Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I have to ask you something, meet me in the Room of Requirements tonight at seven," Hermione said as she passed Harry in the corridor. She moved on, lost in the sea of students walking between classes. She was running out of time; she had nine week's left then the jaws of the trap were going to be too tight for her to get out.

After her Ancient Runes class, she made her way to the dungeons where Professor Snape’s office was, he might be teaching Defence, but he hadn't moved. She wondered if it was deliberate or because he still brewed for the Infirmary. She shoved the thought away, she needed her head to be clear. He was snarky, bitter and he didn't like her. Well, that was OK if this went the way she thought it would in two weeks that wouldn’t matter.

She knocked, and at his command entered the classroom, "Good afternoon Professor," she said politely. She stood silent, in front of the desk waiting to be acknowledged. It was a game she played. She refused to fidget or let her attention wander until he acknowledged her. She thought he knew what she was doing and it had become some sort of silent competition between them. Or, he just wasn't going to acknowledge any student until he was ready. She didn't know, and it was Professor Snape, so the chances were if she were right he'd deny it on principle.

“Miss Granger is there a reason you have blessed me with your presence instead of your NEWT Herbology class?”

“You have a free period now Professor, and I didn’t wish to draw attention to my presence in your office after dinner.”

“Ten points from Gryffindor Miss Granger.”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied. She’d expected at least detention. Oh well, now she had something to work towards. She was fairly sure by the end of the meeting he would be in a towering rage. He looked up from his marking and raised an eyebrow, her cue to start talking.

“I wish to speak to you in regards to a subject that requires some privacy, Professor.”

“Indeed,” his reply giving no indication of his thoughts. He did, however, flick his wand towards the door. “Very well Miss Granger.”

“I would like to inquire if you are aware of any contingency plans the Order may have in regards to the Marriage Law the Ministry has enacted sir.”

“You are asking me for confidential information regarding the Order Miss Granger,” he said, his eyes narrowing, it wasn’t a question.

She straightened her back and looked at him, threw caution to the wind. “Do you wish me to ask the Headmaster sir? Because honestly? After the offers of tea, sweets, a comfy chair, the ten minutes faffing around trying not to answer the question he still won’t tell me the truth. Oh, he'll tell me something, but we both know it will at best be a polite fiction, a sugar coating of the truth. This is my life Professor, and I know that in times such as we are there is an argument for the greater good—," She sneered that a bit; she hadn't meant to, but it slipped out anyway. "But I can't see how my marriage, subsequent rape, and torture at the hands of whichever Death Eater has been selected for me can serve in such a case.”

“Miss Granger—” he said, rubbing his eyes, taken aback by her bluntness.

“Don’t lie to me!” she snapped, she bit her lip and followed up more softly with, “Please sir, you don’t like me, I’m a child, friends with Harry and we aren’t known for making your life easy, but you have never lied to me. Please, don’t make this the first time.”

He looked at her, maybe for the first time trying to put everything aside but the girl in front of him, and the situation she was in.

“I believe the Headmaster thinks he has a plan.” He stared at her, Hermione said nothing but twisted her hands together waiting. “He—,” Professor Snape broke off and stood. “Come Miss Granger, follow me.”

He turned away from his desk and stepped to the side to a doorway, he muttered a word she couldn't hear and opened the door. He stepped through, she followed him, and she was in his private office, this was part of his personal suite. She stumbled in the doorway not sure if she wanted to know what he was going to say next. If it required him retreating to his private rooms to tell her she had a horrible, horrible feeling, it was going to be worse than she had imagined.

The room had a spacious desk with a comfortable chair, scrolls, books and parchment piled on it neat and orderly, but there were a lot of them. The walls were covered in bookcases except for the opening she had walked through and one next to it, and she assumed that that door led to the rest of his rooms.

She sat in the armchair he indicated facing another over a coffee table next to a warm fire burning in the hearth in front of them; a comfortable looking sofa faced the fireplace. He made a pot of tea while she looked around not pretending to be subtle about it. She wouldn't have managed it so why waste the effort; she sat on her hands to stop them twitching towards the bookcases.

He held out a cup of tea to her, and she had to fumble a hand out from under her to take it. He smirked, though it lacked malice; he sat across from her, and she pulled her other hand out to grip the saucer with both.

She met his gaze and wanted to bolt. He looked, sad? Apologetic? Her world was tilting; it had been knocked off its course when the law had been announced, in the intervening weeks she spent the time trying to work out what she could do, how she could move forward and balance the many plates that were her responsibility. Now she was sat here, in the private office of the Professor that she would have said hated her the most with a cup of tea while he looked at her with a facial expression she could only describe as regretful.

“Miss Granger,” he started. “The Dark Lord wishes to control you thus weaken Mr Potter’s endeavours. You have surmised that much for yourself?”

"Yes, sir. Only, I've only received one offer," she said demurely. "I didn't know; that is I wasn't sure if that was deliberate. I wondered if I was to be a pawn, if other offers were even being accepted or if they were being, filtered, as it were at the Ministry." She watched his face for any sort of clue or indication she was right.

“The Dark Lord has chosen Mr Malfoy for you. He is aware of Mr Potter’s history with Mr Malfoy and believes it would cause him distress. Unless Mr Malfoy proves unworthy of the Dark Lord’s favour or another displeases or pleases him, I do not see the situation changing. Your case is different; you will not go through the protocols the Ministry has in place for this law although from the outside it will seem that you will. I believe the Headmaster is looking to follow the Dark Lords plan."

She closed her eyes. “Am I expected to spy?”

“Do you think you could?”

She shook her head. “I’d probably wind up getting us all killed if I tried.”

He accepted that without comment, a silence fell between then as she tried to form her next question. He seemed content to wait until she had, sipping and staring into his tea.

“Then what?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied, shrugging slightly.

“But there are no Death Eaters in the Order.”

"Really, Miss Granger? You can't think of one?" he drawled sardonically.

"Oh well, err, I suppose, I didn't believe that you considered yourself a Death Eater," she said. "Since you, umm, left." The inflexion on that last word making it a question.

“I assure you, Miss Granger, I am a Death Eater, to be otherwise would render me somewhat useless to the Headmasters plans.”

“But,” she said, waving off his words. “The Headmaster wants me to marry you?”

"I believe that will be the option presented to you, most likely at the final hour to induce you."

His sneer was back; she couldn't blame him really, but it still stung a little. She thought a rude word she didn't dare say out loud. However, she rather thought her Professor knew anyway. Surface skimming legilimency or was it written all over her face? He smirked at her, as if daring her to comment.

“Professor, sir, with all the greatest respect you can’t possibly want to marry me. I’m your student, I am more than certain you think I’m the world’s most annoying person.”

“Miss Granger—,” he started, but she talked over him. She might have wondered at her nerve but frankly, her world was spinning out of her control, she was desperately clinging on but felt like her grip was slipping.

“So he thinks that by doing nothing until it will be too late I’ll accept what he’s offering?” she stood and started to pace ignoring her Professor who watched her through narrowed eyes. “That conniving son of a bit—,”

“Miss Granger!” he said loudly, bringing her back to herself. “As much as it would delight me to put you in detention for the next month for finishing that sentence I believe that if that is all, you may find yourself elsewhere.”

“Sorry Professor,” she said, stopping her pacing. “You don’t actually want to marry me though do you? It would put you at horrendous personal risk and for very little gain. I respect you, I really do, and you are an excellent teacher.”

He snorted at that.

“Well yes, there are limitations, but I can accept that, in the grand scheme of things,” Hermione said.

“Miss Granger,” he put his head in his hands unprepared to deal with the idea she might respect him, and see past his teaching methods. “The Headmaster requires it of me, of you.”

Hermione quieted at that, sat back down, and picked up her tea and nursed it, thinking.

Professor Snape returned to staring into the fire waiting for her to form her questions, so she took the opportunity and looked at him. He had been for him, understanding. He'd sneered yes, but wasn't he in the same corner? Could she do this to him? Now she knew the Headmasters plan could she go through with it? Do nothing, passively accept that the adults knew best? Could she rip her heart out and throw away her happiness? Her relationship?  Professor Snape was not an easy man; she would spend her life frustrated by him. Well maybe not, the life expectancy for double agents wasn't long, was it? So he’d agree thinking he wouldn’t last the war, well, that seemed stupid, what if he did? He’d still be married to her. His life which should be his to live out from under the shadow of war would still be tied to hers. She sighed.

“Professor thank you, thank you for being willing to put yourself into that situation for me. But you and I both deserve to live our lives, maybe not free but as best we can. To do anything else would be a betrayal don’t you think? Thank you, for your time. Goodbye, Professor.” Hermione put her cup down, stood, turned and walked from the room gathering her composure around her like a shield. She had spent more time there than she had thought she would, but she had time to run to the owlery before dinner.

Severus Snape watched her abrupt exit of his rooms after her statement. She had, he thought, taken it very well. She had clearly been thinking rude things about the Headmaster, but she respected him, him the fearsome Potions Master? Thought he was a good teacher? He had made her lessons a misery deliberately as was required. She was beyond classroom lessons, if she wasn't in school with Harry Potter or as the Dark Lord resurrected he would have offered her advanced lessons. He did for students with promise, accelerated their lessons, enrolled them in early NEWT track allowing them to flourish outside of the restrictive classroom curriculum. Maybe once they were married he could do so, he wouldn't be allowed to teach her, but privately? She'd thanked him. He hadn't expected that. He sighed, it was nearly dinner time, and he had marking to finish he would deal with Miss Granger when forced to.

Chapter Text

After dinner Hermione made her way to the Room of Requirements, there on a comfortable sofa she waited for Harry. He was on time and greeted her with worry in his eyes.

“Come sit down,” she said, taking his hand pulling him down next to her giving him a quick kiss hello. “I’ve got something to tell you and something to ask you.” Harry settled onto the sofa next to her pulling her closer so he could wrap an arm around her while she leant against him.

“Hermione,” he started.

“Please, Harry,” she tipped her head up so she could see him better. Harry frowned slightly but nodded letting her speak first.

"I went to see Professor Snape instead of going to Herbology. He's never lied to me, and I thought, well I hoped that he be enough of a git to tell me the truth in all its unpleasantness. He’s not one for coddling after all. He did of a fashion; the Headmaster has decided that he will offer me Professor Snape,” Hermione’s voice faltered, and she felt Harry’s arm tighten around her offering her support. She was grateful he was holding his tongue letting her say it all because she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to explain it at all if she let the fear clawing at her stomach out. “He's going to wait until the last minute when my options would be between Malfoy and Professor Snape to make sure I pick the Professor. He's not going to look into why Fred and George's offers never came through. He's only willing to pull strings to get around the Ministry for Professor Snape it seems. I've still had no contact in regards to other offers that have been made, and Professor Snape confirmed that they were being filtered by the Ministry at Voldemort's behest. Marrying the Professor would satisfy Voldemort as I would be married to a Death Eater, and be able to provide information to Professor Snape on what you are up to. It would satisfy the Order by marrying me to someone in the Order who would be able to keep me safe from Voldemort." She stopped her teeth snapping together as the last words left her mouth her courage spent.

"And Snape told you all this?" Harry asked carefully.

"Professor Snape, Harry, and mostly. Some of it was conjecture he confirmed, some he told me outright." Hermione said rolling her eyes at Harry's predictable lack of respect for their teacher.

“That’s all that the Order is going to do? Offer you Snape? Not the twins? You can’t marry him!” Harry protested holding Hermione to him a bit tighter. His free hand curled into a fist as he fought all the things he wanted to say which would do nothing but upset Hermione. “Christ he’s old enough to be your dad!”

That startled a laugh from her and Harry couldn’t help the twitch of his lips at the sound.

"Well I can't no, but not because he's old enough to be my dad or an evil man, or an ex-Death Eater, or even because he’s my teacher. I can’t marry him because I don’t love him and he’s not my choice. It’s sappy I know, but I wasn’t brought up where arranged marriages are normal nor am I happy to be handed over to someone without a choice. So I’m making my choice.” The smile on her lips from her laugh died as her chin jutted out and he watched as she gathered herself.

“Hermione if you don’t marry they’ll break your wand, kick you out of the magical community.” Harry cautioned hating himself for saying it. “You’ve got to, you can’t go through that.”

 "I know,” she snapped at him. “I’m not treating this as anything other than as severe as it is. I know they’ll take my wand away, cast a spell on me that means I won't be able to cast any magic in the UK without the Ministry knowing, wandless or not. If I use magic, I’ll be arrested and thrown in Azkaban, no trial, no first offences, just Aurors turning up and dying in prison. I know all that Harry, but I can't bow to this law.” Hysteria caused her voice to break as she listed the consequences, the fear escaping her belly and causing her to shake.

“Hermione, you can’t risk it! You can’t throw your magic away; you are a brilliant witch. No, I don’t want you tied to either Malfoy or Sn-Professor Snape you know that, but Azkaban? Sirius, he only made it because of his animagus ability. You’ll die there! I can't let you do that.”  Harry held her wanting to impress on her how much it was hurting him as well, knowing as he thought it, it was selfish. She was at risk not him. They had talked about it and had come to the conclusion it was because of him, a way to separate them to hurt him, making him watch his best friend and secret girlfriend be broken by those he hated. But it was still her that was at risk, not him and the helplessness he felt periodically threatened to overwhelm him.

Hermione looked at him and gathered her courage. The next thing she was going to ask of him was the biggest thing she’d ever asked of him. The secrecy of their relationship she understood, by hiding it she wasn’t more of a target than she currently was, but now the chips were down, and the testing of their relationship was about to begin.

“Come with me,” she said.

“What? Come where?” Harry said brought abruptly from his thoughts.

"I'm leaving, come with me. I can't tell you where unless you are going to come because when I don't come back after Christmas, they are going to ask you and if the Headmaster doesn’t use legilimency on you himself he’ll ask Professor Snape to.”

“But…”

“I know it’s a big ask, but I’m not doing this alone, not at first.”

Harry stared at her. Running away had been the pipe dream, the one plan they had discussed but had decided couldn’t be done. He was underage, they had nowhere to go, they didn’t know how long they would need to be gone. He hadn’t thought she’d seriously considered it.

“Leave everything? But Voldemort? The prophecy—.” Harry said trying to decide if Hermione might have actually thought about this or desperation was now driving her.

“I put no store in divination you know that. Just because Voldemort wants it to be true doesn’t make it so.  Do you feel trained enough to face him in combat? Do you think he won’t find a way around the issue with your wands? Do you think that Dumbledore with his cursed hand is going to be around long enough for you to learn everything you need? He’s refused to train you, and he’s known about that stupid prophecy since before you were born!” she said, desperate to make him see.

“Where would we go? How would we stay hidden and what about the Horcruxes?” he asked.

“Harry you are still in school! You destroyed one and had a magical sword and a Phoenix helping you. It was one of the earliest horcrux he made which means it didn’t have access to his full power and all the dark magic he learnt. Dumbledore destroyed that ring and look at him! If Dumbledore wants to hunt horcruxes, then let him. He's had fifteen fucking years to pull his head out of his arse. He thinks that you are better equipped? How? He's supposed to be one of the most powerful wizards alive. He has literally over a century of knowledge in his head, and he's been cursed by one of the horcruxes. What can you do better Harry? You're sixteen! You've only known about magic for five years!" she looked at him helplessly.

He stared at her, gobsmacked by her vehemence and language, thoughts tumbled through his head, the idea of just leaving. No longer being stuck, not watching those around him get hurt or be manipulated just because they were close to him. It was simple really. But they'd discussed it, discounted it. But she was serious.

“OK, then,” Harry said the words a whisper.

“You, eh, what?” Hermione said, her rant cut off.

“OK,” Harry repeated his voice back to normal levels, “I’ll go with you.”

She threw herself into his arms and sobbed. Harry held her and stroked her back, fingers tangling in the madness of her hair. She sat up after a few minutes snuffling and mopped her face with a handkerchief. "Sorry," she snuffled. "But I thought you might say no." He looked hurt, so she hurried on. "The Headmaster, he treats you differently from everyone else, you have him on a pedestal, and I didn't know if you would be able to do this."

Harry sighed. “You’ve never wavered, even when what I did was stupid and ill-conceived. I love you, you drive me insane and make me the happiest I’ve ever been. We’re in this together so of course, I’m going with you. Now tell me this plan, you do have a plan don’t you?”

Hermione smiled at him wet and wobbly. “I’m going home for Christmas. You are going to put your name down for going home to. No fuss, don’t mention it to anyone. We’ll get on the train and leave. We’re not coming back.”

“OK that stage one,” he agreed. “But what about the rest?”

"I'm muggle born," she said. "I know some muggles that know how to get me out of the country by non-magical means that would trigger no alarms in the wizarding world. By the time they work it out, we'll be gone."

His eyes widened. “Your parents?!”

She nodded. "I might not have told you everything.” She hurried on knowing that keeping secrets was one of the things he really couldn’t cope with. “I’ve always told them what was going on. They know about the law, they said a lot, but it boiled down to ‘over my dead body'. When I explained about the consequences, they asked me to write to the Ministry asking for the law in full including its implications of non-compliance. They said a lot more once they read that. So, they are going to take their daughter and her boyfriend on holiday over Christmas to Switzerland skiing, then once we land we are moving on to Spain. They will return to their practice after two weeks, they've started the process of selling up and will join us after the deadline passes. We won't be adults in the muggle world you see so we'll need them until we are. We've got an apartment to live in, once they join us, we'll move to New York. They are cosmetic dentists, so they have found work over there. We're going to hide in one of Americas biggest cities amongst all those people."

Harry sat turning over what Hermione had said. He hadn’t really asked her what her parents had thought, he supposed he should have done, but loving parents weren’t exactly something he had had any experiences of. “I don’t have a passport.” He said having considered the idea and it being the first thing that popped into his head.

"Yes, you do," she said, her face guilty. "I applied for one for you, you went to a muggle school, so you have a birth certificate and school records. You exist in the real world as well as the magical one. I didn't tell you in case you didn't want to come."

“The real world?” he asked.

She didn’t look at him. “It’s going to become our real world.”

"What are we going to do? Give up magic altogether?" Harry asked uneasily, unsure he liked the idea of that. Not with Voldemort hunting him.

“No,” she said. “The British Ministry only has a few ways to track us, one by tagging us with a spell which they plan to do to those who don’t comply, and by our wands which they are using in case of noncompliance.” She rolled hers between her fingers. “I’m going to snap them,” she said. Harry instinctively clutched at his pocket where his wand was. “I know," she said, seeing the motion. "It's a horrible thought but only because it's your first wand. Wands get broken all the time, and it is not unusual for a wizard or witch to get a new wand. It can happen when you pick a Mastery or when you come into your full power. The wand that picks you at eleven isn't always the wand that you keep all your life. I checked in the library," she said, trying for humour. “I planned on getting new wands in either Spain or America.”

“OK,” he said, relieved. “So we're still going to have magic.”

“Yes, and we’re going to finish our education and train. I don’t know if the situation here will resolve itself while we aren’t here. But if you need to come back then you aren’t coming back with nothing more than a Hogwarts schooling under your belt. I’m not going to throw you to the wolves and hope it works out for the greater good.”

“You’ve thought about this haven’t you?” he asked pulling her back to his chest running one hand up and down her arm as he considered the plan.

“Every day,” she confirmed, a grim light in her eyes.

“What do you need me to do?” Harry asked wanting something to do now the decision had been made.

"Well," she said. "I need your stuff, everything you want to take with you, if I get it from you in small amounts, I can keep it till we leave. We can't leave with our trunks just a light bag. You'll need to send Hedwig to my parents before the end of term as well. Also," she said, hesitantly.

“What?”

“Well, would you be able to take some gold out of your vault?”

“Oh god yes!” he said, embarrassed suddenly. “This must be costing your parents a fortune! Have it all.”

"No, no," Hermione said, needing to clarify before he got the wrong end of the stick. "We need cash while we're in Spain alone as we'd only be able to get casual work, and it's unlikely we would as we're staying such a short time. The exchange rate on the galleon from the pound or any other currency is pretty poor the world over, so if we take some gold with us, then we can still afford things in the wizarding world."

“Hermione you are welcome to everything in the vault.”

“Well, we don’t need everything. I thought if we lived muggle then we could work, and pay our share to my parents. Saving the gold for wizarding things. Ideally enough to last some years, up to five I thought. By that point, it will all be over, or no one will care if you access your money from abroad."

“OK, so clothes and stuff, send Hedwig on ahead, and a trip to the bank. Won’t they know we’ve been?” Harry asked warming to the idea, wanting to know what Hermione had already worked out.

"It's unlikely the Goblins will report on their customers, but if they do, hopefully, they will think it was for the skiing trip."

"OK so were doing this. One more thing," Harry said. "What about Ron and Ginny?" Hermione’s face fell, and he regretted asking.

"We can't tell them! I'm sorry, I want to I do, but we can't. If they know, then they'll have to act when we don't return, one slip and they'll be imprisoned too. It's too much; I'm so sorry." She started crying again. He wrapped both arms around her holding her tightly offering comfort and support as she wept for abandoning their friends.

Harry was thinking, thinking hard. He needed to get his thoughts straight, to acclimatise to the plan, the idea of not being at Hogwarts anymore. Walking away had been one of those things he’d wished for more than once in the last few years, now he was going to do it. It took him a good hour to think everything through, in that time she'd gone from tears to snuffles to sleeping lightly, head on his lap while he stroked her curls.

They had discussed the marriage law and the implications of it with Death Eaters in the Ministry when it had been announced at the beginning of September. She had four months after her seventeenth birthday to comply or face the consequences. He wasn't going to come of age until July, and it would be too late. Malfoy's offer had been publicly delivered on her birthday at breakfast. She'd had none since, both the twins had put in offers, but they'd never arrived.

She wouldn’t marry anyone else but him. Which he was entirely thankful for, he loved her. She’d scoffed, of course, saying they were in school, that out in the real world he would find someone prettier, someone better. He’d told her she was a coward. It hadn’t on reflection, been the smartest thing he could have said, but it had gotten his point across, and she’d shut up.

They’d been hiding their relationship since the Tri-Wizard tournament when she'd stood by him, and no one else had. He'd seen her for the first time when his name had come out of the goblet, and she'd stepped up beside him. The witch who didn't have to ask just took his word. She'd stood by him, helped him, and stepped back when Ron had come back. He hadn't liked that, and it had taken him a while to work out why she'd done it. Then when she was taken under the lake, it had come into sharp crystalline focus, he loved her and wanted her by his side for the rest of his life.

Handily, her being there increased his life expectancy, so she said. Claiming it worked out nicely for both of them. She'd not left him over the summer but had visited and talked to him as he came to terms with Cedric's death and Voldemort's return. When she'd been hurt in the Department of Mysteries because he had acted recklessly, he'd been beside himself.

Now this year she needed him, well maybe not needed, but had given him the option of standing by her or not. He’d be a fool not to and knowing now that she was planning on disappearing he couldn’t imagine how hard it would have been when she didn’t return after Christmas.

So that left those he was leaving behind. OK, the list was short, the Weasley’s. Well yes, he didn’t like the idea of the chaos of the chosen one’s disappearance would cause them. They would worry and search and fear the worst. He would feel guilty, but the Order wasn’t going to do any more than marry her off to Snape, and Dumbledore banged on and on about protecting those that he loved. So that was what he was going to do.

He had a feeling that this wasn’t what Dumbledore had in mind. He nudged her awake. “Hermione, come on its nearly curfew we need to get back.”

She sat up rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and looked at him. He'd always wondered how she did that; she didn't squint or cock her head to one side, but he always felt like she was looking into him or through him. Seeing him like no one else ever did. He'd asked her once if she was practising legilimency on him. She'd smiled, and said no. He believed her, but she was the only one who ever looked at him like that.

“OK?” she asked.

“OK.” he replied, answering all of the questions she’d asked.

Chapter Text

They left the room and returned to the tower, and they separated in the common room, and she went up to bed. Harry glanced around the room, but Ron was deep in the middle of a chess game, and he didn't want to disturb him. Actually, if Ron was busy, now might be a good time to sort through his trunk.

His trunk was at the bottom of the bed, he pushed the lid up, and open. He started taking everything out, sorting it into piles and throwing away the rubbish. Neville came in, got ready for bed and sat watching him. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Discovering what the bottom of my school trunk looks like,” Harry said, with a smile. “You know I think there are things in here from the first year, no wonder the damn thing is so heavy."

“Don’t you put feather light charms on it?” Neville asked.

“Hermione does,” Harry confirmed. “But only after I’ve forgotten and gotten it down into the common room.”

Neville laughed. “At least you don’t have to carry it to the train.”

“True,” Harry agreed. He vanished the accumulated crumbs and fluff at the bottom of the trunk and cast a quick cleaning spell for good measure before repacking his things into it.

“So what brought that on?” Neville asked.

“Well I don’t actually remember, I got a little sidetracked.” He smiled at Neville, Neville laughed and got into bed, Harry went through his routine and got into bed himself “Good night Neville,” he said.

“Night Harry.”

Harry pulled his curtains closed and lay staring at the ceiling for a while. He would be leaving Neville behind too. He sighed and rolled over, the choice was made, and it hadn't been much of choice anyway, he hoped Hermione was able to sleep tonight.

The next morning, he sat next to her at breakfast, waiting until Ron was distracted with food, he leant over. "I sorted my trunk last night I've got my stuff ready," he said in a quiet voice.

She nodded. “I’ll come up with my bag later and take it then.”

They ate quietly each lost in thought. The day carried on classes were attended, and he concentrated not wanting to cause any suspicions to head their way. He was used to hiding their relationship, and this wasn't much different. He wondered when they both didn't return if anyone would think they went together or if they'd come up with something else.

That night he led Hermione to his dorm. Ron was playing chess again oblivious to the room and everyone else.

As he handed over his things, not that there were many he asked her. "Do you think we should keep quiet, you know, about spending Christmas together? When we don't return if they believe we vanished separately, it might delay the search."

She sat on his bed thinking chewing her lip and fiddling with an escaped curl, he reached out and took the curl weaving it around his fingers. “Well,” she said, clearly still in deep thought. “Originally the plan was to say you were coming skiing with me in case you were questioned about leaving at Christmas. I see your point, though. They’ll think I’ve run off to escape the law, but won’t they believe that you’ll have just come after me?”

“How would I have known though?” Harry proposed.

“True, but I would have told you, so there’s that," she said. "To be honest, I hadn't thought about it. I had an excuse to get you out of the castle. My parents are going to say to anyone who asks that I took myself back to the train station to return to Hogwarts. We decided it was unlikely that they would be informed I was missing until magical methods of finding me were exhausted."

“You don’t think the school will tell them when you don’t return?” Harry asked surprised.

“Harry, the school didn’t inform them I was in a magical coma for weeks back in the second year. They sent an owl to say I had been in an incident at the school, and I was currently in the infirmary, but I wasn't physically injured."

“Really?!” he asked, shocked.

“Yeah, I told my parents what actually happened, I had to take my exams during the summer, they were unimpressed.”

“So the injury from the night at the Ministry?”

“I told them the truth,” she said.

“And they’ll let me anywhere near you?”

“Well my Dad might have something to say about fools rushing in, but we came to an agreement when I enrolled here. I would give them total honesty about every aspect of my magical life, and they would give me every support they could. Even when things happened that they didn’t like. They have no say in the magical world, Harry; they are nothing. This was the only way they wouldn't lose their daughter, and I wouldn't lose my parents. It's hard for both sides, but this was the agreement we made as a family."

“I can’t imagine that,” he muttered.

“I know and so do they. They understand that someone in your position would react differently to someone else when their godfather was potentially in danger.” She reached for his hand squeezing it.

“They know...”

“Total honesty Harry,” she said. She looked worried for a moment, “I know you have problems with trusting adults, but they are going to ask it of you too. Especially now. The trust has to be there the consequences are, well you know what they are. They have to trust us to stay safe in Spain. We have to trust them that they won’t accidently give us away, and will join us so we can hide properly. It’s a lot to ask of you, they know it and so do I. Will you promise me you’ll try, though?”

He looked at his hands, then at his girlfriend’s face creased with worry, not for herself but for him, for asking him to trust her parents the way he trusted her.

“I promise you I will try, and if I’ve got a problem I will tell you, is that OK for now?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “That will do nicely.”

The week left up till Christmas was wound tight with tension and anticipation. They were both quiet about their plans, deflecting attention when asked by their friends.

The night before they left she went into his dorm and sat on his bed with Ron. They spent the evening laughing and joking reliving their adventures. It was heart-warming and heart-breaking, they were saying goodbye to Ron though he didn't know it. They wouldn't see him again for, well she didn't know. She hoped she'd see him again and Neville and Ginny and the twins.

Hermione finally went to bed only to rise early, dress, collect up her book bag, complete with undetectable extension charm and feather light charm. Holding in it everything she and Harry would be taking with them, and went for a walk round the castle. She refused to think of it as a goodbye even though it was. She climbed the stairs to the Astronomy tower and leant against the rails watching the sun come up over the forest. She heard the door open but didn’t turn around, Harry joined her at the rail.

“I’ve left the map for Ron,” he said, explaining how he had found her at the same time. “I thought about taking it with us so we could see everyone but I think it would make it harder.” She nodded slightly, and they stood taking in the last dawn over Hogwarts they would see.

Chapter Text

When the train pulled into Kings Cross, they slipped into the crowd and left the platform before the Weasley’s could corner them. They headed for Diagon Alley, crossing London on the Tube. They moved through the Leaky Cauldron keeping in the crowds where they would be less likely to be singled out. They walked up the street slowly taking in the sights and sounds mentally saying goodbye.

The bank took his key and wand, and lead them to a cart. In the vault, Hermione handed Harry two bags while the goblin waited outside. "Here," she said. "Fill them both." She started pouring gold and silver into the bags. They took some time to fill, then she took a third bag and filled it with only gold coins. Shoving the other two bags into her book bag, she handed Harry the third. "We didn't really make a dent did we?” she asked, looking around at the piles of coins.

“No,” Harry said. “And this is the trust vault, I don’t get whatever else there is until I’m of age.”

“Wow, feeling slightly like a gold digger over here,” she said.

“Don’t be daft," he said and led her to the door. “You didn’t know about this did you?”

“No, I had three bags just in case. I only knew what Ron said, and well, my parents are better off than his so…” she explained shrugging. 

Harry nodded in understanding. “Come on, let’s go.”

 The cart returned them to the surface, and Hermione led Harry over to the counter to get the third bag changed into Muggle money. The goblin sneered, but said nothing as he handed over the paper notes. Hermione shoved the notes into the pouch before putting it into Harry's bag.

“Right come on one more stop,” she said, taking the lead.

They left Diagon Alley and returned to London, pulling a list out of a pocket she checked it before leading him by the hand.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked.

“Every travel agent in a five-mile radius, we’re going to exchange the money.”

“All of it?

“Yes, well, we’re going to put some in a bank account as well,” she said.

"Bank account? I don't have one."

“No, but I do. My parents wanted to open one for you but couldn’t, the rules are tightening up you see. So we’ll bank half of it and the rest we’re going to exchange. We’re going to need my parents at the bank as its a cash deposit, and we don’t want questions.”

“How much was it? I didn’t see.”

“About four thousand pounds which is under a thousand galleons. The other bags are holding more than twice that amount each,” Hermione replied. “That’s why they took so long to fill.”

“So we’ve just taken five thousand galleons from my vault?” Harry asked, staggered.

“Yes.”

“But it hardly made a dint!”

“I know,” she said. “I imagine a sum is tithed over from your other accounts to cover your school costs whether you spend it or not. Don’t your statements tell you?”

“If I get them I don’t read them.”

“Well let’s hope no one else does either,” she said.

They stopped outside the first travel agents, and Harry pushed the door open, gesturing her in first. Hermione gave him a smile as she passed into the first travel agents to start exchanging their currency.

It took hours, and they were tired of walking before Hermione called her parents from a phone box so they could be collected. When the car pulled up Hermione's parents, both got out and approached the teens

“Hello love,” her mother said holding out her arms for a hug. “Everything go alright?”

“Hello Mum, Dad. Yes, we’re OK. The currency has been exchanged we are rich with Swiss francs and Pesetas we just need to drop the rest in at the bank.”

“Harry,” Hermione’s father said, holding out his hand.

“Sir,” Harry said, shaking the hand.

“I want to thank you, Harry, for agreeing to come with Hermione. I’m sure she’s told you everything you need to know about this plan, and how we operate as a family. I hope that you can respect that.”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry agreed, looking him in the eye.

“Well then,” he said. “Call me John, and this is Helen. Or Mum and Dad either is okay.”

“Thank you, John,” Harry said, and John nodded turning to his daughter. He held out his arms, and she flowed into them.

“It’s alright love,” he said. “We’ll keep you safe.”

“Daddy,” Hermione whispered. “I’m scared, what if they come after you before you can leave?”

He hugged her tighter to him "Come on, love let's get home, your Mum, and I have been talking, and we think we have an idea."

They all got into the car and crawled through the congested London traffic southwards. Helen twisted in her seat to face the back. “We’ll grab something on the way home to eat once we’re on better roads. But your Dad’s right, we’ve been thinking. Magical people can see memories you said?”

"Yes, it's called Legilimency, there is a way to stop it called Occlumency, but you can't use it," Hermione replied.

Helen waved her hand in dismissal. “Yes we know, we read the books. So we thought what if you removed the memories of your relocation. Can you alter memories as well?” she asked Hermione.

"Removing them isn't difficult for viewing in a pensive which would be what you mean I think. It's possible to change memories but I've never done it, and I don't want you to be my Guinea pigs." Hermione said shaking her head.

"Well no, we thought not. So the plan is, we'll go to Switzerland, and we'll ski," Helen explained. "We'll have separate rooms in the hotel, so you and Harry will stay together, and your Dad and I will stay together. We'll ski to create the memories," she said, indicating the three of them. "Then we'll go to Spain settle you in the apartment, then you'll take the memories of us settling you there away before we return. When we get back, we'll open a letter that will tell us we need to come back to the apartment in Spain for a romantic getaway, or celebration of selling the practice, or some such, and then we'll have the memories back from you once we meet up in Spain."

Harry stared at Hermione’s parents in something akin to shock and awe. They were willing to go to extreme lengths to keep Hermione safe.

"But what about Harry?"  Hermione asked. "We can't remove him from your memories while skiing."

“No,” her mother said. “But we only have to not see him, don’t we? Plenty of teenage daughters have holiday romances, that’s a standard memory.”

"But what about this memory? If we pick through them too much, the holes are going to be noticeable." Hermione protested.

“I know love, it’s not perfect, but we thought that they might not look for them, or at least not look in detail. Memories are flashes, aren’t they? So they’ll see us in a car travelling together along with hundreds of memories of us in a car together, it’s all about context.”

“True.” Hermione allowed. “What do you think? You’re the only one to have experienced it,” she said, turning to Harry.

He looked like a rabbit in headlights for a minute then said. “It’s not a bad plan there’s too many details to hide everything. But really, the worst that can happen is they find out that Hermione and I came home for the holidays together, and went skiing. After that, we could suggest your parents flew back on the agreement that we would get an extra day or two without a chaperone before Hermione had to get married to Professor Snape."

“Actually Harry,” Hermione said, after a moment. “That’s not a bad idea at all!”

Helen looked at Harry approvingly. “OK then, we’ll do that.”

Shortly afterwards they arrived home and ordered in Chinese. Over the foil cartons, they finalised the details, the plane left tomorrow afternoon giving them time to run the last of the errands. No one fancied staying in England longer than they needed too. Hedwig was given the address of the hotel. They thought it might take her a week to get there, then she could rest before flying to Spain. Getting her to America was still being worked out, doing it the muggle way was not going to happen, owl ownership in the USA was illegal, and she wasn’t part of a display team. Since Hedwig couldn’t fly that far, portkey or apparition were the next options.

Plans laid, Hermione spent a quiet ten minutes with her parents painlessly removing memories and putting them back so they could practice.

Before going to bed, Harry left his extremely comfortable guest room and went to sit on Hermione’s bed. “Are you alright?”

She shook her head slowly. "No, but no plan puts them in any less danger. I'm counting on a lot going our way, and I've no guarantees it will."

“I’ve got you, Hermione," Harry murmured. Pulling her into his lap sideways, he drew her against his chest he wrapped his arms around her. "I've got you, this is the best plan we've got, and it will work we'll get you away safe."

"And you," she replied relaxing into his arms.

They called in at the bank in the morning and made the deposit. The bank was international, and the account allowed the account holder to use their bank card in any branch in Europe, all hail the mighty Union.

They were set, the suitcases were loaded, Hermione carried their clothes in her book bag with its charms. It would make them look like backpacking students while alone in Spain, and was easier than lugging a suitcase. Her mother had been very impressed and watched a little wistfully as she watched her daughter pack everything in. Hermione had smiled and promised that once she could do magic again after they left, she’d charm her mother’s handbag in the same way.

The last act before they boarded the plane was to snap both their wands, it was a horrible feeling to do so. The pieces were divided up and pushed into the various bins around the airport cafeterias before they went through security to the boarding gate.

Harry found take off disturbing, but once they were up he was glad Hermione had insisted he get the window seat on his first flight. It wasn't flying on a broom it was something else entirely. Up in the clouds where a broom probably couldn't fly he felt a tension ease from his shoulders. A weight he hadn't known he was carrying was put down. He was no longer Harry Potter wizard, he was Harry Potter, Muggle, on holiday with his girlfriend and her parents.

Chapter Text

The first meal of term after the Christmas break was painful. The peace of the castle was shattered by the hordes of raucous children and adolescents amped up on festivities. They had come streaming in, in droves fresh off the train into the Great Hall for dinner, laughter and greetings rang out in a headache-inducing cacophony.

Professor Snape sat at the staff table and scowled. His gaze ran down all the tables looking for trouble, students plotting pranks or students in any other kind of trouble. Experience had taught him that when it came to boarding school, trouble came in as many varieties as there were colours.

He ran his gaze over the Gryffindor's last. This was mostly because they were the loudest, and because usually, they were the ones that caused the most trouble, so it took longer to ferret out who was up to something, and who was thinking about being up to something.

He noticed, during his second pass down the table, she wasn't there, neither was Potter. Where the bloody hell was Granger and Potter? He looked again and counted quickly; two redheads. So there were no Weasley's missing. He leant over to Minerva, who was sat between himself and the Headmaster's chair. "Are you expecting to be missing Gryffindor's, Minerva?"

She looked up from her plate. "No," she replied, slightly puzzled. "I've had no notifications that any students weren't returning on time from their holidays. Why?" she ran her own gaze down the table. She noticed quicker than he had, but then she knew she was looking for what was missing. "They may be missing dinner to catch up," she said, there was a trace of doubt in her voice, though.

He hissed at her annoyed. "Don't be asinine Minerva, those two? Missing the first night back?"

She looked worried, and he reeled in his annoyance. "I'm not saying that," he said snappishly. "There were no suspicions or plots raised at the Manor over Christmas just the usual sycophantic glee because Draco thinks he'll have her."

"He won't?" she asked, surprised.

"Albus has decided her fate," he replied.

She looked at him realisation coming to her, and her eyes narrowed, lips thinned. "What is he thinking?!" she hissed.

"I'm hurt, Minerva, truly."

"Don't play the idiot with me, any witch would be lucky to have you, but she's, well she's not a child but..." Minerva trailed off unable to find the right word, and his shoulders slumped slightly in relief that the mother lioness was not angry at him. He nodded his understanding, and her face softened. "I'll find you later, we'll talk, right now I need to locate them."

She rose and left the hall, he presumed to track Albus down. Albus had broken his own cardinal rule that all staff must be present for the first meal after a break. Severus hoped the Headmaster hadn't done anything as stupid as put another cursed ring on, but equally, he hoped whatever was keeping him from the table was annoyingly inconvenient, and if any god loved him, a little bit painful.

Minerva flooed his office as he came in from his rounds, the miscreants had been imbecilic, and the hourglasses had fairly rattled as the point deductions had registered thick and fast.

"Come through," he invited. Severus dropped into his chair, summoning his decanter and glasses. As Minerva vanished the ash he floated a drink over to her. She took it and settled into the other chair. She stared into her glass.

"Well?" he prompted.

"Albus confirms that Miss Granger is to marry you, thus satisfying Voldemort's need to spy on Mr Potter and the Order's requirement to protect Miss Granger. This would enable her to keep Mr Potter on track while complying with the law," she said dully, then she threw the drink back. He refilled it for her.

"I'm cutting you off after four," he said.

"Did you hear what I just said?" she demanded.

"Yes, but it's not something I didn't already know."

"So you were just going to marry her? Let Albus throw away both your lives with nary a whimper?" her tone hostile.

He sighed, drank his drink, and poured another. "It would keep heMiss Granger safe, and I don't expect to live long enough to hinder her life, Minerva. The razor's edge is thin and sharp; my luck won't hold."

"So you'll leave her a widow to mourn you?" she scoffed.

"I hardly think she'll grieve."

"No? She knows what you are saving her from doesn't she? She's smart, she can barely miss Mr Malfoy's attitude towards her. She knows you're a spy and if you die in service for the greater good." Minerva sneered the words and Severus idly wondered if Albus knew he'd overplayed that card too many times on just about everyone. "She'll mourn you," Minerva said. "I'm going to mourn you, once I've finished bringing you back to hex you for dying on me, of course."

He smiled at the older witch. "I'm still cutting you off, flattery won't work."

"They aren't in the castle," Minerva said offhand, staring at the fire.

"What? They aren't...? Don't you think you should have bloody well led with that instead of lamenting my entirely predictable lack of life choices?" he snapped at her.

"No," she responded, swallowing her drink. "They aren't here, and Albus won't do anything until tomorrow morning. Officially he can't anyway and I wanted to talk to you about your lamentable lack of life choices."

He was up and striding. "Bloody hell! Where are they? Did they leave for Christmas?" he demanded.

"Miss Granger and Mr Potter indicated they would be travelling home for Christmas though they didn't mention plans to be together. I presumed Mr Potter would be staying at The Burrow, Molly likes to fuss." Minerva supplied.

