The doorbell rang on the morning they'd agreed to meet.
"Kevin! Hermione!"
Harry and Ron's voices came through the door before Kevin had finished crossing the hall. He unlocked it with a flick — they were already coming in before it fully swung open, Ginny behind them and Sirius loping in last in his dog form, tail moving with the enthusiasm of an animal who has been cooped up and finds the world genuinely exciting.
Kevin came downstairs to find them already arranged around the sitting room.
"It's nearly ten," Ron told him preemptively.
"It's a holiday. Ten is early."
"You're usually up at six."
"I'm conserving energy."
Harry looked around. "Where's Hermione?"
"Next door. She heard you lot yelling." Kevin put the kettle on. "She's coming."
She was, in fact, already coming through the front door as he said it. She'd heard them from the Grangers' kitchen and come straight over, which was either a coincidence or something they'd both quietly arranged and neither would admit. She settled onto the sofa with her tea and her book, and the room arranged itself around her with the natural ease of a group that had been doing this long enough not to think about it.
"Draco's not coming?" Kevin asked.
"Guests at home," Harry said. "Can't get away."
"What kind of guests? His lot isn't exactly popular at the moment."
"No idea. Ron's been writing him insulting letters about it."
"He started it," Ron said, with great dignity.
The morning passed in the loose, unhurried way of summer: tea and biscuits and no particular agenda. Sirius abandoned his dog form and sprawled on the rug and seemed to have no immediate plans to move. Outside, the light was doing something golden and promising.
Then the sky changed.
It happened quickly — the light going flat, a darkening in the west, and then rain. Not a drizzle, but a proper London downpour, heavy and grey, drumming against the windows and turning the garden into a small lake.
"Forecast said sunny," Ron said, pressing his face to the glass.
"Muggle forecasts," Kevin said, by way of explanation.
Outside, Sirius — back in dog form for reasons best known to himself — sat in the middle of the garden in the full force of the rain with his head tipped back and his mouth open, apparently drinking it. He looked, Harry said, like a large dog with significant personal issues.
Kevin watched him for a moment. Then something occurred to him.
He crossed to the porch, opened the door, and sent the Undetectable Extension Charm bag flying down from upstairs. He rooted through it thoughtfully, then began pulling things out.
The tent landed in the garden first — large, self-erecting, claiming the space with the quick authority of good equipment. An awning extended over the porch doorway, neatly diverting the rain. Then a Muggle barbecue grill. Folding chairs. A table. Food, drinks, and charcoal, all stacked in the shelter of the awning in about ninety seconds.
"The garden," Kevin said, turning around. "We're camping."
Harry and Ron had been watching this with rising excitement. A tent in a rainstorm. A barbecue. All their friends in a space just large enough to fit them.
Before Kevin could elaborate on the plan, Sirius switched to human form in the middle of the lawn, water streaming from his hair and robes, and shouted into the downpour: "I'm going to get Remus!"
He Disapparated immediately.
Harry and Ron looked at each other. The look contained an entire conversation.
They bolted into the rain.
They made it about six steps before Harry's foot went out from under him in the wet grass and Ron collided with him trying to dodge the same puddle. Both of them went down in the mud, laughing too hard to get up, while the rain hammered down on them with absolute impartiality.
Hermione and Ginny watched from the doorway.
"They're both completely unhinged," Ginny said.
"Yes," Hermione agreed. She paused. "Are we going?"
"Obviously," Ginny said, and stepped into the rain.
By noon, the tent was full, the barbecue was lit, and Lupin had arrived looking the way Lupin always looked: mildly astonished to find himself included in something. He was on his third piece of chicken and seemed to have no intention of leaving.
The rain was relentless and entirely beside the point. Under the awning, the warmth of the grill and the noise of conversation made a small, complete world. Through the sheets of water, London had gone entirely grey and invisible.
"Kevin," Harry said, watching the rain from under the awning, "have you heard about this new idea going around?"
Kevin looked up from the grill. "What idea?"
"It's not mainstream yet," Ron said. "But it's spreading through pure-blood families. Starting to pick up with some Death Eater types."
"The argument goes," Harry continued, "that if wizards rule Muggles openly, the Statute of Secrecy collapses. And once Muggles know about magic, things get complicated fast."
"Complicated how?" Hermione asked.
"The theory is that Muggles would actively seek to absorb magical society. Intermarriage. Infiltration. Long-game assimilation."
Kevin set the tongs down.
"And the proposed solution," Ron finished, "is total magical isolation. Cut every tie to the Muggle world. Separate permanently. Keep the bloodlines pure that way."
Kevin was quiet for a moment.
"Right," he said. "We need to kill that idea."
Hear me out y'all the bonus chapter is written, it's ready, sitting in the dark like a firefly waiting to be set free into the night. Only your powerstones hold the key, folks. Don't you let it sit there waiting. Set it free now