looked angry, which was unsurprising.

"How do we get rid of the bastard, then?" asked Fred. "It's not as if Harry has anything that belongs to him!"

Suddenly, Harry got it. He knew what had happened. "Aunt Marge!" he exclaimed, jumping down from the desk and dislodging Fred's arm in the process. "She left something at the flat! I thought I saw something as she was leaving. Something silver or something shiny at least, because I saw the gleam as she stood in the hallway."

"Where exactly? Could she have stashed it somewhere in the hallway?" asked Jensen, beginning to look excited.

Harry nodded. "The couch, maybe? It's right there at the end of the hallway, otherwise there's nothing else to hide it with. She leaned against the couch and that's when I saw it, but didn't think much of it at the time."

"That makes sense to me, I suppose. Can we go check it out now?" asked Draco, looking at their father for confirmation.

"Yes, let's get this over with," said Severus, standing from his seat. He walked around to stand beside Harry, placing his own arm around his shoulders. "Would you rather stay here?" he asked, now looking more concerned for both of his son's safety. "Draco? Neither of you need to go."

Harry didn't necessarily want to go, but felt he should go. In fact, if he could, he wanted to be the one to dispatch his Uncle for good. "I'm going," he finally answered. He saw Draco nod his consent as well.

It was obvious Severus wished they'd both made different decisions, but Harry couldn't worry about that right now. "Let's go."

The flat was just as dark as it had been the last time they'd come. Harry lit up his wand with a whispered 'lumos' and used the light to look around the living room.

"Whoa," said Ron, and Harry agreed with him. The living room looked like a tornado had gone through it. The couch was flipped over onto its back; the oak coffee table was broken and strewn about the room. Everything had been destroyed.

"This is a very powerful spirit," said Jensen. "It takes a lot of power to do this kind of damage," he grabbed the iron fireplace broom from where he'd dropped it the night before. "Keep your weapons close and at the ready. You never know when you'll need to use them."

Harry hadn't left his iron shovel yesterday and had it already. He moved behind the flipped couch and started to push it back into an upright position. It moved easily and he removed the cushions that weren't already off. "I don't see anything here," he said, looking up to see Draco standing by the couch cushions that had been tossed off during the ghost's destruction. "Draco, check under those," he instructed, still looking around the bottom of the couch. He crouched down and shoved his wand underneath, but saw nothing but a few dirty socks and an old bowl of cereal. "Ron," he muttered, getting back up.

"There's nothing under here."

"Nothing under the cushions, either," said Draco. "If we knew what it was, we could accio the damn thing."

They'd searched the entire living room. "Could it be somewhere else?" Harry couldn't imagine where his Aunt Marge could have hidden it.

"We'll just have to check everywhere."

"We should split up," said Jensen. "It'll speed up the process."

"Absolutely not!" insisted Severus. "I hardly see how that is a good idea."

Jensen sighed. "You can go with your kids if you want, but splitting up will get things done quicker. And the sooner we find it and destroy it, the sooner your kids are out of danger."

Severus glared. "Fine. Draco, Harry, you're with me."

"Let's take the kitchen, then." Harry entered the dining area while Draco went into the actual kitchen. Severus just stood where he could keep an eye on both of them.

"Does anyone else find it odd that nothing has happened yet?" asked Ron, wandering down the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

"Shut up Ron, you'll jinx us," Fred rebuked.

Harry grinned, having thought the same thing. And then, as if on cue, Harry heard a scratching noise coming from his left. He turned towards the dining room table and saw one of the chairs inching towards him. Heart suddenly in his throat, Harry turned to warn the others, but didn't get the chance. The once slowly moving chair suddenly lunged at him, knocking him to the floor with a clatter.

The breath knocked out of him, Harry could only lie there. He heard a commotion somewhere behind him and felt someone grab him beneath the arms, hauling him into the kitchen.

"Harry, are you all right?" asked Severus. Harry finally noticed they were all three hunkered down behind the island in the kitchen, as if that would protect them.

"Yeah, just stunned there for a minute," he answered, glancing around the edge of the island. "Where are the others?"

Severus joined him in glancing around the corner. "Presumably they're in the bedrooms. I'm certain they would have heard the attack, but perhaps they were harmed as well."

"Should we go look?" asked Harry, noticing out of the corner of his eye Draco's appearance. He was ashen.

