The Years of Riddle

Chapter Sixty-Three | The Burrow, July 31, 1997

Chapter Sixty-Three

The Burrow, July 31st 1997

         As he had for countless years, Silas climbed over the hill that separated his home and the Weasley's. He could see the flag of the marquee for the wedding the higgledy-piggeldy house. He remembered that first evening he and Inesa had visited, when there were only two floors; none of them were married, had children – though they weren't far off at that point, in 1966 – and he had just confirmed with his Anthony that Tom Riddle was his biological father. Silas could still remember the heartbreak and weariness on Anthony's face.

Approaching the back garden, he waved at Molly as she spotted him through the kitchen window. As Harry's birthday dinner would have stretched the Burrow's kitchen to breaking point even before the arrival of Charlie, Lupin, Tonks, and Hagrid, several tables were placed end to end in the garden. Fred and George bewitched a number of purple lanterns, all emblazoned with a large number 17, to hang in midair over the guests. Thanks to Mrs. Weasley's ministrations, George's wound was neat and clean, but Silas was not yet used to the dark hole in the side of his head, despite the twins' many jokes about it. Hermione made purple and gold streamers erupt from the end of her wand and drape themselves artistically over the trees and bushes.

Entering the kitchen, he opened his arms for Molly, and kissed her cheek; she looked worn out, and he hugged her tightly. "Don't forget to breathe," he reminded her gently, and she let out a long sigh.

"I'm glad you're here," her brown eyes were concerned, and he gave her a final pat on the shoulders.

"I'm always around."

She nodded, looking a little less worried. "Harry's somewhere, out in the garden I'd assume..." she gave him a gentle push, sending him out into the garden. He spotted Harry standing by the table, and waved. "Happy Birthday," he said, handing over a small parcel. "Don't open it now, when you have a moment."

Harry gave him a curious look, but shrugged. "Thanks Silas."

"It's no trouble. Remember, Dumbledore told me almost everything." He tried to portray meaning into the pointed look he gave the teen, and Harry nodded.

Just then, Molly came out of the house, "Out of the way, out of the way!" she sang, coming through the gate with what appeared to be a giant, beach-ball-sized Snitch floating in front of her. Seconds later Silas realized that it was Harry's birthday cake, which Mrs. Weasley was suspending with her wand, rather than risk carrying it over the uneven ground. When the cake had finally landed in the middle of the table, Harry said, "That looks amazing, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it's nothing, dear," she said fondly.

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. Hagrid had honoured the occasion by wearing his best, and horrible, hairy brown suit. Although Lupin smiled as he shook Silas' hand, Silas thought he looked rather unhappy. It was all very odd; Tonks, beside him, looked simply radiant.

"Happy birthday, Harry," she said, hugging him tightly.

"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', Ron, Hermione?"

"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 — Here, Harry — couldn' think what ter get yeh, but then I remembered this." He pulled out a small, slightly furry drawstring pouch with a long string, evidently intended to be worn around the neck. "Moleskin. Hide anythin' in there an' no one but the owner can get it out. They're rare, them."