"Have you checked?" he demanded again. "The Weasley contingent seems to have arrived back."

"Albus tied my hands until tomorrow."

"Bugger bloody Albus! Go and ask Weasley yourself, or the girl!"

"And feed panic? No, if Albus wants to wait until morning then he can deal with it. Tell me Severus did Miss Granger ever approach you? Did she know?"

He looked at her, could see the concern etched on her face, and he knew he wouldn't lie to her. "Yes," he said. "About two weeks before the end of the term, she wanted to know what the Order was going to do, if anything and didn't think she'd get an answer out of Albus. I tried to get her to speak to Albus but she." Severus broke off, and stared into the fire, guilt rolling in his gut. "She said that I'd never lied to her, and she didn't want this to be the first time." He looked up to meet Minerva's eyes. "I told her the truth," he confessed.

"Oh Severus," Minerva said. Her voice was soft, her distress for him plain.

"She knew the worst of it, and I couldn't tell her it wasn't true," he took a shaky breath. "We discussed it, well, actually she got mightily pissed off, worked herself into a snit and said some vulgar things about our illustrious Headmaster. I was so shocked I forgot to take points." He snorted with a smile.

Minerva laughed out loud. "No! What did she say?"

"I would hesitate to repeat it," he said. "You'd wash my mouth out."

Minerva, brought her hand up to her mouth to cover her smile. "So she was resigned?"

"No," Severus said slowly, thinking about it. "She said we both deserved better, or some such then said goodbye and left. She seemed herself in classes afterwards, a bit quiet perhaps but I presumed she was putting it aside until she had to deal with it."

"Then where is she?" Minerva asked. "Where are they both?" 

Morning did not bring answers or at least answers that pointed to the whereabouts of the missing students. It did bring answers as to where they hadn't been. Neither Mr Potter or Miss Granger had been at The Burrow for Christmas. Minerva brought the youngest two Weasley's to her office and discovered that Harry had said nothing about his plans for Christmas. He had been vague about attendance at The Burrow, stating unspecified business with the Headmaster who would be collecting him from the Dursley's. Miss Granger had said her family was going skiing for Christmas, something Minerva was sure they had done before. Maybe this muggle skiing had resulted in injury and delayed her return to school. As her parents were muggles, they would have no way of contacting the school to let them know.

Reassured she seemed to have a reasonable excuse for one of her student's absence, she sent an owl to the Granger residence asking if Miss Granger had a reason for her late return to schooling. The Headmaster agreed to contact the Dursley's as to Mr Potters whereabouts.

Hopeful that the missing students would be missing no longer she returned to her day's classes, wondering how three short weeks could force all the knowledge out of the student's heads she'd spent four months stuffing in.

Minerva sat down next the Severus at dinner. The Headmaster was in his chair so she touched his hand briefly to let him know she'd come to his rooms later.

She made her way down into the dungeons in her animagus form. The wards on the door alerted Severus she was there, and he opened the door a crack to let her slip in. She returned to her normal form and settled on the sofa in front of the fire.

"How are the corridors?" he asked, as he prepared tea. At her slight look of disappointment, he relented and put the decanter onto the tea tray.

She smiled at him fondly. "Quiet, for now, the children are ensconced in their dorm rooms plotting for tonight."

"Well?" he asked. "I've furnished you with tea and alcohol. Stop evading the real reason you are here."

"Miss Granger was to go skiing with her parents, I've sent them an owl asking if she suffered an accident which has delayed her return. As they are muggles, they would have no way of contacting the school to inform us."

"True enough, you've had a response?"

"Not yet, but I believe both parents work, some sort of tooth healer?"

"Dentists," he supplied.

"Well, at least the in-laws might be of some use."

"Desist Madam," he said, with a sneer. "I am aware of my shortcomings."

"Hardly," Minerva put her tea down, and looked at him the expression on her face earnest, he had the urge to squirm. "I don't like this; I won't lie to you. It's unfair on both of you and should never have been asked, never mind ordered. But if it has to happen, and it does. Then I'm glad it's you."

He goggled at her, and she made a tsk-ing noise. "Severus whatever you may see, it is not what I see. You are sarcastic and hard headed and prone to taking offence. But you are warm and kind and loyal. She would flourish under your care; she needs someone to challenge her mentally. The school isn't doing it for her. Her friends are Quidditch obsessed, Irma sees more of her than anyone. You could give her an opportunity she wouldn't get otherwise."

"You're trying to sell this to me?"

"No, I'm pointing out that you're a good man. A good man who didn't deserve this but would at least find himself with someone who could meet him on an intellectual plain. It could be worse."

He rolled his eyes at her. "She's a student, she's responsible for keeping Potter from killing himself with stupidity."

"Yes, and you are too, so that's another thing you have in common," she replied sweetly.

"Enough. What has Albus said about Mr Potter and Miss Granger?"

Her face dropped from saccharine sweetness to heavy sadness. "He twinkled at me, thanked me for pointing out they hadn't returned and assured me that it was likely Mr Potter had run into difficulties with arriving on time for the train. He wasn't aware he'd left the castle for Christmas, and denied having spoken to Mr Potter about tasks to complete over the holiday. He assured me Mr Potter would likely turn up soon. As for Miss Granger, he is happy with whatever steps I feel appropriate to take." She poured a slug of whisky into the bottom of her teacup and drank it down.

"Playing favourites still, even when he knows if the Dark Lord finds her first there will be hell to pay," Severus grumbled.

"What do we do?" she asked quietly.

"We wait, either they will turn up tomorrow or they won't. Until then all we can do is wait."

They drank the rest of the pot of tea, and more whisky than it was wise. Lost in the concern that the saviour of the wizarding world and his muggle born best friend were both missing, and there was a war brewing.

Chapter Text

 The Headmaster convened a meeting just before lunch. When Severus arrived, he found himself waiting with Minerva for the Headmaster to turn up, Fawkes was also missing from his perch.

“Have you heard back from the Grangers?” Severus asked, and watched as her face set into grim lines.

“I have; they say that Miss Granger set out in the morning to Kings Cross to take the train to Hogwarts. They didn’t accompany her as they had to work.”

“Does anyone know if she made it to the train?”

“That is what I’m hoping Albus can shed some light on.”

They sat waiting, Minerva summoned refreshments though Severus suspected it was for something to do rather than a desire for refreshments. Albus arrived having had them wait a scant ten minutes and finish only one cup of tea. His twinkle was missing, his face was grave and Severus felt his stomach drop into his boots. From the corner of his eye, he saw Minerva's lips tighten as she schooled her face to impassivity.

Albus sat behind his desk resting his forearms on the blotter, meshing his fingers together. He didn't bother with the twinkly grandfather persona. This was head of the Order with a massive fuck up on his hands. Severus was glad, it meant that they were more likely to get straight answers than irritating half-truths and riddles. It also meant that they had a massive fuck up on their hands. So much for the silver lining.

"The Dursley's have confirmed that Mr Potter did not return during the Christmas break. I checked with Tom, and he did not rent rooms there. I have also checked the headquarters, the wards do not show his presence nor has he been there over Christmas. As of right now, I do not know where Mr Potter is."

Well, fuck.

Minerva stared hard at the Headmaster. “Albus we have another problem, Miss Granger’s parents report that she left for Kings Cross station to catch the train.”

“She is missing?”

Mentally, behind his ever so impressive Occlumency shields Severus rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “She’s not here, and she’s not with her parents so yes, she’s missing,” he sneered.

"I see," Albus said sending Severus a frosty look, which he chose to ignore. "Then is it possible they met up and are together? Mr Potter may think he's being gallant in rescuing Miss Granger from the effects of the Marriage Law."

He saw Minerva stiffen in outrage and it soothed his own. Only Albus could think up a plan that would affect everyone but him, then insinuate it was the participants’ fault it was going awry.

“How would Mr Potter know of your plans for Miss Granger when you have not yet told her yourself?” she asked the Headmaster tartly. “You only saw fit to inform me yesterday!”

Severus was gratified to see Albus squirm, so he thought he would see if he could make him squirm a bit harder. "You may have a point, Albus," he interjected smoothly. All eyes swung to him, he smoothed the front of his robes, and continued, as if the thought was just occurring to him as he was voicing it. "The muggle age of consent for marriage is sixteen if they met up at the train station and travelled to Gretna Green they could have married and be simply in hiding on their honeymoon." He added an extra sneer to that word for effect. "Before returning to school fait accompli."

It was more than gratifying to see the possibility whirl behind Albus' eyes. Minerva shot him a worried look, but he could see the amusement lurking in the twitch of her lips.

"You believe that this is possible?" Albus asked worriedly, his plans clearly starting to smoulder around the edges.

“I believe the boy is stupid enough to conceive it, and Miss Granger most certainly would wish to escape the clutches of the Malfoys. With no other options being offered to her.” Severus shrugged demonstratively.

What he didn't say was that Miss Granger was far too intelligent to believe that marrying Potter would keep her safe. It would in fact probably bring her further danger. If the muggle-born friend of Harry Potter were a prize, then the newly wedded wife would be tenfold. No, Miss Granger wasn't that stupid, but it didn't explain where they were, though.

Albus on the other hand apparently didn’t share the same opinion as his staff. He sat deep in thought for a moment before looking up. “Very well, if this is an act of gallantry then they must be found. I shall make enquiries, and we’ll go from there.”

The dismissal was clear and the two heads of houses rose and left the room. Severus followed Minerva to her office and into her sitting room. Once ensconced she handed him a drink. “Tell me you were just twitting Albus, and you don’t think they ran off together in some juvenile attempt at circumventing the law.”

He sipped his whisky thinking that they were both drinking far too much for the first week of the term. Technically, it was after lunch, he was sure the social norms were being observed, so he dismissed the thought. "There is little to no chance Miss Granger has run off to Gretna Green to marry Potter. She knows it would just make her more of a target. In all likely hood, any Muggle marriage she engaged in would be renounced as invalid, and she'll be married by magic. However, Albus is entirely too wrapped up in his own schemes and forgets that he's dealing with people with opinions of their own. It does no harm to remind him now and again," he smirked.

She sighed in relief “So you’ve sent Albus running off to see if he can find them.”

“It keeps him busy,” he agreed.

“So where do you think they are?”

“I don’t know, but I am going to have to tell the Dark Lord they are missing and I can wait no longer than tonight to do so,” he sighed.

“You have to?”

"If I tell him now he'll let Albus hunt them down, if I leave it for a week, he'll send the Death Eaters and see fit to punish me for keeping secrets."

“Merlin!” she exclaimed softly.

"Exactly, he won't kill me for bearing bad tidings, but sending the Death Eaters after them? That is to be avoided at all costs. Whatever it is they think they are doing, whether together or not, they aren't going to be able to hide from people who can use magic without the fear of the trace or reprisal."

“Don’t be difficult Severus, torture is not nothing. But Miss Granger is of age, the trace will have been removed.”

"Yes, but the Ministry is tracking people with their wands due to the new law. She could get a new one admittedly, but then Albus will be informed through his network. There are few places Mr Potter can hide without being noticed at least in the wizarding community, and as rash, as he is he's the more likely to use his magic without thinking. And then the trace will find him."

“What do we do?”

“Wait,” he said, again. “Albus will turn something up or he won’t.”

“I’m going to have to speak to the Weasley’s.”

“That I don’t envy you.”

“The rumours will start you know that. We’ll confirm Miss Granger had an accident and is undergoing muggle treatment that will explain her absence. As for Mr Potter...” Minerva trailed off unsure.

"Let Albus deal with it," Severus advised. "He will anyway, and then you can say you know no more about the matter, and he will twinkle everyone into submission."

“You can’t use those excuses on your Dark Lord?”

“I could I suppose; it would be slightly odd that I know intimate details of Gryffindor students. It rather depends on his mood, sometimes the truth is less likely to get you killed.”

“Don’t do that,” she said. “Don’t joke about him killing you. I have nightmares enough. Although I am curious as to how you explain this,” she said gesturing to their drinks.

"I don't, he doesn't know. You travel to my rooms as a cat unless it's couched in official business, so there are no witnesses to report your presence, and I rarely spend any time here. He knows that there is mutual professional respect but nothing more. I just impose memories of you telling off my Slytherins. He accepts that.”

She smiled at him, it’s was warm but worried. “You will sneer at me if I ask you to be cautious and not to risk yourself unnecessarily?”

"My life is a risk, he's not sane," he replied rising to his feet, he gestured. "Come, we've missed lunch, and I have classes as do you. Then you have Weasley's to placate."

The interview he had with the Dark Lord went surprisingly well. His presence was a surprise which almost had him killed until he managed to blurt out his news, then it was all smiles and sunshine.

Well, perhaps not sunshine, but the creepy bastard had been very excited to learn Potter was currently missing and Albus was scouring the country for him. As he was less concerned about Miss Granger, Severus casually floated the idea of an accident. Sustained during some foolish Muggle exercise, it had rendered her injured, and in the muggle hospital. There, she would be suffering a degree of pain as the slow, inferior muggle methods of healing took place.

The Dark Lord seemed content to leave her there, and Severus was glad he didn’t have to plan a raid on a hospital. While his stock was riding high, he dropped the snippet that Dumbledore had decided on a plan for Miss Granger’s future. The Dark Lord had been curious, then delighted to learn that Dumbledore sought to save the girl by marrying her off to the Dark Lord’s own spy. He had in fact given his decree that should Dumbledore decide to move forward with the plan Severus was to offer no resistance. If Dumbledore didn’t act to intervene, then the youngest Malfoy would claim his prize, until such time it was broken, and a new more appropriate bride could be found.

He found it disturbing that both his masters thought his marrying a school girl was appropriate but buried the thought deep behind his mental shields.

Once back at the castle, his report with Dumbledore complete, he returned to his rooms. In the shadows of the corridor, he saw a pair of eyes reflecting the light. He grumbled but held the door as the cat slinked through.

“Are you hurt?” Minerva demanded.

"No, and you needn't have come."

“Nonsense, tell me. Albus’ reports are vague to the point of useless unless he specifically wants you to know something.”

He dropped to a chair sending his robes and mask to the cupboard, he toed off his boots and stretched. "Tea," he said. "No more whisky, or we'll be sots before Valentine."

Minerva made the pot while he closed his eyes, reordering his thoughts, shaking off the creeping feeling he got from audiences with the Dark Lord. He began speaking without opening his eyes. "He's delighted Albus has lost Potter. The Dark Lord, of course, thinks that Potter's having a fit of adolescence about something, and Albus will bring him back. Albus has about a week before the Dark Lord will actively seek to capture him, and circumnavigate the issues of the prophecy. He believes Miss Granger to be ensconced in a muggle hospital undergoing muggle healing. She can't be removed without causing outcry due to muggle hospital security, of which he has no idea, so I made a lot of very improbable things up. He has also been told of Albus' wish to have her married off to me. He endorses the idea fully, and has told his inner circle that she is to be mine." His lips twisted in disgust at the notion. "If Albus makes no move to intervene for Miss Granger, then Draco has been told he can have her until, and I quote ‘she is broken, and a more suitable bride can be provided'." He accepted the cup of tea and seriously thought about putting whisky in it. He refrained, two days back and he'd spent it drinking with Minerva. Typically he saw her once maybe twice a week. He wondered if Albus would notice and if he would think they were plotting or carrying on a torrid affair. He snorted amused at the idea.

“What?” she asked.

He rolled his head on the back of the sofa so he could see her where she sat properly in the chair watching him, waiting for him. “I was wondering if Albus had noticed the amount of time we’ve so far spent together and if he would come to the conclusion of us plotting against him or engaging in a torrid affair.”

Minerva snorted a laugh down her nose. “I promise to leave you alone as soon as those miscreant cubs of mine are returned.”

“Have you spoken to the Weasley's?” he asked, idly.

“Yes, Mr and Miss Weasley are willing to accept that Miss Granger has been hurt, and is having to undergo muggle treatment, and she could not be removed from the hospital. I have told them that the Headmaster is personally responsible for Mr Potter and if he requires them to know he will tell them.”

“They accepted that?”

"Mostly, it seemed that Albus' attentions to Mr Potter were not unexpected and Miss Granger would be best avoided while she was unable to attend class. Molly and Arthur have been told as part of the Order, they will be helping search for them." Severus snorted as she rubbed her temples. "Yes, it was quite a loud meeting. Never the less we are to wait a week for Albus to do whatever it is he is doing then move on from there."

"They'll find out the truth, one way or another. If not from one of the twins, by the simple expedient that neither has returned," he warned.

“I am hoping we don’t get to that stage,” she said.

By the end of the first week of term, things settled in the castle. Rumours abounded as to the whereabouts of Potter, and what he could be doing for the Headmaster. Miss Granger's absence was noted, but far fewer questions had been asked. The news of her incarceration in muggle hospital got about. After a frantic day of whispers about how she was in a coma and had lost her mind, she faded as a point of gossip. It was sad, he thought, that other than Miss Weasley, no one seemed to care she was absent. Mr Weasley was more worried about Mr Potter according to Minerva, although, he pondered. Was that because he thought he knew where Miss Granger was?

Chapter Text

Albus called an Order meeting, the pair had been missing for eight days, and he had finally decided to open the search.

"Neither Mr Potter or Miss Granger made it to Kings Cross on the day the Hogwarts Express was due to leave. Neither of them has performed any sort of magic in the last eight days either." His face got very sombre, and for a moment Severus thought the worst.

He watched as Albus pulled something from deep in his robes. "In an attempt to locate both Mr Potter and Miss Granger, I cast a locating spell on their wands. This spell led me to a muggle factory where after some searching I found these." Albus stopped speaking and held out his hand flat.

It took a moment but when Severus’ brain made sense of what he was seeing his stomach dropped through his boots and kept on going. Broken wand pieces lay in Albus’ hand, the dark wood of holly and the light wood of vine, the magical cores trailing from the split ends. There were gasps as everyone else saw what he did, and then a deep, profound silence fell as the implications set in.

“What sort of muggle factory?” Arthur asked. “Could they have been held there at any point which was why their wands were damaged?”

“It dealt with refuse,” Albus said. “Quite isolated, but I doubt they had been held there."

"Muggles collect their refuse from all over and take it to factories for processing. Some is recycled and turned into other materials that can be used to make other things. Some is buried in landfill sites." Severus explained to the room. "If you found their wands there, there's no telling where they were disposed of, or how long ago."

The implication of that statement took longer to sink in. When it did all hell broke loose, denials flew that if they had been taken, or captured, then they would have heard about it. The Death Eaters would have bragged. The idea that Harry Potter was dead, along with Miss Granger the brightest witch of her age, seemed completely nonsensical. They would have used magic to escape, if their wands had been broken they would have got word to someone, somehow.

Albus quieted them by raising his voice. "Enough! We have no proof they are dead. Severus, do you have any news to share?"

"The Dark Lord hasn't killed them or captured them. When I spoke to him in regards to Miss Granger, he seemed to readily accept that she was in a muggle hospital. As for Mr Potter, he was eager to see if you could locate him before he opened the field to the Death Eaters. He seemed to think that if Mr Potter were merely hiding in a fit of pique, then he would be returned to school shortly, and the Dark Lord wouldn't need to risk exposure by locating him."

“You don’t think he’s testing your loyalty?” Arthur asked, “Seeing what you will report to him and what you don’t?”

Severus sighed, these people. "The Dark Lord is a megalomaniac, of course, he doesn't trust me. I'm useful, that's all. If he decides he no longer needs me, he'll kill me. There's no testing, it's a yes no equation." A hush fell as for once, the people in the room considered that. Severus felt glad for a moment that they saw what he was up against. Then he realised that they were more likely to get him killed in some feeble attempt to help. He pinched the bridge of his nose, wanting nothing more than this meeting to not be happening. For Potter to be in Gryffindor tower calling him childish names while he completed homework badly, and Miss Granger there with him, plotting all the ways she could make his life miserable once Albus laid down the law.

Albus continued. "We would be foolish to jump to the incorrect conclusion. It is possible that they are both hiding waiting for the deadline on Miss Granger's contract to pass before they reappear. Of course, if this is the case then they have disposed of their wands themselves in order to hide from the Ministry. This seems something that Miss Granger would be aware of?" Albus raised an eyebrow at Minerva.

"Err, yes, I suppose," she said hesitantly. "If Miss Granger were going to try and evade the law then she would certainly be aware of the methods the Ministry can use to find her."

“Very well then, we shall proceed with the idea that they have not been captured but are in fact hiding to evade the marriage law and its effects on Miss Granger,” Albus said smiling.

“That doesn’t answer where they are Albus,” Molly said sharply.

"No, it does not, I rather thought that was what was involved when someone decided to hide. However, Mr Potter is still under age in the wizarding world and is somewhat recognisable. Firstly, we must decide if they have had the chance to procure new wands and we can move on from there. I suggest that we meet again in a week to discuss progress," Albus responded.

Albus stood, dismissing the meeting, and Severus remained seated listening, as the people gathered in small groups chatting. The Weasley twins were close by and murmuring together.

“What do you think? Hermione in hiding?”

"Not really her thing unless she's found a loophole."

“And is waiting to exploit it.”

“Much more our Hermione’s thing.”

“Wandless?”

“If anyone can she can. She’s not one to mess with, nearly as bad as Ginny with her hexes, and after that fight at the Ministry.”

“Glamour?”

“Charms, like those coins yeah, put the glamour charm on a ring or bracelet something small you wouldn’t usually notice. Pour enough power into it to keep it running, a simple glamour wouldn’t take a lot. Trigger it to activate when you put it on, no wand necessary.”

“Make more than one, different disguises.”

“So you don’t see the same person twice.”

“Yeah.”

“Definitely Hermione.”

“They won’t find her will they?”

“Not a chance, if she’s gone she’s got a plan. It’s who she is.”

“Harry?”

“Wouldn’t leave his best mate to face it alone would he?”

“Do you think when she comes back, she’ll let us have the charms?”

“Can’t hurt to ask, though she never said no to the job offer did she.”

They trailed off as their mother approached, and Severus thought carefully. She was bright, the twins apparently thought she was capable of what they laid out between them. If he had to be honest, it did sound like something she might consider, if she knew she would be wandless at any point. Overachieving know it all. But would she take the risk? Well, she led a member of staff into a forest ambush, she was at the Ministry with Potter. Though, he thought that might be loyalty. Certainly, if she'd planned that, then the twins' praise of her strategic ability seemed misplaced. The room emptied, he nodded at Minerva and swept out.

She met him at his door twining round his feet. “If you’ve left hair on my robes I would watch your tea for the next month,” he muttered at her.

She smiled at him sitting on the chair that he had begun to think of as hers.

“So,” he said. “Do you think it’s more likely she’s gone underground, and Potter has followed her?”

“I prefer that thought to their capture or them off separately. It would make them easier to find,” she replied.

Severus raised an eyebrow at her. “It seems then, your opinion differs to the Weasley twins.” He briefed her on the conversation the twins had had between them. Her face grew grim.

"Alright, so we might have a problem. How long do you think she was planning it?"

“If she was, and for the sake of this conversation let’s say she was, and Potter has gone with her. I’d say from the day that marriage law was announced.”

“Four months? How much could she hope to achieve in four months?” Minerva asked.

“You are speaking of Miss Granger are you not?”

“Yes, but still, you can’t just disappear with less than four month’s preparation under your belt. Not while studying at school, and staying that far ahead of your class, can you? Her grades never slipped and other than that one class she met with you, her attendance has been top notch,” she protested.

“It rather seems she has proven you can. The twins are correct, although you would need Filius to speak to her ability. But glamour charms, placed on jewellery, would offer a disguise without relying on a wand to recast them or a potion to renew them. So now you aren’t looking for Miss Granger and Mr Potter, you are looking for two teenagers who are nearly adults in both worlds. They’ve got their disguises sorted making them harder to find. They’ve thrown away their wands meaning they can’t be tracked that way. But how are they living? Four months to organise living accommodation would stretch even Miss Granger, I don’t know of her family situation but could she get her hands on enough money to put a deposit down on a bedsit? Possibly. She’s old enough, and certainly bright enough to get a job in the muggle world to pay her rent. Potter might be more of a problem…” Severus trailed off thinking hard.

“What? What did you just think of?” she asked, leaning forward.

"Potter, I think of him as a wizard, but he's not, he was raised by Lily's sister which means he exists in the muggle world."

“So?” she said. “What difference does that make?”

Severus looked at her a gleam in his eyes. “It means that the Gryffindor Princess is even more of an insufferable know it all than I first thought, and she’s a sneaky witch besides. How the hell did she end up in your house?”

“The hat stall was between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor,” she said amused. “But you haven’t explained.”

“Wizards and witches born into magical families don’t have any records in the muggle world. No birth certificate, no school records, doctor’s records, nothing. It makes living there horribly difficult unless you can confound everyone, or you can make up the certification required. Potter and Granger are without wands ergo without magic. So confounding is out. But they don’t need to, they have the documentation most muggles require. If Miss Granger is smart enough, she’ll know Albus will check in on Ollivander, so they won’t have acquired new wands in England, but they don’t need to. They can hop on a ferry over the channel to France, or get on the damn Eurostar straight to Paris, and get new wands there. As long as they were careful, and kept their magic use to a minimum, living as muggles would be simple. I presume she can drive?” Severus questioned.

“Drive?” she asked puzzled.

"Really Minerva? Your house is full of half-bloods and muggle borns, and you don't know what driving is?"

She bristled but said nothing shooting him a glare. “So you think they are living as muggles? So how do we find them?”

“Why should we?” he asked blandly.

“Because they’ll throw her in prison!” she shrieked. “If the Ministry catches her after the deadline and she’s not married she’s going to jail! Azkaban! A life sentence! No trial, no nothing, just life imprisonment.”

"What if she marries Potter? It's not just wands you can get in France," Severus pointed out.

She looked at him closely, settling down into the chair. "You think they'll hide? Travel to France to marry magically, so she's safe from the law, and then pop back up once the deadline has passed? He's not of age until July!"

"They would hardly be the first couple to hedge the ages a bit, and once they are married what can you do? I think it's as likely as anything. If she was just going to hide, then why take Potter? If she's talented enough to pull off glamour's charmed on to jewellery, and they are living as muggles, you won't find them. There are over sixty million muggles in England Minerva, how do you think you would go about finding them?" He sat back and watched his colleague, and thought about Miss Granger. If this is what she'd done, then dammit he was impressed. Suddenly something tickled the back of his mind, he twitched, and Minerva broke from her own mental musing to watch him.

“Go on, something has just occurred, it can’t be any more ludicrous than today has been so far,” she said tiredly.

“She said goodbye,” Severus said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“She said goodbye, that time she came to my office before the end of the term.” He wracked his memory trying to remember exactly what she had said. “Before she left, she thanked me for offering to marry her then she said ‘Thank you for your time. Goodbye Professor’.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?” she asked.

“What does she usually say to you when leaving your office?”

Minerva sat thinking, obviously replaying the myriad of conversations she'd had with the witch. "Good afternoon or good night," she said. "Yes, she wishes me a good day, evening or night, time-dependent obviously, but surely it was a slip of the tongue."

"Has she ever said goodbye to you?" he asked her, she looked incredulously at him. "Mannerisms Minerva! They are taught to you as a babe, you grow up learning certain patterns of speech. Everyone has their own, they vary from the class you were raised in and the area, but everyone has them."

“And you think, because she didn’t say good afternoon or good evening, but said goodbye she was actually saying goodbye?”

"Yes, in six years she's never once said goodbye to me, Minerva. It's always good morning or good afternoon or good evening or good night never a hello or goodbye."

She shook her head. “This is a spy thing isn’t it?”

He nodded. “People change their speech patterns when emotional. You learn to notice the difference.”

“So what then? She’s said goodbye, so she had a plan before she left. You think she’s living as a muggle with Potter until the end of the month? Then they’ll just show up, apologise for worrying us and explain that it’s all alright now?! That’s what you think her plan is?” Minerva shook her head. “She would know the Death Eaters would come for her for defying them.”

“They were coming anyway, brightest witch in her year, best friends with Potter, muggle born, has a feud with Malfoy. Hell Minerva, she punched him. She punched him, and broke his nose, outside of school that would have gotten her killed. The Death Eaters are going to come for her, she knows that. Marrying Potter wouldn’t make her a target, it would just add to the list of why.”

"I'm quite proud of her for that," Minerva said with an air of smugness. "There are days when I frequently want to punch the smug little tosser and his son."

“Gryffindor’s, you lack any kind of subtly.” Severus drawled.

Minerva laughed. “You don’t fool me; you’ve wanted to punch him just as much as I have.”

He smiled and raised a shoulder a non-committal half shrug.

"There's one thing, though, when did she get Mr Potter on board? I didn't know they had any regard for each other, other than friends. Usually, the three of them are thick as thieves when they are planning something. Mr Weasley seems to be as much in the dark as we are." Minerva questioned.

“Weasley is hardly the subtlest of souls. Nor is Potter come to that. I’d say she told Potter towards the end, gave him a week or two to make up his mind possibly just after my meeting with her. Two weeks isn’t long to keep a secret, especially with everyone distracted with the build up to the end of the term.” Severus suggested.

“Do you think she’d have gone alone, if he’d said no, or stayed?”

“She’d have gone,” he said with certainty. “You don’t plan for four months to throw it away because your friend doesn’t want to come. Although if part of her plan hinged on him agreeing to marry her and he said no, I don’t think she would come back.”

“I’m going to have to go and visit her parents aren’t I. Tell them their daughter is missing.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Whatever for?”

“Maybe I want to meet the parents of the Gryffindor Princess.”

“Or maybe you want to see if they know something.”

He shrugged his shoulders denying nothing.

“Fine, come but try not to upset anyone. I’ll send them an owl telling them we’re coming first thing tomorrow morning.”

Chapter Text

Minerva had delivered Hermione’s letter, so was able to side along them both. The neighbourhood was affluent, not overly so but gave off an air of comfortable living without snobbishness. He looked around casually noting the cars. There were some badges here he recognised from his childhood, the cars that seemed dreamlike they were so far out of reach, and here nearly everyone had one. Mercedes, Audi, the big German brands that spoke of quality and money.

The house was, well it was a house, it was nice he supposed. It was large with a tidy front garden, the windows were clean, and it looked loved. The man who answered the door was clearly Miss Granger’s father, the brown curly hair was a dead giveaway. He invited them in, introducing himself as John and his wife as Helen. He offered them a seat as Helen came through with tea.

If Severus had ever wanted to know what the Gryffindor Princess was going to look like when she was his age, he only had to look at her mother. She was taller than Miss Granger he thought, but only slightly, and presumably Miss Granger might yet grow. The hair was different, but the lines of her body were a dead on match. Her mother was trim and curvaceous, she oozed competency and warmth.

Her father was tall and watching them with suspicion writ large on his face, his jaw set in a way that both Professors had seen before in class when Miss Granger's patience was challenged, or when she set herself against something she expected to be difficult.

Miss Granger was her parent’s daughter.

“So?” John bit out. He’d sat at his wife’s behest, but his back was straight and his gaze firm. Helen sat next to him leaning on him slightly. Comfort or warning? Time would tell.

“Spit it out then,” he said shortly.

Minerva looked slightly taken back at his abrupt tone. 

“What John is saying, somewhat badly,” Helen broke in. “Is that when Hermione was petrified in her second year for six weeks, we were told only that she’d had an accident and was physically well. This is the year after she was attacked by a troll, which we were not informed about. You must see that we’ve been told she had not arrived as expected, followed by a week of silence. Only to have not one, but two of her Professors turn up on our door step. I understand you are her Head of House Professor McGonagall, and thus are responsible for her wellbeing.” She turned, and looked at him. Her gaze was piercing, it was as if she saw straight through him. “You must be her Potions Professor? Since she is missing, she clearly doesn’t need potions. So I presume you are here in your other role?” she asked, her gaze not wavering.

He exchanged a glance with Minerva, not only was Miss Granger her parent’s daughter, they were bloody well clued in, and sharp as tacks. He could understand their point of view, as an escalation it looked pretty bad to have two Professors turn up on your doorstep when petrification had netted a bland generic owl. He decided to open his mouth and save Minerva, who looked like she’d been slapped, verbally he supposed she had.

“You may be aware that your daughter has made friends with Mr Potter, and thus drawn the attention of the Dark Lord, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,” he said.

“Yes we know about Harry and Tom, Hermione told us. I hardly think that in a society with as many people prejudiced against her blood status, her friends would be of consequence. We were under the impression that your school pandered to the bullying if not actively encouraged it,” Helen replied, arching a sceptical eyebrow.

Minerva choked on her tea. “I can assure you Hogwarts does not pander to bullies or prejudice in regards to blood status,” she said firmly.

“Really?” Helen asked, and Severus winced internally at her tone. “So when my daughter was left crying because she was called mudblood by an 11 year old you stepped in, and acted did you? Or when she wrote, and asked if she could stop being a witch. If she could come home because she loved her parents and didn’t want to go to a school where they were considered less than dirt, you said something? Or the time when the threats to students of her birth status were scrawled on the walls in chicken’s blood. The school stepped in, did it? What about the time she was hexed in the corridors, between classes, causing her teeth to grow? You offered an appropriate response? Made sure she received medical assistance? Didn’t leave her to flee down the corridor crying?” Then he really did wince, but she wasn’t finished. “Or the time a teacher, who punished students who stood up to her poor teaching practices, by making those students use a blood quill during detentions. An item that was outlawed by your own society, stopped that, did you?"

What he found most disturbing was that she never raised her voice, never changed her inflection from politely interested, and yet she flayed them. Narcissa Malfoy could take notes.

“And now you are here, you’ve finally left your ivory tower when you have little other choice. Come to tell the helpless muggles that you’ve lost their daughter, but not to worry because magic will have the answer.” Her husband laid a hand on her arm and she stopped, she leant against him and watched them struggle to find something to say.

“We believe Miss Granger has met up with Mr Potter and they have taken it upon themselves to go into hiding, if you will, until the deadline requiring Miss Granger to be married has passed. It is possible that they may try to marry themselves using magical means,” Minerva said. Trying not to set Helen off again.

“Ahh yes,” John said.

It was Johns turn apparently, and Severus didn’t think they would fare any better under this onslaught. Who would accept their teenage daughter not yet finished school had to be married off as part of a political manoeuver in a war?

“About that, Hermione did explain what was required of her, and we had some questions she wasn’t able to answer. Maybe, seeing as you are here, you’d indulge the Muggles? Tell me, is the magical society in such dire straits that marrying off an entire generation of young witches, who won’t finish their education thus lowering their net worth as a workforce, the best solution to your population problem? Or is this just another play in your war over blood purity?” John asked, looking politely interested.

So not these parents then. Severus mentally threw his hands up, then opened his mouth trying for reasonable. “As neither of us have children we cannot understand how you feel about this law. However, as educators we can tell you that yes, we believe it to be a travesty, and no more than a play to control key elements which your daughter is one. Regardless your daughter is missing, she is a target, and whilst we are sitting in our ivory tower we are not doing so idly. We are exhausting the magical methods of finding her-”

“Why?” John asked “Why are you trying to find her?”

“To assure her safety,” he replied, suddenly unsure if this was the correct answer.

 Helen interrupted him again. “Before you give us false platitudes think a moment. From our perspective she’s been gone eight days, and you can’t find her. You, the people she’s spent six years with, can’t find her. Why do you think the Death Eaters will be more successful?”

“You are the man the Headmaster wanted her to marry? The double agent that would keep her out of danger, but close enough the other side thinks they could use her. You can’t find her so here you are, tell me, do you want her found or do you want her safe?” John added.

He took a moment to gathered his wits, because well, hadn’t that been just the bombshell. He’d had no idea that they knew the Headmaster wanted him to marry their daughter.

Fucking hell, was there anything she hadn’t told her parents? He realised he said it out loud when Helen replied. “No Professor Snape, in order to attend your school Hermione had to promise to tell us everything whether we wanted to hear it or not, whether she thought she should or not. We cannot help our daughter in your world, we will lose her to it one day but we’ll be damned if it’s a day earlier than it needs to be.”

Her chin was up and her eyes were steely staring him down. Her husband was at her side and behind her all the way. He felt Minerva twitch, it was a stance Miss Granger had taken time and again when challenged.

Minerva tried, he gave her points for that. “Professor Snape is as dedicated to Miss Granger’s wellbeing as I. The situation is admittedly untenable but it is the situation we are in. The consequences of Miss Granger flouting this law is a life time prison sentence. In a magical prison, that you would be unable to visit.”

“Are you threatening us?” John asked mildly. “Insinuating that we accept this, and come quietly or our daughter will die in prison. Never seeing the light of day again, guarded by fey that suck every happy thought from you?” He must have caught Minerva’s shock as he elaborated. “Third year, attack on the train stopped by a defence teacher who was a werewolf I believe? And then later at a sporting event on school grounds, then later still by a lake, possibly not on school grounds but in that forest you ironically call forbidden and use for detentions. Your school has a horrible record of child endangerment.”

 Inside, deep inside behind his mental shields part of him was rolling on the floor howling with laughter. They were two of the most respected Professors at Hogwarts. He was a double agent, he faced the Dark Lord, lied to him and walked away. Minerva was no slouch herself, she ran the castle as deputy head with iron control, and yet they were here, in southern London suburbia being taken a part by a pair of muggles. Maybe he could feel better that the muggles were the parents of Hermione Granger, their steel was clearly in their daughter. Maybe hers was not as honed or refined as theirs, but she’d had a trial by fire coming to Hogwarts, her mettle had been tested and not found wanting.

 John stood, bringing Severus' attention back to the conversation at hand. Sensing his time was running out, he did what he had come here to do. He ran a light scan over the memories of Miss Granger’s parents. Nothing invasive and nothing they would notice but he had to know if they had had anything to do with her disappearance.

Her mother was worried, it was deep and strong. It was complemented by anger at the pair of Professors who had come to tell her that her daughter was missing a week after the fact. A strong love for her daughter was present, there were memories of snowy mountains and Miss Granger wrapped in a large padded suit, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, the skiing trip, then. He drew back and repeated it with John, he was also angry and, oddly, Severus felt his disappointment. Disappointment that they had taken so long to come to them and that they had no better news of his daughter. The worry and love was there, and a touch of pride she’d evaded them.

He withdrew, and stood with Minerva, who was offering to keep in touch with the Grangers, and let them know of any developments. They walked to the front door followed by the couple who had their arms wrapped round each other.

“Tell me Professor Snape, Hermione respected you, would you have offered her the same? Or were you thinking you wouldn’t survive the war so wouldn’t need to have made the effort?”

That stopped them both cold, and he turned to look at her father who had asked the question.

"If I am to still take Miss Granger as my wife to keep her safe, then I would offer her both my respect and loyalty."

“That means something to you doesn’t it, your loyalty?”

“My loyalty is mine to offer,” he replied stiffly. He met her damnable father’s eyes and inclined his head, then taking Minerva by the arm he led her away, at as fast a walk as was seemly.

Chapter Text

They didn’t speak, they reached the point of apparation and not a word passed between them. Arriving at the gates they walked up the path to the school, and up into Minerva’s office still in silence. It wasn’t until the first cup of tea had been drunk, and whiskey distributed that either of them found their voices.

“I know why she’s in your house,” he said, his voice croaking slightly.

“Oh Merlin, I wasn’t expecting that. I felt like a first year explaining why my homework wasn’t done.”

“Next time, we send Albus,” he added sagely.

Minerva snorted then laughed, and he joined her. Tensions bled away as they shared a laugh at the thought of Albus backed into a corner by the straight talking Grangers.

“Do they know Severus? Do they know where she is?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Her mother was angry it had taken so long for us to speak to them, her father disappointed for the same reasons. Although, he was harbouring a small amount of pride she’d done such a successful bunk. There were memories of the skiing trip, but I couldn’t look deeper or they would have noticed.”

“Will it get to that point do you think?”

“If Albus decides that those two waiting out the deadline is less important than having Potter in the school then yes. He’ll order me to do it.”

“She’s told them everything, everything that has ever happened to her within these walls.”

“Was she really that unhappy when she started here?” he asked. Wrinkling his forehead trying to remember Miss Granger as a first year.

“She took longer than most to adapt, the hand waving…”

“She still does that,” he objected.

“Well yes, but when you are running rings round your classmates in your first lessons, and muggle born to boot it doesn’t win you friends. It wasn’t until the incident with the troll that she made friends with Mr Potter and Mr Weasley. Her dorm mates ignore her for being too studious, and she ignores them for being too frivolous. Miss Brown and Miss Pavarti.” She answered his questioning look.

“She’s not hexed them? They are two of the most simpering fools in the year!”

“Yes, thank you Severus, but no, they seem to co-exist by pretending they don’t.”

“Didn’t Weasley spend some time searching for Brown’s tonsils with his tongue?”

“Trust you to remember that.”

“It was during meals; it was a very effective way of putting the school off their food. So, she’s told her parents everything, we’re in rather a tricky position then.”

“How so?”

“If I go hunting for memories of her whereabouts obliviating them afterwards is a higher risk. They have so many memories of magic that the chances of it been done right are slimmer. In fact, I’d bet money she’s told them about obliviation which means… Damnit all to hell, that foolish, too clever for her own good, stubborn, harridan of a witch!” he all but shouted, sloshing his drink as he jerked upright with realisation.

“Severus! Whatever is it?”

“She’s told them.” His voice and eyes begging her to understand.

“Told them what?”

“Told them about Legilimency and Occlumency! The bloody smug chit told them, and they were blocking me.”

“But they are muggles they can’t block Legilimency, they can’t use Occlumency.”

He sagged back into his chair unwillingly impressed by her, and unreasonably angered for the same reasons. “Her parents are in on it,” he said tiredly.

“You’re going to have to explain better,” she responded. She poured him another drink. He took it and drank half before meeting her eyes.