"Draco?"

Draco met his gaze. "What?"

"You look like hell," Harry offered bluntly. "Did something happen?"

Draco just shrugged. "Not sure, honestly, but I feel really horrible right now. I don't know why."

"Define horrible," insisted their father.

Draco shifted where he sat on the floor, looking steadily more and more uncomfortable. "It's hard to explain, but I guess there's a literal sick feeling, I'm really nauseous, and an impending sensation of doom. Something bad is going to happen."

"Well, that can't be good," said Harry, watching as Severus grasped Draco by the nape of the neck, trying to comfort him. Harry wondered if Severus realized how often he did that.

"We should check on the others," he said. "See if they had any luck finding whatever it is my Aunt left here. Or if they're hurt," he said as an afterthought.

Severus helped Draco off the floor and the three cautiously crept into the hallway. Nothing impeded them. The hallway was eerily dark and Harry was plain creeped out by it. He wondered at the quietness. He didn't even hear sounds of movement from the others.

"Guys?" he called out cautiously.

He'd been slowly walking by Draco's open doorway and a hand reached out and grabbed his arm, while another wrapped around his mouth from behind. He let out what he would later deny was a whimper as he was pulled against someone's chest.

"Hush, Harry, it's just me. We have to be quiet," Fred explained, removing his hand from Harry's mouth. Severus and Draco appeared in the doorway then, both looking worried.

'It's alright, just Fred," he pointed with his thumb behind his shoulder where Fred still stood.

Severus glared behind Harry's shoulder.

"Where are the others?" asked Draco, looking absolutely strained now.

"Jensen took Harry's bedroom and Ron took his own. We split up the bedrooms. I noticed if I was loud at all, a wind would pick up. There isn't a window open, so it has to be the ghost," Fred was looking at Draco with alarm. "You do not look well."

"It's being here," exclaimed Draco. "It's making it worse."

Draco was beginning to gasp for breath.

"All right, we need to go," Harry walked determinedly to the door. Not waiting for the others, he jogged down the hall to his bedroom. Jensen was looking under his bed when he came in. "We're leaving, now."

Jensen nodded, not asking any questions. Harry wondered what he must look like to get instant cooperation. He grabbed Ron next and met the others at the head of the hallway. "Let's get out of here."

They barely made it to the fireplace when all hell broke loose. The couch they had righted when they first came in suddenly flipped back over, nearly taking out Ron and Fred. "Ow, damn it!" yelled Ron, trying to jump towards the fireplace with one foot as the other had gotten smashed by the couch.

Harry barely made it into the living room before being lifted off his feet and violently thrown against the wall. He collapsed bonelessly to the floor, pain radiating out of his back in waves.

"Harry!" bellowed Severus, lunging towards him. Harry grimaced at the sound and then his eyes widened as he saw Draco being knocked off his feet. It was as if someone grabbed him by the ankles and started dragging him down the hallway. Already weakened, Draco could hardly grab onto anything to stop himself.

"Dad, get Draco!"

Severus looked up and noticed what was happening to his other son. But Ron had already grasped Draco's wrists and was holding on for dear life, trying to keep the blonde in the room with them. "Let go of him, you bastard!" he yelled, gritting his teeth. "You can't have him."

Severus joined them and suddenly Draco's legs went lax, as if whatever had held him abruptly let go. Draco scrambled towards them, looking utterly terrified.

Harry tried to get up, but every time he moved, his back seized with horrible pain. He grunted in pain. That hurt really badly. Fred was at his side in the next instant. "Are you hurt?"

"Yeah," he grimaced, fighting the pain. "My back didn't like the impact with the wall," he said, semi jokingly. "Can you help me up?"

Fred didn't wait to see if Harry could stand, he just picked him up, cradling him in his arms.

"Seriously?" asked Harry, embarrassed despite the situation.

"Yes, seriously," Fred apparently didn't care that Harry was turning red. "Let's go, guys!"

The air was crackling again, like the atmosphere before a storm. "Come on, he's building back up his energy. We need to go while we still can!" yelled Jensen, running towards the fireplace.

Ron flung in the floo powder and activated it. The green flames flared to life and Harry watched while Jensen and Ron disappeared within them. Severus and Draco went next. Fred, still carrying Harry, was about to enter the flames themselves when they suddenly died.