“You are right; muggles can’t use Occlumency to block Legilimency. Occlumency is magic and they can’t use it. What your irritating Gryffindor witch has worked out, and shared with her parents to boot, is that you don’t have to. A light scan like the one I performed on her parents follows thoughts directed by the emotions the person is feeling at the time. You don’t notice because you are already feeling that way. She’s trained them, she must have, but when? And gods how?”

“Severus, you are diverting again.”

“Miss Granger has told her parents everything. Everything about her experiences here, about Potter, about the Dark Lord, who they called Tom for Merlin’s sake! About Albus, about me, everything about me. Which means they know I can perform legilimency. To keep me from picking up on anything important or vital all they had to do is concentrate on how they felt about us, about the school. The anger, the disappointment, the worry they had over her safety here. They love her, and care for her, they have accepted what it means for her to be magical, and she’s teaching them to use it against us. The pride her father felt about her successful bunk? Was that natural in the situation? On the face of it you could argue that yes, the school and her Professors have shown a high level of ineptitude in keeping her safe, and she’s out foxed us all. Why not feel pride in that? But his daughter is missing, she is presumably operating on limited resources. Pride in those circumstances?” He raised an eyebrow in clear incredulousness.

“You think she’s told them she was leaving?”

“Almost certainly.”

“Then what do we do? Do we tell Albus her parents know she’s in hiding? He won’t take that well. If she’d left on her own, then maybe he’d let her go, but assuming Mr Potter is with her and the war building.”

“Albus won’t lose his chess pieces if he can help it. He needs both of them, Potter won’t make it without Granger, she is quite clearly the brains of the operation.”

They sank into silence.

“If you go and look and they don’t know what then?” she asked quietly.

“Then we wait for them to surface.”

“Severus,” Minerva said looking at him. “What if they don’t?” 

They decided that they had to tell Albus, they didn’t like it, he was likely to tell Severus to do something neither of them liked to think of, but they saw no way round it. There was a war on, and Harry Potter was key.

Albus didn’t take it well. It seemed that being out manoeuvred was something only he was allowed to do to other people. Not something that happened to him. He agreed it was likely that they had run off together, and declared that this would be the main focus of their attempts to find and return them both.

They sat through his dissection of all the interactions they had had with Miss Granger in the run up to the last weeks of term looking for clues. The three of them watched Severus' memory of his meeting with her. In his rooms later, they had drawn solace if not humour, from the look on Albus' face as he watched a sixth year pace and call him names. The goodbye she had given him had Minerva’s lip tremble. It was clear with hindsight that that was exactly what it had been.

None of their interactions in the two weeks after that meeting threw up any further clues. The pair had continued to study, eat, and chat as normal. Nothing had been out of place until they simply hadn’t returned.

Albus demanded Severus return to the Grangers, and find out by whatever means, what they knew of their daughter’s disappearance. He baulked, Minerva backed him up, and he was spared the task. For now, Albus agreed. But only if they returned once the deadline passed. After that Mr Potter’s return would become the highest priority, and would be achieved by whatever means.

Neither of them liked that answer but settled for it. They couldn’t see a reason for the pair not to return once Miss Granger was out of harm’s way.

Chapter Text

They shared a room, and were a couple openly for the first time. Hermione found that being able to be affectionate, hold hands and steal kisses without worrying who might see was wonderful. She ignored her parent’s grins and knowing nudges, revelling in the feeling that this is what it should be like. Not hiding so she didn’t get hate mail, or bring Death Eaters to her parents’ door hoping to hurt Harry through their association. But sitting next to each other on the sofa in their room in the evenings, with his arm slung around her shoulders as they chatted about the skiing they had done. Or walking to breakfast hand in hand, or exploring the village their hotel was in together, shoving snow down each other’s clothes to end up in a heap laughing and breathless.

 It was almost as if the first flush of their relationship was back, and she gloried in it. It made it worth it.

 The amount of courage she had needed to deliberately set herself, and her family against the Ministry, had been more than she had imagined. It had required more than running through the Ministry hexing Death Eaters had. This had real world consequences beyond potential injury. Her refusal to abide by the law by the deadline date would make her a fugitive. Without complying with the law she could never return without risking life imprisonment. The country of her birth was no longer accessible to her, and it made her ache a little on the inside.

So far, hiding from the school and the Headmaster, hadn’t been that difficult. Being without magic wasn’t anything new, she’d only just come of age enabling her to use magic outside of school. Harry, technically still couldn’t.

 Skiing in Switzerland was no different from her school holidays. Harry had admitted the lack of his wand wasn’t bothering him once he stopped checking for it, and they had been too busy skiing, and exploring their new relationship to care about magic too much. It would end and they would want it again she knew that. But for now having been unable to access it unless within the walls of Hogwarts, they were coping better than she thought other people would. Wizards and witches who had the use of magic in their daily life for longer, in short the people who would come looking for them. It was the basis of the plan, the wizards and witches hunting them wouldn’t think of living day to day without their magic, and likely couldn’t think anyone else would either. It would limit the scope of their search and thus hopefully allow them to be evaded.

 Switzerland had been beyond anything he could have imagined. The mountains were so far out of his circle of experience he felt like he was discovering magic for the first time again.

Skiing had not come naturally. Hermione might be shite on a broom but she was hell on well, snow, when it came to skiing. He had lessons and started on the nursery slopes for the first few days, bravely adventuring out onto the more challenging slopes as he found his feet. The euphoric high after completing his first run without landing on his arse was akin to his first flight on a broom. He was officially hooked on skiing.

When Hermione’s parents had made to move them on to Spain after the two weeks was up. He decided to turn on the charm with Hermione. He didn’t think trying to charm the Grangers would get him anywhere than looked at with fond bemusement. This was an expression Hermione had picked up from her parents, and used on him more than once at school. So he tried to charm Hermione hoping she would get it past her parents. They would go to Spain, get settled in the apartment then come back for another week of skiing. It wasn’t like they had school work, and wasn’t skiing just the most amazing thing since broom flight?

She’d laughed, he’d been crushed until he realised that she wasn’t saying no, just laughing at his overeager bouncing on the spot as he told her his plan. He stopped bouncing and tried again. The fond bemusement on her face, he saw mirrored on her parents when she ran it by them. He squirmed with barely supressed glee when they agreed, he probably looked like an excited 5 year old, not a 16 year old embroiled in a war. He didn’t care, there were slopes to conquer.

 Spain was warm. A stupid observation but it was the first thing that hit him. It was January and it was warm. January in England was wet, and miserable, and sometimes involved snow. January in Scotland was bitterly cold and usually always involved snow. Spain was warm, it enveloped him as he walked out of the airport to the taxi rank. Maybe the contrast with the cold mountains of Switzerland skewed his perception, maybe he’d just never thought January could be warm.

Hermione, he noticed travelled, with poise and ease that spoke of long practice as did her parents. He fumbled his way through hoping he didn’t look like a complete moron. He wanted to make a good impression on the Grangers. They were warm and welcoming and treated him no different to their daughter who they adored. It was comforting, and made him yearn for the family he had never had. It wasn’t overbearing like the Weasley's, where everything was a competition for attention, but steady, accepting and soothing. Best of all they knew everything already. He never had to fumble through an explanation if he took something differently to how they expected. There weren’t many instances of it happening but when it did it was handled with grace that didn’t have him flushing with embarrassment and feeling like a burden.

 The apartment was nice, they settled in, her parents were staying for a day before they left for England. They spent it walking round the village finding where they could get food and things they needed. She touched her parents constantly as if reassuring herself that they were there. She linked arms with her mother, swapping to her father after a short time. They were also keen to exchange touches with her, and even Harry, seeking a reassurance that their separation wouldn’t be for long, and that they believed in their plan.

Before her parents left they had gone out for a meal, and discussed the possibilities of what would happen next, and the expected timeline. They had to return to school no later than the 5th of January, which was a Sunday, ready for term to begin on the 6th. When they didn’t show up it was a guessing game of how long before the school contacted her parents. They assumed that if she was still a no show on the Monday, an owl would be despatched to check if there was an obvious reason why she hadn’t turned up. John and Helen thought it would then be one to two weeks before they got any further news from the school, while they tried to locate her with magical means. Hermione thought it might be sooner and Harry couldn’t believe they would wait at all.

“You’re my friend, when we don’t turn up surely they’ll put two and two together, and go all out to find you.”

“Not necessarily,” she disagreed. “I am required to be married by the end of the month in accordance with the law. They are going to think I ran off to avoid it, and with you also missing, we can assume they’ll think we’re together. The chances are, they’ll think I’m just going to hide until my deadline passes. Since Mum and Dad are going to tell them I left for the train on the 5th, they will assume that we have only just started to hide ourselves, and they will try and find us using magical means of tracking.”

“Would they think that the pair of you would run off together, to wait out the deadline? I assume that if you were to marry Harry, which I am not suggesting you do for a good few years yet, no offence Harry. Would that get you around the law? And would it still work even though Harry is underage currently? Only, they might expect you to fudge the dates a bit to get magically married thus fulfilling the requirements, and pop back up before your deadline comes to pass.” Helen pointed out.

“Well, we wouldn’t be able to magically marry in the UK. Harry is too well known, but I guess if we went to France we could do it there. Yes, I’d be a bigger target for the Death Eaters if they wanted to hurt Harry that way, but I was already a target for just about everything else. So it makes very little difference,” Hermione explained.

Harry shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with her blasé attitude. John’s hand landed on his shoulder squeezing gently, when he met the elder man’s eyes he saw understanding in them. He wasn’t the only one unhappy, it made him feel better.

“If you get a visit from Professor Snape, remember to concentrate on related feelings. You might be best steering the conversation. Make them uncomfortable, then they won’t ask too many direct questions. You need to think about me, but not of me, if you see. If you question what they have been doing to find me, or how much danger I may be in, then think of the danger I’ve been in previously, it should throw Professor Snape off. You won’t feel it, so you have to be concentrating from the moment you are in the same room as him, and that goes double for the Headmaster. You probably won’t fool him, and if you throw him off enough he’ll be back. The Headmaster won’t let it lie, Harry is too important to his plans."

“We know, Hermione; you have been very consistent in telling us,” her mother said gently.

“It’s dangerous for you, and I won’t be there to help, and it’s my fault we’re all in this situation. If I had followed orders,” she said, her eyes wide with sorrow.

“If you’d have followed orders you’d be in as much danger if not more. You’d have to walk away from your relationship with Harry, be used as a pawn, and live in an unsuitable marriage that was loveless. No one here is going to ask you to do that. In fact, everyone here would very much prefer you to never do that,” her father said. “The risks are ours to take, like the risks were yours to take when you went to the Ministry or rescued Mr Black or any of the other myriad of things you got up to.”

Harry felt better after John’s speech, even if Hermione didn’t. The nagging feeling that it was all his fault had been persuasive, and having spent time as part of the family, he had been horrified at the thought of tearing it apart and putting it in danger. He loved Hermione, and he was slowly coming around to respecting and loving her parents. They treated him with respect, never treating him like a child or an inconvenience, and he didn’t want to lose this fledgling relationship. They trusted them both to take care of each other and it was a heady feeling. Dumbledore who was as Hermione had said, on a pedestal, had never offered this level of uncomplicated trust.

 The hour before they were due to leave for the airport, they said their goodbyes. The last thing Helen said in his ear as she hugged him goodbye possibly made his month. “Don’t forget you can ski in New York too,” she whispered with a knowing smile. He had looked at her with an expression of reverence before telling her to be back soon because New York had just become a whole lot more attractive. He would do whatever she wanted if he was allowed to go skiing in his down time. She laughed and hugged him, John had clapped him on his shoulder. The three Grangers had then huddled together hugging each other. After a few minutes Helen and Hermione both pulled him into the group hug, and they stood there unwilling to break the connection before it was necessary.

They had sat quietly after, while Hermione, wearing a glamour charm on a ring she’d prepared for this very occasion, removed their memories.

She told Mr and Mrs Granger that the airline was so very sorry for having to divert them overnight through Spain, but their plane home was departing in an hour.

They climbed into the taxi and left for the airport.

 Hermione removed the glamour ring, and he marvelled again how clever she was. Then he dragged her back into their air conditioned flat so they could plan their trip back to Switzerland. Distraction was better than letting her brood and fret over her parents. They had to believe that they would be OK, anything else wasn’t worth contemplating.

 The third week of skiing was by far the best. They had downgraded their room to save some money, and fit in with the other people their age at the resort. They spent every hour they could on the slopes, by the end of the week he felt like he wasn’t a complete beginner anymore. He was definitely going to ski for the rest of his life, wizard or not. He also realised that the stress he usually carried was gone. The dreams of Voldemort had stopped completely; he didn’t really know why. Maybe in the many sessions of practice Hermione had given her parents, he had finally picked up some tricks. He put it aside, it was working, and that was enough.

 Hermione was thankful for Harry’s boundless enthusiasm for everything skiing, it kept her from dwelling on the danger her parents might be in, and it reminded her that there was a reason she was doing this. That reason was currently hurtling down a mountain side at speeds unsuited for the amount of skill he had for skiing. He was her rock, the person she clung to, and the guy who saved her, whether it be from a troll or from her own worry. She set off after him down the slope to see if he’d successfully navigated the run, or if he needed her to save him from a snow bank.  Whatever happened they had each other.

Chapter Text

That first week alone over, back in Spain Hermione pulled out her school books from her bag. Harry had groaned but stopped when he saw her face. He apologised, saying that it was ungrateful of him, and that he would knuckle down and try not to disappoint her or her parents. She was thankful that he wasn’t going to fight her on the studying thing and accepted his apology.  She had drafted up a schedule of study for them that wouldn’t be too onerous but wouldn’t let them lapse, they did have to pick their education back up after all. It also wouldn’t look good to her parents if they did nothing whilst left alone. It would be seen as a betrayal of the trust they had placed in them. Harry promptly agreed and they settled on their routine, they would study in the morning then stop for lunch. Then in the afternoons they could go out in to the community or spend time reading the various defence books she had with her or practice duelling.

To duel they would need wands he pointed out. She smiled, took him by the hand, slipped a glamour ring on to them both. Then she led him down the street, and through a door into a huge indoor market.

“This is the magical market for the area,” she said. She was looking round her eyes wide, he was doing the same thing, and they both grinned at each other. The charms had changed superficial things such as hair and eye colour, and skin tone, but she was still Hermione, and her grin was blinding. “Come on!” she said. “Let’s go explore!”

They found a wand maker who spoke English, he wasn’t as odd as Ollivander, he was much more practical. The woods sounded more exotic; Olive, Mulberry, Almond, Frankincense. The cores were also different; Sphinx, Griffon, some sort of magical fish as well as dragon.

Finding a wand here was not like the process in England. It was a frank discussion about what they were good at and what they wanted to become better at. They were then given a few wands to try to see what reacted with them and how. This was followed by the handing over of a box, and the statement that the wand inside was perfect for them. Both, entirely sceptical, had opened the boxes there and then and picked up the wands. Sparks fell in a waterfall of colours and they looked at the smug wand smith. “You young people,” he said. “Always so sure there’s only one way to do everything.”

  Wands purchased along with arm holsters for them they continued their exploration. Harry wandered away as Hermione found a stack of books, and found himself three stalls down looking at a stall full of rolled rugs. He looked around for a clue as to what made the rugs special or if they were just a soft furnishing. A head popped out from behind the tallest pile. Fast Spanish followed, and he shrugged trying to communicate his lack of understanding.

The witch huffed something and tapped her throat with her wand. “Flying Carpets, young sir, would you be interested?”

“Really? I’ve never seen one,” he said excitedly. Looking round for Hermione, he saw her walking towards him and gestured for her to come over. She did, and looked curiously at the rolled carpets, a hand reaching out to stroke over the fibres of the unrolled one on display.

“Are the charms woven in or spelled on top?” She asked the woman running the stall. The woman looked at Hermione through narrowed eyes and said something under her breath Harry didn’t catch. Hermione clearly did as she answered in rapid fire French. Harry stood and watched as Hermione snapped at the woman and she snapped back, arms moved, hands gestured and pointed. Harry watched hoping that she’d tell him later exactly what was going on. Neither woman looked angry so they weren’t fighting, Hermione’s eyes were sparkling so they were exchanging opinions on magical carpets or something more intellectual than his honest curiosity.

The woman bent down and heaved a rolled carpet on to the top of the display, more conversation followed he didn’t understand. Hermione was talking French, he knew that much, but the woman behind the counter was talking Spanish, so did that mean Hermione didn’t speak Spanish but could understand it? He resolved to ask her later.

Hermione took some gold out of the bag they had filled in the bank, counted out 40 galleons, and put them on the counter. The woman nodded and pushed the carpet over to her sweeping up the money.

“Umm, Hermione, did you just buy a flying carpet?”

“Yes!” she squeaked in delight. “Isn’t it just the best?”

“But you don’t like flying?”

“No, I don’t like brooms. Brooms are thin, there’s nothing to hold on to. They don’t feel safe at all, but a flying carpet you can lie down on? Now that is going to be amazing! We are road testing this tonight!” She put her bag on the floor flipping over the flap that closed it, then she carefully lowered the rolled rug into it. Harry watched in amusement, the rug had to be over two meters wide and 3 meters long he’d guess, maybe a bit bigger. Rolled it was manoeuvrable, but it was still a whole rug, it sank into her bag as it if was nothing. The woman at the rug shop called something out. Hermione straightened up, put her bag over her shoulder and smiled. Another rapid French stream coming from her lips.

“So are you going to tell me what that was all about?” he asked as they moved on.

“She was complementing me on my extension charm.”

“Not that, about the carpet, you were speaking French to her.”

“Oh,” she said in understanding. “Well, flying carpets are made two ways; you either weave the spells in the thread the carpet is eventually made of, or you get a rug and cast charms on it.”

“One is better than the other?” he guessed.

“Naturally, those carpets made out of spelled thread last longer, are a better flying machine and are a higher quality because all the work is done to the thread.  You can get nice rugs with the charms cast on them don’t get me wrong, but they aren’t usually as nice, and the charms wear off and you end up with a rug.”

“Hermione, I have gotten used to the idea that you know a lot about a lot of things. But, why do you know how flying carpets are made?”

She smiled at him “When I was 11 I was told I was a witch but I wouldn’t be going to magical school for a year. Suddenly everything that I thought was fantasy, that my parents thought was fantasy, had the possibility to be real. We would sit together at the weekend and pick something that we thought might be magical, then we’d go to the book shop in Diagon Alley and see if we could find a book on it and find out. After the first month we bought a wizarding encyclopaedia and we went through that instead. It was a way my parents could connect with magic, a way I could learn about it before I was sent away from home and I had a whole year to wait. Without a distraction I probably would have been an unholy terror I was so excited. So I learnt about a lot of things, then I got to Hogwarts and the library became my sanctuary. It reminded me of time spent with my parents looking things up. My parents are beneath notice to magical people, I needed a way to feel close to them that didn’t single me out any more.”

“You never said before.”

“You don’t have parents Harry, it would be unkind of me to speak of mine, and the relationship I have with them when you didn’t have a chance at that.”

“Oh,” he said a in small voice. She turned to him and took his hand squeezing it.

“My parents will happily accept you as part of the family if you want to be. There’s no pressure though it’s up to you. They would be the family you chose, and as such would want you to make that decision when you are ready. But enough of the emotional stuff. I can smell something amazing and I am very hungry so, what say you? Shall we investigate the cuisine?” She smiled at him, arching an eyebrow. He smiled back and rose to the challenge she was offering, pushing aside his melancholic thoughts for later. He tugged on her hand and they followed their noses to the source of the smells. 

Their study lessons went well, he found that with Hermione on hand to explain things he got the source material quicker than he had in class. When he mentioned it, she nodded agreeing. “The Professors had to explain in a way most of the class, who are from different backgrounds, and at different levels of skill would understand. Whereas one to one it can be explained in a way that you would understand but others wouldn’t”

He accepted that and strove to prove to himself, as well as Hermione and her parents that he could knuckle down and take his future seriously. With a daughter as bright as Hermione he couldn’t expect to shine, but he wanted a solid good showing so they would think him worthy of her.

 The week before the deadline approached their routine was set and comfortable, he had started to show off in the kitchen having found something his over achieving girlfriend couldn’t do. She could brew a complex potion at 13 but her attempts at cooking were hilarious. Harry, having been taught to cook at a young age, found that he liked cooking for the pair of them. He took over the kitchen within the first two days of being alone so they didn’t starve.

 She was sat at the table in their apartment writing a letter as he made lunch. The letter, he was in two minds about, he knew why she wanted to do it. He felt guilty for walking away too, but he wasn’t sure she should send it.  They had compromised, and instead of her writing to Professor McGonagall and Ron she would just write to the Professor. She would ask the Professor to pass along the message that they were safe and well to Ron. In true Hermione Granger style, it was more than that as well, but they would have to wait and see what came of it.

Hedwig had agreed to carry the message and return to the apartment afterwards. If she was tagged with a tracking spell it would only lead to the empty apartment. They would have met up with Hermione’s parents on the day before the deadline fell and moved to America. Once she was back either he or Hermione would portkey to the apartment to collect her. They were very unsure on what portkey travel would do to an owl. No books they had dug up said it would have negative effects but it was a risk. Hedwig had made it clear she was willing to take it, so they had capitulated to the determined owl.

 She read it once more before rolling it up and handing it off to Hedwig. “Fly safe, and if you’re not here by the date we arranged, we’ll come back every day at the same time until we meet up. OK?”

Hedwig bobbed her head in agreement, and message secure on her foot took off from her perch. She circled the kitchen, cuffing Harry once before heading out the door.

“Every day?” he asked.

“Pfft, I think we’re a bit beyond worrying about illegal portkeys don’t you?”

He slid her lunch in front of her and smiled. “Yes, but who knew it would be your idea to break the rules.”

She rolled her eyes and they ate in companionable silence. The nerves were starting to creep in, they knew that if efforts had been made to find them they would be doubled once the deadline passed. Their plan so far had met no major challenges, but within a week not only would they be hiding from Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but one of the most powerful and determined wizards in the European magical community. Albus Dumbledore. 

When her parents arrived two days early she nearly had a nervous breakdown. The removal of the memories of the relocation of Hermione and Harry, had stopped them remembering where she had gone. The letter they had left themselves, to be opened a week before hand had caused them concern they couldn’t pin down, so they had left a few days earlier than scheduled. Once reunited with the teens and the memories restored they were able to explain.

“You were right; we were sent an owl on the first day of term asking where you were, which we replied to as agreed. Then, eight days after the start of term Professors McGonagall and Snape showed up. We did as you suggested, and pointed out all the dangers you’d been in and I think it worked?” her father said hesitantly. “But it put us on edge a bit, and when we read the letter to come here it became an itch, so we came. Everything is sorted, the contracts on the house have been exchanged, the practice in America have our arrival dates, and the house they have organised for us is ready. We just have to wait for the flights.”

They spent the day exchanging news, before with glee Hermione led her parents outside to the garden, which was backed by scrubby empty land full of rocks and trees. It was a clear night and with an extra layer warm enough, she unrolled the rug and gestured to her parent to sit on it. With the four of them comfortable, she tapped the knot in the carpet and it gently, smoothly, rose to hover a meter off the ground. Her mother squealed in delight and Hermione matched her grin.

“Oh you found one! That’s so exciting! Is it spelled thread or the whole carpet? How high does it go? How fast?” The questions spilled forth. Harry met John’s eye and they shared a knowing smile as Hermione explained the controls to her mother.

The reason, she had explained to Harry, she had such a long conversation with the seller was because she wanted one her parents could operate. She’d told the seller she had a squib in her family and they had discussed the options. The carpet she had bought had been a mid-range good quality carpet with physical controls as a series of decorative knots woven into the pattern. It was of course made from spelled thread to ensure a better ride.

They spent the night putting the carpet through its paces out on the scrub land. It was amazing to finally show her parents something concrete as to why the magical world wasn’t all bad. It was also a chance for them to enjoy something as a family together that had no connotations of the reasons they were in Spain in the first place. It was pure enjoyment.

The next day they went as a family for a walk round the magical market showing John and Helen everything they could. They flew the carpet some more in the afternoon staying away from populated areas. 

In the morning of the day of their flight, they packed up the apartment in Cuenca they had called home. Everything they wanted to take with them they shrank and put into a box, then put the box into Hermione’s bag. They took a bus to Madrid and spent a day exploring the city before they left Spain altogether. They were ready at the airport for their evening flight with more than a little time to spare. They were all feeling the emotional strain of what was to come. As they flew over the ocean the day of Hermione’s dead line would dawn. She would become a fugitive from the British Ministry of Magic. Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world would have vanished leaving behind a war in which he had been told he had a pivotal role to play.

Maybe they would be branded cowards, maybe they would have stories of an epic love, and having to sacrifice it all to be together. It seemed unlikely there wouldn’t be any reaction. They just hoped that what they had done was enough.

Chapter Text

America, specifically New York City, was another experience. She had in theory known it was large and populated, but that's like saying ant nests have a lot of ants in them, until you kick it over and they come boiling out, numbers are hard to imagine.

The house that came with her parent's job was nice, it was a brick built terrace over three floors, although the estate agent seemed to think it was four. It had steps leading down to the tree lined street with a park at the end. Built in the early 1900's it was very different to her parents 1930's house they had left behind. It looked quite narrow from the front but was long to compensate. The ceilings were high, the floors downstairs were covered in parquet and one room even had wood panelling. Original to the building, the agent assured them when she handed over the keys, the room was instantly ear marked for a library. Upstairs was more wooden floors which clattered loudly in the emptiness as Harry and Hermione ran through the house as excited as five year olds at Christmas. Opening every door, they explored, up and down the stairs to call out to Helen and John some new detail they found or a room they wanted to claim as their own.

Furniture was to arrive tomorrow shipped over from the UK, in the meantime the two magical adolescents put their skills to good use and transfigured camp beds and chairs. Once they had somewhere to sleep and to sit, they set off out in to the neighbourhood with a map determined to see at least one tourist site, and find something to eat before their first day was over.

They managed both goals before realising they were hopelessly lost. Rather than call a taxi Hermione took her mother's hand and apperated her straight into the sitting room before going back for her father. Harry who had yet to take his apperation test was last. Home a lot faster than expected Helen and John thanked Hermione and suggested that next time a taxi would be fine. Apperation they decided, was a method of transportation best left to wizards. The first night in their new home they slept on their camp beds in the main sitting room together giggling and whispering until finally drifting off.

The next day the truck containing everything arrived, they told the moving men to put everything into the one room to be sorted. Puzzled but happy not to be climbing up and down stairs they complied and left. Harry and Hermione set to work, under Helen's direction boxes were shrunk and put into pockets to be taken upstairs, furniture was levitated and unpacking was done with a wave of a wand. Within a lot less time, using a lot less energy the house was set up and ready to be lived in.

Happy to be settled in, Helen set off for the supermarket to stock up on food with John, borrowing Hermione's book bag with its charms. It would make bringing home a full shop a lot easier since they were currently restricted to using the bus and taxis.

The persistent noise of traffic that Hermione had expected hadn't materialised for a city so densely populated with cars and people. She sat in the postage stamp of a back garden overlooked on all sides, listening to her new home. It was different, it smelt different, it sounded different. Gone was the lush green of her previous home in Crawley or quiet stillness of the isolated castle in Scotland. Here she could all but feel the beat and pulse of the millions of people around her, it was strangely intoxicating. It made her feel surrounded and isolated all at the same time and she wasn't sure of what to make of it.

Harry came outside to join her and they sat quietly together leaning on each other. "You know, when you've had enough of feeling like a fish in a bowl," he said. Indicating the numerous windows that over looked them. "I think you should come and see what I've done with my bedroom. Once you've done that, you might like to try it in your own."

She turned to look at him and caught the glint in his eye. "Maybe I would," she said with a smile. She stood up and let him lead her inside, her parents were going to be at least an hour or so. They could probably get a thorough inspection of both rooms done in that time. Maybe more than once.

Over the next few days she watched Harry a lot, not just because this was all new to him too, and the look of wonder in his face made her breath catch. Not just because she could without fear of reprisal, not even because she really liked the way he looked. But because she had plucked him out of his world and brought him with her. She needed to know he was alright with what she'd done, that he was happy, that he wasn't regretting it.

Technically, she'd kidnapped him, he was still a child under both English muggle and magical law. The fact that the only people pursuing them would be more interested in their roles in the upcoming war rather than his welfare didn't make the guilt go away. She was a fugitive and she'd taken a hostage. Some days she wondered how she had found herself stuck with the moniker of the rule abiding swot.

Discrete enquiries had been made with the Salem Institute. They could have their fireplace hooked up to the floo and floo in everyday for classes if they wanted to, or they could arrange for private tutoring to come to them. They had a number of freelance teachers on the books who were quite happy to give home schooling.

They decided that a classroom environment was for the best, agreeing to attend classes by floo-ing in every day. They didn't want to be found and it seemed unlikely anyone would look for them in America, but it also seemed like being found would be easier once they signed up. It involved a conversation with the School Dean. The school had privacy laws to obey and could not hand out information as to who was a student and who was not. If they felt the need they could take a different surname for classroom lessons, a nom de plume. A long discussion then happened, what were the chances of the insular British magical community looking for them out here? They had two years of education to get through, they would be wearing glamours, was changing their surname a necessary precaution or the act of the paranoid? In the end they decided that prevention was better than a cure, and registered under the name Black. It was practically a family name and like the name Smith or Brown they were in good company.

They completed the required tests to start midway through the year and knuckled down to it. Hermione had a plan, yes they needed their education but they also needed to train, but more than that, they needed to live. So that when or if they returned to Britain to re-join the war effort they were at least going knowing that there were other options out there. They wouldn't have jumped from school to war without any of the bits in the middle that made you want to fight a war.

They both signed themselves back up for all the classes they had been taking at Hogwarts. The Salem Institute however didn't offer a Defence Against the Dark Arts course. Having not assigned magic to specific criteria then blanket outlawed it as the British Ministry had done, they offered a course in practical magic instead. This course covered defensive and offensive magic but also included things that might be used in everyday life such as household spells, spells to use whilst travelling, simple medicinal potions that wouldn't be covered by the potions curriculum but would be used more often in everyday life. It in short prepared you for living with magic as a tool, a theory which Hermione approved of so she signed up. Harry thought a little longer then joined up as well, he could see the usefulness of the spells they taught having seen how Mrs Weasley ran her home. He agreed that Hogwarts had offered nothing in the way of practical magic.

Hermione also signed up for an extra class that she saw on the curriculum. Elemental magic. This class, whilst not formally certified, taught those with the innate talent how to manipulate the elements. Having read of the field of study but having no option to study it in Britain she added this to her timetable. Even if she didn't have the talent she wanted to learn everything she could about the varying forms of magic.

The first day of term had them floo-ing into a reception area with many other fireplaces. Students pouring in through them in a constant stream, then out a set of double doors to the campus proper. The campus was spread out over a number of buildings more like a college or university campus than the self-contained environment of Hogwarts.

The day was overcast, cold, and there was snow on the ground. Conveniently, the covered walkways between the buildings had warming charms built in to keep the students criss-crossing warm and dry. Marvelling at the ingenuity they met up with the students who had been selected to mentor them through the first couple of weeks while they found their feet. The students were polite, but distant, introduced themselves, and took them off to their first classes before agreeing to meet them afterwards to show them to the next. Grateful to not be left to find their own way immediately they thanked their escorts and entered the class.

The day was exhausting. Their lessons were different to at Hogwarts, whilst not behind on any subject, the way they were taught was very different. Herded into large lecture halls for the theory side of the lesson, the practical or lab time was held later in the week. Students were expected to come to the class having at least run through the theory on their own. The lab classes were smaller, allowing more flexibility in timetabling and more time per student with the teacher who was focusing on the practical aspect.

Harry, suddenly studious to make a good showing with her parents, was doing better. Maybe it was the environment in the classrooms, maybe it was because no one knew him or his father so had no expectations. Maybe he just wanted to show them all he was worth the risks that came with being around Harry Potter. Whatever the reasons his classroom grades climbed and settled a grade point higher than they had been before. As a reward her parents took them skiing for a long weekend two weeks after they started. Or yeah, Hermione mused as he enthusiastically threw himself down another slope. Maybe it was because her parents had said that a sustained improvement in his grades would get him time on the slopes. Really, it was so hard to tell.

Helen and John had started at their new practice and found they enjoyed the change. Their daughter was safe, and for the first time in six years she was home every night after school. It made them feel like parents again they admitted to each other in the quiet of their bedroom. Letting Hermione go, when they knew that she was more than likely to be getting into trouble year after year, had been something that had been wearing them out. Knowing now that she wasn't setting her teachers on fire or stealing from their store cupboards to turn herself into an anthropomorphic cat was a relief. She had been a well behaved studious child, and it had been somewhat of a shock that once she made friends she had gone on adventure after adventure, disregarding the rules that she previously would have followed. As much as they had worried, and told her that the rules still very much applied at home, they had been secretly glad she'd been able to move outside her bookish comfort zone. They'd been even more secretly glad she'd done it while at school and thus not challenged their authority.

The two students attending day classes allowed them to see more of Hermione and Harry's magic as they completed their assignments. It also allowed them to get to know Harry on a more personal level than they had before in the brief meetings at the train station.

The move, as uprooting as it had been, as desperate as they were to get away before the deadline came in and trapped Hermione for the rest of her life, had so far, been good for them.

Hermione was sat on the sofa leaning on Harry, a smile playing about her lips as she read her textbook on elemental magic. Their relationship was still making her grin silly grins randomly. Her parents smiled and rolled their eyes at her, but she would lift her chin, breeze past them to find Harry, and see if he fancied exploring their new home. Walks in the park, excursions into the city, and for Harry the discovery of cinema to which the whole family was eager to help in. They did touristy things as a family at the weekends just to get a feel for this huge city they had moved to. They had spent the day visiting the Statue of Liberty, the sea air had made her sleepy, and she was relaxed boneless against Harry's side as he and her Dad watched basketball on the TV. The two of them deep in discussion comparing American soccer and football to English football and rugby, as far as she could tell, the home teams were winning.

Her book was far more interesting. After three weeks of lessons, Hermione had come to the conclusion that pushing water uphill was not a trite phrase when it came to manipulating water as an elemental magic. She could just about feel air and earth, but she seemed at least to be able to do something with fire.

That something so far, had been the sum total of causing a small spark to leap from her fingertip. Which sounded impressive, until you saw it, then realised that her spark looked like the last glow of a dying ember. She was partnered with a girl who had such an innate talent with fire that in the last class, she'd had a horse fully formed from flame no taller than 6 inches prance round the desk. Hermione had been awed at the display and determined that she too would be able to manifest the avatar for herself. For her efforts so far she had made a piece of paper blacken slightly on the edge. It hadn't even really smouldered never mind burst into flames. Discouraging hadn't been the word. She sighed, snuggling back into Harry who wrapped his arm round her waist, not missing a beat in his conversation. She was happy, she felt safe, she was trying not to become complacent.

Chapter Text

The morning of the deadline, Minerva was on tenterhooks, and Severus was snappy. They didn’t know when the missing students would return, would it be today? Or would it be tomorrow after the deadline passed? They had hashed it one way then the other, talked it to death only to start again.

 The Dark Lord had been interested to know that Potter had yet to be found, but seemed unwilling to make a move. Albus was working himself up to a temper about their continued absence, and given that his cursed hand was weakening his body, this wasn't good for him. Severus suspected that the Dark Lord wanted to see if Potter being missing, would in fact, kill the old man.  Whatever the effect, Potter was certainly the golden boy no longer. It was no longer gallant that he had run off to save Miss Granger from the clutches of the Dark Lord. It was irresponsible, foolhardy and selfish.

Severus watched impassively as the Headmaster muttered and paced. Plotting for the day that Potter stepped over the castle threshold and back under control once again.

 When breakfast came and went, with no sign of them, unease flickered in his mind. When lunch and dinner passed the same way, unease stopped flickering and started stirring in his stomach. He stayed in his dungeon as far away from the Headmaster as he could, praying that tomorrow would bring the miscreants back to the castle. Minerva came to his rooms in the evening. Such was her worry she stayed as a cat, kneading his lap, demanding he stroke over her ears and down her back. They sat there whiling the hours away staring at the fire, refusing to think that they might not return.

 Breakfast brought more than unease, outright concern was now rolling through the pair as they sat at the table. An owl delivered a letter to Minerva which she accepted with unseeing eyes, as distracted she as was. It flew down the Gryffindor table and his eyes lazily followed its flight. It cuffed Weasley with a wing before soaring upwards and out the window.

Weasley, startled from his breakfast by the impact of the wing, squinted at the retreating owl then loudly proclaimed. “That was Hedwig!”

Severus jolted to attention, Minerva doing the same next to him, and she glanced down at the rolled parchment she had laid by her plate. The cursive script was unmistakable, they’d both marked miles and miles of it over the years she’d been a student. He met Minerva’s eyes and saw the hope and fear warring in them.

Weasley was up, now loudly demanding of the hall in general where Potter was, as he would never leave his owl behind.

Minerva pocketed the letter and mouthed. “Later.”. He nodded slightly, thankful that Albus hadn’t come to breakfast. She stood and moved towards the Gryffindor table admonishing Weasley for causing a fuss. He subsided under her eye but the mulish set to his shoulders clearly indicated that the time of excuses had past. His friends had been gone for a month and his patience had run out.

Severus stood and swept from the hall, not willing to witness or be dragged into whatever happened next. He would see Minerva later and find out what Miss Granger was about. In the meantime, he had students to teach, a Dark Lord to placate, and a Headmaster to avoid.

She came to his office, handed him the parchment and walked straight to his supply of whiskey. That bad then.

Dear Professor McGonagall,

  First I must beg your forgiveness although I acknowledge that I am undeserving of such. My actions are my own, and no reflection upon you or your position as my Head of House. I must also beg the forgiveness of Professor Snape; I suppose you could argue that I have in effect jilted him, to which I send my apologies. But moreover, I send my deepest regrets that any of my actions may cause harm to come to him in the execution of his duties. Please, would you let him know.

  I do not know quite when Hedwig will deliver this to you, it will either be the day of the deadline or the day after. Either way you will have surmised by this letters very existence that I will not be returning to Hogwarts or subjecting myself to the Ministry’s edict.

I have nothing but selfish reasons for leaving. My upbringing is one that does not lend its self to autocratic government. I have never considered myself chattel, and I cannot countenance becoming so now, especially when I really am nothing more than a pawn for Tom or the Headmaster. Both seek to control my future by controlling my body and legal rights. They wish to use me to influence Harry, as his friend I cannot allow it.

Be not alarmed Madam, on receiving this letter that I am not sufficiently aware of what I have done. I was always a target for the Death Eaters, should the Ministry fall completely, as many suspect it will I would have been hunted. Married to Professor Snape, he would have had to hand me over or he would have been punished, possibly severely for not doing so. How could I have that on my conscious? The Headmaster can play God, I cannot.

I have a deep respect for Professor Snape, he does a job that few could and gets less recognition than recalcitrant students who can’t follow instructions to stay away from third floor corridors. I do not wish him harm because he was forced into a corner with me.

The British Ministry will now be hunting me for disobeying the law. I have accepted that. It was easier knowing that they had corrupted the law first by filtering the applications I received. I may not have liked the law but had it been fairly applied I may not have made the choices I did. All government without the consent of the governed is the very definition of slavery, thus I have removed myself from the sphere of their influence.

  Harry is with me. This I know is likely to cause more distress, especially to the Headmaster. Harry wasn’t in on the planning, I did this alone, maybe the Headmaster will gain some comfort from that? I told Harry my plans to leave, and asked him to come two weeks before term ended. He agreed. He has his own reasons but I would be lying if my safety wasn’t one of them.

If it offers the Headmaster any comfort tell him that Harry feels guilty from walking away from this fight. Then tell him from me, if he wishes to turn children into soldiers, it might have paid to have a decent defence course, instead of the wishy washy crap propped up by Professors Snape and Lupin. Who, despite their best efforts, have done no more than prepare us for boggarts and school yard fights. When the war descends to that level get in touch, we’ll be right there.

  I have debated with myself about rewriting this letter to remove the portion above. However, I have not. One, because it is the sad truth, and two, because it made Harry laugh when I read it back to him. Insolent I know, I’ll stand you a detention for it, maybe even a weeks’ worth.

  We are safe and we are well. I cannot tell you when we will return or that we will.

The horcruxes need destroying, but despite what the Headmaster has told Harry this is not a task to lay at the feet of school children. If the curse on the horcrux the Headmaster destroyed can do that to him. What was he expecting from Harry, myself and Ron? Hogwarts library has no reference material on horcruxes. Yes of course I checked, as soon as Harry was asked to retrieve the memory from Professor Slughorn. Yet another task that makes no sense for Harry to be carrying out if the Headmaster wants him to join the war. What good is being nice to sycophantic Professors when he could have been training to deflect curses properly?

Maybe Professor Snape was right and logic is not a tool of wizards, when magic can rewrite physics I suppose it is to be expected that logic also fall by the wayside.

  If you would please pass on one more message for us both Professor. Apologise to Ron, it wasn’t personal but he wouldn’t have been able to come. His family are important to him; he would have struggled to leave them behind involved in the war as they are. I can respect that; my family are very important to me.

  If you do manage to tag Hedwig with a tracking charm, an idea she seems to find offensive. Be advised the location to which she is returning is not ours. We will have moved on to make it more difficult for pursuers to find us.

  On a more scholarly note Harry and I will be continuing our education. I am grateful for the six years Hogwarts has given me, even for those lessons which had nothing to do with curriculum. It has been an honour and a pleasure to study within your walls.

  Wishing you the best,

  Hermione Granger

 P.S.  Please give the formula below to Fred and George Weasley. They’ll know what it’s for, and I owe them for the offers they sent to the Ministry to marry me, even if they never got through.

He let the parchment roll back up and looked up at Minerva. “So they’re gone, both of them.” She handed him a glass and he knocked it back whole. Unmoved she poured him another. “Are you going to show it to Albus? She lays some pretty damning things at his feet.”

Minerva sat on the sofa staring into the fire, and didn’t answer straight away. When she turned her face to him, he could see the emotions warring, deep pride, fear, and anger. They chased across her eyes as she struggled with her answer. 

“I have too, he has a right to know, as do the Order.” She looked at the letter on the coffee table where he dropped it. “How do you feel about it?”

He shook his head; his brain was still processing. “She says she went to protect herself and Potter, she signs it Granger so they aren’t married yet. So if he didn’t leave to marry her, why did he go? Minerva, were they a couple?”

She looked at him thinking. “If they were, it wasn’t general knowledge. It wasn’t something the students are keeping in the tower either, or it wouldn’t have lasted this long without coming out. Not after an absence of this length. Miss Granger was injured by some hate mail she received during the tri wizard tournament. It is possible that with that experience they told no one.”

“Not even Weasley?”

“You said it yourself, he’s hardly subtle.”

“She clearly isn’t happy about Potter being dragged into a war without proper training. It indicates they have some sort of relationship between them.”

She snorted in disbelief at him. “I’m not happy with the way Albus is handling Mr Potter. She’s right, they’ve got no proper training, and they are children! You saw what happened at the Ministry when they went off half cocked. Not one of them came back uninjured and Miss Granger very nearly died. She’ll carry the scar for the rest of her life. They are totally underprepared to face that sort of conflict, and yet Albus is clearly pushing them towards it. They have had a defence course that isn’t worth the parchment it’s written on! You’ve spent enough time complaining about it for me to know that, and what? Albus thinks that in two years or less, Mr Potter and his cohorts will be ready to fight? And if not fight, then join the Aurors? And go through three years training? If the time scales are set to another five years from now, then why is he pushing the boy to find these damnable horcruxes? None of it makes sense Severus.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “They either have time to learn to defend themselves, hence the lack lustre education they are getting now. Or they don’t, and he is sending them lambs to the slaughter.”

Severus listened, and he knew he agreed with her.

“At least she apologised for jilting you,” Minerva said a smile in her voice.

“As if that was the most important part,” he scoffed. “They’ve left the country! She spells it out, ‘removed myself from the sphere of their influence’. How the bloody hell are we to find them? Never mind, chances are Potter will soon be an adult and beyond being compelled. He’s not going to go with the, 'for the greater good line', Albus loves so much when he’s willingly left the country to protect Miss Granger.” He sat back in his chair thinking. “If you want me to hazard a guess Minerva, he loves her. He loves her, and Albus going on about love being such a powerful force was what decided him. She came out of that meeting with me, told him everything Albus was doing to manipulate her. Then probably, although more of a certainty, spelled out how he wasn’t prepared enough for what Albus was asking him to do. How the Headmaster had a responsibility to keep him safe, and he was flouting it. Then said she was leaving.  Albus trained him alright, trained him to think that you do anything for your loved ones; stand in front of a killing curse, or leave everything behind. Damn him.”

“Albus or Potter?”

“Both,” he said dejectedly.

Minerva sighed, Severus made sense. The letter Miss Granger had sent spelled it out pretty clearly. They had done nothing to protect her or Mr Potter so she had taken matters into her own hands. “Albus is going to send you to her parents to find out what they know. She’s not an adult in the muggle world yet.”

“She might not have to be, under the guise of backpacking students on a gap year they could move around Europe reasonably easily. Does she speak a foreign language?”

“French fluently, I believe she spoke to a number of the Beauxbaton students with ease.”

“Excellent, this just keeps getting better. So she’s got a plan, she’s got at least some support from her parents, she’s got the paperwork to hide as a muggle easily and she isn’t going to struggle with the language barrier. Which means they won’t be found in the English speaking enclaves. Fuck it Minerva! Finding her in England would have been hard enough, throw in all of Europe, and there’s no point even trying.”

“How?” she asked. “Just how? I mean she only had 4 months, and that’s it? We can’t find her? She’s successfully hidden herself from the magical community? How is that possible?”

 They said no more, but floo-ed Albus to let him know she’d been in contact.

Chapter Text

Within half an hour a full meeting of the Order was gathered in the Headmaster’s office. To expedite matters Rona and Ginny Weasley had also been brought in though not actual Order members. Minerva handed around copies of Miss Granger’s letter seeing no point in keeping it secret. The original she had in her office under wards. She wouldn’t admit it but it meant something that Miss Granger had written it to her.

 Severus watched Albus read the letter. His face was grave and he saw the twitch in the corner of his eye. Clearly some of her blows struck home. The Weasley twins scanned the letter faces solemn with understanding. The post script made them grin and nudge each other. He saw one of them tear the formula from the bottom of the page, and shove it in his pocket. Miss Weasley read the letter and her eyes filled with tears. A soft “oh Mione” escaping her lips. Mr Weasley flushed bright red as his temper took over, he opened his mouth to speak.

Minerva cut him off. “Before you speak Mr Weasley be sure it is something pertinent to the situation. Miss Granger is currently a fugitive from the law, this position, if she is caught, will result in a life imprisonment in Azkaban. If you wish to lament how you were left behind and how that affects you personally, save it for the tower.”

Kingsley took it well, his finger tapping his bottom lip as he considered the letter, then he sighed and smiled slightly. Mad Eye looked incensed, then grudgingly impressed which he covered by a scowl. Arthur looked relieved, but it was Molly who decided to say something first. Typical.

“Albus what are we going to do to find them? It’s all very well that she has noble ideas but they are children. They can’t run around playing hide and seek when there is a war on.”

"If Miss Granger is brought back unmarried she will be arrested and placed in Azkaban. With that in mind, what inducement do you feel they would accept to return?” he asked, summoning a twinkle.

No mention of the fact you’ve got no idea how to find them, old man. Severus thought to himself.

“But she says she would have married if her options had been fair. She’s not against it, just that her options had been limited to Severus or Draco Malfoy. Surely we could find someone who would marry her, then they could come back.”

“Molly, Miss Granger has made her position clear, she does not intend to return,” Minerva said quietly.

“She’s a child! How long do you think she can hide, with the Death Eaters and the Order looking for her?” Molly snapped, temper rising.

“We’ve made discrete enquiries Molly,” Kingsley said. “She’s hidden pretty effectively, nothing has flagged up at the Ministry for her or Harry. Looking at this it wouldn’t have, she’s clearly left the country. We have no jurisdiction outside of these shores. There are no extradition agreements between wizarding governments, though I am unsure how she knows that.”

“Read it in a book.” one of the twins piped up, then subsided under his mother’s glare. The point of the matter was, he was probably right.

 “She won’t come back,” Ginny said looking down, not really wanting to draw the attention of the Order or her mother.

“You know for certain Miss Weasley?” Minerva asked softly.

Miss Weasley waved a hand in a so-so gesture. “We talked, sometimes. She used to ask me about the role of women in the magical society, the differences between what girls and boys can expect growing up. She said that the wizarding world was more partic..” she trailed off, unsure of the word.

“Patriarchal, Miss Weasley,” Minerva said gently so not to startle her out of her memories. “A society that values men over women.”

“Yeah, she said it was why Mum taught me cleaning spells, but not the boys. But she said that being a woman and muggle born, though she used the word mudblood.” Ginny hunched shooting a glance at her parents, waiting for the reprimand. When it didn’t come she carried on. “She said her chances of getting anywhere were small. That the British magical community had nothing to offer, and she’d have to look abroad where things were better.” She looked round the room, her eyes wide and sad. “You see, she was always going to leave, this thing with the marriage law just moved up her plans.” Ginny sat stroking her fingers over the letter. A lost look on her face.

“Miss Weasley,” Minerva said still in a soft tone. “Did Miss Granger ever mention where she might go? A place, a city, a country?”

“No,” she said sadly. “She said the world was really big, and really small at the same time, though that didn’t make a lot of sense, and she would find a niche that fit her.”

“Egypt.” Ron said. “That summer we went to Egypt; she didn’t stop asking questions about it for days. She talked to Bill as well, over the summer. She said she wanted to go. Thought the melding of the muggle and magical theories behind the pyramids was fascinating.”

 “Severus, do you have anything to add as to how we might go about finding them?” Albus asked. He was looking grave and serious and Severus wondered how much was an act. How much he was hiding his reaction to the Gryffindor Princess stealing the Golden Boy away from under his nose. Knowing Albus he was probably incensed, but here, with all these people, the guise of concerned grandparent was important.

“The Princess of Gryffindor was not brought up to believe magic has the answer. She says it herself, wizards overlook logic. Hiding as a muggle means reduced magical use, which means having the skills to live as a muggle, Wizards don’t have them, as a wizard, if you want something a wave of your wand will get it for you. Six years of magical education isn’t enough to remove 12 years of conditioning. Then throw in her parents. Her parents are atypical; they would be better considered Squibs than muggles. They can’t perform magic but they understand it, I’d hazard a guess they read her text books. They have insisted she explain everything so when she asks them for help they can give it. Not just as parents, but as adults who understand magic and its limitations. She has told them everything, and I do mean that literally. She is probably a one in a million student, and thank fuck for that!” he said emphatically. His pronouncement caused the twins to engage in another round of nudges and grins.

Kingsley looked at him shrewdly. “You think her parents know where she is.”

“Yes, Minerva and I went to see them 8 days after the first day of term, they were unhappy with us.” Minerva snorted smothering a laugh, he rolled his eyes at her. “Miss Granger had primed them.” He flicked an invisible piece of lint from the leg of his trousers feigning disinterest. “Her parents were able to deflect a light legilimency scan by using associated memories to the situation at hand. Mostly by focusing the conversation on the topic of Miss Grangers exploits as a student and the associated danger she had been in.”

Mad Eye looked at him more closely. “How did you work that out?”

“The scan was light, anymore and they would have noticed, but her father was feeling a small measure of pride in her successful disappearance. Under the circumstances pride was a misplaced emotion, we had informed him his daughter was missing and couldn’t be tracked by magical means and was in some danger.”

“Well maybe not totally misplaced.” Arthur offered. “She has handed us our hats quite neatly. I can’t say I’m not slightly proud of her.”

Kinglsey sighed. “Are you sure she’s gone? If we could induce her into the department think of what we could achieve. We need people like her.”

“Oi! No filching! We offered her employment first,” one of the twins said preening.

“And marriage, so I believe we have more to offer.” The other twin added. As amusing as they thought they were, their mother was burning holes in them with her glare.

“We need to find them not try to employ them!” she snapped.

“We can’t!” Severus snapped back annoyed. “Do you think we’ve not tried? She snapped their wands and left the bloody country. Which country would you like us to start looking in?”

“The language barrier will slow them down, and they don’t know anyone, they are children, someone will have seen them.” Molly said grasping at straws. “So we’ll look where the English speaking people are.”

“How many languages does she speak? He shot back, sneering at the ridiculousness of the suggestion, this was Europe, not a village in Hampshire

“French fluently, a smattering of Italian, enough to get by, and she can understand spoken Spanish and Portuguese but doesn’t speak them well,” one of the twins said. Everyone in the room turned to look at them. “What? She’s Ronnikins friend, we lived in the same tower, and you thought we never spoke to her? How do you think we learnt enough to chat up the students from France? How do you think Bill did?”

Kinglsey looked at Albus. “You won’t find them unless they want to be found. You might want to try the parents again but I wouldn’t hold out much hope if they are moving around.”

“She said she was going to study though.” Mad Eye threw in. “How serious would she be?”

There was a smile exchanged by most people in the room. “Very,” Minerva said. “She wouldn’t let her education slide if she could help it.”

“Well then, that’s one place to start. Find out where she can sit her exams and ask them to tell us if she registers. She’s not likely to do it under a false name if her education means that much to her.”

That pronouncement caused a ripple of hope to run round the room. The idea that they might have a chance to catch up, and maybe get in front of the pair.

“I shall return to her parents and see if they have any more to add” Severus said. Wanting to get out of the room.

“I’ll accompany you,” Minerva said giving him a look that clearly said not to argue.

“Very well then, we shall adjourn for now.” Albus intoned. 

George and Fred Weasley all but sprinted for the floo. He had a suspicion that the formula she had written on the bottom of the letter was soon going to be a reality. Molly was making her way towards Albus and he wanted to be away before she started.

Chapter Text

The street looked very much the same as it had the other day. When they got to the foot of the drive however, they could tell something was off.

As they stood there trying to work it out, and if it was safe to proceed, a voice came from behind them. “Are you the new owners? I’m Joyce I live next door; you’ve got yourself a stunning house there.” They turned to see a woman in her fifties smiling at them invitingly.

“Oh err no, we aren’t. We are colleagues of the Grangers, we haven’t seen them in a while and thought we’d pop round since we were in the area. They’ve sold up you said? But they have a daughter still in school don’t they?” Severus said covering for them.

“Oh you mean Hermione? Oh yes delightful girl, known her since she was born. She’s at a boarding school for the gifted, bright as a new penny that one, not surprising with her parents though.”

 They both nodded in agreement and the neighbour continued. “She finishes soon I believe; she was home for Christmas, briefly, but took the time to say hello. Lovely manners. They went skiing in Switzerland, ever so nice there, have you been?” They shook their heads and she continued again. “Well Helen and John decided to downsize, now she wouldn’t be around as much, not with that boyfriend of hers, he’s a polite chap. Besotted with each other they are. So nice to see in a young couple, sometimes they get all funny and surly over the slightest thing. Well anyway, they moved three days ago. Got a lovely cottage in, ooh where was it, had a funny name, they came round with the details, ever so thrilled they were. Otter something or other I think.”

“Ottery St Catchpole?” Minerva cut in.

“That’s it” Joyce said. “How ever did you know?”

“We have a mutual colleague who lives just outside the village.” She replied.

“Oh well there you go then! Yes, they were looking forward to it, sold the practice as well if you can believe! A new start they said, well good luck to them I say. There’s not many who are brave enough to do it.”

“Indeed, we thank you for your time Joyce. Hopefully we’ll catch up with Helen and John via our mutual acquaintance.” Severus said backing away slowly.

“Well when you see them send them my love.” She said cheerily. He nodded, took Minerva’s arm turned, and walked away.

It was another silent return to Hogwarts and more whiskey for the pair.

“Ottery St Catchpole?” Severus asked.

“The Burrow.”

“You’re joking!”

“No.” She shook her head. “And I’m beginning to wonder if I knew Miss Granger at all. She’s left the neighbours with information that should the Dark Lord get his hands on, sends the Death Eaters straight at the Weasley’s who were supposed to be her friends!”

Minerva looked upset, it took a moment for him to work out why, he huffed to himself then explained. “Yes she did. She sent the magic wielding Death Eaters out of her muggle neighbourhood. Straight to the door of senior Order members, who have a heavily warded house, and the ability to deal with them.”

She looked at him for a moment then her shoulders dropped. “Oh Merlin Severus, I didn’t think of it like that.”

“That’s because you are Gryffindor through and through, and Miss Granger quite clearly isn’t.”

“I suppose that answers that question though. Her parents were in on it and had no intention of leaving her to fend for herself. They’ve gone to meet them.” She sighed. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse. On the one hand they are muggles and defenceless against those after them, and on the other they will look after their daughter and Mr Potter.”

“Do you think the timing is significant?” he asked.

“Timing?”

“The neighbour said they left three days ago.”

“Why would that be significant?”

“Because this has been a slick operation from the get go. The Grangers flew their daughter and Mr Potter too, as we now know, to Switzerland, shortly after they arrived home for the Christmas break. By the time we were notified they were missing they had been gone three weeks. Any trail we wanted to pick up, magical or mundane would have been three weeks cold, and that’s if we factored in they would leave the country. The Grangers responded to the school owl, then they wait for us to visit knowing in such circumstances that we would. They are primed and deflect us, reasonably well come to that. Then they stay home carry on as normal, complete the sale on the house and the practice. Getting ready for their new life with their daughter somewhere else. They could be reasonably certain they wouldn’t get another home visit as we had nothing to say, giving them time to make their escape. But, and it’s a not a big but, more of a niggle. I think something spooked them, I think they should have been there today when we turned up.”

“But why?”

“Because of the neighbour, she is the one neighbour you don’t tell anything to, you don’t want around the neighbourhood by nightfall. She will have told that tale to anyone who stood still long enough. It's clever really, an easy source of information like that? Most Death Eaters would be back before the Dark Lord unloading their treasure trove of information before the woman finished turning round.”

“OK, but that would protect the muggles wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, but it indicates the Order had something to do with the relocation of the Grangers”

“But it would always do that.” She protested.

“You’ve missed the point.”

She huffed. “Well explain better”

“If the Grangers had left yesterday or today or tomorrow, it looks like the non-return of their daughter has forced Albus to step in to protect them. This would be entirely predictable for the Headmaster as a muggle lover.”

“But he wouldn’t.”

“Yes, we know that, but the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters don’t. They see in black and white, or at least their version of it. They would think Albus had taken them in and hidden them. By doing so make them targets not worth expending the energy to come after. Miss Granger is too damn clever by half, and she said she couldn’t spy.”

“She had her parent's help.”

“True, true. Still for a lion.” He marvelled a little.

“So let me get this straight, you think by arranging to meet Miss Granger on or after the deadline it makes it look like the Order and Albus are protecting her parents. Thus making them unworthy of pursuit. Also meaning that they won’t accidentally stumble across Miss Granger and Mr Potter by pursuing them.”

“That’s it. It really is very well thought out. I just wonder what spooked them into moving early.”

“Won’t they just think Albus moved them into protection earlier?”

“That implies Albus knew they weren’t coming back.”

“Well he does claim to be omnipotent.” She muttered.

“I think Miss Granger has handed him that particular hat back, and challenged him to try harder.” He smirked. “Merlin, if I’d known she had this in her I might have married the chit happily.”

“Severus!”

“Oh don’t be all outraged at me, I didn’t mean it. But honestly Minerva when you look at it as a whole it’s pretty damn impressive she’s done all this at 17. Yes, her parents helped and she had good cause, but it’s hardly the first time she’s undermined us all. Potter's defence club made a difference, you can tell the students who attended by their performance in class. They have more about them, a bit more swagger, and they back it up with their wands.”

“We’re going to have to tell Albus.”

“No. You, are going to have to tell Albus.” He replied. She spluttered at him, and he shot her a cool look. “I have to go and tell the Dark Lord.” She stopped spluttering and looked unhappy. “Don’t worry, I’ll blame Albus, and see if I can’t get him convinced not to hunt her parents down.”

“Be careful.”

“Obviously." He left the room with a swirl and billow.

She put the tea things back on the tray, an elf would collect it while she was with Albus. She looked at the pot of floo powder and decided she needed the walk. She didn’t envy Severus, he had a Dark Lord to placate, but at least he was predictable in his unpredictability. Albus was another kettle of fish. The muggles had a phrase, 'still waters run deep'. It described Albus quite well she thought. The only problem was Miss Granger had agitated those waters, and now she was going to tell him that he had been out manoeuvred again. By a student he had looked to manipulate no less. Severus was right she decided, they would be sots by Valentine. 

She was waiting for him in the corridor again. He grunted and limped through his door to collapse on the sofa. She was at his side instantly pulling on his heavy cloak.

“Where are you injured? Merlin, Severus! For such a skinny thing you are heavy, let me get this damn cloak off you.” He tried to bat her hands away but was in no condition to do so. So he slumped boneless, while she tugged on his cloak a few more times before giving up, and calling for an elf to help.

The elf got his robes off and hung up, then the elf returned with a fluffy dressing gown that didn’t belong to him. It was soft though, and had excellent warming charms. Part of his brain, the part that wasn’t occupied fighting the trembling from the Cruciatus curse, noted that if this was Minerva's dressing gown he was going to hex her when he was better.

The warmth from the dressing gown seeped into his cramping muscles easing them. It took a few minutes before he could get out between his gritted teeth. “Blue vail, bathroom.”

Minerva who had been watching him like a cat would a mouse, an idea he found a little disturbing all things considered, leapt up and shot into his bathroom. Her agility defying her age she returned, and helped him pour it down his throat. He ignored the pity and sorrow in her eyes. It would do no good. The potion kicked in, easing the trembling and soothing his aggravated nerve endings. The dressing gown soothed his sore muscles and he started to feel like 7 miles of bad road instead of 9.

“Do you need me to call Albus?”

“No.” His voice was hoarse. “I’ve already seen him.”

“You went to him in that state?" She was appalled, he ignored it.

“Albus won’t be kept waiting for his reports from the meetings.”

“But…”

“Leave it Minerva, it is what it is.”

She sighed unhappily. “Well can I at least get you a drink? I’ve decided that your idea of becoming sots before Valentine has merit. If Albus was short with you it’s likely my fault. I upset him bringing him news of Miss Granger's parents.”

“I know, he mentioned it. Fetch the decanter and the glasses and we can compare notes.” His voice slowly coming back to his normal timbre.

She did, and he snuggled down in to the warm fluffy dressing gown before shooting her a suspicious look. “This isn’t yours is it?”

“No.” Was the bemused response. “I’ve never seen it before. Why? Planning on keeping it?”

“It has excellent warming charms,” he said relaxing back into it. “You go first, mine will take longer to tell.”

“Well Albus was somewhat unhappy to know we missed her parents. When I explained about the neighbour he seemed to think Miss Granger had taken liberties.” Severus snorted, she nodded in acknowledgment before continuing. “He didn’t seem to put much in to your idea as to why she’d done it, however, and has decided to contact the Weasley's to keep an eye on any new families moving into the village. He seemed keen on the idea that they hadn’t left the country, but had relocated using different aliases, and could potentially be found living in the village.” She paused, sipped her whiskey, and turned to him. “I’m worried about him, do you think that curse could have worked its way out of his arm and is poisoning his mind? Miss Granger has left the country. She has done so in a manner that makes Albus look a fool I’ll grant you, and I can understand that smarts but to dismiss everything so casually?”

“Poppy and I locked that curse into his arm Minerva. It’s not going anywhere. If he hadn’t called us as soon as he did, it would have spread to his chest and heart, then we would have had issues. As it stands it saps his energy, tires him out, reduces his magical output slightly but it won’t kill him. It makes him feel his age.”

She nodded in acceptance. “I suppose that would have been the easy answer. Anyway, as he promised, finding Mr Potter is now his number one priority. I tried, Severus I really did try to get him to focus on finding the horcruxes and let Mr Potter be. Mr Potter’s clearly in no immediate danger and it would serve us better to get these horcruxes dealt with before the war stops being political and starts being pitched battles. He won’t have it. I think, and Merlin I hope I’m wrong because it says awful things about him. But, I think he wants to find them so he can prove that he could. So he can drag them back and throw their failure in their faces. Then use it to make them do things, things they maybe shouldn’t have to, or aren’t prepared for.” She looked up from contemplating her drink to meet his gaze. Unease and concern was written on her face.

“Guilt.” He confirmed. “It’s his favourite weapon because he has to do nothing. You do it to yourself.”

“He’s going to Switzerland,” she said quietly. Her eyes widened as Severus started to silently convulse, she made a move towards him, but he waved her off and she realised he was laughing, silently, but laughing.

“It’s not funny.” She protested. “He’s the Headmaster and he has a responsibility to this school, he can’t just go off half cocked. He refuses to acknowledge they have left the country. He thinks they are the Weasley’s new next door neighbours. So why is he going to bloody Switzerland? Oh do get a grip on yourself.” She snapped.  He continued to gasp for air, clutching his sides.

Albus… Skiing…Purple robes.” He wheezed at her, creasing up again.

“You know; I think that last curse hit you a bit hard.” she sniffed.

Eventually the image of Albus skiing whilst wearing purple robes stopped hitting his funny bone and he regained his composure. “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages, remind me to show you what skiing is, you’ll appreciate the imagery better. So Albus is going to Switzerland, you don’t think he’s chasing after the owl do you? It’s probably moulted feathers here and we don’t have many Snowy owls. If he had a feather or two he could try a locating spell. It would work better if he could follow it place to place, but it wouldn’t be exact. He’d have to travel the route it had flown to keep the spell pointing true for him.  Seems a lot of wasted effort though since we know they aren’t there.”

“It’s like he’s trying to work out how she did it, by following her steps instead of just admitting she out foxed him. As if at the end of it there will be some big reveal. But anyway, enough of Albus, what about your Dark Lord, he wasn’t happy I take it?”

“With me? Oh no he’s ecstatic with me.”

“But…” She gestured to his body, which had largely stopped trembling and settled down to the occasional shudder.

“Yes well, he’s not sane, you know that. The Dark Lord was delighted to know that Mr Potter has left the safety of the castle and Albus’ fold. He’s seeing it as the first step in defection to his side. He’s decided, and Merlin only knows where he got the idea from, that Potter, if found could be induced to join the cause. Rather than having to kill each other they can build an empire.”

Minerva goggled at him in shock “What on earth?”

“Yes.” He agreed. “But keep in mind he’s not sane. Miss Granger he has largely lost interest in, she was useful as a way to get to Potter, but if Potter can be persuaded to join him he can see the advantage of leaving her out of it. Until he is assured of Potters commitment to the cause, so not to frighten him off, as it were.”

“Your doing I suppose?”

He shrugged committing to nothing.

“So why the curse?”

“Whilst I can be excused for letting my would be wife slip through my fingers, by having followed up with her parents and friends to discover that she might be in Egypt. And her parents are hiding out under Albus' care with the Weasley's, making them valueless as targets. Draco had no such information to offer as compensation. The moronic little shit didn’t help his cause by saying she wasn’t worth his time, and he was glad she was gone so he wouldn’t have to bed her to show her her proper place on the floor at his feet.” He shook his head at the stupidity of the move.

“But I thought the Dark Lord wanted her subjugated like that.”

“He does, but what Draco forgot, in his sycophantic suck up was that the Dark Lord gave Miss Granger to him as a gift. You do not turn your nose up at a gift the Dark Lord gives. If it is some strange symbiotic creature that later burst forth from your stomach you thank him for his generous consideration, not turn your nose up because the damn thing will kill you ripping its way through your abdomen.”

“Severus?” She asked. Looking at his midriff.

“No, a muggle film I saw as a teenager, it stuck with me.” She didn’t look reassured but he waved her off. “I took Draco’s punishment for him, well part of it anyway. I explained that I too had been relieved not to have to marry her and so deserved Draco’s punishment for showing a bad example to impressionable boys. He’s a child, I couldn’t watch that. The Dark Lord has seen fit to make an example of him to discourage any more careless tongues. Oh it’s couched as getting a fair chance but everyone knows he won’t manage it.”

“Severus, you took exposure to the Cruciatus curse for Draco Malfoy, because he’s too stupid to keep his mouth shut in a room of his betters with poor impulse control. Do you not think he has to face up to his decisions at some point?”

His voice was flat when he answered, it and it made her heart hurt to hear it. “Draco didn’t choose to be a Death Eater. Oh he stuck his arm out all by himself, but Lucius had been dragged off to Azkaban after the farce at the Ministry. The Dark Lord is living in his house; his mother is a pale shell of who she used to be without her husband, and a psychopath is killing people in the drawing room. His family was threatened; he did the only thing he could to try to keep them safe. He let them brand him.”

“What has he been asked to do?” She questioned softly.

“Find Miss Granger of course.”

“And when he can’t?”

“He’ll pay the price of his failure, or his mother will.”

“Is there any way to help? Without getting him into worse trouble?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “He’s a Slytherin.”

“He’s a child. Yes, he’s an arrogant, ignorant, rude, self-important child, but a child for all that. Being set up for failure to prove a point that doesn’t need proving? I won’t stand idly by if I can help. I’m not Albus.” She muttered then said louder. “I’ve seen what standing idly by pushes the students of this school to achieve. So far we’ve had a Dark Lord, a double agent and a witch who has successfully vanished herself and the saviour of the wizarding world. I do not want to find out what Draco Malfoy will do when pushed. I’m not sure the world could stand it.”

“It’s a nice sentiment and a pretty idea but you’d better give it up now. He won’t let you help him. I’m not sure he will let me help him.”

“How is he going to find her? She’s gone muggle, he knows as much about being a muggle as I do about driving! Severus, if you can’t find her with your twisty way of thinking and knowledge of the muggle world.” She held out her hands helplessly.

“I’ll have you know Madame, I have yet to look for them. Draco gets to finish his school year. Then he has the whole of the summer to find them. His vaults will be at his disposal, you could argue he gets to go on a nice wild goose chase, and escape us all, but I believe he has to take someone with him to ensure his return.”

“Can it be you?”

“Alas no, as that wouldn’t be sporting. She was to be my bride as well, there’s going to be some kind of competitive wooing or some such once she is found.”

“This is insane.”

“Yes, I did tell you to remember that he wasn’t sane at the beginning of this conversation.”

“What has Albus said?”

“Albus seems to think that letting Draco hare off to gods knows where with only one Death Eater chaperone is getting off lightly. To be honest he has a point. The Dark Lord is hipped on Potter as badly as Albus. He doesn’t want to make a move too soon in case waiting would net him a bigger prize, namely Potter coming on side. Miss Granger has bought us the one thing we really needed, time. She’s somehow inadvertently stalled the escalating tensions. Now Potter is a free agent it’s a race to see who can get him back first.”

“So what is Albus’ plan?”

“To find Potter.”

“Beyond that.” She huffed.

“That’s it, he’s put everything on ice until he’s got Potter back in the fold and I don’t know why. This time we’ve been handed, it needs to be used to get rid of the damn horcrux, not frittered away looking for children who don’t want to be found.” He complained.

They drank the whiskey, sitting quietly, thinking.

“Do we know enough about the horcrux and the Dark Lord to pick up the trail ourselves?” She asked eventually. “If Albus won’t move till he has an answer on Potter, and Miss Granger is correct about him expecting those three to hunt them, they must be reasonably easy to deduce.”

“You can try Albus, but it’s unlikely he will be forth coming, and our only other source of knowledge has vanished. Though you might try Weasley, who knows what Potter told him. Horace clearly knows how to make one. Magically strong numbers are 3 and 7, our luck never runs the way we want, so work on worst case scenario and say 7. Fuck he tore is soul 7 times no wonder he’s insane.”

“What do you mean?”

“A Horcrux is a piece of your soul imbedded in an object. I don’t know how you make one and I really don’t want to. Ripping your soul seems pretty stupid to me, but basically until you kill all the soul pieces you can’t kill him. He can just keep coming back.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Potter can’t perform Occulmancy, he’s an open book. The lessons Albus wanted me to give him were a farce, he can’t do it, doesn’t have the talent for it but not everyone does. It just ended up unpleasant for everyone. But since he started having these meetings with Dumbledore I took a read every time I saw him, and pieced it together.”

“Does Albus know you casually violate the student’s privacy?”

“Well. I didn’t tell him if that’s what you mean, and it’s only ever Potter. There’s too much history between us so it’s fairly easy, and he has to distrust me or the Dark Lord would demand I brought Potter to him.”

“So when Miss Granger put it in her letter about what Albus was asking?”

“She let the cat out of the bag yes, neatly so. The letter would have to be shown to the senior Order members, she sent it to you, who wouldn’t hide it or show it to Albus before everyone else, and I assume the original is safe?”

“Yes”

“How many of those copies made it out of the meeting?” He smirked, amused. Clearly leading her to something.

“Albus...”

“Yes, he claimed sensitive Order material, collected them all up and burnt them.”

“How did you find that out?”

“I asked him for a copy of course.”

Minerva shook her head slowly. “I’m worried about him, he has started making less sense and this, this grudge he seems to have developed. It’s distracting him, and I fear we may lose our advantage. We’re sending people out but for what gain? Do we need the werewolves onside now if we can’t kill him anyway? Oh, oh no, Remus!”

“What about the wolf?”

“Remus is still out with the packs, he doesn’t know Mr Potter is no longer in school.”

“When is he due back?”

“I don’t know. Do you think Albus will tell him?

“Albus will tell him as little as possible, and if you find out when he is due back let me know, I’d rather be elsewhere.”

Chapter Text

Time seemed to slink by for the newly settled family. Hedwig, safely retrieved from Spain four days after their departure, to allow her to fly at a leisurely pace and to throw off any pursuers, had finally recovered from being port keyed across the Atlantic. She had been glad to be reunited with Harry, but out of sorts due to the travel. It was only as February was just about to leave she was finally back to her usual self. She roosted under the eaves of the house unless she wished to join the family in the kitchen. So far no one seemed to notice that the snowy owl had made their house a home. She didn’t have a lot of work to do, but while she was recovering this was for the best. Harry hoped that once she was better she would consent to carry mail to the friends they had made in school.

 Owl ownership in America was a touchy thing. Outlawed by muggles in 1918, the wizarding population did not rely on them for mail so she was a rarity, in America Independent House Elves delivered wizarding mail. Much like back in England, you went to the post office, handed over your letter or parcel and it was delivered to the recipient, just by Elf instead of owl. This gave the elves employment with a level of independence. If they no longer wanted to serve in a house they could leave and work for the postal service. Hermione thought it a marvellous thing and since House Elf methods of transportation were faster than flight the postal service was that much quicker. Really she couldn’t see why it hadn’t caught on everywhere. 

At a family dinner in the last week of February the topic of them getting serious about defence arose. Harry had cooked with Helen helping.  Hermione been relegated to setting the table due to poor culinary skills, and they all sat around the table together, taking the time to gather together and discuss whatever was on anyone’s mind.

“You’ve settled into school, your grades are steady, you’ve adapted and started making friends. It’s time to look at exactly what you want to achieve and how to go about it.” John stated. "There is no pressure to return, but equally if they come looking I want both of you to have a fighting chance. It seems more likely that anyone coming out here for you isn’t going to be worried about the ramifications of breaking the law.”

“I think you should attend regular self-defence classes as well as magical ones” Helen put in. “Relying on your wand is one thing but if it’s taken or broken then you’d be helpless. It seems silly to put yourself in that situation when you can be taught how to get yourselves out of it.”

“I think we should ask the school if they have an instructor on file that can teach you magical defence and offense, and sign you up to self-defence classes as well,” John said. “Also, Hermione, are you planning on continuing with your transfiguration? Or was the month you spent with that leaf in your mouth enough to put you off?”

“No.” she replied. “I want to continue with it, I’ve done a lot of the ground work now. I just need someone to guide me through the last parts.” Harry shot her a quizzical look so she elaborated. “When I found out that the Marauder’s had trained to be Animagus at school I thought I’d give it a try. So I started in the summer, I thought it would be easier at home than at school since you have to hold the leaf in your mouth for a month.”

“Oh, you didn’t say,” he said.

“Well I wasn’t sure it would come to anything, and fourth year at Hogwarts was a busy one for us. If you want, I can give you all my notes and get you started?”

“Maybe, I’m not sure I want to though. I’m mean, yeah, I know my Dad could do it but, that’s not enough reason if you see. I’m not him and would he have done it anyway if it hadn’t been for Remus?”

“Well they are there if you want them. I’ve actually spoken to our Transfiguration Professor at school and they are happy to coach me through it. They hold a class on a Wednesday night so I thought I’d turn up and see.”

“OK fine, so we’ll get you those extra lessons booked in. When is your next break from school? We might be able to find some time for a trip to the slopes.” John suggested. Shooting an amused glance at Harry.

“We’ve got a week at the end of April” Harry said quickly.

“Well we could manage a day or so then I’m sure. As long as school work and your extra lessons permit.” He smiled as Harry glowed.

Part of him really liked the kid. He was seeing his daughter so that was a negative, but he seemed honest. He hadn’t quibbled about the rules regarding school work, and didn’t hold Hermione’s school performance against her which was a very big plus. Moving Hermione out of the country that was going to sell her off to the biggest bad guy had been a no brainer. He probably would have suggested it even if she’d been happy to comply with the law. She should have all the opportunities every other young person has. The option to marry for love, or some other stupid reason like she was blind drunk, and anyone can get married in Las Vegas. Not that he was hoping she’d do the second, but she should have the opportunity to do so.

They had kept up with the goings on in England via the newspaper, the school had a news stand on campus that imported newspapers from round the globe to satisfy the students of the school. The headlines hadn’t mentioned Hermione missing her deadline. They had found a small notice requesting anyone who had seen her report directly to the Aurors offices as she was in violation of the law. But it wasn’t the massively messy shouting they had braced for.

That arrived a day later. Boy Who Lived Missing! Screamed the headline. It had followed up this headline with conjecture of how he could have been kidnapped from Hogwarts, the safest place in wizarding Britain, and his ultimate demise at the hands of Voldemort.

The headline the day after was humorous only in that it contradicted so completely, what had been published the day before. Potter’s Secret Love. It blasted out, with a long convoluted explanation that Harry Potter had run off, rather than see his long time love Hermione Granger married off. It explored his lament that he wouldn’t be old enough to claim her hand before her deadline ran out, forcing him to flee before witnessing the event. The article had espoused a lot of nonsense from there on in, as to how their relationship had made them the darlings of Hogwarts, so deeply in love as they walked hand in hand around the school grounds.

John had laughed as Hermione had worked herself into a snit. He knew they had both kept their relationship under wraps. Whilst part of him had worried about it, he remembered the hate mail Hermione had received in regards to a supposed relationship with the boy, and heartily approved of anything that prevented that happening again.

It was the third day that someone put it together that their Saviour was missing and Hermione had not complied with the law. The papers once again spewed forth. Lover’s Flight from Ministry Fate! Stories that were as outlandish as they were unbelievable. They upped the ante and declared the two teens star crossed lovers with a soul bond that would result in both their deaths should Hermione have married, causing them to flee.

The only good he could see coming of all the rubbish printed was that there was a turning in the tide of the public perception of the law. Previously happy to go along with what they were told, the public seemed to have realised the Ministry had caused the Saviour of the wizarding world to flee with his soul bonded girlfriend to avoid a grisly end. Suddenly people were questioning the marriage law and for one he was glad. He didn’t care if they never returned to England, his daughter was safe, and her boyfriend was not going to be drawn into combat he wasn’t prepared for, into which his daughter would follow. Also his job was better paid, his skills appreciated and he hadn’t been bitten since he got here. 

Hermione pulled Harry into her room, it was a Saturday, school work had been completed as per her parent’s rules so they had the rest of the weekend to do with as they wanted. “Come here, I want to ask you something.”

“Last time you said that to me I ended up agreeing to leave the country, and travel through two others to wind up on the other side of the Atlantic. Is it anything like that because if it is I really want to be sitting down.” he joked.

“No, prat, we’ve been her a while now and while we’ve done loads of things together we, well we haven’t been on a date exactly. And I was wondering if you wanted to. This weekend maybe?” She looked at him blushing slightly, trying not to let her eyes wander over him. His t shirt was definitely tighter than it needed to be, and skiing was as good for him as quidditch had been. In fact, why was he even wearing just a t shirt? February in New York was not warm, t shirt and jeans seemed terribly underdressed.

Her parents had insisted on separate rooms once they settled in America, the closeness they had shared in Switzerland and Spain by sharing a bed had been amazing. Whilst they hadn’t shagged like rabbits she had enjoyed exploring sex with him. Sneaking around while her parents weren’t in had been fun at first, but now a month in, she was weighing up whether it was worth risking the huge embarrassment of asking her parents if they could share a bed. It would be mortifying but then she’d get Harry every night.

“Hermione, my face is up here.” His smug voice broke through her train of thought. Her eyes shot to his face as she realised she hadn’t heard a word he had said as she ogled him.

“What? Umm, sorry. You were saying?” Blushing at him. He grinned at her, the git. Insufferable prat, it’s not like she was the one not wearing enough clothes. He stepped closer. She inhaled sharply as his arms wrapped round her and he dropped his mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“Mmm,” he said. The word spoken against her skin, causing shivers to run down her body. “I was saying that I would very much enjoy taking you on a date. Where would you like to go?”

His hands started stroking up her sides under her t shirt and jumper. When had that happened? She fought the fog in her brain, honestly they weren’t going to get anywhere like this. Right, hang on, she had been asking about a date, oh yes. He took her earlobe between his lips at the same time his hand found its way under her bra and her brain shorted out. Whatever she had been going to say would have to wait till later, possibly much later. 

It was Monday after the weekend of not managing to go on a date. She spent dinner screwing her courage together. She was sat next to Harry and across from her parents, she was quiet as they chatted about the day they’d each had, the funny moments worth bringing up with family at home.

“Mum, Dad, can I ask you something?” she blurted out.

“Yes, of course. You can bring anything to us, you know that,” Helen said. She looked at her daughter with warm concern. The conversation at the table died as everyone waited for Hermione to speak. Firmly fixing her gaze in the space between her parent’s faces and desperately trying to control her blushes she started. “I would like your permission to share a room with Harry. We did in Switzerland and Spain.” She hurried on not wanting to lose momentum. “We’re both responsible, and I don’t think you can say that we are rushing things. We’re here because I wouldn’t marry anyone else, and he came with me giving up everything.” Her courage faltered and her eyes dropped to the table, missing the look that flew between her parents. Harry gripped her hands clenched on her lap as they were, offering what he could in way of support.

“Well,” her mother said. “I suppose you have a point, but we have a few concerns.” Two pairs of eyes flew up to Helen's face. “If we agree.” She indicated herself and John. “Then we wouldn’t want to see any drop in performance of your school work, or the extra classes you are taking.” Two heads nodded back at her in agreement. “Then there is of course your sex life.” Two faces flamed and the eyes that had been fixed on her looked anywhere else. “It stays in your room. Neither your father or I, want to walk in on something you don’t want us to see anywhere else in the house. You’ve been fairly discrete so far so we’d like it to stay that way. After all you’d hardly want to walk in on something between your father and I you didn’t want to see, would you?”

 Mortification flooded the faces of the two adolescents across from her. Helen could feel the fine tremble of John's arm as he supressed his mirth and tried to look the concerned parent. My, to be that young and so easily embarrassed even after what they had both experienced. “And then there’s contraception.” She continued stirring the pot a little more. Hermione's head shot up.

“There’s a charm." She replied quickly. She blushed even more as she realised her fast defence let slip more than she’d wanted. “Err, there’s a charm they teach you in school. Its 100% safe, you cast it every time before…” She trailed off, mortified again, but stubbornly seeing it through.