Harry looked up at Fred in alarm. "Get more floo powder!" he yelled.

Fred grabbed the iron container on the mantle and scooped out a large handful. Too much was better than none. He threw it in and called out Snape Manor, but nothing happened. It was as if it was a normal fireplace. "He's b-blocked it," stuttered Harry, suddenly more terrified than ever. "So we can't get out." He clutched tighter to Fred's shirt. "What are we going to do?"

Harry could feel Fred's heart beating erratically against his hand, which rested on Fred's chest. The redhead was just as terrified.

They were trapped here and Harry could hardly stand let alone walk.

"Let's try the front door," said Harry, grasping at straws. It was a long shot, but they could only try.

Surprisingly, they made it the door without anything trying to stop them. Harry kept waiting for a menacing figure of his Uncle to appear, but so far it hadn't happened. He wasn't sure what he would do if it did.

Fred rotated the doorknob. It moved, but the door wouldn't open. Harry felt his heart stutter in his chest. He really couldn't take being locked in. "Is it locked?" he asked, knowing it wasn't, but wanting to make sure.

Fred tried the lock, too, but it still wouldn't budge.

Harry suppressed a frightened moan. It wouldn't do to freak out, not yet at least. If he lost control of his magic again, he might hurt Fred.

"Put me down," he ordered.

Fred raised his brows. "Can you even walk?"

"There's one way to find out," he answered, wiggling his legs a bit to be set on the floor. Fred finally complied and Harry tested out his legs. Of course, they worked fine, but when he tried to hold his weight on his own, it was as if the bottom vertebrae in his back had twisted out of alignment, and he couldn't. He rested his forehead against Fred's chest. "I can't, at least, not without a serious amount of pain."

He saw the door over Fred's shoulder and remembered standing in this exact spot when Aunt Marge had visited. She'd shoved him against the door as she was leaving. Harry lifted his head. "My jumper," he exclaimed, looking up into Fred's eyes. "Can you help me to my bedroom?"

Fred looked confused, but didn't question it. He picked Harry up again and hurried down the hall.

"I said help, not carry," muttered Harry.

"This is quicker," explained Fred.

Harry sighed, but wasn't about to put up a fight about it. They made it to his bedroom and Fred placed him back on his feet. "Where is your jumper?"

Harry glanced around, honestly not sure where he'd thrown it. He kept his room pretty neat, compliments of a screwed up childhood, but he'd rebelled a bit once he'd gotten his own place. Check the basket," he said, motioning towards a brown wicker basket in the corner beside the bathroom door. He'd let the laundry pile up, so the basket was practically overflowing. "It's probably here."

"What color?"

"Green," answered Harry, dumping the thing on its side, getting a twinge up his back for his troubles, and began digging through it.

Harry saw it out of the corner of his eye. He turned and there was a man forming in the doorway of his bathroom. It was still dark, but the shadow was somehow darker. "Fred," he nudged his friend in the side, getting his attention.

When he heard the gasp, he knew Fred saw it too.

"Is that him?"

Harry nodded.

"What do we do?"

"Keep searching!" whispered Harry, "We have to find it!"

Harry was scared out of his mind. The form kept solidifying, becoming less and less transparent. It didn't look exactly like his Uncle, but the form was the same, if a bit thinner. And the eyes were rounded and black. Like he had no soul. Not that he'd had one to begin with. Harry shuddered. He didn't want it to come near him. He especially didn't want it to touch him.

"What is it doing?" asked Fred, still trying to find the jumper.

"I don't know," answered Harry, watching the figure just staring at them. If anything, that was more frightening. He kept expecting it to do something, but all it would do is stare at them with those black, empty eyes.

Then it lunged. Harry screamed as it passed through him. The breath rushed out of him, leaving him gasping. Quickly turning onto his side, which he regretted as pain lanced up his spine, Harry gasped as he looked for the figure. He couldn't see it anywhere.

"I don't see it, do you?" he asked Fred.

Fred shook his head. "Stay close, Harry."

Harry nodded, having no intention of straying away.

He started to help Fred look again, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced down and even though he could feel it, there was nothing there. "Fred," he whispered, angling to get closer to the redhead, but the hand on his shoulder slid up the side of his neck and around his throat, almost like a caress. Harry shuddered in horror.