“I’ve heard that before, and what happens if you forget?” John asked in a tightly controlled voice. “I think I’ll step out a moment, come and get me when you’re finished.” He stood and with great composure left the room. Hermione followed him with worried eyes before swinging her gaze back to her mother.

“Yes, well, your father is right. Nothing is 100% safe, sex is after all about creating children. We absolutely do not want you pregnant. We would take a dim view of your level of responsibility and the abuse of trust we have in you if you were careless. That’s not to say as a family we wouldn’t work it out, but let’s not get into that situation shall we?”

“There’s a potion you can take; it has a six month effect.” Hermione explained, in a small quiet voice.

“Very well, then we’ll get some of this potion and you’ll use the charm as well. OK?” She looked at them with a gimlet eye, daring them to argue. They didn’t, they agreed, faces bright red but earnest. “I wonder if it would work on muggles.” She mused. The two teenagers exchanged another horror filled mortified look before she relented. “Very well, go, and tell your father I want to speak to him. Cast a silencing spell on the door once he’s in here, would you? I don’t think you need to hear the conversation.”

Hermione nodded and they were up and out of their seats like greyhounds from the gate. Hermione found her father leaning against the fireplace in the study, and hesitantly told him that her Mum was waiting in the dining room for him. He patted her arm as he walked past. Harry came over to her and hugged her.

“They took it quite well, there doesn’t seem to be any real objection.” He offered reassuringly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed,” she said laying her head on his shoulder the flush finally fading from her cheeks.

“No, me either. Why did we have to go through that again? Sneaking around wasn’t so bad was it?”

“Because by asking we get to not sneak around, and it was worth asking for. I don’t want them to think we aren’t serious about each other. We are? Aren’t we?” She looked at him with worry in her eyes, insecurity flaring up.

“Of course we are. We’re here aren’t we. I suppose asking is polite, and it’s at least showing them we’re grown up enough to ask rather than expect it just to happen. But that was awful, and when your Mum started saying about her and John…” He trailed off.

“Oh god, don’t remind me, I’m trying very, very hard to forget, and she wanted to know if the potion would work on muggles!” She thumped her head back into his shoulder as she viciously repressed snippets of the conversation. There were things you didn’t need to know about your parents. Accept in the abstract yes, but know? Absolutely not.

In the dining room Helen grabbed Johns hand as he came through the door. “Did she cast the silencing spell behind you?”

“I left them both in the study looking shell shocked.” He replied. He let her drag him through the kitchen into the boot room which had the door leading to the back garden. With three doors at least between them they gave into the laughter they had been suppressing whilst their daughter asked permission to sleep with her boyfriend.

They laughed, whooped and snorted, tears forming, they had to clutch at each other to stay upright

“Oh god did you see their faces!” She giggled.

“When you said they wouldn’t want to walk in on us.” Came the gasped response.

“Oh, oh it hurts to laugh! Oh god I can’t stop and it hurts.” Helen wheezed as she clutched her sides. Helpless as the pain spasms caused a fresh round of giggles.

Eventually, finally, after what seemed ten long minutes they subsided to occasional giggles and snorts, setting themselves off again each time their eyes met. Wiping the tears from their faces they looked at each other.

“When did we grow up and have a daughter who has a boyfriend we could mortify over the remains of dinner,” she asked smiling.

“I don’t know but this must be one of those moments they tell you about to get you through the teething and sleepless nights.”

“Shall we say yes then?”

“I think the laugh we got out of it alone means we should. In the name of fairness.” He agreed.

“Very well, I’ll leave you to break it to them.”

“Thanks for that.” He walked to the boot room door, and half turned back to her to say. “By the way you owe me a tenner, you said Hermione would wait till March to ask.”

“You can put it on account and collect later,” she said a small suggestive smirk playing on her lips.

He had finished the turn and taken a step towards her before realising it. Shaking his head at her, he returned the smirk then replied. “Don’t think I won’t.” He turned back and walked out the room to find his daughter and break the good news. The two of them would spend the night moving their things in together which was fine, he had plans with his wife.

A/N Please, before anyone posts, annoyed at me, the age of consent for sex in the UK is 16. Both Hermione and Harry are of this age or older in the fiction. Moving to America will not change the fact that, as far as they and Hermione's parents are concerned, they are doing nothing illegal.

Chapter Text

Harry sat at his desk, it was Wednesday, Hermione was at her Animagus class and for now he was home alone. She had come back from the first class content that she’d be able to make her transformation in the time scales she had planned out. He was happy for her, she was the only person he knew that would look at achieving something that difficult on a time scale, but then she was Hermione.

His second Wednesday night alone so far wasn’t shaping up that great. He rolled his pen between his fingers staring into space. It was a pose he’d been holding for a while now, his brain idling along, his thoughts drifting to whatever topic they wished. Taking stock.

A noise of feet on the stairs registered on his mental musings but didn’t disturb him, until he heard a voice at the door.

“A patient of mine once recommended I had a mural painted on the ceiling to give him something to look at.”  Harry looked up to see John stood in the open doorway. “You alright? You were miles away.”

“Yes,” Harry said rubbing a hand over his face.

“Can I?” John gestured to indicate entering the room.

“Yeah, sure.” Harry agreed.

John came forward and dropped into a chair facing Harry, he spent a minute looking him over. “I have a question or two if you don’t mind. You don’t have to answer of course, I’m just curious, it's nothing important.”

“What’s up?”

“Why didn’t you want to do the Animagus training with Hermione when you found out about it? I’m not sure about magical people because they grow up with it every day and don’t see it as anything special. But for muggle born and raised magical people? I would have thought you’d be interested. I’ve thought about it, and I would quite like to turn into an animal. The challenge of finding out what animal you might be then completing the transformation seems like something that you might have gone for.”

Harry sighed. “It is, or well, it might be.” He stopped, biting his lip. “I’m not explaining very well.”

“Take your time,” John said casually waving a hand. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m quite good at discerning what people mean by the noises coming out of their mouth. Occupational hazard.”

Harry smiled at the intended humour and gathered his thoughts. “Yes, I think I’d like to do it. But. Back home, or in England, or well whatever we’re calling that. Everyone saw me as my Dad. I’ve seen photos and I get it, I look like him except my eyes.” He rolled the eyes in question. “People knew him and they look at me, and don’t see me, they see him, or the Boy who Lived. Becoming an Animagus would be another thing that they wouldn’t see me for, they’d see me doing something my Dad did. I’m not him, and here away from everyone who knew him, I can be me. Not Harry Potter, James and Lily’s kid, or Harry Potter who never knew his parents, but just Harry Potter. They’ll never stop being my parents but they’ll never be my parents if you see. I can’t ever measure up to whatever people have built them up to be, I’m not sure they could measure up to what I’ve built them up to be,” he said quietly.

John nodded. “I think I understand; it makes sense you want to be your own person. Everyone wants that. I suppose the expectation on you is a lot higher than most people what with your history. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t saying no because Hermione got in there first. She’s a bit of a force to be reckoned with when she gets going on something and it can be intimidating. Neither Helen nor I want you to think that you are in her shadow. You are your own person to us.”

“Thanks,” Harry said quietly. “Hermione is, well she’s always been about learning as much as she can, and I can sort of see it. But studying, is well, it’s not…” He floundered again.

“It’s not the be all and end all to you?” John supplied.

“Well yeah. I enjoy learning new stuff, especially here when there’s less open hostility in the classes.” He trailed off again shooting John an uncertain look.

“Say it,” John said. “I won’t hold anything against you, and if you’d rather, I won’t speak to Helen or Hermione of it until you say so.”

Harry slumped a little in relief. “The stuff I want to learn, or think I should be learning, I don’t think I’m going to learn it in school.”

“What do you think you should be learning?” John enquired gently.

Harry looked guiltily at him “It’s not that I’m not grateful for everything you’ve done, it’s been beyond anything I could ever have imagined back when I was living in a cupboard. And being here is great and everything.”

“Harry, I get it, you don’t want to upset me. Take it as read you won’t. Spit it out.”

“This war, Tom, the prophecy. I just think I should be learning something about how to fight, how to end it.”

“Your defensive classes aren’t covering enough?”

“No they’re fine, I think. I don’t mean how to fight; I mean how to fight.” Harry stopped frustrated.

“Ahh,” John said understanding. “You mean you don’t want to learn how to actually fight, but the strategy of fighting, the actions and deployment of troops.”

“Yes!” Harry exclaimed.

“Yes, school isn’t going to teach you that, neither muggle or magical.” John thought for a few minutes, Harry watched him, waiting for him to say what he would. John looked at him sighing. “I’m not going to send you off to cadet school or whatever the alternative here is. I think in real terms you are both doing more than enough in classes. But you have this time now, when Hermione isn’t here, your work load is ok? You’re managing?”

Harry nodded.

“OK then, if you are happy to, I’ll make sure I’m home on Wednesdays at this time. We’ll play chess so you can start to understand battlefield tactics and while we play we can discuss war strategy. It’s going to mean some extra reading for you though, if that’s alright? I can give you some books that explain the theories of war. There’s also a fair bit to be gleaned from the magical history books, that aren’t about goblin rebellions.” He added in with a smile seeing Harry’s pained expression. “Chess will illustrate the ideas of move, protect, and attack. You don’t have to learn to be a master just understand the mechanics, to see the way it illustrates war. There are other things we can pick up, strategy games and the like, so it’s not all books. Would that do?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “That would be great. It’s not that I want to rush off into a fight tomorrow, or even soon. But here, away from what’s going on over there, I… I don’t understand the way that Professor Dumbledore acts and that’s probably because I don’t know everything, but I don’t understand why I don’t know everything. Or why I wasn’t just told about the prophecy, and maybe if I’d known, we wouldn’t have gone to the Ministry. I want to learn what I think I need to know, but I don’t know what that is.”

John sighed, “I can’t tell you why Mr Dumbledore does what he does because I don’t know everything either. But once you’ve read the books, we can discuss it. See if we can get it to make sense.  The other thing you have to remember is that when non magical people go to war, they have armies, navies, air forces. Wizards don’t wage war like that. Wizards wage war in small groups, more guerrilla tactics than open warfare. Small bands of people go out create havoc or target specific people whatever the action is. Rather than half a million troops deployed on to a battlefield to fight directly against another half a million troops. I’m not an expert on this Harry, I can only talk you through it and get you to think about ideas you might not have thought of. Give you a perspective from someone who has simply lived a bit longer.”

“That’s alright,” Harry said quickly. “But would you mind if we didn’t tell Hermione or Helen? Hermione will just get mad at me and I don’t want that.”

“She won’t really get mad,” John said. “She loves you and is scared of losing you. She gets angry because it’s easier than being scared. Helen’s the same. But fine we’ll say nothing. Come on then, we’ll relocate to the library room, the chess set is down there.”

They stood and started making their way down the stairs.

“Why chess?” Harry asked.

“Ever played it?”

“Yeah, with Ron in the common room, he always wins though.”

“Mmm, does he play to win or does he play for the exercise?”

“Exercise?” Harry asked.

“Mental exercise not physical, obviously,” John said with a smile.

“Well, uh, its Ron, he wins a lot.”

“Well I’ve never played him, so I’ll theorise that Ron plays with a few well known reliable strategies. He plays people who are either weaker at the game or might not react the correct way to beat the strategy. We’re not going to play so you can learn set play moves. We’re going to play so you can see in front of you, visually, how your troops - that is your chess pieces, can work cohesively and what sacrifice for the greater good can actually mean.” They settled in the library and John scribbled a note and stuck it to the other side of the door. “So we aren’t to be disturbed,” he said with a wink.

“Umm, if you tell Hermione she can’t come in here, she’s going to be as mad as a wet cat.”

“That’s OK,” John said. “I’m her Dad, I can pull rank on her.”

“What about Helen.” Harry asked with a smile.

“Pah, I’ll apologise later, of course.”

They both shared a laugh and settled in front of the chess set. 

Hermione landed on her back with a thump, her breath whooshing out of her. Her assailant was above her pinning her down with a lascivious look on his face. She paused a moment to catch her breath then with a determined shift and twist of her hips she dislodged her attacker. She followed the motion so she ended up pinning him down as she’d been taught, it was her turn to grin down at the person pinned underneath her.

She relented at his obvious surrender and stood up, holding out a hand she planted her feet and hauled him to his feet. She walked over to the bench where she had put her bag down and withdrew bottles of water and towels. Handing one of each to Harry she quickly wiped her face before cracking open the water bottle and greedily guzzled it down.

“You’re getting good at throwing me off,” he said. He wiped his face and joined her in guzzling the water.

“You just like me on top,” she replied, tossing him a challenging look. He smirked back at her saying nothing but drawing his eyes slowly down her body to which her sweat drenched clothes were sticking to. “Oi! Eyes up, Potter.”

“Hmm?” he said with faked nonchalance. “You were saying?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, it seemed to have no effect as he stood smiling at her. Their instructor came over and she turned from Harry to listen to what the instructor had to say.

Self-defence lessons had been fun. They had been told from the outset what to expect, so far they worked through three weeks of twice weekly lessons Now Hermione was at a stage where she could manage to fall without cringing from the impact, and use her body to throw her attacker off as she had just done to Harry.

They’d been taught how to use their bodies as tools, to strike soft targets and vulnerable spots and how to throw off attackers. Every lesson, they practiced the moves learning how to do them in any order, at any time. She was feeling slightly more prepared to look out for herself than she had previously. As good as the self-defence classes were though, she knew that the sorts of people that might attack her probably wouldn’t approach her to grab her. They were more likely to stand some distance away and shoot spells at her. So it was probably a good job their defensive and offensive magical classes were going just as well.

She was disadvantaged there too, her physical size in relation to Harry meant he could simply pour more power into his spells than she could. The instructor had explained that it didn’t mean she was weaker magically, but that she was smaller physically, and as much as the idea grated she just wouldn’t be able to keep up with him pound for pound.

She had not been mollified, she had gotten a stubborn lilt to her chin that Harry had recognised. He had tried to dissuade her from trying but she felt her magical ability had been called in to question and she wouldn’t let it stand. 40 minutes later, hot, tired, sweating and deeply annoyed she admitted that the instructor knew what he was on about.

 It was too late for a graceful apology so she managed a shamefaced one. The instructor had looked at her appraisingly, accepted the apology and pointed out he hadn’t said she wasn’t capable, only that physically she was no match for someone bigger than her. Something that stood for magical and non-magical attacks. In a slugging match she was, as she had ably demonstrated, going to lose.

She felt about a foot tall and had meekly agreed that she would listen next time and take what he was saying as coming from experience. Right then she just wanted to go home and have a hot bath. Apparently their teacher had gone to the same school as Professor Snape when it came to idiotic students. He’d told them to start casting wandless shield charms. In her state of magical depletion it had felt like pushing water uphill by hand. The instructor had looked at her eyebrow raised and she had no choice but to carry on. The lesson had been learnt. She would listen or she wouldn’t, and she would have to do it anyway.

The remaining twenty minutes of the session felt like a lifetime. She’d not managed to cast anything at all while Harry had managed a flickering sphere of light that winked out quickly. He’d been delighted but had shot her a guilty look she’d ignored. She could be petty when her knees weren’t buckling.

After that initial incident they had gotten along swimmingly. Shield charms had been the basis of it, they had moved on to maintaining a shield while running and dodging hexes. Then it was on to learning how to cast while maintaining a shield, then bringing a shield up and down to cover someone else’s casting. They learnt what kinds of shield there were and what spells would get through them.

In each lesson twice a week they would run drills until they could barely stand, then they would do it again. It was relentless, it made them feel like they had run a marathon. Hermione thought bitterly, that if Hogwarts had provided an education like this one, they would have been a lot more prepared for their ridiculous adventure to the Ministry. Although had they been educated like this, they probably would never have gone in the first place.

She found out from a Muggleborn classmate whose muggle father was in the military that the relentless work out was something called Boot Camp. It was designed to hammer home the basics so they became instinctive and it was a method employed by the Army. It was, they commiserate, brutal but it had proven success, and if they survived it, it would serve them well.

Hermione hadn’t liked the implied idea that survival wasn’t guaranteed. Harry had taken it as a challenge and they continued to slog on.

Both instructors had drummed into them the best way to survive a fight was to not be there. Harry had responded mulishly to this, much in the same way she had refused to take her magical ability being called into question. Harry refused to see backing down from a fight as the correct response. It had taken similar beat downs in both classes for him to admit that discretion was the better part of valour. They had both had to readjust their thinking and with this readjustment they had grown, maybe even matured.  

Four nights a week they had classes, on Wednesday Hermione would go to her Animagus group, they had homework and studying to do, and it kept them busy. Saturday morning, they got up early to complete any leftover work they had which they hadn’t finished during the week. The schedule was full but it allowed them a full weekend to relax and they agreed that this was worth it. Neither of them thought their extra classes were not worth the time and effort they were putting in. With no pull on their time at the weekends however, they could do as they wished. Sometimes they stayed home and lazed around chatting to whoever else was in the house. Helen and John had their own schedule, but made it clear if they were needed, then they only need ask. Sometimes they would go out and watch a film or go for a meal somewhere. Normal activities that they hadn’t been able to do at boarding school in Scotland. Normalcy was enthralling, there were no worries about plots afoot in the castle. They didn’t huddle around at night discussing who was a Death Eater and who wasn’t. If not for the extra lessons and the newspapers they scoured every weekend they might have forgotten they were in hiding. Complacency was easy.

A/N – I have messed with the timeline of Harry's meetings with Dumbledore about the Horcruxes pushing the first four to before Christmas. Just a forewarning before we go further

Also, I am aware that the everyone hates the strength vs size thing in this chapter, however its in the original story on FF.net so I've left in here too. Yes its rubbish, I'm very sorry I wrote it in. I promise I will try and keep my poorly conceived ideas to a minimum going forward.

Chapter Text

February in the castle was besieged by newspaper reports of Potter's flight with Miss Granger. What he found bemusing was that the media portrayed it as Potter rescuing his soul bonded girlfriend, from a marriage which would rip their very existence apart. It seemed to not have occurred that she might have decided not to follow the archaic law implemented by the Ministry, and asked him to accompany her. Patriarchal society at work, he thought sighing.

He wasn’t sure who came up with the stories, but had watched in amusement as the castle assimilated the information and it became law.

Potter and Granger had been soul bound, it seemed half the students confidently admitted to knowing they had been a couple, and that anyone looking at them could tell they were bound. The Ministry had known, hadn’t cared and were planning on tearing their bond asunder, killing them both in the process. So the gallant knight had ridden in on his Firebolt and rescued the fair maiden. Was truth stranger than fiction? Not in Hogwarts castle. The truth was mundane, she’d not wanted to be a pawn in her friend’s life or submit herself to a process so obviously biased, so she’d run and she’d taken Potter with her.

He was eagerly awaiting to see if the newspaper would up the ante on their method of escape, he had a side bet going that a magical creature would have kindly offered them transport in recognition of their deep abiding love, and willing sacrifice to leave everything behind. Minerva had goggled at him in disbelief and happily taken the bet. She didn’t want to admit it, but he knew she was following the stories as closely as he was. It made for light entertainment allowing them to forget the seriousness for at least a little while. 

He won his bet with Minerva, the Prophet had outdone itself with tales of a winged Pegasus flying them away to be safe, never to return, as theirs was a love that could not be denied. It had, he thought been laid on incredibly thick, and he wondered how anyone could think it was the truth. Never the less it was eaten up by the public. When they started reporting eye witness accounts of the pair and their tame Pegasus he’d stopped reading, thrown the paper in the fire and refused to look at another one. 

March blew in, the papers had long given up on the speculation as to where Potter and Granger were hiding out, with the March winds came another visitor to the castle. Remus returned.

They were ensconced in Minerva’s sitting room, it being warmer than the dungeons, having a drink. They had reined in the drinking, now they knew the two were away and safe. Severus agreed to come to her rooms through the floo as Minerva said his dungeon was too dank when it was squally. He’s sneered at her, but was glad that her sitting room was warm and cosy. The dungeon wasn’t cosy, and stone cooled faster than it warmed when surrounded by water.

When Remus came barrelling through the door they had both been startled. Severus had held back a groan, barely. Lupin might have become more tolerable after a grovelling apology for his behaviour in school, but he wasn’t comfortable around the werewolf. The night in the Shrieking Shack where he had first come face to snout with Lupin transformed was still part of his nightmares. They could be cordial, they could work together with the minimal amount of sniping and sneering, but they would never be friends.

Remus paced in front of the fire, hands buried in his hair clearly trying to rein in his temper.

“Where is he?” he bit out, a deep growl echoing in the words.

“Have you not spoken to Albus?” Minerva queried.

“Albus!” He spat. “Albus who didn’t see fit to tell me that cub had gone missing? I asked if they’d been in touch, and do you know what he said? He said that they had, but unfortunately all the copies of the letters had to be destroyed for security purposes.” He threw his hands up, his eyes flashing yellow as the wolf came to the surface. This, Severus thought, was why he had wanted to be elsewhere.

“They haven’t,” she said quietly. “Albus was never given the original, it was written to me, and I have it. Sit down, calm down and you can read it.” She stood, pushed him into a chair, fixed him a cup of tea and handed it to him.

“I heard it from Dora when I got in, she saved all the newspapers. Is it true they were soul bound?”

Severus snorted in derision. “Don’t tell me you believed that drivel? Miss Granger was caught up by the marriage law. The Dark Lord thought to use her to get to Potter by marrying her off to Mr Malfoy. The Headmaster wanted her married off to me instead, so it was suggested to the Dark Lord and he agreed. Miss Granger however, came to see me and I told her the truth. I told her of Albus’ plans two weeks before the end of term, they both left for Christmas and never returned. Her parents helped her, they have since left the country to join them once the deadline had passed to avoid arousing suspicions. That was all we knew until this letter arrived.” He gestured to the parchment Minerva held out.

Remus put down his untouched tea, he was still sitting stiffly and visibly holding his temper in check. Unrolling the parchment, he read it hungrily, once finished, he read it again. “I don’t understand, what does she mean Albus wanted to turn them into soldiers? No one would expect children to get involved in the war.”

“You’ve been away Remus, since the start of the school year, Albus has had a number of meetings with Mr Potter. We’re not sure what happened in those meetings but clearly it has something to do with finding the horcruxes. As to whether Albus expected Mr Potter to find them we only have Miss Grangers word on that. Albus has remained indifferent to questioning.” Minerva said calmly. Hoping to sooth the wolf with as much information as they had. The last thing they needed was for Remus to go rampaging off.

“So what is being done to bring them back?” Remus asked looking at Minerva with pleading eyes, his fingers restlessly rolling the parchment up then unrolling it again repeatedly.

“Miss Granger has ‘gone muggle’. They left the country using muggle methods. She snapped their wands and left them in rubbish bins to be collected and disposed of by the muggles. A story was planted with the neighbours saying that the Grangers had relocated to Ottery St Catchpole. What they did after they reached Switzerland, if that’s even where they went, we don’t know. She speaks more than one foreign language so we can assume her parents do too. There is speculation she has jewellery with glamour spells indicating that even if we went looking we wouldn’t know who we were looking at. They have the documentation to live as muggles Severus assures me. We really don’t have any way of finding them unless they want to be found.”

“So what is being done?” Remus repeated.

“Albus is trying to find them, as to his success you would have to ask him. Severus and I are looking into the horcruxes as Miss Granger indicated that they were of some importance to the war effort. Arthur is following up with the magical schools in the continent to see if they will tell us if they registered for exams, so far with little success. If they have chosen to complete a muggle education, then we have no way of following that up.”

“What is the Order doing?”

“The Order is currently continuing with tasks that were allocated before this came up.”

“So nothing then.” He spat.

“What would you have us do? We’ve no way to find them, they are living as muggles. Somewhere on continental Europe which at the last count had 7 hundred million people in it. And you want to find four? The magical schools won't speak to us. We’ve no way of contacting the muggle schools of which there is an infinite number!” Severus snapped impatiently. “They’re gone, the parchment in your hands tells you why. Accept it and move on.”

Remus looked down at the parchment in his hands sadly. He put it down and rubbed his face. Half way through the action he stopped and sniffed his hands. “Lemons?” he looked around the room.

“What are you on about now?” Severus asked exasperated. His quiet evening of drinking with Minerva while exchanging tales of the student’s antics of the week was slowly going up in smoke, and he didn’t feel like indulging the histrionics of a werewolf.

“My hands smell of lemons.” Curiously, he picked the parchment up and sniffed it. Minerva and Severus watched slightly incredulous. Ignoring them he turned the parchment over and sniffed the back. The smell was coming from the back of the parchment. He thrust it at Severus. “Here, smell the back of that.”

“What the bloody hell for?” He demanded.

“Did you keep it in a draw with a sachet?” Remus asked Minerva.

“No just in my bureau draw under wards.” She pointed at the handsome bureau sat in the corner of her sitting room.

“Well?” Remus turned back to Severus. “Can you smell it to?” Annoyed, Severus huffed then lifted the parchment to his nose. The front smelt of parchment and ink, but on the back, yes, yes he could just smell a faint hint of lemons.

“So what it smells of lemons, maybe it was stored with fruit before being used.”

“Don’t be an arse! It smells of lemon juice not the skin.” Remus snapped.

“What does it matter? So the parchment smells, is that meant to be a code for something?” he drawled sardonically. Tossing the parchment down on to the table.

 Remus perked up. “Maybe a location for them.”

“So you’ve narrowed Europe down to the southern countries, congratulations.” Severus' tone was unimpressed. “We’ll start looking tomorrow then, shall we? Now we have that excellent clue, so glad you decided to pop in.”

“Well why else would it smell of lemons?”

“Oh I don’t know, because she spilt lemon juice on it. For Circe’s sake man its parchment!”

“Lemon juice.” he said thoughtfully. “Why does that mean something to me?”

“You enjoy pancakes?” Severus snapped annoyed. He had wanted a quiet evening with good company, instead he had an irrational werewolf grasping at straws and word association.

Remus waved him off thinking. “Hermione’s gone muggle you said? And the parchment came up blank on the revealing spells?”

“Yes to both.” Minerva advised, before Severus could open his mouth and snap again. The dour man sent her a sour look for cutting him off but she looked back, an eyebrow raised asking if he was going to make anything of it. He subsided and she smiled.

“Lemons, lemons, lemons.” Remus muttered. “Something muggle to do with lemons and the twins.”

“What have the twins got to do with anything?” Minerva wondered puzzled. She sent a questioning glance at Severus. He raised a shoulder in reply, ignoring Lupin and settling back with his drink.

Lupin absently drank his tea muttering to himself, lost in thought as he tried to connect the random memories together into a cohesive whole.  Severus and Minerva settled to ignoring the behaviour and started talking of the students again, getting the evening back on to the track it had been jolted off. It wasn’t more than half an hour later when an exclamation stopped their conversation.

“Invisible Ink!” Remus shouted jumping up from his chair. “She was showing the twins how muggles have had invisible ink for centuries! They didn’t believe her, and she was writing on parchment with lemon juice!” He triumphantly pointed at the parchment.

“You think Miss Granger has left a secret message written with the juice of a fruit on the back of that parchment? Have you listened to yourself?” Severus asked in disbelief.

“Well why else would it smell? I need a heat source to warm the parchment up without burning it.” He looked round the room, as if expecting something to appear.

“Are you a wizard?” was Minerva's tart response.

A look of dawning realisation came over his face, and he cast a warming charm on the parchment. As the paper warmed, brown text started to appear. He whooped in delighted glee.

Remus,

Firstly, I must beg your forgiveness, I am aware that I have taken someone from you that you hold dear. I will keep your cub safe.

The reasons overleaf are true but I hope that you can understand, we spoke once about the cost of assimilation into society. I saw parallels in my situation and those of the purported heroine discussed. I hope you can see that the cost was more than I could pay. I have decided I should like to see a blue corn moon, I will listen for the wolf. As for this message hidden this way? You taught me to ask the question when is a parchment not a parchment. I learn my lessons well. Harry wanted to send you a message the Headmaster didn’t see. I’ll hand it over to him. Yours HJG

  Remus, don’t be mad. She gave me a choice between what was right, and what was easy and I picked the only thing I could.  Hermione, in an unusually brutal style laid it all out. She used profanity, it was strangely awe inspiring and very hot. You have to love invisible ink; she doesn’t know I wrote that. Don’t tell her. Ever!

So this is the deal. Sort the horcuxes and I’ll be the banner you rally people round. Don’t sort the horcruxes, snake face doesn’t die, the Ministry falls and life becomes shit. Remus I nearly lost Hermione to a law designed to punish her for being my friend. Ask the wolf about losing Tonks. You see what I am saying?

The days when I blindly follow are over, so far I’ve killed a Professor and a giant snake. My actions and decisions led to the deaths of Cedric and Sirius. I led my friends into an ambush, they all got hurt. The scar Hermione has, it makes my heart hurt Remus. That’s a lot of hurt and dead people and for what? What progress has been made? I’m not meant to like getting people killed? Well I don’t, or was it practice at sacrificing people for the greater good? Exactly who is benefiting from this greater good? When does some of that good get shared out to the people bleeding, sacrificing and dying for it?

Tom is back, the Grangers call him Tom rather than the stupid name he made up or the name with many hyphens the press uses. I like it, and I’m sticking with it. People are admitting he’s back, well great. But the Ministry is still corrupt, even though they know he’s back they are letting him take over the same way, all over again.

At best I’m a symbol, something to be paraded round so other people can bury their heads in the sand, and make it someone else’s problem. ‘Oh look it’s the boy who lived, he’s saved us once he can do it again.' Only I didn’t, did I? My mother stood in front of a killing curse for me. You only get one mother so I’m guessing a second shot at that is out, and I wouldn’t let Hermione do it.

I’m going to at least learn what I need to while away. The Grangers insist that I finish my education before I think about turning vigilante. It seems a fair price to pay for everything they have given me. Acceptance mostly, a shed load of understanding and a tonne of support. I’m not the boy who lived to them, or the saviour of the wizarding world, and their opinion of the prophecy is close to Hermione’s opinion of Diviniation. I’m just Harry to them, Hermione’s boyfriend, who would spend all his time skiing. Skiing, Remus is just the best thing ever. It beats quidditch and comes a very close second to flying. You’ve got to try it.

  The only useful information I have for you in regards to what the Headmaster was meeting me for is that Tom had a shitty childhood. Raised in an orphanage he was a bully and liked stealing shiny things from people. Slughorn faked his memory somehow clearly not wanting to admit he told him anything about horcruxes, maybe you could ask him for help instead of me?

The Gaunt family of which Tom is a member, lived in a shack and were parsletongues. Tom’s mum used a love potion on a man she obsessed about, and got pregnant with Tom. When she stopped using it on him, he left her and she was disowned. The Gaunts had a locket and a ring to prove they were descended from Salazar Slytherin. I didn’t get a good look at the ring but the there was a knock off copy of the locket at Sirius' house when we were cleaning over summer. It doesn’t open and it’s pretty damn ugly. It’s hard to miss, I’m not sure what happened to it, maybe Kreacher will help if you ask nicely. Originally the locket got sold to Burkin and Borkes, by Toms mum. Tom stole the ring, and murdered his magical and muggle family setting his grandfather up to take the fall. Maybe he found the locket too? There was something about Hufflepuff’s cup too though it was supposition by the Headmaster.

That’s all I have for you. Stay safe, keep the others as safe as you can, and remember to always close the map.

Harry

 Remus looked shocked, Minerva looked amused. Severus was appalled, the Headmaster, Albus fucking Dumbledore, had shown Potter memories of events. Which meant that he’d been planning to have students hunt dark artefacts that would lead to the downfall of the Dark Lord. Did Albus think the Dark Lord would let them because they were children? A locket and a ring... a ring.

“What the bloody hell does he think he’s playing at?” he said his anger boiling to the surface.

“Harry?” Lupin said, startled out of his reverie.

“Albus! He gave Potter those memories last year! He bloody knows what he was sending them off to do! That ring. The damn and blast ring, he lied to me.” He hissed. “She worked it out, threw it in his face in this thrice damned letter, and he lied about it. I thought she’d meant that he’d been caught out by cursed jewellery so how were they meant to be able to... but no it was a bloody horcrux and it attacked him.” He was up and pacing, his robes billowing behind him and he seethed. “That conniving son of a bitch, no wonder she got Potter and ran.” He stalked across the hearth muttering to himself as Minerva sat and watched him eyes wide. “I’d wring his bloody neck if I could, and hers! This damn game playing.”

“You’d have to find her to do either” Minerva pointed out. Something flickered over Remus face and it made Minerva uneasy. “Remus?”

Severus stopped his pacing and turned his gaze on to the other man searching his face and body posture for clues as to what she’d seen.

“Lupin, now is not the time to hold out on us. The Headmaster doesn’t need to be told, but keeping secrets led to those two vanishing into thin air.” His voice low and hard, the bubbling anger from his realisations still present. If a student had heard it, they might have expired on the spot in fright.

Remus flashed him a look, his eyes gold. “The Headmaster has some explaining to do, he waited five months to tell me they were gone.”

“What do you know?” He repeated.

“Nothing.” Remus denied. “Nothing but a hunch that I intend to play out.”

“What?” He demanded again, stalking closer.

“Hermione wrote of a purported heroine in her note, a discussion we had in the library at Grimmauld. She’d brought some muggle books to read and had questions.” Remus admitted grudgingly.

“Muggle books? They didn’t incinerate as they passed the ward line?” Minerva interjected. Trying to defuse the tension growing between the two men.

“She said something similar. Her heroine, she was kidnapped as a teenager, married to a man old enough to be her father and paraded round as a noble savage for society to gawp at. After a few years she took ill and died. Her culture was destroyed, her family murdered. The price was everything. Everything she was, everything she had, and an early death. Hermione saw that as the price she wouldn’t pay for inclusion into magical society in England”

“What’s that got to do with you playing out a hunch? It sounds like her reasons for not obeying the law,” Severus said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“It’s something we discussed, it might mean nothing.” Lupin replied his expression closed. Severus and Minerva stared hard at him.

“If you know something…” Severus growled.

“I don’t, not yet.”

Chapter Text

A silence settled onto the room and it seeped into the walls.

“Look,” Lupin said. “It’s maybe nothing but this is cub. I can’t do nothing. Not again. If there’s even a remotest chance… I have to take it.” He sat looking like a man with too many regrets, and Minerva shot Severus a look telling him not to push him.

“If there’s something you think we should know you will tell us won’t you Remus. I think at this stage we can agree that this evenings events won’t be reported to either Albus or the Dark Lord.”

“Thank you Minerva, I know I’m asking a lot asking you to trust me.” He looked at Severus who scowled, but acknowledged his words.

Remus looked down, stroking the parchment, the warming charm had worn off causing the parchment to cool, and the ink had vanished back into invisibility. “You don’t even need to close it,” he said. Then, with humour in his voice, said. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to be sure. Mischief managed.” A sharp intake of breath followed, as a familiar cursive script flowed over the parchment.

Mooney,

  Ron has the map, don’t worry I didn’t dismantle it to learn how to do this. I followed in the footsteps of the Marauders. We’re going to be doing a bit of that in the future.

  There are things you need to know; things we need to tell you. But more than one person knows how to open a map, so I had to find a better method, one proven by time, history and continual usage.

I’d make it easier for you, but you have Professor Snape to help you so you’ll be fine.

  HJG

 The cursive writing faded away to show an ornate X.

 Remus looked up at Severus confused. “What does that mean I have you to help me?”

“I don’t know Lupin. What is this map she was babbling about?”

Remus flushed guiltily. “We made a map of Hogwarts castle it shows everything and everyone on the grounds listed by name. You’ve seen it; it’s jinxed to insult you if you get hold of it.”

“The parchment I took from Potter and you took back?” Remus nodded, shame flushing his cheeks. “So you found me all those times because you had a magical map, and Miss Granger has learnt how to write one.” Severus picked up the parchment from the table where Lupin had put it. He pushed back on the rising ire from his mistreatment at the hands of the Marauder's, he could be angry later, he would be angry later. He concentrated on the parchment, the X was stylised, overly so, covering the middle of the parchment. It reminded him of-. “Oh, for fucks sake girl! Must you be so smug?!”

“What?”

“It’s a map!” That garnered him blank looks, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he could throttle someone, anyone, but preferably Miss Granger. “She’s a muggle born, what do muggles use maps for?”

“Directions to find things.”

“And a conventional symbol to mark what you want to find on a map is?” he drew out. Feeling like he was pulling teeth, pointing at the ornate X

“An X, she made us a treasure map!” Remus breathed, his eyes growing wide.

Remus reached out and touched the X. Nothing happened, and he drew back looking at Severus expectantly.

“What?” the dark man snapped.

“Well go on then,” he said, pointing at the parchment.

“Why me?”

“Because she said you’re going to help me, so help.”

Severus scowled, and reached out to touch the X. It disappeared and a flow of runes appeared in a grid pattern. “What the hell is that?!”

Remus started laughing. “She’s brilliant and paranoid, I’ll give you that. Invisible ink, needing werewolf enhanced sense of smell to detect, insider knowledge of the Marauder's, tied to two people purported to be on opposite side of the conflict, to reveal a cipher written in runes.” He shook his head. “Merlin, my runes are rusty, how about yours? Can we even identify the rune set? It’s not like she only knew one.”

“What is it?” Minerva was looking nonplussed at the grid.

“It’s a cipher.” Remus replied. “Probably a Caesar Cipher. Used by the Caesars of Rome to pass messages, without the key you could spend hours trying to crack it. It's the something proven by history and constant use she wrote of. She’s written it in runes so without the key it’s a pretty pattern. We’d have to know if the message is written in English or Runes to know which alphabet she shifted. Unless its multi layered, and she’s used a Caesar shift first, then put another cipher under it, or the other way round.”

“So how useful is it then?”

“Without the key? Not at all. Muggle or not, unless you have the key you won’t crack it, so the key is in the letter. Have you got some parchment Minerva? I need to make a copy of the cipher.”

“You’re going to crack it?”

“That’s why she sent it, and she seems to think between us we can. We talked about them at the headquarters while the others talked quidditch. The possibility of them being used in the war effort, since it is what they were designed for. I’ve done them before, though nothing like this.” He started copying down the runes exactly as they were on the sheet. Once he’d done that, he made a copy for Minerva and Severus, handing them over.

“Have you got a lexicon here Minerva? If we could identify which rune set she’s used that would be a start.”

Minerva got up and stepped over to her bookcase, running her finger along the spines, before pulling free a book. Severus took it and started flipping through the pages.

Lupin tapped the runes and intoned. “Mischief Managed.” Nothing happened. “That’s odd,” he said.

“What’s odd? Or at least odder than a muggle Caesar cipher written in runes?” Minerva queried.

“To close the map you say, 'Mischief Managed'.”

“Very droll.” Severus remarked, without looking up from his book.

“But it’s not closed.” He looked at it for a moment and then recited. “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” The runes disappeared. The back of the parchment returned to its original blank state except for in the middle the page, an inked otter swam round a stag then winked out. Remus swallowed a lump in his throat.

“Not more clues?” Minerva asked having seen the image.

“No, an acknowledgement I suppose, Harry’s patronus is a stag. I taught him after the dementor attacks, he taught the members of his defence club. Hermione’s is an otter; she’s not very good at casting it, Harry said she struggles with it.” He shook himself, and turned the parchment over, starting to read the letter again. Making notes on a separate piece of paper.

Twenty minutes later his head was hurting. Severus had stopped flipping through the book and had started copying down rune sets, Minerva helping him. So he’d found it then. His eye was drawn back to a passage in the letter, something was nudging his brain.

“Here, read out this for me Severus, something is tickling my brain and I can’t grasp it.”

“Read what”?

“This here, it’s not her normal style and I’m wondering if that’s what we’re looking for.”

“Be not afraid Madam, on receiving this letter that I am not—" He recited. His smooth voice caressed the words, as Remus mouthed them silently with him.

“Stop! Stop! say it again it’s almost there.”

“Be not afraid Madam, on receiving this letter—” He intoned, with a roll of his eyes. Remus threw up a hand to halt him, his eyes closed and recited.

“-by, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments, or renewal of those offers, which were last night so disgusting to you.” He opened his eyes they were bright and shining. “I do not know if I want to hug her or kill her.”

“What is it?” Minerva inquired with some trepidation.

“It’s the beginning of the letter Mr Darcy wrote to Elizabeth; to explain the relationship he has with Wickham after she refuses his proposal.”

“Does everything have to come back to this damn marriage law?!” Severus grumped.

“You aren’t starting to feel slighted are you, Severus?” Minerva asked smiling, her eyes dancing.

“Hunted, maybe.”

“It’s the link Severus, it’s the commonality.” Minerva said gently. “Her heroine, her quotes, she’s keeping us on track by focusing us back on why she left, and it’s not really about the law. It’s about the war, the fact that’s she’s less to our government, our society.”

“So why that quote? Other than it fits her commonality.” He grumbled, not pacified.

“Other than it’s a classic piece of muggle literature? Well it’s a romance with a strong female lead. It’s incredibly enduring, it was published in 1813 and it still sells. Hermione kept her copy in her book bag, she lent it to me.”

“So how does that help us?”

“Well chances are there's a book cipher in there somewhere, the quote was to let us know which book. So it’s either a Caesar cipher on top of a book cipher or the other way round and then we have to translate it from runes. We’ll need the same copy of Pride and Prejudice as she has.”

Severus spat out his mouthful of tea. “You must be joking!”

“About?”

“The book is called Pride and Prejudice? Honestly, I’m going to hex her. Stay here.” Severus stepped into the floo and returned moments later. “Here.” He tossed a book on to the table.

“Whatever were you doing with this?” Minerva asked her eyes smiling with amusement, reaching for the book to read the back.

“I confiscated it from Lavender Brown, she had it out in class and claimed it wasn’t hers.”

“When?” Minerva asked thirdly, looking up from the blurb. “How long was she really planning all this?”

“November, the Headmaster's insistence that we review every interaction with Miss Granger is the only reason I remembered the incident, she tripped over the bag drawing my attention.”