He didn't know how to fight something you couldn't see. The hand tightened and suddenly he was being pulled backwards. Fred grabbed his legs, trying to hold on, but he was yanked free. He slid under the bed and was pulled out on the other side.

"Hang on Harry, I'll find it!"

He couldn't yell, and he knew the best thing for Fred to do was keep looking for the jumper, but Harry was terrified. The pressure on his throat increased and he could feel his upper body being lifted into the air by his neck. Despite his lack of air, he could still feel the excruciating pain radiating from his back. He just wanted it to stop. The black, void eyes were suddenly staring into his. He would have gasped, if he'd had the air to do it. The pressure increased and he knew he would die soon if Fred didn't find whatever was holding his Uncle to the flat. Tears escaped his eyes and slid down his cheeks.

A blinding orange light suddenly filled the room, emanating from somewhere behind him. The figure on top of him shuddered, looking absolutely furious. It screamed in his face, eyes going blood red, something Harry will never forget for as long as he lived. It screamed until he was gone, vanished from existence. Harry collapsed back onto the floor, gasping in long desperate breaths for air. His back was throbbing.

Fred erupted from the bedroom at the same time the fireplace sprung to life.

Still trying to catch his breath, Harry stayed on his side, honestly not caring what was going on around him. He could literally hear the room filling with people. Fred was by his side, asking him if he was okay. He could hear his father's voice, as well as Draco's. And surprisingly, Dumbledore's, apparently they'd gone for backup when they couldn't get back through the fireplace, either.

Someone touched his back, trying to manipulate his hips, and Harry was not down with that. He reached back and grabbed the hands. "Do not do that!" he yelled, in quite a bit of pain.

"Sorry, Harry, sorry!" said Fred. "Are you all right?"

Harry looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Okay, stupid question, I guess." Fred moved over so his father could take his place.

"This is going to hurt for just a second, but then the pain in your back will stop, do you understand?" he asked Harry.

Harry nodded, trusting his father to know what he was doing.

"I'm going to touch your back, Harry, all right?"

Harry sighed. "Make it quick," he pleaded, just wanting the pain to stop.

"I will." Severus disappeared behind him and Draco reached forward and took his hands.

"Brace yourself, Harry," his father instructed, and Harry tensed when he felt the hand very low on his back. It felt slimy, so he assumed he was applying healing potion or something, and then Severus spoke a word and pain erupted in his lower back. He groaned, gripping Draco's hands so tightly they would probably bruise.

Then, blissfully, there was no pain. He sighed in relief and released his death grip on Draco's hands. "Sorry for that," he said to his older brother, feeling badly. "I didn't mean to grip so hard."

Draco shrugged, obviously not concerned.

He was finally able to stand up on his own, and Harry rather enjoyed it. He saw Fred standing behind them and walked over. "You found it, then?" he asked, grinning.

Fred matched his grin, looking relieved. "Yes, I found it."

"And what was it?" asked Dumbledore, surprising Harry with his presence once more.

"It was a pocket watch. I opened it, wanting to make sure it was the right object, and saw a picture of your Aunt and your cousin in it, Harry. It took a bit more than fire to destroy it, but we got the job done."

"Thank you," he said, truly grateful.

Harry sat in the overstuffed arm chair in Severus' study, watching as his brother read a book across from him. He was obviously not very engrossed, as he kept glancing up every few seconds.

"Is it a boring book?" Harry finally asked after another glance up.

Draco sighed, setting the book on the table beside him. "Harry, can I talk to you about something?"

Harry nodded. "Of course, what is it?"

Draco shifted in his own seat, looking anxious. "This is stupid," he suddenly said, and started to stand up.

"Wait, Draco!" said Harry, standing as well. "You look stressed. If you need to talk to me, I'm more than happy to listen."

Draco didn't move, which Harry took as a good sign. Finally, he motioned for Harry to re-take his seat.

"When we were at the flat, and I told you and Dad I was feeling poorly… well, I kind of lied."

Harry remained silent, waiting for Draco to get to his point. He had a feeling it wasn't a good one, either.

"It wasn't an impending feeling of doom, although I definitely did feel nauseous. No, I…f-felt the same as I had that night, when he was attacking me in that bedroom on the third floor. It felt like he was molesting me all over again."