“Merlin wept. Is it the same copy Remus?”

He picked it up and looked at the publishers’ mark and date. “Yes, it must be, so she planned it all those months before she left. She gave us everything we would need. But how did she know?”

“She didn’t, she simply couldn’t. She just left things in place, so if she did need them, they could be found and used. That book isn’t Miss Brown's, Miss Granger simply dropped it on top of her things when passing, knowing I would confiscate it and never look at it.  She used lemons to write her secret message so that anyone with a sensitive sense of smell might pick it up. Either Lupin or myself. Albus wouldn’t be able to discern the lemon smell thanks to those infernal lemon drops he’s forever eating. The messages to Lupin hidden under the password might have caused problems. But she indicated more than one person knows how to use the map, and Mr Weasley clearly has it in his possession now. When is a parchment not a parchment?? I presume that would mean something to anyone familiar with the map.” Severus slumped back in his chair, this evening was not going how he had imagined.

“It is common knowledge that the map exists, within the current generation of children in the Order. Fred and George gave it to Harry.”

“The Weasley twins had this map?” Minerva demanded.

“They stole it from Flich during a detention. I don’t know how many years they had it, they gave it to Harry in his 3rd year.”

The adults who had taught through the Weasley twins reign glared at Remus. He shrank in his seat.

“Secret messages, hidden ciphers, escape plans, diversions, it just sounds so, so, fanciful.” Minerva said.

“And unicorns, dragons and three headed dogs don’t? You’re thinking like a witch again Minerva.” Severus said amused. “Miss Granger grew up muggle, unicorns and dragons were imaginary. She has flipped us around; we do things she can’t imagine can be done using magic. So she does things we think can’t be done using muggle methods.”

“Severus is right Minerva, really it takes twenty minutes to get a cipher going when you are writing it, it’s not difficult it just looks impressive. Planting a book on someone, seconds. The muggle methods of hiding things aren’t looked for by wizards. When you scanned that parchment did it return there was a secret message written on it? She’s avoiding everything we normally look for, we’re just lucky she’s using sign posts to get us there.”

“Since you brought them up, there’s one thing we have overlooked. Worse she probably expected us to.” Minerva said.

“What?” Remus asked.

“Has anyone taken a look at the formula she gave the Weasley twins? Does anyone know what it’s for?”

“A product for their shop? She was repaying them for their offers of marriage,” Remus said.

“Yes on the surface that is exactly what it looks like and yet here we are, trying to decipher a cipher written in runes and so far all I’m getting back is numbers,” Severus said. He pointed to the notes he’d made, they were a long string of numbers and nothing else.

“You are? Right, so the top layer is the book cipher that’s good. I didn’t fancy translating runes to do a Caesar shift, one wrong translation and it will throw the whole lot out. Here, I’ll show you how to decode it Minerva, and if you’ll make a copy of that book. It will go quicker with two of us.”

Weasley twins forgotten, for the next two hours they worked. A book was duplicated for Severus when he had finished his translations, so he could also help. Quiet conversation was sporadic, discouraged by the concentration needed to correctly identify the letters. Copious amounts of tea was consumed and the net result was a long string of letters.

“So now what?” Severus asked, eyeing the string grumpily.

“Now we need to know what shift number she used. It’s a number by which you shift the letters of the alphabet forward. Julius Caesar’s original was a shift of 3, here I’ll show you.” He wrote the alphabet out clearly on a clean piece or parchment. “So let’s say that she shifted her alphabet by three as Caesar did. I’m not saying she has, but for example. So the letter A now becomes the letter D and so on. To decode it you shift the letters back, so all the D’s in the string become A’s.” He copied the shifted letters down next to the regular alphabet and marked it with the number three.

“So how do we know which number she used?” Minerva asked.

“Well it’s likely to be something simple, the date of publication, the number of pages. That sort of thing.”

“So, we’re guessing,” Severus said sighing.

“Yes a little. Look, it was published in 1813. If you add all those numbers up, you get either 4 or 13. The book has 346 pages that gets you either 4 again or 13 again I think it’s safe to say it’s either one of those two numbers. I’ll do the four shift, if you want you can check if the three shift works or start on the 13 shift.”

“I’ll do the three shift,” Minerva said. “It’s all rather intriguing, you said the Roman Caesars used this?”

“OK, just do the first ten letters, if it doesn’t become a word stop. And yes Julius Caesar used them to command his armies, as you’ve seen without knowing the keys they are meaningless. It could have their new address encoded in it, and without the key you’d never work it out. Especially as she put two ciphers together. If you think of the number of books Hermione has read, how would you know which to use? Would any wizard even know to try?”

The room fell to quiet silence again as they started trying to shift the encoded string back.

“It looks like 4 is the magic number.” Remus said excitedly. “OK let’s split the string. We’ll each take a bit and decode it, then put it back together at the end.”

It took another hour for them to finish their sections, once laid out Remus started marking the spaces between words, as Minerva transcribed them on to fresh parchment. Severus called an elf to fetch whiskey and food, it didn’t look like any of them were going to make it to bed early tonight, and food would keep them going.

When completed and formatted into something not resembling the longest sentence ever written, the three of them stopped to review their handiwork. A hush fell between them as they took in the magnitude of what Hermione had hidden in her codes. It wasn’t her new address it was something else.

Proven ways of destroying horcrux

Basilisk fang see chamber of secrets for more

Possibly sword of Gryffindor as goblin made therefore would have absorbed venom when Harry killed basilisk

Possible horcrux

Tom’s Diary destroyed by Harry and Basilisk confirmed

Gaunt Ring destroyed by Headmaster with sword confirmed

Slytherin’s locket family heirloom related to four founders last at Borkin and Burkes replica at Black home to aid identification

Hufflepuff’s cup related to four founders’ location unknown Headmaster hinted at importance

Ravenclaw’s diadem related to four founders’ location unknown Grey Lady maybe a source

Gryffindor item unknown

Final horcrux is also unknown suspect Headmaster does know.

Founders items most likely as Tom liked to steal other people’s things. Founders items are important artefacts and owning possessing all of them could or would be a show of power.

As orphan Hogwarts means a lot it is a home source Harry.

School is possible hiding place use map or room of requirements may help source curse on defence position

Lucius Malfoy had the Diary before handing it off to Ginny Weasley. Possible other Death Eaters of similar rank have items to guard.

They sat, they drank whiskey, they ate the food the elves brought, and they contemplated the bombshell on the table.

“We’re not telling Albus or You-know-who are we.” Remus said hoarsely. It wasn’t a question.

“Do you think there's any chance they’re right?” Minerva asked needing to hear it from someone else.

“They’ve got no reason to tell us any of this other than for the horcrux to be found and destroyed. Just because they have left, clearly doesn’t mean they wanted us helpless.” Severus answered.

“The Founders items though? How likely is that?” Remus asked.

They thought about it until Minerva broke the silence. “It doesn’t matter how likely it is, Miss Granger and Mr Potter seem to think that they are. We were unsure as to where to begin. Now we have a beginning. Even if it goes nowhere we can at least prove or disprove their theories. How good do you think Borkin and Burkes records are? Do you think they’ll know who they sold the locket on to?” 

A/N – The copy of Pride and Prejudice I own was published jointly in 1999 by Penguin/BBC in case anyone checked their copies and it wasn’t the same page numbers.

Chapter Text

It was the last Saturday of March, the month had past faster than expected, settled routine chewing through the days and weeks greedily. Hermione and Harry were presently huddled round her desk in the shared study room, the project they had started in February was coming along nicely.

She had moved into Harry’s room and moved his desk into hers, with the ability to use magic, the reorganisation had taken very little time. The bed that previously had occupied the space had been shrunk down to doll house size and stored in a draw in her desk. The desks had been pushed together to face each other so they had space to spread out, but could also chat over assignments and anything else. It was nice to share a study space separate from their bedroom, and not have to take over the dining room table. She had also moved a bookcase in to store their school texts and reference books. It was shaping up to be a room she’d always wanted and better still she had someone to share it with. Harry might not appreciate the aesthetic, but he appreciated the work she’d done and happily used the space with her. 

Their current project was two plain silver men’s rings. The rings were to be a birthday present for Fred and George. Which was a front for getting more information back to the Order by a means that didn’t automatically flag up their whereabouts. They were out of the loop as far as the Order was concerned, no longer aware of who was dealing with what. They had an idea that Fred and George would be up for delivering the information, if only to show off their birthday presents.

Initially they had planned to send it to Ron. He was their friend and the guilt of leaving him behind made them feel like they should try and include him. Her parents had advised against it. Ron they had pointed out was their friend, and as such would be under observation in case they did try to get in touch. He was also inside the castle which the Headmaster controlled, he was not a free agent within school, he could be compelled to obey. Putting him in a position where he had to pick between his friends who had left him, and the Headmaster of the school he was still attending would be grossly unfair. They had exchanged an unhappy look and agreed. 

The rings were going to hold a glamour much like the ones she and Harry used to go to school and extra classes. Those rings changed subtle things, they didn’t make you shorter or taller like polyjuice potion did, changing you into an entirely different person. But changed hair colour, as well as texture. Eye colour and shape. Skin tone and appearance of age, so that you were still you, just a very different looking version of you.

Harry said she looked like herself if she had been born a tawny blonde with straight hair, killer cheek bones and an all year tan. Which, she took to mean, she looked like herself but nothing like herself. Harry looked like a surfer dude. It was the easiest way to describe him, she’d had to change his eye colour because it was one of his most remarked features. Instead of green eyes he had blue eyes the colour of calm seas. His messy hair was sun bleached blonde and he also sported a tan. In short he looked like he’d washed in from a Californian summer and never gone back. His scar was hidden, it had been too large a risk to leave it visible, as it would immediately make him stand out if they were hunted on this continent. As much as it had been one of the few links to his past and parents he had agreed that hiding it was the best thing to do.

The charms had been embedded into the rings, a nifty bit of magic she’d found in an old grimoire in the Hogwarts library. By feeding power into the rings as well, the charm could be triggered by putting the ring on and disabled by removing it. Casting a Finite Incantum had no effect on the charm. The spell had no way to separate the charm from the magic powering it, protected as they both were by the physical barrier of the metal ring.

The things they were going to send the twins had a more commercial value. They contained a glamour charm combined with a transfiguration so detailed it created stable props. The idea was triggered by her mother’s comment on how useful the rings would be for fancy dress parties. Slip on a ring and hey presto! You look like whoever you want and you’ve just clothes to sort out. Harry had asked Hermione if the spell she had, could transfigure the clothes the wearer was already wearing to suit the needs of the costume. Ready to rise to a challenge, especially one her mother was interested in she’d hit the books and come up with the answer of yes.

It had progressed to conjuring props and now the final test was before them. Could they place charms in the ring that would turn the wearer into a seafaring pirate, complete with hat, cutlass and peg leg? With the other ring they would be trying to create a musketeer, with hat complete with feathered plume and a sword.

The costumes had been chosen due to the sheer volume of images of both, because they both came with hat and sword and the period detail was similar, reducing the amount of work they would have to do. The thought of the chaos Fred and George could cause with such spells had also provided enough giggles that they had been willing to try.

She taught Harry the spells she used on the glamour rings they wore, and with a lot of scribbled notes, a fair bit of trial and more than a few errors, they thought they had cracked it.

Hermione had finessed the spells down as much as she could to maximise their efficiency, as the rings were limited on the amount of magical energy they could hold. Rechargeable rings were next on the list of improvements they had made as they had designed.

She was going to layer the spells in to the ring, then Harry was going to feed in the magical power that would activate the spell. The magical power had to be tied into the rings and Harry had been consistently better at it than her, so she’d handed the job over to him happily.

The rings glowed slightly as the transfer of energy caused them to heat. Once they were charged they allowed the metal to cool. Helen, who had come to watch her idea become a reality, brought them a drink and snack. Hovering a finger over the ring she checked how hot they had become. “I suppose magic is energy so it makes sense that heat is a waste product, but I think it’s the first physical manifestation I’ve seen, if you know what I mean. Other than the light that happens when you cast certain spells, it’s invisible.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “Transfiguration is a good example. You say the words and make the wand movement but you can’t see the physical magic interact with the item you are transfiguring, just the item itself changing. You’re told to hold the image in your head, but I think that’s a confidence booster or a way to keep your mind on track because there’s nothing to see until the spell works.”

Helen nodded her understanding then pulled a small Dictaphone out of her pocket. “This is what I think you’d be best using. It’s from the practice in England. It’s a common model so they should be able to pick up a player for the tape. Wouldn’t sending the whole thing be easier though?”

“Yes and no. Yes, it would be easier in that they wouldn’t have to find something to play the tape. But we don’t know how somewhere as magical as Hogwarts would react with the electronics. We are assuming it’s going to work. None of the muggleborns ever mentioned having cassette or CD players with them but it wasn’t exactly something that you would advertise anyway. If we send it then it’s possible the ambient magic of Hogwarts will break it. If the tape is inside it might break the tape and we’ve sent them junk. If we just send the tape, the twins will know what it is because Mr Weasley has all sorts of junk in his shed and they used to experiment on their products in there. It’s more likely they will play it before sending it up to Hogwarts, thus reducing the chances of it being wiped by the wards before anyone works out what it is. Electronics might be a complete no go, or it might work, or they might have a sound duplicating spell, or something. We need to hedge our bets as best we can, it’s not like they can tell us if the tape gets mangled,” Harry said.

“Do you really think this will work?”

“The only other way we suspect you can destroy horcrux is with the sword. They say it can only be taken and used under conditions of valour and need. Which for a weapon seems pretty stupid, it’s hardly Excalibur. If they can’t use the sword, then they need another way. Basilisk venom is a controlled substance and really expensive. Assuming the Headmaster allows it to be bought on the school's account, it seems ridiculous to do so when they have a whole one rotting in a cavern under the school its self,” Hermione said.

“Not doing something that is easily done for minimum risk seems wrong. I know we left, but our friends are still there and still in the line of fire. If we don’t do this and Ron or Ginny, or Fred and George, or Neville get hurt, I’m not sure that I could live with that. If Professor Dumbledore decides to make a new hero out of one of our friends, then it will be our fault they are in harm’s way. I need to know we’ve done everything we can to help,” Harry said.

Helen hugged him to her. “I wasn’t saying you shouldn’t do it, I think if it doesn’t put either of you at risk then yes, of course you should offer all the help you can. But please, remember, you are not responsible for other people’s actions. If the Headmaster picks another student to send into harm’s way that isn’t on you that’s on him. You are not responsible, they are. You can only be responsible for yourself.” She lent backwards so she could see his face, he still looked troubled and guilty. She smiled warmly and gently nudged him back to the desk. She settled in the comfy arm chair Hermione had smugly conjured for her when she’d asked to stay and watch them work.

 Helen sighed internally. How could anyone think to drop the survival of society onto the lap of a child was beyond her. When Hermione had first written of Harry describing the events of the incident with the troll, she and John had returned to the books they had bought Hermione and re read the stories. Stories seemed an apt description, the series of events seemed a little fanciful, two grown adults dead but a baby survives to vanquish the monster. Had it been coincidence his mother had died just beforehand? Was the child not the survivor rather than the saviour? It seemed that this was more likely.  Hermione’s friendship with Harry had kept them abreast of the goings on but they had drawn their own conclusions. Something about Harry wasn’t quite right. The Headmaster who had no interest in getting to know the other students personally seemed very involved in this particular young man. The parental alarm bells started ringing but they were helpless to do anything but encourage Hermione to be safe, and look after her friend.

Hermione’s fourth year had been challenging for them; the rigged tournament, their daughter sent under a lake for hours, in February of all months! Her newly fledged relationship with her friend, then the death of that poor boy and the return of the monster. They had sat reading her letters as they came in, clutching each other wondering if this was the year magic stole their daughter and returned a corpse.

 It turned out as bad as they thought her fourth year was, not that any other year had been a picnic. It was her adventure to the Ministry, a year later, that nearly killed her.

She was, when they collected her at the train station, wan, pale and weak. She had pulled a small box out of her bag stuffed full of potions she had been told to take for the next fortnight to counteract any traces of the curse she had been hit with. The prophecy, which they had been sent to retrieve, confirmed their fears about Harry and their suspicions about the Headmaster.

It had been the final straw when she wrote of the law. She had thrown herself into her new world and they kept spitting her back out bruised and sore. As her parents they had had enough. If the British magical community didn’t want their daughter, then that was fine with them, they didn’t want it to have her either, especially not on their terms. They had broken their promise and told her no.

Hermione had taken it well, she explained about non-compliance, got them copies of the law so they knew what she was facing. This law was no law at all. The wording was so archaic they had initially wondered if they had been sent it in error or as a joke mocking the muggles. They had contacted a friend who was an amateur historian who liked to dabble in archaic law. They asked him to explain it to them, without telling him it was genuine, and applied to their daughter.

She had been required to marry into any pureblood or qualifying half-blood magical bloodline four months after her coming of age. In return for her oh so generous devotion to duty to the magical society, all her needs would be met by the family she was marrying into. She wasn’t required to produce children by law though their friend had pointed out that it was loosely worded and open for interpretation. Which they had taken to mean at some point it would be enforceable. It had made their beautiful, intelligent daughter legally no more than a cow or horse, goods to be bartered for. The law held no provisions for the family of the witches who would be married off. They were to simply hand over their daughters and go on their merry way.

It hadn’t been as crass as to say it was just for the muggleborn witches but it had said the law applied to anyone with a muggle in their bloodline up to three generations. Which was all but the same thing. Some of the half-bloods would escape, some wouldn’t, but all the muggleborn would be caught in the net.

She presumed that since applications could be submitted it gave the witches in question the opportunity to marry who they wanted. Assuming who you wanted applied for you and was of legal age. Applied for, it was just so dehumanising.

It had been the nail in the coffin though, they had accepted that she would choose the magical world at some point and move there full time. They had convinced themselves it would be no different if she had chosen to move to the other side of the world for a job. Difficult, but she could return for visits, and it wasn’t until she had finished school and it might not be straight away. They could still have her until then, until even that was snatched away.

The law in full laid out the consequences and they had been dire, even their friend had raised his eyebrows at how totalitarian it had been, he had expected fines and levies not life imprisonment. As a magical person Hermione was expected to live past 100 years old if her health was good. They had immediately put the house on the market, their daughter was not going to be handed over to the highest bidder, nor was she going to be locked up for over 100 years in prison for being born to muggles. They couldn’t change her birth but they could change her future.

By the time her birthday rolled around making her subject to the law they had hashed out the basis of their plan. The first and only application she had received disabused them of any lingering notion that their daughter would be treated fairly. The practice went on the market half an hour after the owl had left the kitchen. 

Hermione asking to take Harry with her had come as no surprise. Their daughter was loyal; she would want to give him the choice. Taking two adolescents was really no harder than one. Hermione had handed over an adoption certificate they hadn’t asked any questions about, and they had sent off for his passport. He could come if he wanted, and if Hermione got round to asking. The fear of the answer being no pushed the asking to as close to her leaving date as they dared. Plane tickets had to be purchased, it had been then, or never.

Chapter Text

Helen was brought out of her mental wanderings by Hermione and Harry whooping with glee. In front of her stood a pirate and musketeer, grinning like fools. “Can you walk on that leg?” she asked Hermione, who was cutting a dashing figure as a female buccaneer. Hermione looked down at the peg leg and stepped forward cautiously, Harry hovering at her side in case her balance was off. The step she took wasn’t smooth, it looked a bit jerky, but Hermione was still grinning.

“It’s a bit like walking when your foot has gone to sleep. You know its physically there, and it’s still supporting you, but the sensation isn’t right.” She took a few more steps getting more confident as she moved. The peg, which was from under the knee, looked weathered and old. Helen marvelled at the detail the two had put into the costumes. She walked slowly round Hermione touching the heavy stiff cloth of the jacket, the silk of the sash tied at her waist hanging down. Harry came forward and she moved her inspection on to him, the feathers in his hat bobbed and weaved in the air of her passage. It was, she thought, the most outstanding thing she’d seen including the ridiculously comfy chair Hermione had conjured.

“They are amazing, well done the pair of you. Can you draw the swords? You didn’t make them sharp, did you?” she asked, suddenly worried that her daughter was now carrying a weapon she could get arrested for.

“Umm, you know, I didn’t think about it, hang on.” Hermione drew her cutlass from her belt and felt the edge. “It doesn’t feel very sharp, more like a butter knife than a kitchen knife.”

Harry drew his blade and felt the edge. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I think if you tried to cut anything firmer than jelly with these you’d struggle.”

“So what happens if you take the hats off and put them somewhere else before you take the rings off?” Helen asked curiously.

In answer, Harry swept his hat from his head, made a clumsy bow, and dropped the hat on the floor. Stepping away he slipped the ring off. The costume including the hat on the floor vanished. He replaced the ring and he was once again dressed in the full outfit, hat atop of his head.

“Huh,” Hermione said. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You weren’t?” her mother asked.

“Nooo,” she said. “I thought that maybe it would create the same items again, but it seems that replacing the ring is in effect recasting the spell. Rather than powering up the existing one again. Fair enough, we’ll make a note.”

“Well at least it won’t matter if you lose your coat half way through the night,” Harry said.

“You think? If the coat is part of the transfiguration of your existing clothes won’t it do exactly that?” Hermione said. They slipped the rings off and sat at the desks, working out the questions they wanted answers to. Then they went to retrieve jackets and extra layers, to see what would happen as layers were removed whilst under the effect of the rings.

Whilst they were doing that, Helen picked up the pirate ring and slipped it on. Grinning to herself she set off to find a mirror. Hermione had described the feeling of the peg leg quite well. She made her way to her bedroom getting used to her new gate and stood admiring herself in the mirror. The detail was astounding. Now they just had to find a fancy dress party to go to. She’d always hated them, bad costumes, too much nylon, but with these she could certainly get used to it.

“Mum!” she heard Hermione call. “Have you got the pirate ring?” The voice came closer as Hermione came to the door, she knocked gently before pushing it open. “Mum, we’ve not tested them properly yet!”

“Oh I know, but I wanted to see, and you get to have magic all the time. I wanted a go. They really are excellent, I’m very impressed” she said walking towards the door. She passed the top of the stairs on the way back to the study room and paused eyeing them.

“No, Mum, you might fall!” Hermione protested, seeing the look.

“Nonsense, I’ve been going up and down stairs since before you were born,” she said breezily, turning towards them. She held on to the bannister and took the first step. It wasn’t actually as difficult as she thought it would be. Her foot wasn’t actually numb and her body knew and understood stairs. She got to the bottom turned and jogged lightly back up them towards Hermione, who was watching closely, wand out. She nipped past Hermione and pivoted on the peg leg before taking a small jump and danced into the study with Hermione trailing behind.

“Yep, works fine.” She confirmed, grinning. “Once you get used to the not numb foot thing, and stop thinking about it, you really can’t tell.” She slipped the ring off returning to her normal clothes. “I would like one of each please.” She dropped back into the chair, smiling at her daughter’s frown. “Oh stop being a stick in the mud, you would have gotten round to testing them once you’ve taken all your clothes off and put them back on. Which is a thought, how does the peg leg work? It’s your leg so you can’t actually remove it, how did you detail its attachment?”

The couple exchanged blank looks. “Err, we don’t know.”

“Oh this is better than science class, and the answers are much more interesting. Well come on, what are you waiting for? Experimentation time. Can you do a parrot? I mean you turn animals into snuff boxes at school don’t you? Though why snuff boxes? Is snuff still a thing in wizarding England?”

“Mum!” Hermione interrupted. “One question at once, please!”

Harry turned away as he tried and failed to stifle a snorting laugh. Helen and Hermione had boundless curiosity in common, and the two of them paired up to find something out was a force to be reckoned with. But Helen asking Hermione questions faster than she could answer was just funny.

 It took an hour to answer all the questions Helen and Hermione thought up. Yes, if you were wearing layers the spell transfigured those layers, and if you put the coat down when it was made out of a jumper, it became a jumper once again when the ring was removed. If you were only wearing a shirt when you put the ring on, then the other layers were conjured. If you weren’t wearing a shirt when you put the ring on then you were a bare chested pirate, the spell seemed to need something to work with. The clothes the spell created were as warm as normal clothes, seemingly no matter how many layers you were wearing when you put the ring on. The peg leg attachment was weird looking, the skin seemed to gather and melt into the wooden peg. Hitting the peg made the corresponding part of your leg hurt. The peg made peg shaped foot prints. Once you had the costume on the colour couldn’t be changed and no alterations could be made to the clothes. Fit wasn’t a problem really as the clothes were created around you, but they had tried anyway.

They went through similar tests with the other costume and by the time they were done they felt very confident of what the spell could do. They had a list of things they wanted to change in the next round but felt that these two would do nicely for the purpose.

Helen offered to bring lunch into the den so they could eat before they did the recording. They took the tape and recorder into the den where the TV was. Flipping through the channels they found a nature documentary and Hermione sat giggling with Helen, as Harry tried to commune with the TV. If this didn’t work, they would go to the zoo at the weekend and meet real snakes. Eventually Harry slipped into the hissing language and Hermione hurried to hit record.

Play back provided proof that they had caught it and Harry confirmed that it said what was needed. It sounded quite similar to the static of the empty tape, and they only hoped that someone would notice the difference and realise what it was.

They made up the package wrapping the tape in a box and shrinking it, then unshrinking it, and checking it still played. It did, and Harry couldn’t discern any difference in the sound.

Tape boxed up, and shrunk, rings wrapped in muggle birthday paper spelled just for Fred and George left a parcel the size of a match box.

“How are you going to get it there though?” Helen asked. “If you send it by international mail they could track it couldn’t they?”

“No clue,” Harry said cheerfully. “But we’re working on the idea that yes they could, so we’re going to use the magical means of doing anything without leaving a trace, we’re going to ask for help.”

“Help from whom? The more people you tell where you are the less safe you become, and we didn’t move all this way just to advertise where we are. Hermione might be safe from extradition, but you are here on dodgy paperwork and can be compelled to return as you aren’t yet an adult.”

“I know and I’m not looking to give our location away. I am really grateful that you let me come, but I think we can trust this person.” Harry rushed to reassure her.

“It’s the house elf Mum, the one I told you about, the one Harry freed.”

If they were hoping to reassure her, from her troubled expression they clearly failed.

“This is the elf that got you into trouble with the underage magic people?” Helen said raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Harry allowed.

“The elf that made a ball chase you and knocked you off your broom?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably and nodded.

“Right, I just wanted to be sure we were talking about the same person.”

“He saved us from the Inquisitional Squad though,” Harry said in the elf’s defence. “He means well, but he can be, a little over enthusiastic.”

“He works in Hogwarts doesn’t he?”

“He’s a free elf but, yeah, he works in Hogwarts,” Harry said.

“So he’s employed by the Headmaster, who could conceivably expect some show of loyalty, which could include telling him where you are.”

“Well, we were going to ask him not to,” Harry replied.

“OK.” Helen nodded acceptingly. “Is that going to be enough? To stop him telling Mr Dumbledore?”

“He is fanatically loyal to Harry so we thought so.”

“Right, is there any way of finding out beforehand?”

“Umm short of asking him? No I don’t think so.” Hermione said anxiously. Helen sat for a moment thinking.

“Look, it’s not the best plan and it’s not the worst plan. All plans have an element of risk, but you have to be sure he won’t tell Mr Dumbledore. We could go somewhere for the weekend to ask him, but if he is compelled to tell Mr Dumbledore, then Mr Dumbledore will know we are on this continent not in Europe. I rather like the thought of Mr Dumbledore concentrating on the wrong continent until Harry is of age at least. Is there anyway of employing him ourselves?” She waved a hand at Hermione. “Just listen before you give me your slavery spiel. We need to be assured of his loyalty to us. I’m sure the little fellow means well as you said, but frankly my dears, it isn’t enough. Good intentions pave the road to hell and all that. So, if we can employ him, he wouldn’t be able to tell Mr Dumbledore anything. If he has to leave Hogwarts to be employed by us, then I’m sure we can find him something to do.”

“But Mum!” Hermione started.

“No Hermione, I know you have good intentions towards them, and I understand that some of them are kept in awful conditions. But I’m not trying to save a magical race. I am trying to save my daughter from being married off and potentially killed, and her boyfriend from having to fight a dangerous serial killer with delusions of grandeur. Any other time and I’d be there with you, but not now. Not till this is over.” She stared her daughter down.

“If we ignore their rights because it suits us that doesn’t make us any better than the others who do it all the time.”

“Whilst I agree with you, I did say we’d employ him. I have employed more than one person in my life time love, and none of them found themselves ironing their fingers. We’ll be fair and firm the same way we are with everyone. He will have a choice to be employed by us or not.”

Harry took Hermione’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you Helen, we didn’t mean to cause more problems.”

“Your welcome Harry. It’s no problem at all,” she said, while eyeing her daughter. She knew the look on Hermione’s face, it was the one where she was furiously chewing over what had been said, trying to find a way to push back. Hermione crossed her arms and huffed, not meeting her mother’s eyes but determinedly looking at the bookcase to her right. Helen smiled slightly, so she’d won that round. “Right, well now that is settled.” Hermione huffed louder indicating she at least didn’t see it as settled. Helen swallowed the grin that threatened and continued. “Seeing as there are no other objections currently raised then.” She amended with a roll of her eyes. “Let’s nip down to the park and call your elf. We’ll see what he has to say.”

“Now?” Harry said looking a little surprised.

“Yes, might as well. If he has to tell Mr Dumbledore, we’ll just have to hope calling him to a park makes them think we met him somewhere random. I presume he would be able to bring them back to the park if requested?”

Harry nodded

“Well then at least we would know who was sent to look for us. Come on.” Helen stood and led them out of the den to the boot room. Handing round coats and outdoor shoes, they dressed for the weather and went to the park.

The weather was miserable. It was a rainy squally afternoon, there was no one around so they huddled under a large umbrella and Harry called for Dobby. They waited and nothing happened, then half a minute later there was a sharp crack, the little elf was stood in front of them.

“Mr Harry Potter Sir! You are here!”

Chapter Text

“Hello Dobby,” Harry said. “This is Helen, Mrs Granger, she would like to ask you something.”

Dobby turned his eyes to Helen, she handed the umbrella handle to Hermione before crouching down to the elf’s height. She stuck out her hand.

“Hello Dobby, I’m Helen, pleased to meet you.”

Dobby shook the hand offered, bouncing slightly on the spot. “Dobby is very honoured to meet Harry Potter’s Mrs Granger.”

“Dobby, we need to know if you would be compelled to report our whereabouts to the Headmaster should he ask, as part of your duties as a Hogwarts House Elf.”

Dobby’s ears drooped dejectedly and his eyes filled with tears. “If the Headmaster asks Dobby, then Dobby must tell the Headmaster. But Dobby would never tell the Headmaster if he didn’t ask. Dobby would do anything for Harry Potter.”

Helen glanced up at Harry who was looking at the horizon with a distinct embarrassed blush on his face. “Dobby, you are a free elf are you not? So you can leave Hogwarts and be employed somewhere else?”

“Yes, Harry Potter set Dobby free! Dobby can work where Dobby likes.”

“Yes, quite. So if I offered you a contract of employment you could come and work for me, and this would mean you wouldn’t be compelled to tell the Headmaster where we are?”

“Dobby, work for Harry Potter's Mrs Granger?” The little elf’s ears shot back up and he started twitching with manic energy again. “If Dobby worked for Mrs Granger Dobby could keep Harry Potter’s secrets”

“Would you want to work for me Dobby?” Helen asked.

“Yes Dobby would like to work for Harry Potter’s Mrs Granger!”

“Right that’s settled then. Dobby, I will take you into my employ. At which time you will learn where we live and you will aid Harry and Hermione in tasks they ask of you. You will keep our secrets and you will do nothing that will give them away.” She looked at him sternly, not that it seemed to do any good as the little fellow was practically vibrating on the spot. “Come along, we can discuss the rest of your terms of employment inside. Can you, umm, come with us but stay out of sight?”

“Yes Mrs Granger” the elf said and promptly vanished from sight.

“Right, well let’s get out of the rain, and sort out the rest of Dobby’s terms of employment. Needless to say I think we’ll be alright trusting him.”

They trooped back to the house into the boot room where Dobby reappeared and tried to take their coats from them to hang up.

“Come with me Dobby,” Helen said. She set off to the study that she and John shared with the little elf in tow, his head turning as he tried to look at everything at once. She sat down on one of the chairs either side of the fireplace used for floo travel and gestured Dobby in to the other. Dobby looked at her with shock before his face lit up and he scrambled up into the chair.

“Right then,” she said firmly. “As part of the Granger household everyone is on first names. We expect you to follow that rule as well, is that a problem?”

Dobby shook his head eyes wide.

“Good. We also require you to have clo-, a uniform.” She corrected herself, recalling what Hermione had said about elves and clothes. “A tea towel or pillowcase is not acceptable. A set of robes, such as Hermione or Harry wore at Hogwarts in an appropriately sober colour will do nicely, is that a problem?”

Dobby shook his head bouncing in his seat. “May Dobby wear the Granger crest?”

“Well, we don’t have a crest per se, but ask Hermione I’m sure she can come up with something appropriate and subtle. We take a very dim view on self-harm here Dobby. If you feel that you have failed in your duties somehow, then you would be required to continue with your duties until the evening when you can approach myself and John, Mr Granger. You will then have the opportunity to explain what has gone wrong, and we will jointly decide if punishment is to be metered out. There will be no histrionics, no bowing or scraping. Do you think you can manage that?”

The little elf looked at her slightly fearfully, but she held her ground. Hermione had told her enough about how they all but leapt to bang themselves into something at the slightest perceived wrong. Dobby nodded finally and she continued. “You will receive two days per week to have as leisure time to visit whatever family you have in England. What? What is the matter?” Dobby had grasped his ears and pulled them down.

“Dobby wants to serve, not be sent away!” the elf wailed.

Helen was taken back for a moment but gathered herself. “Alright, I can understand that, but we don’t want you to work all week. We would like you to have time to rest, what would be an acceptable amount of time do you think?”

Dobby sat and thought. “Dobby would like one day.”

“Then one day it is. Now wages, I understand service is an honour to House Elves however, it is right and proper to give you something in return for that service. So we will give you a space to call your own. Which we will not infringe upon as long as it is kept clean and tidy. We will pay for your uniform. We will provide your food, or provide you with monies to buy your food,” she added in. She had no idea what House Elves ate. “We will also provide you with a monthly stipend for any expenditure you may have. The stipend is negotiable. So how much do you feel would be fair?”

Again Dobby sat and thought. “4 galleons,” he said.

“Hmm, make it five, and you’ve got a deal,” Helen said. “Now, as to your living accommodation what would you prefer?”

“Dobby only needs a small space”

“We’d like to give you enough space to be comfortable.”

“Dobby wants a small space.” the elf said firmly.

“OK, well I can clear the bottom of the linen cupboard. That’s quite small, would that do?” She asked taken back by his fierceness.

“Yes,” Dobby said happily

“Is there anything you would like to request?”

“Would Dobby be allowed to clean?”

“Yes, if you feel that that falls within of the duties of a House Elf.” She agreed, feeling she needed to make a concession to the elf. She had rather laid down the law, but it seemed the best way to deal with him. His exuberance was sweet, but it would become tiresome to be forever negotiating with him. Best sort it from the get go.

“Would Dobby be allowed to cook?”

“We share the cooking here Dobby, so you can certainly share in the cooking but you would be unable to take it over completely.” He looked a little crestfallen so she relented. “If you find it acceptable, you may take over responsibility of breakfast. We don’t usually manage to eat this meal together so it may take a little more effort on your part, if you don’t mind that is?”

Dobby bounced in happiness again, nodding eagerly. “Dobby would like to be in charge of breakfast.”

Helen smiled. “Anything else?”

“No Mrs – Helen.” Dobby corrected himself quickly.

“Alright then. You are now in service to the Granger household. Do you have anything you need to collect from Hogwarts?” Dobby nodded. “OK, you may go and collect your things. I don’t know of anywhere here that would be able to supply you with a uniform. If you would be able to sort that out while you are in England, it might be for the best, I can give you some galleons.”

“Dobby’s uniform will cost 1 galleon.” The little elf informed her solemnly.

“How do you know?” she asked curiously.

“Dobby’s friend makes them. Dobby has wanted some for a very long time.”

“Well get two sets, then you’ll have a clean set,” she said. She handed him the money from the pot of wizarding coins they kept on the desk for Harry and Hermione to dip into for snacks at school.

The elf took the money and vanished with a crack. Helen stood and left the room to find Harry and Hermione. She had just employed a House Elf, the things having a witch for a daughter got you dragged into.

“Harry, Hermione,” she called. The pair came skidding down the corridor clearly waiting for her

“Where is he?”

“Dobby has gone to collect his things from Hogwarts. Do you still have that bed shrunk in your draw? I need it if you don’t mind.” She walked up stairs to the linen cupboard. “He wants a small space and got quite fierce about it, so we agreed on the bottom of this cupboard. Can you make that bed big enough for him and fit it in here? It will take up half the space I know, but if I don’t put something in here I have a feeling he’d sleep on the floor.”

Harry went to fetch the bed as Helen and Hermione cleared the cupboard. “Right, well, that should do. Put it in Harry and let’s get this done before he comes back.” She explained the terms of the agreement she’d negotiated with Dobbie and they agreed to stick to the terms.

Dobby wasn’t home by the time John returned after his day at work. Helen took him into the study and told him everything.

“So where is the fellow?”

“I don’t know; I did expect him back by now. I hope he hasn’t run into trouble getting away from the school.”

“Can you call him like Harry did?” John asked. She shrugged and then called clearly and firmly.

“Dobby.” For a moment or two nothing happened then there was the sharp crack of the house elf appearing.

“Hello Dobby, where have you been? Were there problems getting away?” Helen asked.

“Dobby is sorry Mrs- Helen. Dobby got held up and didn’t mean to be too long!”

“It’s alright Dobby, this is my husband, John; John this is Dobby.” Helen made the introductions. Dobby straightened up to bow at John who raised an eye brow at the action. “Dobby we said no bowing here.” Helen reminded him, the elf cringed and she said more gently. “It’s fine, an honest mistake. Now, can you tell me what delayed you? You are able to make the journey from here to Hogwarts OK? It is rather a long way, are you tired?  Can we get you something to eat or drink?” She half rose out of her chair meaning to fetch something but Dobby stopped her.

“No Dobby is fine; Dobby can make the journey no problem. Dobby returned to Hogwarts and gathered his things. Then Dobby went to see if Dobby could help Dobby’s new family.” Dobby looked down slightly shame faced. "Dobby went to see what the Headmaster was doing. Dobby knows the Headmaster is looking for Mr Harry and Miss Hermione.”

“Dobby, you went to spy on the Headmaster?”

Dobby looked at the floor his ears drooping sadly. “Dobby wanted to help.”

“But it put you at risk Dobby, and you didn’t tell us where you were going or what you were doing. We would have had no way of knowing if you were hurt or in danger. In future young man you will do no such thing without coming to us first. Do I make myself clear?” Helen said angrily. She was horrified at the risk the elf had taken. She understood that no one in the wizarding world paid them any attention but it only took one person, and the elf could have been caught or hurt or worse.

The elf drooped even further. “Dobby wanted to serve,” he said in a quiet pitiful voice.

“Dobby, going off without letting anyone know is dangerous. We wouldn’t want you hurt. As you seem not to be on this occasion, we will overlook it, but you aren’t to do it again,” John said firmly but kindly. Trying to make up for Helen’s fear for the elf coming out as anger. “Is that understood? Since you have been spying, not that we condone it, but maybe you should tell us what you have learnt.”

Dobby looked up from the floor at the kind tone, his ears perking back up slightly. “The Headmaster is following Harry Potter’s owl. He is using an old feather to follow where the owl has flown.”

Helen and John exchanged an uneasy glance. “Do you know if the spell he is using could trace Hedwig when she port keyed?”

Dobby shook his head.

“Very well Dobby, you have done well but no more, alright? Unless we specifically request it of you and the risks have been taken fully into consideration. We don’t want you hurt or worse.”

Dobby nodded eagerly sensing the worst was past and the information he had brought back had been useful to his new family.

“Come on, let’s go and see if Harry or Hermione can tell us if Mr Dumbledore can trace Hedwig’s portkey.” They left the room, the little elf trailing them. As they reached the landing Helen showed Dobby his new space. The elf reacted with eager glee and she gave him leave to make himself comfortable and change into his new robes.

 Helen and John found the two adolescents in their study room. Explaining what Dobby told them they were equally concerned.

“If he can follow Hedwig, she’ll lead him right here.” Harry said worriedly. “Is there any way of hiding her?”

“Not if he’s tracing her feathers Harry,” Hermione said. “It’s like hair for people, its intrinsically part of her. I guess he’s still following her flight to Switzerland and Spain so we’ve got some time. Especially as she flew to Scotland from Spain and back again, he’ll have to follow both those paths.”

They sat quietly, worried that their plans might be coming undone.

“Do you think she’d lay a false trail for us?” Harry wondered. “I don’t want her to leave, but if we could get her back to Europe, we could give her addresses to fly to, or ask her to fly around. If she tracks back and forwards enough Dumbledore will have to follow her trail to pick up the next one, won’t he? We could ask her to fly from say, Spain to France then back to Switzerland then on to Italy or Greece. If she doesn’t rush, she will be able to stay ahead and we could send Dobby with new addresses for her if she needed them.”

“I don’t know Harry, that’s a lot to ask of her and will she understand?” Helen asked.

“She’s really smart,” Harry said.

“Will she want to go back to Europe though?” John pointed out. “She’s been fine for this last three weeks, I don’t want to stress her by sending her back and making her ill again.”

“I think we’ll have to ask her,” Hermione said. “She won’t want to put anyone in danger, but I can understand she might get lonely and we don’t know how long she would have to fly before Dumbledore gave up following her. It might be a few months. Is it fair to ask that of her?”

“I’ll go get her,” Harry said and he left the room to find his owl.

“Maybe Dobby could take her back. Would Elf travel be less stressful for her?” John pondered.

Helen shrugged. “Well we can ask.” She stood, poked her head out of the door and called down the landing. “Dobby can you come in please? We need to discuss some things and we need your advice.”

Dobby popped up next to Helen with a crack. “Helen needs Dobby’s advice?” he asked in wonder. “How can Dobby serve?”

“Come in Dobby, we just need Harry to return with Hedwig. Hermione, can you get Dobby a chair please.”

Hermione waved her wand and a small comfy arm chair sized for Dobby, appeared next to her mother’s. Dobby looked at it with tears in his eyes, at Helen stern look he mopped his face and promptly sat in the chair quietly waiting. Happy to have avoided effuse thanks for providing a chair, Helen smiled kindly at him.

Harry came back with Hedwig riding on his shoulder. He transfigured a perch for her out of a pencil on the desk and she hopped down on to it.

“Hedwig.” Harry started. “Dumbledore has some of your feathers you moulted while at Hogwarts and he’s using them to trace where you’ve gone. We think he can trace them here.”

Hedwig hissed, or rather that is what it sounded like to everyone in the room, either way it was a very displeased owl noise. Harry stroked her ruffled feathers. “No one is blaming you. He’s got his own agenda. But we need to keep our location here secret. We were wondering if you would consent to go back and lay a false trail for him?” Hedwig shuffled uncomfortably.

“We understand that getting here was rather unpleasant for you, and we don’t want to put you through that again. So we were wondering Dobby, if you take Hedwig back by your elf apparition, would that be an easier way for her to travel?” Helen explained.

Dobby perked up at being addressed and narrowed his eyes thinking. “Dobby could test it? if Dobby takes Hedwig downstairs and back?” Hedwig looked curiously at the elf.

“Well Hedwig? Would you consent to the test?” Harry asked.  “You don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want.” Hedwig hopped from the perch and fluttered over to Dobby. She was a large specimen of her breed and nearly dwarfed the little elf. Dobby held her in his arms and vanished. A moment later he reappeared and gently placed Hedwig back on her perch.

The owl shuffled on her perch and ruffled her wings slightly as if checking she was all present. She hooted in satisfaction.

“OK,” Helen said. “So travel like that is easier for you.”

“Would you do it then?” Harry asked stroking her again. “I don’t want to send you away, but would you fly in Europe? We can send Dobby with new addresses for you to go to if you like, or you could just fly as you wanted. We’d send Dobby to check in on you every week and it would only be for a couple of months hopefully, then you could come home.” He looked at Hedwig, tears in his eyes at the thought of sending her away. She hopped off the perch, onto his shoulder shuffling up close to his head and preened his hair, hooting comfortingly. “Thanks girl,” he said quietly. She nibbled his ear then fluttered back to the perch.

“OK then,” Helen said taking charge. “If Dobby would take Hedwig back to the apartment in Spain. If you moulted a feather there, then that would give a fresh trail to follow wouldn’t it? From Spain if you could, you could go over land to Italy, the Dolomites will still have snow this time of year if you want it. Dobby will you be able to find Hedwig where ever she is? She’s part of the family, does your magic include her?”

“Dobby will find Hedwig!” he declared confidently.

“Then we’ll send Dobby every week with an address and some food in case hunting is scarce.” Hedwig hooted in disdain at the notion she wouldn’t be able to hunt.

“I’m sure you are a very capable hunter but a little more food never hurt, and you are going to be doing a lot of flying. If you ever want to come back just fly on to Dobby’s shoulder and he’ll bring you back, alright?” Helen said to the owl.

Hedwig bobbed her head in understanding and fluttered down to the elf’s arms again.

“You want to go now?” Harry asked. Hedwig hooted an affirmative and he looked torn. Giving her one last pet he nodded and Dobby vanished.

“Well,” John said. “That was sorted faster than I thought it would be. But at least she’ll feel useful this way. It must be hard to be a post owl and not be needed to deliver post here.” Watching Harry discretely he continued. “Better for her to have a task to do than roost up in the rafters doing nothing.” Harry brightened slightly at that.

“Dad’s right Harry.” Hermione said softly. “Sirius hated been trapped in his house. Hedwig will at least get to fly and hunt and feel useful.” She took his hand offering what support and comfort she could.

“I guess.” He agreed softly.

Chapter Text

It had been a fortnight since they had uncovered the information left by Miss Granger in her codes and secret messages. They had retired for the evening, each back to their own chambers and had been unable to meet up again. Whilst Albus was in the castle they were unable to interrogate the Grey Lady, or see if the sword of Gryffindor could be acquired for use.

They had explicitly agreed that Albus or the Dark Lord would not be told of their plan to hunt the horcruxes or of the information they had received. What he didn’t know he couldn’t forbid them from. Minerva and Lupin had had their faith in Albus' benevolence shaken, but neither were ready to launch an outright rebellion. Even if they were it would do no good, and more likely split their forces into those that would deny Albus could do no wrong, against anyone who thought to listen to either of them. It was a division they couldn’t afford. It was the only thing keeping Lupin’s temper in check. That, and following up on his hunch from the note from Miss Granger and Potter. Lupin had refused to share anything until he had confirmed it.

Severus couldn’t imagine anything good would come of it. Miss Granger had put the cat amongst the pigeons in more than one way. She’d defied a government. She’d taken Potter from Albus and Albus was spitting nails about it. Oh he was obviously chasing them down, but so far seemed to only be tracing the moves they had some idea about. If they stuck their heads above whatever parapet they were hiding behind long enough for Albus to find them, then Miss Granger would be in for the short end of a very shitty stick. He had first-hand experience of how bad Albus could make your life when you displeased him. They’d both be better off if they stayed away. 

Severus couldn’t imagine what had possessed her to suggest whatever it was. If it was a lead to more information was this going to be how it was? Information trickle fed to them while they waited, and they somehow monitored what was going on? Was it just a way of keeping tabs on what was going on with the Order? To calculate if they would have reason or need to return. There would be reason behind it, Miss Granger clearly didn’t do anything without one and plenty of planning.

He grumbled to himself, did it matter he couldn’t fathom it? Lupin and Potter did have some sort of relationship, that was clear since Potter had only written to Lupin and hadn’t wanted Albus to see it. Miss Granger had clearly found a kindred academic in Lupin in the time they had spent at the headquarters. Maybe it wasn’t so hard to suppose that they would have wanted to reach out to at least one person they left behind they thought they could trust. They had no guarantees that he or Minerva would step in and act.

He sighed, life was hard enough damn it, without having to second guess the motivations of two students that clearly no one had known enough about. Did the clandestine meetings with Lupin and Minerva make him a triple agent, and Minerva and Lupin double agents? Could it get more convoluted? Could they not all just get together under truce, hash it out and have done? He amused himself imagining the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, Albus and the Order, and Miss Granger and Potter sat around a table hashing out who was doing what, with what information.

He threw his quill down on his desk, he was getting nowhere with his marking and he would need to go up to dinner in ten minutes. He got up and went to make himself presentable, donning the guise of dungeon bat, feared Potions Master.

As he stalked the corridors towards the Great Hall, herding students ahead of him by the force of his glare he wondered if the weather in Southern Europe was warmer than Scotland in March. He wondered if lemon groves were pleasantly scented by the sun as the warmth seeped in to your bones. He shook himself as he entered the hall, schooling his expression to a sneer, his demeanour to unapproachable and sat next to Minerva. Above him the enchanted ceiling showed the rain lashing down, gusts of wind billowing the falling drops into diaphanous clouds. He sighed softly. Southern Europe. No bloody wonder they went there, there was nothing attractive about March in Scotland.

Minerva touched his wrist discretely shooting him a quizzical look. “Severus,” she said quietly. “Are you alright you seem …” She looked at him. “Distracted.”

He grimaced. “I was thinking of lemon groves and warm sun.” Shooting another look up at the ceiling.

“Ahh,” she said. “Yes I see. Once this is done I might put in for some leave, lemon groves in the sun seem quite idyllic.” 

Albus called a meeting with the Heads of Houses after dinner. He informed them that urgent business had called him away from the castle and that while he was gone Minerva would be in charge as de facto head. He was expecting to be away for up to a week, since it was a Friday night the students most likely wouldn’t pay attention to the lack of the Headmaster at evening meals. His absence during the week would be played down by the staff and other than the Weasley’s it seemed unlikely anyone would even remark on it. Severus and Minerva exchanged a glance. Was it possible the owl feathers were leading to something?

 He went to her rooms that evening, glad to leave behind is dungeon and melancholy thoughts. Ensconced in her sitting room the fire roaring, they sat in quiet contemplation. Their conversation having covered the student’s shenanigans that week, those that were doing well and those that may need a nudge on to the right track. The latest gossip out of the staff room had been chewed over and dismissed. They had come round to the one topic they had studiously avoided for the last two weeks.

“So we have a map or instructions, I take it were going to believe them?” Severus said breaking the unspoken silence.

“Mr Potter confirmed that it was the Headmaster who told him. It would be pointless not to do so, don't you think?”

“So we pack a bag and go whistling off to search the countryside?”

“Don't be difficult. We should probably find out what these items look like. Has anyone ever seen this locket or cup?” she replied, dismissing his theatrics.

“He's not going to have left bits of his soul lying around to trip over. It’s his soul!”

“Albus seems to think the students could find them,” she responded drily.

“Albus is an idiot!”

They exchanged a sad smile and poured more whiskey.

“I don't know how I feel about this,” she admitted softly.

“You don't want to hunt bits of the Dark Lords soul across the country? Which, if we're discovered doing, we’ll end up dead for. Why ever not? You’re the Head of the House of the Brave!” his tone glib.

“I don't feel brave. I feel old, and out of my depth, and unbelievably angry that Albus has hidden this for so long. The thought that he has done nothing for so long is distressing. The danger he has courted knowing that the Dark Lord couldn’t be killed.”

“What could he have of Gryffindor House?” he asked. Changing the subject to distract her from her distress in regards to Albus

 “Other than the sword there weren't many things that got passed down. I've had a look through the House records. Can we even use the sword? It's meant to be taken under certain conditions.”

“It's sat in Albus’ office, why can't you just take it out of the case and swing it? Unless you have some new found talent at parseltounge I don't think we have any choice. Basilisk venom is a controlled substance and would need to be imported. Albus wouldn't sign the requisition.”

“Fiendfire?” she posed.

“In a school? Are you trying to get us killed?” he scoffed.

“Don't you use it in potions? I thought Ashwinder eggs?”

“Yes, you're right, but it requires a lot of control. The side effects of casting it mean I wouldn't be able to answer a Summons afterwards for a day.”

“Plan C then.” She confirmed.

“There’s a Plan C? What were A and B?”

As she was about to respond the floo flared to life and Remus came through. “The Headmaster might want to have words with Mundungus, he's stripping the Headquarters of anything not nailed down and a few things that were.” He said in way of greeting.

“Remus?” Minerva said in surprise.

“Is Albus here? I’m meant to be elsewhere but this was the first opportunity I’ve had to come by. I apologise for the lack of warning.” Remus replied.

“Albus has left the castle for a week.” Minerva told him.

“He has? Oh good.” He removed his cloak and dropped in to a chair. Minerva waved her wand and the cloak flew to hang its self neatly by the door.

“Severus.” Remus greeted the man.

“Lupin.” He returned shortly.

Remus accepted the glass of whiskey Minerva proffered and settled back into his seat. “Where has Albus gone?”

“He said urgent business but we assume he’s still following the owl.” Minerva explained.

Remus nodded “I’ve been sent on what I can only call ‘busy work’ since Albus told me Harry was gone. I suppose it’s to keep me occupied but without anything specific to do. As such I’ve used the time to check up on a few things. Borkin and Burkes is a dead end, the records are for Ministerial viewing only. Anything shady hasn’t been documented, their records read like an auctioneers list. Everything documented, everything with providence, nothing that stands out as a founder’s item.”

“So we’re nowhere then,” Severus said.

“On the cup and the tiara yes. On the locket? Well there we might just have had a change in fortune.”

“Did you find it?” Severus said surprised.

“Yes, there's a story to it. Do you remember Regulus Black?”

“Yes, he disappeared. The story was that the Dark Lord killed him for speaking out of turn.”

“Well you'd be half right.” Remus nodded.

“What?” Severus said confused.

Remus sipped his whiskey, settling himself to tell his tale. “Borkin and Burkes was a bust so I went to the Headquarters to get a look at this replica Harry mentioned. Kreacher is still in the house, lurking, so I asked him about the locket. Cue a lot of House Elf debasement and self-harm. It turns out that You-Know-Who asked Regulus for Kreacher’s help, he poisoned the elf and left him to die after placing the locket in a basin. Regulus had told Kreacher to return once You-Know-Who had finished with him so he did. Regulus nursed Kreacher back to health then told him to take him back to the cave. Regulus drank the poison, gave the locket to Kreacher told him to leave and destroy it. He never made it out.”

They were quiet as they thought over the casual indifference to an elf that turned Regulus’ support from the Death Eater movement and the sad death of Regulus Black.

“And the locket?” Minerva asked.

Remus pulled a locket out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. “It makes me feel creepy.”

“Like calling to like?” Severus sniped, covering his upset at the tale of Regulus death. They had been acquaintances in school, which in Slytherin House made them allies if not friends.

Remus shot him a look. “I don't know Severus, pick it up and see.”

Severus extended a hand and held it over the locket. He shuddered as the magic in the locket moved against him. It didn’t feel totally unfamiliar but he’d been carrying the mark for so long he supposed that was at least to be a little bit expected. He brought his hand back eyeing it in disgust. “I would say that yes that's a horcrux, it seems semi alive.”

“Well how do we get rid of it?” Minerva interjected.

“Has Albus left the castle?” Severus said.

“You want Albus to get rid of it?” she replied in shock.

“No I think we should get the sword. Clearly I can't use it, so one of you two will need to.”

Minerva stood. “I’ll go; the gargoyle should let me through.”

Severus and Remus sat not speaking, each thinking their own thoughts waiting for Minerva to return. She did so less than ten minutes later. “We have a problem. Can you lock that thing up so Albus doesn’t know we have it, or the Dark Lord for that matter?”

“Where’s the sword?” Remus said.

“Not there.”

“Why not?” Remus asked

“Presumably because the conditions haven’t been met.” She replied snappily.

“But it’s a sword! What does it do? Take itself off in a snit because you aren’t feeling righteous enough to swing it? Bloody Gryffindor’s! Have to make everything more complicated than it needs to be.” Severus swore.

“I don’t know, but it’s not there. Unless Albus has it with him?”

“He goes out toting it often does he? Fond of costume parties?” Severus sniped.

“You aren’t helping you know.” Minerva said scowling at him.

“We have a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul sat on the fucking coffee table. If he finds out, death will be the least of our problems, and by the time he grants it, you’d have wished for it more than life itself.” He said shoving his fingers into his hair in his agitation.

 “Can you set it on fire?” she said desperately.

“No, I can’t. I don’t know when he will call me next, and if I do it and I can’t occlude, we’re all dead.”

“Well he’s not going to get into the castle, so we’ll put it in a box and bury it for now, until you can burn it, or we can use the sword.” She said firmly.

“I can’t keep it; you’re going to have to take it” he said.

She looked unhappy and slightly disgusted and his temper let go a bit.

“He might be able to tell! We don’t know how this works. I can’t keep it near me in case he can sense it, or smell it, or something when I see him next. Merlin Minerva!”

“Severus its fine! Really, I’m not going to ask you to risk it. I’ll keep it… somewhere.” She tailed off.

“Back at the Headquarters?” Remus suggested.

“Not if Mundungus is stripping it, we can’t risk him hawking the damn thing to someone.” Minerva replied. They all shuddered imagining what would happen if it had gotten in to the wrong hands.

They requested a strong box from the elves. They put the locket in it and locked it magically then cast layer after layer of wards on it. To mask the dark magic, to neutralise the magical signature in case someone was curious, to lock it away from anyone but the three of them, to hide it in plain sight. Once they finished they all felt unaccountably better and sat with a celebratory cup of tea. Whiskey had been vetoed for clear thinking.

“So the Grey Lady next?” Severus asked tiredly.

“I suppose, what about the cup? Mr Potter didn’t say how he knew Albus thought it was a horcrux.” Minerva said, pondering.

“I’ll ask around the inner circle. If he left one with Lucius before his fall, he may have left another with someone as well. It was a small number then, its smaller now. If it’s the Le Stranges though we’re going to have a problem. Bella suspects me and is undermining my position at every turn. I’m not going to be able to waltz in to her house and have a poke about.”

“Doesn’t she stay with You-Know-Who?” Remus queried. 

“Call him by name Remus, or call him the Dark Lord when in Severus presence. You’re an adult, try not to pander to the hysteria.” Minerva snapped tiredly. He looked taken back, but she didn’t apologise. “The time for being coy is over, we’ve been handed an opportunity to act like responsible adults. Responsible Order members, pandering to the ignorant is no longer acceptable. He’s a man, a man capable and willing to do terrible things but he was first a man and he has a name. if you don’t like the Dark Lord try Tom, the Grangers and Mr Potter seem to have taken to it.”

“Can we talk to the Grey Lady tonight as Albus isn’t in?” Severus asked, heading Minerva off.

“She might not be of much help.”

“Talk to her anyway, we can at least move on if she is of no use.” Severus advised.

“Do you know where she’ll be?” Remus put in.

“Ravenclaw tower.” Minerva guessed.

“Shall we go and find her then.” Severus suggested. “We’re due a patrol now anyway. You can find your way home Lupin?” he asked, an eye brow raised.

“Yes, yes.” Remus replied. “Dora isn’t expecting me but I’m sure she won’t mind.” He summoned his coat threw it on and made his way to the floo. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.” In a flare of green flames, he was gone.

They collected their teaching robes and ventured into the corridors. After the first few students were caught out after curfew, word seemed to go round that the head of Gryffindor and Slytherin were patrolling together. As curious as the student body might have been to see the spectacle, none were quite brave enough to risk being caught, so they had a quiet journey round the corridors.

Nearing Ravenclaw tower they started searching in earnest for the Grey Lady. Minerva went up to the door of the Ravenclaw dormitory. The door opened for the acting head without requiring Minerva to answer a riddle, a fact not unnoticed by Severus who was hanging back out of sight.

Minerva entered the round room and snagged a 7th year prefect. “Have you seen the Grey Lady?” she enquired.

“No Professor, she’s usually here until the first and second year students go to bed. I don’t know where she goes after that though.” He supplied helpfully. Not voicing his questions as to why the Head of Gryffindor was looking for the Ravenclaw ghost.

“Very well, thank you for your time.” She nodded, turned on her heel, and returned to Severus in the corridor. “She’s not there.”

“Can’t you ask her to come to you?”

“Like a House Elf? Do you think that a wise course of action considering we need her to help us?”

Their conversation was interrupted by Filius, who came striding down the corridor towards them where they stood, at the foot of the stairs to the common room.

“Minerva, Severus. Is something the matter? I was alerted you had entered the common room?” Whilst his tone was polite there was an undercurrent of tension in it.

“Filius,” Minerva said. “Nothing to do with the students, I would have contacted you in such a case. I was simply looking for the Grey Lady and thought she might be in the common room.”

“The Grey Lady?” he asked, no longer on the defensive.

“I need to ask her for some information,” Minerva responded. “You don’t know where I might find her do you?”

“No Minerva, she helps the lower years then leaves the tower. I can’t say I’ve had cause to ask her where she spends her evenings.”

“Very well, thank you Filius. I do apologise for disturbing your evening,” Minerva said.

“Not at all,” Filius replied. “If you need anything, do let me know.” Stressing the words slightly.

Chastisement taken Minerva inclined her head, and turned to continue her rounds, Severus at her side.

“Well where will she be?” Minerva grumbled as they headed down to the lower levels. A silvery spectre came floating towards them as they walked. “Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall.” The low voice intoned. The ghost resolved into the form of the Bloody Baron. “There is need of your presence in the first years dormitory,” he said to Severus.

“Thank you Baron, I shall be there presently. Excuse me Minerva?”

“Yes, yes, go.” She waved him off, and he turned to take the quickest way to the dormitories and his charges.

“Baron.” Minerva called out on an impulse. “You don’t know where I could find the Grey Lady? I have need to speak to her.”

“Helena?” The Baron asked surprised, before schooling himself. “I do not know where she is, but should I see her, I shall pass the message you seek her.”

“Thank you Baron, that would be most helpful.” He made a low bow and faded through a wall. Minerva continued on her rounds. Severus didn’t re-join her, she hoped the first years hadn’t hurt themselves too badly. Severus wouldn’t send them to Poppy unless they needed real medical attention. She was aware he handed out minor healing potions to his charges. He was very good with his prickly house members, who saw asking for help a weakness. In light of everything she had learnt recently she was beginning to question some of Albus’ policies, and beginning to wonder if when Severus had complained of bias against his house, it had been founded on more than his history with the Marauders.  Heavy thoughts of students maligned for no other reason than their sorting chased her back to her rooms. Shame wasn’t something she was familiar with when it came to her career which she was proud of, but if she was guilty of maligning students for their sorting then the feeling of shame was long overdue.

Chapter Text

George Weasley walked down the hall from his room stretching. He was going to put the kettle on then wake Fred up. Their birthday had fallen on a Tuesday, they had agreed that they couldn’t close the shop all day but might knock off early. They were having dinner at the Burrow, and George wanted to spend some time before they left, working on the formula Hermione had sent them.

He wasn’t sure what made him stop as he stepped in to the kitchen, but something told him something was different. He paused looking around, nothing looked out of place. He felt for the wards, nothing there either, no one had tried to get through them. Fred then? He stood for a moment more, thinking. If Fred wanted to prank him then he would just have to find out how, and turn it back on him, but what had he done? Just then Fred appeared behind him.

“What are you doing?” He asked as he made to brush past him. George’s arm shot out and caught his twin before he could step past, his instincts still telling him something wasn’t right.

 Fred cocked his head looking at him. “Ahhh no, I didn’t prank you, so what is it then?” he said. Answering as if George had explained his misgivings out loud. It was a twin thing; they could do that to each other.

They stood side by side staring at the kitchen until George finally noticed the small brightly wrapped parcel on the side by the kettle. “You didn’t leave that there?” pointing to it.

“No brother mine, I didn’t.”

Two wands appeared in two hands and they approached carefully. Having played as many pranks as they had, they knew to exercise care when approaching mysterious parcels. There was also a war brewing, and their family was front and centre as part of the Order. Mysterious parcels left by mysterious means did not necessarily mean good things.

The paper was not wizarding, the detection charms they cast came up negative. The charm they cast to reveal less harmful jinxes which they used to check their products, came up clean too. They were left staring at a small wrapped parcel no bigger than a matchbox, and no further along in working out what it was, or who left it.

“Well then.”

“It is our birthday.”

“Maybe we should open it.”

They exchanged a glance that communicated that this might be one of those times that go down in history, for all the wrong reasons. Fred snatched the present up from the counter, he paused but nothing happened. No latent hidden jinxes were activated; he was simply stood in his kitchen with George, feeling overly suspicious about a birthday present. George undid the ribbon, nothing happened. Fred pulled away the paper to reveal a small wooden box. George picked it up and turned it over in his fingers. He put it back down on the kitchen side, and exchanging yet another loaded glance with his brother they stood wands drawn, as slowly, he lifted the lid.

“Happy Birthday! Surprise!”  two voices shouted out of the box. A burst of brightly coloured paper confetti rained down, Fred and George exchanged a glance. The voices had been unmistakable, Harry and Hermione had sent them a birthday present. The concern melted away into broad grins. They looked at the defensive stance each was holding over the small, now innocent box, and started to laugh.

George moved to flick his wand at the kettle boiling it instantly as Fred fished inside the box. He laid out two rings and a small plastic muggle tape? He thought it might be, he had seen them in his Dad’s shed. It looked like they might need a trip to the Burrow sooner than tonight.

George handed Fred the cup of tea he’d made and picked up the box to examine it. He ran his wand over the edge followed by his fingers feeling for any hidden devices or catches. Hermione was devious, she might have just sent two rings and a muggle tape in a box, but she might not. He felt around the inside of the box as well for good measure.

“Find anything?” Fred asked sipping his tea.

“No, have a look.” George responded, flipping the box to his brother. He picked up his own tea and turned the muggle tape over in his fingers. “Dad had these, didn’t he, in the shed? Reckon we can find something to play it? Or maybe a trip to muggle London.”

“We can take a look tonight before dinner.”

“Mention it?”

“Not yet, if it’s just a birthday message then there’s no need to get them all wound up.”

“No progress on finding them?”

“Not so far, according to Dad.”

“Moody’s idea not panning out?”

“It seems that the assumption that there are only three schools in Europe is false. We might have only heard of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, but it seems that there are a lot more on continental Europe you can go to. Not all of them speak English, and very few of them want to cooperate when they have no reason to.”

“How many?”

“Over a 100 or so.”

“So what are they going to do next?”

“Dad says there’s not much they can do. If they are registered at the smaller schools, camping out and spying on kids is not going to go unnoticed, and it’s a bit hard to explain.”

“Huh. So on three?” George said with a nod to the rings.

“After you, brother.” Fred responded. George picked up one of the rings turning it over in is hands looking at it. There was no obvious marking on the ring to tell them what it might do. There was no obvious thrum of magic he could feel to say it was anything other than a plain piece of jewellery. He looked up to see Fred finish his own examination of the other ring. They exchanged a final look then slipped the rings on. Two jaws dropped in identical shock and surprise. Opened mouthed shocked turned into whooping delight as they looked at each other, then they both span and ran for the nearest bedroom and the full length mirror. It was twenty minutes later after much excited whooping and exclaiming they returned to the table.

Sitting at the table hats and swords discarded again for convenience, they shared a grin looking at the rings.

“Best birthday present ever!” they said together nodding.

“We have to get her to show us how to do these.” George declared.

“The formula?”

“No.” George shook his head. “That’s not these. I’ve got most of it but she was a daemon with arithmancy, and I’m not sure I’ve got everything right. Have you got time to take a look later?”

Fred nodded at him. “You know she didn’t owe us for the marriage offers.”

“Yeah, she knows that, and I think that was the point.” George agreed. “Hiding in plain sight, its what she’s doing now. Living as muggles they could be anywhere but no one sees them. No one will have looked at the formula she sent thinking it’s just something for the shop. It’s not, I’ve worked that formula, half of it is in mirror writing. I didn’t realise until her runes weren’t matching the lexicon or coming out right, and its Hermione so they weren’t going to be wrong.”

“You think you know what it is?”

“Yeah, she’s sent us spells for a communication mirror.”

“Harrys?”

“Nah, he broke it the idiot.”

“Are we telling the Order?”

“Telling them what? We’ve not got it working yet.”

“When we do, if they answer it?”

“They were going to marry her off to Snape, even when there were other options they were going to use her. I know that we might not be as scary or as powerful as Snape but we would have kept her safe. She could have stayed in school, stayed with Harry and Ron, kept them safe without having to turn up at Death Eater meetings. We could have visited Fleur with Bill, sorted it there, and it would have been dealt with but they didn’t even discuss it.”

“Yeah. So we’re not going to then?”

“No.” George confirmed.

“Fair enough. So we’ve got an hour before the shop opens, time enough to experiment with these a bit more and get some breakfast.” Fred leaned over to clap him on the shoulder.

With that the twins jumped up, pulled the rings off and fixed breakfast. Once that was eaten and set to washing itself up in the sink they shot off to dress and wash. Then they put the rings on and started experimenting. They kept the costumes on all day, swapping over when someone started to work out which twin was wearing what costume.

After closing the shop, they flooed to the Burrow, leaving the tape behind, still wearing the rings.

In a testament to a life time of prank pulling no one at the family dinner made comment of their extravagant appearance, even after they swept courtly bows to their mother. After dinner a sword fight ensued in the garden as they tested the limits of the magic in the costumes. Finally exhausted both physically and of their repertoire of appropriately period sayings they leaned against the wall clutching each other.

“These are the best,” George panted to Fred tossing his hat, sword and jacket down on the ground. “Come on,” he said slipping his ring off reverting to his normal clothes. “Let’s go look in Dad’s shed, see if we can’t find something to make that tape work.”

 Fred slipped his ring off, marvelling at how the spell was triggered by wearing the ring. This meant the magic stored inside was only drawn on when it was being used, rather than trickling away. He wondered what had given them the idea to make them, and why they had sent them to himself and George. They were appreciative, yes of course. It was the sort of magic they loved, complex and difficult, but rewarding, like many of the items in their shop. If they could reverse engineer the spells she had used, then they would introduce them into the shops range. But they were hiding, any sort of contact could potentially lead back to them. Come to that how did they get into the flat? They had been so excited and involved in what the rings did, they had forgotten how they had actually arrived. Would Hermione and Harry be familiar enough with their magic to slip through the wards on the flat without alerting them? Surely not. Hermione was good no doubt, but she would have to know who put them up and how, and Bill had helped lay the wards…. Bill. She spent the summer speaking to him about curse breaking. He would have told her if not shown her, it was Hermione she was relentless in pursuit of knowledge.

“George,” Fred said. Following his brother into the shed, they started rooting through the shelves of junk their Dad collected. “You’ve never told Hermione how our wards work, have you?”

“No why? Bill laid our wards on the shop”.

“How did the rings get here?”

George paused, his hand still in the box he was sorting through, thinking. “Something this morning didn’t feel right. The wards were fine; it was the first thing I checked. They hadn’t registered anyone had messed with them or tested them.”

“You think they might be in England?” They looked at each other.

“No, they wouldn’t, they’d be spotted, wouldn’t they? Living even as muggles wouldn’t they?”

“Well how else would they manage it?”

“We need to talk to Bill.”

“Won’t he tell the Order?”

George went back to rooting. “I don’t like this Fred. I don’t want to think that the Order wouldn’t have helped her escape the Death Eaters. Would have put her in a position where she was in more danger than she already was. She was right about marrying Snape; he would have been told to bring her to You-Know-Who. He would have had to, and then she would have had to survive it, both of them would have had to. For what gain? Who would have really cared if she married outside the law? She’d have still been married. If we lose Snape as a spy, we’ve no information coming out of the Death Eaters. He’s a git yeah, but we’re not kids, you don’t have to like him to know what he does is important. If we lost Hermione to the Death Eaters well, it would break Harry, and honestly I wouldn’t be too happy about it either. If they broke her and found out about Snape being a spy, that would end us all wouldn’t it.”

“You aren’t wrong Forge, but what can we do? Here I think I’ve found it,” Fred said, drawing his hand out of the box he was going through. “How does it work?”

“Try the buttons on top.” He did and the pointy round things inside turned. A few more experimental button pushes later they had worked out how to open it and using a tape they found loose in the bottom of their Dad’s box, worked out how to get it to play. Happy that they could at least find out what was on the tape Harry and Hermione had sent they pocketed the device and returned to the house.

“Mum, do you know if Bill is at home? We thought we might pop over.” Fred asked guilelessly.

“I don’t know dear, why not check the floo and see. I can make you up a parcel of food to take to him if he is. I’m sure he’s not eating properly...” She bustled back into the kitchen as Fred and George shared a grimace. Their mum meant well but it was no secret she didn’t think Fleur was good enough for Bill, and would use any excuse to show Fleur how things should be done properly.

Fred tossed a pinch of floo powder into the grate calling for Shell Cottage. “Bill, are you in?”

“Fred? George? Is that you? Come through.” Bill’s voice came out of the flames. Mrs Weasley bustled through pushing a basket of food at George

“Here take this with you. I’ll make one up for you two and you can collect it when you come back through.”

“Thanks Mum!” they sang out in unison as they stepped through to meet Bill.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure.” Bill asked as they came through. George held out the basket of food.

“From Mum, in case you know, you aren’t eating properly.”

“Oh.” Bill glanced round reflexively. “Fleur isn’t here, she’s visiting her parents this week so as long as it’s all gone before she gets back it will be fine. Just don’t tell Mum will you, or I’ll be buried under a mountain and there will be no hiding it. So, other than it’s your birthday, why have you decided to visit your big brother?” The twins grinned and dropped on to Bills sofa.

“Well.” They exchanged a glance. “You know that summer when we went to the World Cup, did you talk to Hermione?”

“Well yeah, she was interested in curse breaking, why? Has the Order got a lead on them?”

“No,” Fred said. “We were just wondering if she spoke to you about wards, specifically the wards you used.”

“Yeah, I mean we talked about a lot of things. This is Hermione, for every question I answered she had another three. It’s just who she is, why the interest in wards?”

“Well, we think someone went through the wards on the shop. Look,” George hurried on. “When I woke up this morning something was off, I checked the wards and they were fine, so I thought Fred was just going to prank me being it our birthday.”

“But…” Bill said.

They exchanged another glance and held out the two rings. Bill immediately looked suspiciously at them.  “What are those?”

“A birthday present.”

“From whom?”

“Harry and Hermione.”

Bill looked up startled. “You think Harry and Hermione left them for you?”

“No, we know they did, we don’t know how. So we thought if Hermione had been speaking to you and you’d shown her the wards you used. She’s familiar with our magic, she’s known us long enough and with no ill intent.” Fred shrugged.

“You think she by passed them.”

“We would have known if she’d taken them down.” George pointed out.

“True, but well, why?”

“Yeah that’s the thing. They are hiding somewhere in Europe. So what were they doing in Diagon Alley sometime last night or this morning, by passing our wards to leave us a birthday present.” 

Bill got up, poured out three whiskeys, handed them round and sat back down to think. “It’s possible,” he said. “If we ignore that it’s a stupid thing to do. I showed her the wards, she’s fiercely clever. Given enough time and practice and enough familiarity with the wards and your magic I wouldn’t bet against her. Can I?” he asked indicating the rings the twins had left on the table.

“Sure, we checked them obviously, but they came up clean and, well, we’ve been wearing them all day,” Fred said.

Bill rolled his eyes at his brother’s casual admittance to wearing the jewellery and cast a range of detection spells he used on the highest profile vaults. The ones protected by generations of pure blooded family magic. “Well,” he said after a while. “I can tell you the spells are imbedded inside the ring not cast on it. There’s two magical signatures, but I’m not familiar enough with Hermione or Harrys signatures to tell you if it’s theirs, but let’s assume that they are. What do they actually do?” he asked.

Fred and George grinned at each other, each reaching for a ring. They slipped them on, after a day of becoming familiar with the costumes they were able to simultaneously draw swords, and jump onto Bill’s coffee table to have a quick mock sword fight.

Bill, startled, sat back on the sofa as the twins leapt up into their sword fight, it gave him a moment to stare and gather his composure. “Nice peg, shown it to Moody yet?” He asked snorting.

The twins jumped down slipping off the rings and dropped back to the sofa. “No and we're thinking we aren’t going to. Or at least not tell them where we got them. You’re the only person who knows they were sent by Harry and Hermione and we’d like to keep it that way. Other than the fact they got through the wards, there’s nothing else just these, and what is the Order going to do with a couple of costumes? We’re going to give reverse engineering the spells a go, see if we can’t make some more and then we can put them in the shop.” Fred explained.

Bill frowned. “They should be told.”  Fred and George looked unhappy. “Fine.” He relented. “I won’t say anything, but if this becomes a habit, the leaving of gifts, then you’re going to say something aren’t you?” They nodded agreeing. Neither of them had brought up the tape and they wouldn’t. Asking Bill to keep that a secret was unfair. If it turned into something they would contact the Order, and come clean about everything then Bill would be in the clear

Chapter Text

After spending some time chatting about other things they left Bill with promises to keep in touch. They flooed back to the Burrow to wish both parents good night, and pick up the basket of food their mother had left for them, then they flooed away and returned to the flat. After putting away their spoils they dropped onto the sofa and picked up the tape from where they left it. Pulling forth the tape player, they inserted the tape and pressed the play button. The player made an annoyed clicking sound and the wheels in the middle stopped turning. Slightly confused they pulled the tape out of the machine and looked at it.

“It’s got a label on both sides, do you think that means we should turn it round?”

“Try it? It can’t hurt, and the one in Dad’s shed worked didn’t it, so it’s not the machine.” The tape was duly put back in the other way round and the button to make it play depressed. A hissing noise was followed by a smooth female voice.

The king lies entombed,

guarded by ghosts in a watery grave.

I am the words you must speak.

Not for the faint or fair the dark descent follows,

speak again to move the earth.

Look into the face of death,

to find the treasure that you seek.

There was more hissing noise but no more words. Nonplussed they stopped the tape and after a few minutes fiddling worked out that the arrow buttons rewound it so they could listen again. The message remained the same and they shared a puzzled glance.

“So what do you reckon?” George asked.

“It means something. They didn’t risk being caught to drop off two costume rings and a muggle tape with a mysterious message on it, for no reason did they.”

“Who are we going to ask?”

“I don’t know Forge.  Look let’s leave it for tonight yeah. We’ll think on it. I don’t think we want to be giving this to Professor Dumbledore though.”

George looked at him questioningly.

“She sent it on a muggle tape, do you think Professor Dumbledore knows what one is? Or that you’d need that machine to make it play? And if she wanted to get it to Professor Dumbledore why not owl him? She doesn’t trust him, and rightly or wrongly I’m not going to blindly hand over something to him that she didn’t want him to have. Leader of the Order or not.”

“Fred that’s…”

“Yeah, it is. But then she could have married us couldn’t she. It could have been arranged and now they are Merlin knows where. So yeah it is, and I’m ok with that. Are you?”

George punched him. “You don’t need to ask,” he said with a smile that slowly faded from his face. “This was a lot easier when it was following orders and not worrying that following orders was the wrong thing to do.”

“Yeah, but we can’t let a little thing like Hermione Granger out brave us can we? Not when we set her such a good example and she’s done a bang up job of following it. Although slipping off into the night is all very well for stealth but where was the pizazz?”

George paled suddenly and grabbed Fred by both arms interrupting his verbal ruminations, hauling him round to face him. “Fred! Don’t ever, ever say that in front of Mum! If she thinks Hermione is following our example…” he trailed off, Fred paled to match his twin and swallowed.

“Yeah, you’re right. Nothing to do with us.”

They shared a nod, then with a glance back at the tape machine and two rings, went to bed for the night. 

 The next day George holed himself up in the workroom. If Hermione had given him a way to contact her and it seemed likely she had, then he had to hold their end up and get it working. Of course she could have just handed Fred and himself a fortune. Enchanted mirrors like the one Harry had had were prized because they were complex and expensive to get right. If Hermione’s formula worked and it would, then she had revolutionised the market and handed it over without a thought. If he could get it working and she didn’t have the twinned one, then he and Fred could supply them to the Order until the war was over, then they could launch them into the market. The charmed galleons Hermione had first come up with were great, but limited in the length of message, communication mirrors would be a game changer.

He settled to the task of understanding Hermione’s arithmancy which was written in a short hand recommended in the back of the Hogwarts curriculum text. He’d had to nip out to pick up the book especially, as it was a subject neither he or Fred had taken. Working through Hermione’s notes he was appreciating anew how clever she really was, and he admitted that if there was anyone he had to go on the run with aside from Fred, it would be her.

Fred brought him lunch and he straightened from his task. “Getting anywhere?”

“Merlin I don’t know, I think so, it’s still not solving though look.” He tapped his wand and the string of runes that made up the equation glowed for a moment before returning to plain ink.

“Is the charm right? That’s fairly complex, nearly as bad as the patented day dreams.”

“I know.” George grumbled. “It took me two days alone to get that straightened out, but I’m fairly sure its correct. Without this equation solving though we won’t be able to cast it.”

“Let’s take a look,” Fred said patting his brothers shoulder consolingly. They were both clever and quick, exam results non withstanding. Hermione was cleverer and quicker, and had she been in the mind to make mischief at Hogwarts, they could have rocked it to the foundations. It was probably a good thing she was more interested in her books.

“I’ve been thinking.” Fred continued casually. “I think we should speak to McGonagall. Hermione wrote to her so she obviously trusts her.”

“She trusts Snape, said so in the letter.” George said around a mouthful of food.

“I don’t see Snape taking a floo call from us brother.”

“Too charming for him.” George agreed sagely. “We’d blow his hair back and the sky would fall because he wasn’t hiding behind it.”

“So McGonagall.”

“Would she take a floo call from us? I mean we are just lowly ex students.”

“And Order members.”

“Order members would probably follow official channels like contacting the Headmaster.”

“So not Order members.” Fred agreed.

“She’s going to have to visit, can’t risk the machine through Hogwarts wards.”

“You think that’s why she sent it?”

“Possibly, it’s on the list.”

“Yeah.”

“So did you send an owl?” George asked.

“After breakfast, just to let her know we’ll be flooing her after dinner.”

“We best tidy up then, can’t be making the wrong impression when we're entertaining such distinguished guests.”

“There’s still some of the cake left Mum sent back last night.”

“You think she’ll eat anything?” They shared a mischievous grin which died away too soon. 

After closing they tidied the flat until it gleamed put away all the test products and made one last sweep for anything inappropriate before floo calling their former Head of House.

“Hello Professor!” They sang out in unison as the connection was answered.

“Messrs Weasley.” The reply came. “To what misfortune do I owe to be receiving a call from yourselves?”

“Well Professor we were wondering would you be amenable to popping through?”

“Why Mr Weasley? What could you possibly need me to leave the castle for to pay a social call?”

“We have had a recent development with some of our research and its right up your street as it were, and well we could do with some advice if you could spare the time.” There was a pause from the other end and they shared a glance unsure of if they had persuaded her.

“Stand aside.” The voice came back through, louder now as she approached the fireplace. They scrambled backwards and stood as the flames flared green and their former Head of House stood upon the hearth. She vanished the soot and closed the connection eyeing the two young men in front of her. “Very well, you have me here. What is it you need me to see?”

“Professor,” George said seriously. “We’ve received some information, and well, we’d like to trust you with it as it has been entrusted to us, so we’ll need your word you won’t speak of it to anyone.”