Harry was shocked. "What?" he asked, aghast. Hearing his brother say that, well, it pissed him off. Why did he have to make him experience that again? Why?

"You heard me," said Draco, seemingly impatient. "Did he make you feel it, too?"

Harry shook his head, slowly. "No, he didn't," he said, wondering why he hadn't. Although, at the time, he figured his Uncle's ghost was more interested in slowly strangling him to death. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Draco just sat there. "I don't know."

Harry leaned forward in his chair. "Why didn't you ever go to counseling with me?"

Draco shook his head. "I never needed it. I didn't even have it nearly as badly as you did. I mean, the little shite never raped me like he did you."

Harry cringed, always hating hearing the word.

"Sorry, Harry."

"It's not a problem. But, I think you should consider going, especially after having relived it. You've never even really discussed it, not even with us," he said, meaning Severus or himself.

"There's nothing to discuss," insisted Draco, standing suddenly and pacing the room.

"Clearly there is," said Harry, trying to keep his voice gentle.

Draco ran his fingers through his blonde hair. "I don't know."

"I'll come with you, if you like?" Harry hadn't gone to his first session until his father had come with him. He hadn't come inside the room, but he'd waited for him, which to Harry made all the difference.

Draco was silent for a long while. Then, "Maybe, if you come with me."

"Okay."

For a few weeks, Harry didn't want to stay at his flat. Neither did Ron or Draco for that matter. But, finally, the flat was back to its former glory, spotless, and Harry felt it was time. Draco had been seeing his therapist for about three weeks and was handling things much better than before. Otherwise, Harry didn't think he'd have moved back in with them. And he was very grateful he did.

"Are Sirius and Remus coming over for family night tonight?" asked Ron as he gulped a large drink from his coffee mug. They'd been in the house for two days now and everything seemed back to normal. As such, they wanted to get their normal routine back as well. Including their family night.

"Yes, I firecalled yesterday and they both said they'd come," said Harry.

"All right, do we need to do any shopping?" Ron was now devouring two pieces of bacon at the same time.

"No, I did that yesterday, too."

Ron nodded. Draco was giving him a look that clearly said he was disgusted by his eating habits.

"What are we having?"

"Is your mind only ever on food?" asked Draco, smirking at the redhead.

"Shut up, Draco." Ron was grinning right back at him.

Harry just rolled his eyes.

Later that evening, Sirius and Remus entered the flat via fireplace. They were the last to arrive and Harry was just putting the finishing touches on the meatloaf. The mashed potatoes were already on the table. Ron thought he'd snuck a bite, but Harry had seen him and smacked his hand like an errant toddler. Sometimes, Harry thought he was one.

Sirius immediately went to Harry and swept him up in a hug. They'd been away while the whole ghost fiasco was going down, making him feel awful he hadn't been around to help.

"How are you doing, kid?"

"Just fine, Sirius. I'm glad you guys could make it!" he placed the meatloaf on the table and declared it was time for dinner.

Harry watched as everyone greeted the newcomers, and grinned largely as Remus hugged Draco, startling the blond at the affection. They all took their seats and spent most of the evening talking about everything that had been going on.

"I'm sorry we couldn't be here to help you out, Harry, Draco. That must have been difficult," Remus expressed his remorse. Harry knew they both still felt horrible, but he wasn't worried about it.

"Again, it's no problem, guys. We took care of it, well, Fred took care of it, thankfully, and it's finished."

"That's good, Harry," said Remus.

Sirius wasn't as willing to let it drop. "Did you ever find out why your Aunt left the pocket watch?"

Harry just shrugged. "I expect just to make my life miserable. I don't know if she knew he'd tried to kill me. But, I doubt she'd be too torn up about it if he'd succeeded."

"What a bloody bitch!" exclaimed Sirius.

Harry could only agree.

The End

I have no clue where else I could take this story, so I'm just going to end it here. I'm just glad I finally got another story in this series out. But, the muse hit me and I had to write it. It probably wasn't what anyone was expecting, or possibly wanting to read, but I hope it was good enough.

I'm not sure what I'll write next. Does anyone watch Sherlock? On BBC? It's awesome. I've thought of writing something in that fandom. I've even got an idea. Exciting!

Thanks again for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoyed. Please let me know what you thought?

Thanks to my beta-reader Nita for being awesome!