Minerva eyed the two men in front of her, the twins rarely looked serious. They had been overly solicitous in asking for her to take the floo call. She had her suspicions about their most recent research pertaining to the formula no one had quite found time to take a proper look at.

“Very well Mr Weasley you have it. Do you require a wand oath?”

The glance the twins exchanged, having one of those silent conversations she had witnessed so many times, caused an eyebrow to rise on her forehead. She had been being somewhat tart, not expecting them to consider it seriously.

“We’ll tell you Professor, then you can tell us if you think you need to.” George responded solemnly.

“Won’t you sit? We’d offer tea but we have whiskey and Mum sent over cake yesterday.” Fred offered.

“Is it safe to eat?” she asked wryly.

“Oh yeah,” Fred said. “Normally it wouldn’t be, but you know, this isn’t normally.”

Curious now, Minerva took the armchair offered. She glanced about the room, social calls to ex-students was not something she had ever done. The twins decorating style was reminiscent of Albus. Loud colours with no notion of them going together. One wall aside the fire place was devoted to a book case. This was crammed full of reference books on a wealth of subjects. Their references for inventing she supposed. The rest was pretty standard, small kitchen off to one side and a dining table with four chairs placed round it. The sofa, coffee table, and matching arm chairs, one of which she was sat on, encircled the fire at the opposite end of the room.

George returned with the tray of glasses and plate of cake grabbing a new bottle of whiskey from the shelf as he passed. He cracked the seal and poured. Fred came back with a small box, a rectangular device and two men’s rings which he laid on the table before her.

“Very well gentlemen, explain,” she said accepting the whiskey, but not the cake. The twins sat on the sofa leaning slightly on each other and for an instant she saw the two 11 year olds explaining how they had nothing to do with the current rash of pranks plaguing the castle.

“It was our birthday yesterday,” Fred said.

“I got up first to make the tea, something was off. The wards were fine nothing seemed out of place so I thought it might be Fred”

“We found a package on the kitchen side left for us.” Fred added. He nudged the box closer to Minerva

“It was wrapped in birthday paper. Muggle birthday paper.”

“It had those two rings in it and the tape that’s in that machine.”

“Harry and Hermione sent it.”

She looked at them closely, looking for anything that said that they were pranking her. They looked solemn and serious, it was unnerving. “Why have you contacted me? Why not take it to Albus as head of the Order.”

“Hermione wrote to you,” George said. “She trusted you with that letter and we didn’t think Professor Snape would take our floo call.”

“If Hermione wanted the Headmaster to have what was on that tape she’d have sent it to him. Hermione isn’t very happy with the Headmaster, so.” Fred shrugged.

“The rings?” Minerva queried.

“A birthday present,” Fred said reaching for one while George reached for the other. They grinned at each other before slipping them on still delighted with the magic they contained.

Minerva gasped appreciatively and they gave her a quick demonstration before slipping the rings off and settling back down.

“The tape?” she asked.

“Well this is where it gets a bit odd. It’s not Hermione and we don’t understand the message.”

They hit play and the clear modulated voice spoke the message again. Once it was finished the tape was rewound. Minerva sat in quiet contemplation for a moment. “Is there any way I can take that to the castle?”

“We don’t think so Professor. The wards on Hogwarts might fry the machine that plays the tape and we aren’t sure what that will do to the tape.”

“In which case I am going to have to intrude on your hospitality a little further. Wait here I shall be back momentarily.” She strode to the floo as the twins exchanged another glance. They sat quietly not moving

“You think she’s gone for the Headmaster?”

“No, she said she wouldn’t.”

“So who then?”

The fire place flared green and Minerva stepped out and to the side as it flared green again. Then the tall dark form of Professor Snape appeared in the living room of 93 Diagon Alley.

Chapter Text

Speechless didn’t really cover it, and the twins stood gawping until Minerva snapped them out of it. “Really Severus, stop glowering at them.”

He shifted his gaze and it seemed to allow them to unfreeze.  Suddenly solicitous they offered seats and assurances the whiskey wasn’t doctored. He didn’t seem convinced but seemed willing to accept it on faith after Minerva glared at him.

“So please, feel free to explain why I find myself here of all places this evening.”

“Harry and Hermione have been in touch. Sir,” Fred said meeting Severus' eye.

“Have they,” he said in a slow thoughtful drawl. “And why Mr Weasley do you feel this happy news is worthy of my time or of Minerva’s.”

“Severus,” Minerva said. “Do stop baiting him, he’s no longer a student and I asked you here.”

He said nothing, not breaking his gaze from Fred but raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“They got through the wards or at least we think they did.”

“Your wards?” Severus asked interested.

“Bill set them, we added on to them afterwards.” George piped up.

“You think Miss Granger bypassed wards set by a Gringots curse breaker? High praise indeed.” He stood and went over to the door splaying a hand out. The twins exchanged an uneasy glance.

“I can detect no rippling in your wards, if she did indeed bypass them it has left no trace.” He returned to his seat. “Why do you think she would risk imprisonment to visit?”

“She left us a birthday present.”

He sneered at them and they pointed to the box on the table next to the rings.  Minerva picked the box up turning it over in her hands. “You didn’t say why you were sure it was from them.”

“There was a message,” George said. “A spoken message when you opened the box.”

Minerva looked interested and flipped the lid open. “Happy Birthday! Surprise!” rang out and a puff of confetti rained down over her hair and lap.

“Enchanted,” she said a displeased moue on her lips.

“Oh,” Fred said. “We didn’t know it would do it again.” He reached over and plucked the box from her fingers closing it and opening it again.

“Happy Birthday! Surprise!” rang out as another puff of confetti rained down.

“Yes well, now you’ve proved the veracity of your claim the reason I am here?” Severus said smirking as Minerva tried to brush the brightly coloured confetti off her clothes. She huffed and withdrew her wand to cast a vanishing charm.

“No!” Fred said urgently, but too late. The confetti multiplied as the spell hit it puffing up into the air from the magic. “You can’t vanish it.” He finished lamely. Minerva looked up at him a stern look upon her face

“And why, Mr Weasley would I not be able to use a perfectly good vanishing spell and why did you not see fit to tell me beforehand?” She increased the stern look to a full glare as she caught sight of Severus, sitting in the opposite armchair hiding the smile on his lips, badly.

“Errm, it’s the same spell on the whiz bangs,” he said sheepishly.

“Indeed, so how do you suppose I get rid of this?”

Fred cast the counter charm silently on the confetti covering Minerva then vanished it from her.

“Thank you Mr Weasley,” She said reseating herself.

“As you were saying Mr Weasley, I am here for what purpose? Other than for you to entertain me.” Severus drawled still smirking slightly.

“The tape. They sent a tape.”

“It’s Mrs Granger,” Minerva said. “I’m almost sure of it.”

Fred and George shot a look at Minerva. “Hermione’s mum?” they asked puzzled. “But why would she?”

“Play the tape Mr Weasley.” Severus responded. “Then we may be able to tell you why.”

Fred hit play and the voice spoke again. As the last word died away he hit stop and waited, watching his two ex-professors

“I suppose its revenge of a sorts,” Severus said.

“Pardon?” Fred said.

“It’s a riddle, Miss Granger solved mine as a first year, now she has set one to be solved. Is there anything else on that tape?”

“Err no, just hissing and crackling.”

“Static.” Severus replied. “When a tape has no recording on it the hissing noise is called static. Play it again Mr Weasley, and let it play through there may be back ground noises that might give us some clues.”

The tape was rewound and played again, as the voice died away the hissing noise sounded and Severus jerked upright. Fred reached to turn the player off and he shot an arm out.

“No, leave it. Rewind it, play it again, turn the volume up this time.”

“Err, how?” George asked. “We sort of only know how to play it and make it go back to play again.”

“There will be a round dial or knob on the side marked volume.” Severus told them.

“Oh yeah,” Fred said looking at the machine, he turned it up and replayed the tape.

Severus listened, the words died away and the hissing noise came again then seemed to fade. He sat quietly motioning for the tape to be stopped. “It’s parseltongue,” he said quietly.

“What?” George asked. “How can you tell? Do you speak it?”

“No Mr Weasley but I know two people who can.  One has a bloody big snake he speaks to regularly.”

“Then this was for you.” Fred said thoughtfully.

“What makes you say that?” Severus asked.

“Hermione trusts you, she said so in her letter. She trusts Professor McGonagall because she sent her the letter. Which no one saw the original of, she doesn’t trust the Headmaster and this tape needed to get to either one or both of you without being sent through the wards at the school. And possibly without the Headmaster finding out.” Fred looked over at each of the Professors in turn, watching for anything that would confirm his suspicions.

“Look,” George said. “We’re not stupid and we’re not going to go running our mouths off but something is going on and we’re getting the feeling not everyone knows about it.”

Severus and Minerva exchanged a look. Severus raised his shoulder slightly deferring some decision to Minerva. She nodded slightly in reply.

“Very well,” she said. “It is true that Miss Granger has provided some information to us that we are following up.”

“You said us, not the Order.” They pointed out in unison.

“Albus runs the Order, Messrs Weasley, and currently Miss Granger is persona non grata with him. This information has been passed to myself, Minerva and Lupin. We are following it up. The Headmaster has not been informed and this little meeting will be kept the same way. Are we in accord?” Severus responded his glare back.

They both nodded, then Fred asked. “Why? I mean I understand that Hermione and the Headmaster don’t agree about some things, but aren’t divisions like these damaging for the Order and what we are trying to achieve?”

“Albus, has decided that the information Miss Granger shared is of no consequence, and that retrieving Mr Potter is more important. We do not agree, and as such have agreed to act upon the information Miss Granger supplied.” Minerva explained.

“The horcruxes?”

“Yes, Mr Weasley. But you would do well not to mention them to anyone.”

Fred and George exchanged a glance of their own. “Do you know if Remus is contactable?” George asked. “In a manner that won’t draw attention?”

“Why, Mr Weasley?” Minerva asked eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Well.” George shot an uneasy glance at Severus. “Remus was an original Marauder, they invented the map.”

“We know about the map,” Severus said.

“You do?” Guilt and curiosity flashed over their faces before George continued. “Well they also had enchanted mirrors you could use to communicate, and we think that the Marauders may have made them. Sirius gave Harry one, he broke it though, and we were wondering if Remus might know how it was made.”

Severus narrowed his eyes at the twins considering them. They squirmed slightly under the gaze so reminiscent of their school days. “The formula,” he said slowly.

George slumped. “How did you know?”

“You told me.” He replied. “Just now.”

“Oh.” George glanced at Fred. “Well yeah, only Hermione is a daemon at arithmancy, we never studied it and well.” He shrugged helplessly. “She’s either got the twin of the mirror she’s given us the spells for, or they can be used to help the Order. But.”

“How far have you gotten?” Minerva asked.

George leapt up and left the room, running down to the work room and returning with the notes he had. “This is her original formula from the letter, but it’s only about a quarter of it, she -”

“Encoded the rest,” Severus said wryly exchanging a glance with Minerva.

“Well yeah.” He agreed. “How did you know?”

“She left us an encoded letter of our own.” Minerva supplied.

“Oh well, it’s in mirror you see, which is why I knew it was for the communication mirrors. So here.” He spread out the full formula and the two Professors leaned over the paper.

Severus eyed the equation in surprise, he reached out and traced a finger down the runes. “It’s not solving?” he confirmed.

“No, look,” George said tapping it. “I’m about three years behind Hermione on arithmancy. She’s beyond what the text book can tell me anyway. I’m backwards engineering as much as I’m working out.”

“Which text are you using Mr Weasley?”

“The Hogwarts Advanced NEWT level,” he said with a grimace. “And honestly all its done is taught me her shorthand, the equations are all but hinted at.”

“Overachieving know it all.” Severus muttered.

“Well yeah Professor, it’s Hermione.”

“This rune set…”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, that’s the potion part, you pour it onto the mirror surface.”

“Have you translated it?”

“Yeah, here.” He shoved another piece of parchment over. “That was the easy bit to be honest, she always notes her potions the same way.”

“How would you know?” Severus asked not looking up from the parchment.

“Well,” George said. “She might have asked one day about some of our products, and we might have spent some time going over a few, and she might have made a few comments.”

“Hermione invented for you?” Minerva asked shocked.

“No! Not as such. Only, if we got a bit stuck she was really good at working out what would react with what, and why we might be hitting a snag. She refused to help, she said she'd only offer practical knowledge on a problem solving capacity.”

“This is beyond NEWT,” Severus said running the translations in his head and compiling the potion mentally.

“Hermione is a bit beyond NEWT, hadn’t you noticed? I mean look at these.” George tossed his brother a ring and they both slipped them on and stood walking a little into the room.

 Minerva noticed the peg leg which she hadn’t seen earlier at the first demonstration. “The leg!”

“Yeah.” George agreed. “Your foot feels like it’s a sleep but honestly you can’t really tell after a while, and the swords are real to.” He withdrew the sword and handed it hilt first to Minerva.

“My, this is, but how? And the clothes,” she marvelled.

Fred tossed his hat towards Severus who caught it and examined it, absently running a hand over the pirate tricorn. “They work off your existing clothing?”

“Seem to need at least one layer, otherwise you end up bare chested.” Fred told him.

“The peg leg?”

“Weird melding of flesh into wood, not pretty but it’s still your leg, hit it and it hurts.”

Severus raised an eyebrow sardonically.

Fred shrugged. “Worth testing if we’re going to sell them.”

He slipped the ring off and the costume disappeared and with it the hat from Severus' hand. He looked up in surprise and Fred slipped it back on, the hat reappearing on his head.

“Severus!” Minerva called attracting his attention. He looked up to see Minerva dressed in the musketeer costume, complete with plumed hat.

“Madame, you are wearing trousers,” he said somewhat lost for words. “I believe I can see your ankles.”

“Pish you! I used to run about in trews as a lass.”

“Be still my beating heart.” he replied. She shot him a grin before slipping the ring from her finger and returning to her usual robes.

“There,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you to come over all of aflutter.”

“Madame, you do me a great service.” He reposted solemnly, bowing to her from his seated position, a smirk dancing on his lips.

Fred and George stood silent witnesses to the banter passing between the two Professors. Refusing to do anything that might end this moment that they were sure was a product of over active imaginings.

“Well then, what do we do next?” she asked glancing at the twins to include them again.

“We were hoping you could tell us. The words, you knew what they meant.”

“I do,” Severus said. “They are the way into the Chamber of Secrets.”

“Oh, well, couldn’t you have just asked Ron?” Fred asked.

“And why would I ask Mr Weasley such a question?” Severus asked. “What reason would I have for doing so? And not forgetting that your brother is the remaining best friend of Mr Potter left in the castle. Don’t you think Albus might be slightly interested in any conversations he has with anybody until Mr Potter returns?”

“He’d use legilimency?” George replied shocked.

“It would hardly be any different to any other interaction with the student body.” He drawled. “Or where you not aware?”

From their faces, no they hadn’t been aware the Headmaster used legilimency on the student body

“But that’s…”

“Illegal? Immoral? Yes, it is. I fail to see your point.”

“We need a way to get that message into the castle if we cannot take the machine that plays it.” Minerva cut in.

“Well yeah, but we don’t know how.” Fred said.

They sat pensively for a moment. “Filius might have something but I would need to speak with him and it’s too late now.  Do either of you two know where the entrance to the Chamber is? Did your brother ever mention it?” Minerva asked resignedly.

“Well other than it was in a girl’s bathroom…. Maybe the same one they brewed the polyjuice in?” Fred offered.

“Brewed polyjuice in a bathroom?” Minerva said. “When exactly was this?”

“The year the Chamber opened.” Severus replied. “Over the Christmas break. Miss Granger had a small mishap with her potion.”

“She did make a lovely looking cat,” George said reminiscing. “We visited.”

“A cat?”

“I believe Miss Granger discovered the hard way you should be sure of your source before drinking polyjuice,” Severus said with a sly grin. “It took a full two weeks to brew the antidote, she seemed most displeased to discover hairballs first-hand.” The grin turned into full on smirk and Minerva looked slightly ill.

“Indeed, I can… well. So you think this bathroom? How many bathrooms are haunted?”

“Moaning Myrtle haunts one on the second floor. They would have needed one that wasn’t in use.” George shrugged. “Though the tapestry of the forest at night on the fourth floor corridor is a better spot. It’s got a good concealment charm on it, maybe we should have told them.”

“So Myrtles bathroom is where the entrance is? A bathroom? Seems somewhat ignoble.”

“The castle moves Minerva; it probably wasn’t always a bathroom since the castle predates indoor plumbing.” Severus pointed out.

“So we need to find a way to get this recording into the castle and to Myrtle’s bathroom.”

“Err, what exactly do you want out of the Chamber of Secrets?” George asked.

“Haven’t you solved it? Severus asked. “Miss Granger has given you directions and the password to the Chamber of Secrets to look in the face of death for treasure.”

“Yeah, OK, but…”

“The Basilisk. Looking at a Basilisk causes death, the treasure we seek is its venom.”

“You want its teeth?” George looked amused.

“So Harry stabbing the diary that possessed Ginny with a fang. That wasn’t made up? He actually did that?” Fred asked.

“Indeed, try not to destroy that tape while we find a solution to getting the recording to the castle.” Severus stood and waited while Minerva joined him.

“We’ll be in touch. Fred, George.” Minerva nodded to them and stepped into the bright green flames of the floo, Severus on her heels.

The twins watched them go, sitting back down with more whiskey. “So have we just joined the Secret Order within the Secret Order?” Fred asked

“I think so yeah. I don’t suppose they would let us come with them when they go into the Chamber do you?”

“No,” Fred said wistfully. “Just think, a whole chamber we never managed to explore.” 

Chapter Text

It took a week for Severus and Minerva to come up with something to get the recording into Hogwarts by magical means. Fillius had been helpful, and after their first evasive answer had asked no more questions. He just asked to be told how well it worked, once they finished doing whatever it was they were doing.

It was another week later they could be assured the Headmaster would be out of the castle. Remus had been unable to join them. So once the curfew had passed and they were reasonably sure there were no students to witness, they met in the second floor bathroom usually occupied by a ghost.

“So,” Minerva said looking around curiously. “Now what? The riddle said speak the words, so the entrance is hidden? Merlin it better not be down one of the toilets. The entrance to the Ministry is degrading enough.”

Severus rolled his eyes but said nothing at her nervous chatter. He had a small bag with him containing everything he could think of for a trip into a chamber containing a dead snake that was still deadly. He had added a number of healing potions and bandages to the pile of supplies. Explaining to Albus why, or how either of them got hurt, or died down there wasn’t something he wanted to think about. “Play the message Minerva, stop dithering.”

That was enough to get her moving and she opened the small box to play the hissing message. They had used the idea of the box repeating the message every time it opened, much the same as the birthday message for Fred and George had. As soon as the hissing stopped, a clunk and the sound of grating stone caused both professors to spin to the sinks, watching as one moved to reveal the dark entrance to the chamber.

“Not for the fair of faint indeed.” Minerva muttered.  She stepped closer to peer downwards into the dark. She drew her wand casting a small globe of light then sent it gliding into the hole, and down, illuminating the sides as it went. She exchanged a glance with Severus. “After you, after all it’s your House founder not mine.”

He snorted in amusement at her clear unwillingness and stepped forward. “Albus sent 12 year olds down here Minerva, how bad could it be?”

“Did you forget about the basilisk?” she asked shortly.

“It’s dead,” he offered.

“Now it is,” she muttered, then made a hurry up gesture with her hands. He turned back to the hole and stepped into it. The slide down was awful, there were many other words he could use but awful covered it nicely. Minerva’s light made the grime somehow worse, as if not being able to see it would make it more tolerable. When the slide finally levelled out and he regained his feet, he moved to the side. The faint glow getting closer indicated Minerva had summoned her famed house courage, and followed him. When she slid to a halt he offered a hand to help her to her feet, and then wordlessly vanished the accumulated muck from them both.

 They proceeded cautiously, whilst assured the basilisk was dead, and with plenty of conjured balls of light to light their way, the chamber was, well, creepy.

“Honestly, Slytherins.” Minerva grumbled. “It’s all the same; dark, dank and creepy. Do you only have one interior decorating catalogue to order from? Join Slytherin, wear green, live in creepy places.”

“The House of the Brave dressing the walls in the colour of blood is much subtler of course,” he agreed pleasantly.

She snorted but it was a happier sound than her muttering. The lights caught on something ahead. “Merlin, Severus,” she said clutching his arm. “Is that-?”

“No,” he said peering at it, as they got closer. “It’s a shed skin.” It was collapsed on the floor rotting away with the skeletons of small dead animals. Those were crunching underfoot when they couldn’t be avoided, the noise wasn’t helping with the ambiance. They passed the shed skin to come up short at a rock fall.

“Move the earth?” Minerva said. “Hmm, best be careful. We’ll need to shore it up in case it’s the ceiling. The last thing we want is a sink hole to open up in the Great Hall. That might take some explaining.” She joked, weakly.

He nodded and between them they made a tunnel through the rock. Tall and wide enough for them to pass through, but propping up the rock around the opening so it would hold and they could come back through. Once through, they found another door, and Minerva opened the box again to get the giant snakes moving to open the door.

“No, seriously. I don’t mind snakes in theory, but why does all the decorating have to be so sinister?” she asked. She took Severus' arm and they walked through into the large chamber casting more illuminating globes to float upwards, the statue of Salazar came into view. “Oh,” she said cocking her head.

“Mmm, it is rather grandiose.” Severus agreed.

“And he hid a giant snake in here too? Compensating much do you think?”

“I wouldn’t care to suggest,” he replied, leading the way forward. He took a sharp breath inwards as he caught sight of the corpse on the floor at the foot of the statue. Minerva clutched his arm so hard he was sure he would bruise as she also noticed it.

“He was 12, Severus,” she said quietly. The fear that had been fluttering round the edges of her voice had burned away, leaving hard edged anger in its place. “12, and he sent him to face that, with Ron Weasley and his broken wand, the sword of Gryffindor and Fawkes.”

They stopped, staring at the corpse. The chamber was cold so the corpse was in reasonable shape. The rodent population seemingly had never returned having learnt that the chamber was a lair for deadly prey, and it didn’t smell which he was thankful for.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get on with it.”

They knelt and wedged the mouth open with a conjured length of wood. The rows of gleaming sharp teeth made both of them pause and with excessive care, wearing dragon hide gloves they carefully extracted a number of teeth. Placing them gently in the reinforced jars Severus had brought with him for the purpose. Once finished they stood, stashing the jars back in the bag.

“Would a tour be out of the question?” Minerva asked lightly, her face drawn and pale.

“I think so.” He replied. “I’ve no wish to spend any more time down here than needed and we don’t know what curses or jinxes may have been left for interlopers. Whatever Salazar hid down here can stay. Maybe once this is all over we could come back with an army of curse breakers to be sure, but for now I would very much like to return to the castle with no mysterious injuries to try and explain to Albus.”

“I suppose you are right, come on then; shall we get it over with?”

He nodded and pulled one last thing from his bag. The small strong box they had placed the locket in.

“How do we do this? Just drip the venom on to it or does it need to be physically stabbed as the diary was?”

“Let’s try the venom, we can graduate to stabbing if necessary.”

He opened the box and placed the locket on the ground. Carefully they extracted another tooth and tipped it, pouring the reservoir of venom out of it on to the locket. It hissed, fizzed, and then a horrific scream pierced the air as the metal turned black and seemed to shrivel. The fang was dropped in fright, they clutched at each other, turning pale as the scream reached a pitch and faded away.

“I think it is dead,” she said in a soft wobbly voice. He nodded speechless, looking down at the burnt metal lying harmlessly on the floor. For no reason he could fathom he picked up the fang and stabbed it through the metal. Nothing more happened but he felt unreasonably reassured that the thing, the soul piece, was dead. Removing the fang, he conjured a reinforced jar and dropped the horcrux in it. He screwed the lid on and tossed it back into the box closing and sealing it. He picked it up and placed it back in his bag then he turned to Minerva.

“There’s whiskey back in the castle,” he said. “Lots of whiskey, come on, I need a drink.”

He looked over her pale face, gently took her arm, and led her from the chamber. The door swung closed behind them and he felt the shudder run down his spine. After they passed back through the tunnel of rock fall, a wave of his wand brought it crashing down again, she sent him a questioning glance. “The more rock there is between me and that chamber the better I’ll feel,” he said by way of explanation. She nodded and they reached the foot of the slide. Grasping her firmly he levitated them both carefully up the tunnel back into the bathroom. A quick cleaning spell later and they were once again presentable.

He rooted in his bag withdrawing a potion. “Here,” he said. “You’re still pale and I don’t fancy my chances if I have to take you to Poppy. Don’t worry it’s a mild potion much like a hit of adrenalin. Just enough to get you back to your rooms.”

Wordlessly she swallowed the potion, and Severus was reminded as formidable as she was, she was in her sixties. Whilst not old for a witch who could conceivably live till 140, sometimes 60 was a lot of years, especially for one who had just confronted her first taste of what the Dark Arts could lead to. He was more experienced, and familiarity with the Dark Lord introduced a whole slew of variation really fast, but the scream had been something that had made him want to be elsewhere. Very far away, elsewhere.

Once back in her rooms the fire was stoked higher than was needed for warmth, but the blaze provided much needed comfort. They settled down with the whiskey, they drank the first to their success, then drank no small number to try and erase the sound of the scream that was still echoing.

“Will he know?” Minerva asked.

“He hasn’t summoned me. So unless it’s weakened him in some way and he’s currently recovering before he does so.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “There’s no way to know until I’m next called.”

“I don’t want to do that again.” Minerva admitted in a small voice. “I know we’re going to have to but—” She stopped and fortified herself with a drink. “Magic shouldn’t be like that, it should be wondrous, it should help, heal, it should be… Well it shouldn’t be that, there was nothing good about that Severus, nothing. There’s no way that creating one of those things could be for a good reason.”

“In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present,” he replied.

“What holds magic like that in balance? What great feat of wonder counteracts what we killed this evening?”

“I don’t know, Minerva. Have you gotten any further with the Grey Lady?”

“Only that she told Tom the same tale she told me. She stole the Diadem from her mother who sent the Baron after her when she was dying. She spurned the Baron who killed her then himself and the Diadem was left in a tree hollow in Albania.”

“So it’s going to be one.”

“Do you think it would be hidden in the castle?”

“Well he came back to apply for the defence post, and considering Albus was suspicious of him he couldn’t have expected to gain it. They say that’s when he laid the curse on the job, it would give him time to hide something in the castle. It’s a big castle.”

“The Room of Requirements, as Miss Granger suggested?”

“They used that room for defence club. Don’t you think they would have found it if it was in there?”

“Not if that’s not what they required. They were looking for a room to practice in, not a room to hide things in.”

He rolled his head to look at her. “Are you up for a walk to the 7th floor?”

She shuddered slightly. “I’m not sure I could kill another one of those tonight, and if he can tell, would killing two at once be better or worse for you?”

“If he knows we’re destroying them the number won’t matter; he’ll kill me regardless.”

She looked at him for a long minute. “That is not reassuring, there’s no way I can draw any comfort from that what so ever.”

“Come on,” he said dragging himself to his feet. “We’ll go and look for it. Albus isn’t here, now is a good a time as any. If we find it, we’ll put it in the box and destroy it another time.”

She joined him and they walked steadily upwards from her rooms to the seventh floor. Minerva paced in front of the wall and the door materialised. Opening it, she led Severus into the room.

“What were you thinking of?” Severus asked looking round him. The room was piled high with a cornucopia of junk. Tottering towering piles of contraband with narrow winding paths between them.

“I wanted the room where Tom had hidden his horcrux.”

“Well if he’s hidden it in here it’s going to take months to find.”

“Maybe not,” she said. “The castle is bound to respond to the wishes of the Headmaster or those acting in his stead.”

“You can tell it to show us the way?”

“Well I was thinking if it knows the horcrux is in here—” She turned and pulled him out of the room, the door closed behind her. She continued. “If I ask for the room where Tom hid the horcrux and for nothing else but the horcrux to be present, it might work. Otherwise we can ask for directions, and if that doesn’t work we’ll have to start searching.”

She paced in front of the wall and the door reappeared. Pulling it open revealed an empty looking room. Stepping inside and forward she noticed a single item on the floor.

“Severus.” she called “Come and take a look at this.” He followed her through the open door and they approached the item on the floor. A bright diadem sparkled up at them.

“That’s it?” Severus' voice was questioning. “He hid the locket in a cave, in a bowl of poison that had to be consumed to get hold of it. How is this just left in a room full of junk which can then be cleared to find it?”

“Well maybe he didn’t think you could ask the castle to bring just one item forth. Or maybe it’s because I’m acting Head. Or maybe he thought no one would look for it inside the castle. Did you bring a jar?”

Severus handed over the jar in his pocket and she removed the lid, picking up the diadem with a grimace. The jar mouth widened to accept it then shrank again to allow her to screw the lid back on.

“We’ll lock it up. At least until after your next meeting, then we’ll know if he knows what we are doing.  If he knows we might be better finding and killing them all at once. If he doesn’t then we will need to ensure he doesn’t find out.”  

The next day Albus returned to the castle. Travel weary but smug. It put Minerva on edge, whatever he had been doing he seemed overly pleased. The day after Albus' return Severus was called. It wasn’t until dinner when he had missed all three meals she turned to Albus, sat next to her tucking into his food. “Is Severus well? I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Severus isn’t in the castle Minerva; he has been called away.”

She paled slightly at the implication. “He’s been gone all day? But his lessons?”

“Since this morning yes. As for his lessons I’m sure the students found a Friday without potions a rare and welcome treat. Is there something the matter Minerva?” he asked, warm kindness in his voice.

“No, no Albus. I just wished to speak to him in regards to a student of mine.”

“Ah, been heavy handed with the detentions again has he? Well I’m sure you can bring him to task.” He twinkled at her.

She nodded faintly and cast an eye down the Slytherin table. The students were quiet, eating and only chatting sporadically. A thought occurred to her. “Albus, who is overseeing Slytherin House whilst Severus is away?”

“Hmm? Sorry my dear? Oh well, I’m sure if you need to take them to task for their behaviour you can do so. I’m quite certain our Slytherin students know better than ourselves where Severus currently is. I wouldn’t worry.” He patted her kindly on the hand and turned back to his food.

She looked down at her plate, the food turning to lead in her stomach. What was worse? Albus' casual dismissal of the welfare of an entire quarter of the student body? His blanket belief that they were all linked to Death Eaters? Or the fact in the near two years Severus had resumed his spying, she had never once considered that the students were left without a member of staff to come to. That if Severus didn’t make it back not only would Hogwarts loose its Potions Master, and she would lose a colleague and a friend. But Slytherin house would lose the only person standing between them and outright neglect. She stood, no longer able to face the truth of what she had been party to. No longer able to face her own duplicity. She made her way to her rooms and slumped down into her chair, staring at the fire crackling in the grate. She prayed for Severus' return for selfish reasons. Then she straightened her spine and decided to be bold.

Leaving her rooms, she made her way to the staff quarters for those who weren’t Heads of Houses. Knocking on the door she hoped Septima hadn’t lingered over dinner. She hadn’t and she opened the door with a warm smile of welcome.

“Minerva, how lovely, come in.”

“Thank you Septima, although I would hold off on the enthusiasm for the moment, I’m after a favour.” She followed the witch to a comfy sofa in front of a glowing fire.

“How can I help Minerva?”

“Are you aware that Severus is out of the castle?”

“Well I noticed he wasn’t at meals, but we rarely cross paths.”

“Well I suppose that might work to my favour.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing, sorry. I only meant, if you’ve not crossed paths overly much then he’s less likely to have offended you.”

Septima let out a merry laugh. “Oh yes, he’s ever so prickly like that. A shame really, he really does have a sinful voice.”

Minerva goggle slightly at the witch’s confession. Septima smiled “Come on Minerva, he’s a wizard under 50. I’m not dead yet, and if he didn’t keep up the bastard persona in front of the students he’d have a queue outside his door. Although, I’m not so sure that’s not the reason he’s especially cruel to your Gryffindor’s. If there was ever a House to decide to be bold about it….”

“Stop, please stop!” Minerva said desperately trying to pull the conversation back to where she wanted it. She took a quick breath. “Slytherin House is currently without a member of staff. I don’t know how long he is going to be away for. Would you step in? I can ask the Baron to come to you.”

Septima looked at her for a long moment. Refusing to look away, Minerva met her gaze as calmly as she could.

“You don’t think he will be back this evening? If he was to be away for any length of time he would have put something in place wouldn’t he, or Albus?” Septima pointed out.

“I don’t know how long he will be away for but the students currently have no one.”

“Why are you asking me this Minerva?”

“Because I should have done so before, and to my shame I didn’t. But I am asking now.”

Septima nodded. “Then because you asked, please tell the Baron the students can call on me when Severus is indisposed.”

“Thank you,” Minerva said meaning it. She rose. “I will inform the Baron and leave you to your evening.” She left the staff quarters and made her way to the dungeons. Standing her ground she called for the Baron. He glided through the wall and bowed.

“You requested my presence Professor McGonagall, how can I be of service?”

“Severus is out of the castle. Should the students of Slytherin House require a member of staff, Professor Vector has agreed to stand in his stead. If you could please inform her if she is needed?”

“Very well, I will pass the information to the students” the Baron replied and bowed again before melting back through a wall.

  Back in her rooms she sat by the fire unable to settle her mind. When the floo flared she was glad of the distraction.

“Minerva are you in?” Remus’ voice came from the grate.

“Yes, Remus come through.”

Remus stepped through the floo and vanished the ash and soot before stepping towards her. “I’ve just come to see if you are any further on with hunting those horcrux? Albus is sending me away again so I won’t be around for a while.”

“Is he?” she said.

“Yes, I’m not sure what for, or for how long. It was all rather vague, purposely so, I would imagine. Are you alright Minerva? You look rather drawn.”

“We destroyed the locket.”

“You did?” Remus interrupted. “But how? And when?”

“We received some help, the password and the location of the Chamber of Secrets.”

“You’ve been into the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Yes, we destroyed the locket, we’ve found the diadem. Severus was called this morning, he’s not back.”

“You think Tom might know what you did?”

“I don’t know, and if he does…”

“Well,” Remus said. “If you’ve got another one, there’s one way to ensure he doesn’t suspect Severus has anything to do with it.”

“What are you getting at?” Minerva asked sharply.

“If we destroy the diadem while Severus is with Tom, then Tom can’t suspect that Severus has anything to do with it.”

“Albus is in the castle.” Minerva pointed out.

“Ah. Well, can you still get into the Chamber? He doesn’t know where it is so he clearly has no monitoring charms on it.”

Minerva looked paler and slightly ill. “But if Tom realises while Severus is there…”

Remus nodded. “But if Severus is always absent when they are destroyed and he can tell, his story is going to look less credible.”

“It was awful.” She all but whispered.

“We’ll go together,” Remus said comfortingly. She stood and gathered the box containing the horcrux, the small box with the password charm, and one of the jars containing the fangs.

“We’ll need to be quick. We don’t want Albus to notice.”

They left her rooms and at a brisk walk travelled to the bathroom. Not messing about she activated the opening and dropped into the black hole. Remus followed closely behind. At the bottom she didn’t bother with a cleaning charm just strode forward to the rock fall. “There’s another door beyond this to the Chamber proper.”

Remus looked at the rock fall. “We can shore it up?”

“That’s what we did, yes.”

“Or we could stay here? “

Minerva looked torn. “No, best to be sure, and go into the Chamber proper, just in case.”

A wave of her wand and the rock formed the tunnel again and they stood in front of the door. It swung open at the sound of the charm and they stepped through into the Chamber. Light globes were sent to hover overhead and Remus looked around.

“Well you clearly don’t need to be Slytherin to get in here other than the parseltongue. So what now?”

Minerva unpacked her bag pulling on her dragon hide gloves and tossing a pair at Remus. She removed the diadem from the jar and placed it on the floor. Unscrewing the jar containing the fang she proffered it to him. “Do you want to?”

“Yes.” He answered. “What do I do?”

“We poured the reservoir of venom from inside the tooth onto the locket then Severus stabbed it afterwards.”

 Remus pulled the fang out looking at it. “It’s sharp enough to go through metal?”

“It seems to be. There’s a charm sealing both ends to keep the venom inside.”

Remus crouched down over the diadem, he whispered a finite and tipped the fang so the venom trickled out on to the diadem. Prepared as she was Minerva still flinched when it screamed. Remus toppled over backwards scrambling to get away from it, fang all but forgotten, falling to the floor.

“Merlin!” he swore. “You knew it would do that?”

“Yes,” Minerva said. “The locket did the same.”

“You could have warned me!”

“You wouldn’t have believed me, and how do you describe that?” she asked.

“I suppose your right.” He got to his feet and picked the fang back up, glancing over at the corpse. “Merlin that’s a big snake.”

“Mmm.” She agreed not looking over, wanting to be gone. “Stab it Remus, stab it so we can leave.”

He plunged the fang into the diadem, startled when it damaged the metal. Pulling it free he looked up at her. “Now what?”

“We’re keeping the horcrux.”  She slid it back into the jar. “As for the used fang, well you can keep it if you want I suppose. There might still be venom in it so you’ll have to be careful, and as you’ve just seen they are very sharp.”

“Hmm no, you can have it and put it back in its jar,” Remus said handing it over gingerly. “Deadly sharp fangs don’t really go with my decorating scheme. Go quite nicely in here though.” He looked around while Minerva packed everything back into jars and back into her bag.

“Come on,” she said leading the way. “Let’s get out of here before Albus notices.” 

They left the chamber, collapsed the rock fall again, and this time Minerva levitated them up the tunnel. Back in the bathroom a cleaning charm was cast over both of them and Remus followed her back to her room. They had a cup of tea sat by the fire waiting for Albus to announce himself and question where they had been. After an hour, when he hadn’t shown up, Remus made his excuses and left. Unable to sleep from the worry over Severus and the horror of destroying another soul piece, Minerva transformed and went to patrol the corridors. If she sat silent and sentinel in the corridors outside Severus' chamber until dawn broke over the castle no one saw her to speak of it. Severus didn’t return.

 It was after dinner of the second day that Severus returned. She had sat stoically through the meal, pushing her food around. She’d left as soon as she was able, transformed and found a dark corner where she could sit and watch, overlooked by the students that inhabited the dungeon. Curfew came and went, the sconces dimmed, and still she waited. Her reward was the scraping sound of tired feet making their way towards her. He got to his door and she shot out of the shadows and through his door before he had finished pushing it open.

“Minerva.” his voice was slightly slurred. She was up, arm round him, pulling him towards the sofa, flicking a wand to get the fire burning.

“Are you hurt?” she demanded curtly. All her anxiety coming through in the short tone. He peered at her owlishly.

“No,” he said as she pulled his robe off, summoning the fluffy dressing gown with excellent warming charms he'd kept. Her shoulders sagged visibly and she dropped into the seat next to him.

“Albus didn’t say you were gone. You didn’t turn up for dinner yesterday.”

“He wanted me to brew, he called just before breakfast. I’ve been brewing ever since. I’ve not slept or eaten but I’ve nothing important to report. He doesn’t seem to know.”

“He didn’t say anything?”

“No.” He replied, then looked at her suspiciously. “What have you done?”

She had the sense to look guilty. “We thought he might be punishing you, for destroying the last one. You’d been gone all day, and bloody Albus was being blasé about the whole thing.”

“Who is we?” he said with narrowed eyes.

“Remus came to say he was going to be away on some mission for Albus. We thought that if we destroyed the diadem whilst you were with him, he would believe that you knew nothing about it.”

“Minerva,” he said pulling a hand down his face. “Do you know how utterly asinine that sounds?”

“I’m sorry!” she said. “But I thought it might help your cover.” She twisted her hands in her lap.

He sighed, called for an elf asking for something to eat, glancing at her, he asked for enough for two. She demurred but he scowled at her. “I need to eat and I can hardly do so with you sat there. So you will sit there, eat with me, and tell me exactly what you have been doing since I left yesterday.” His tone was as imperious as it ever got with his students and it made her smile faintly. The food arrived, and she found the chicken broth soothed her frazzled nerves as she told him of the events in the castle.

A/N There is a bit of back and forth in the time line and I didn't want to confuse anyone, so the next chapters have had dates put in.

Chapter Text

17^th April 1997

Albus sat at his desk considering his options, he had spread the map of Europe out in front of him. He had of course travelled before he settled into teaching, the tour he had intended to take before his Mother’s death had been completed after Ariana’s, with nothing to tie him to the country he had taken himself away. Somehow, in the intervening years he had forgotten just how large Europe was.

Arthur couldn’t find the school Harry and Miss Granger had registered at. Due to the number that were simply refusing to cooperate he was no longer sure they would. There were a number of bureaucratic types that enjoyed the opportunity of refusing to help the ousted Supreme Mugwump. It hadn’t helped they had no official reason for trying to locate the pair. He could hardly explain that Harry was prophesied to end the war in Britain. Without an official reason, or some official paperwork to back up their request, they were running out of schools to contact that would help based on his previous position.  He hadn’t mentioned that Miss Granger was potentially short-sighted enough to have them complete a muggle education not a magical one, it would seed panic amongst the Order and would lead to despair.

 Miss Granger had set the war effort back years by her selfish actions and he sorely wished to take her to task about them. She had laid the blame at his feet of course, as if he could help the circumstances of her birth. If she hadn’t been so closely linked to Harry the Malfoys would never have offered for her, and she could have married some other wizard. She had gone from guiding help mate, capable of steering Harry where he needed to go; to liability as soon as the law had been drafted. Her actions in removing Harry from the safety of the castle and the protection of the blood wards had been criminal. He had no doubt that Voldemort would hunt them.

 Severus had reported that Voldemort was interested in Harry joining the Death Eaters. A preposterous idea of course, Harry would not join the organisation that killed his parents, he wouldn’t stand against the Weasley’s who had taken him in and shown him a proper wizarding family. Harry was a defender of the light. He had bested Voldemort, defended his friends, his animosity to Slytherin House would not be easily overcome.

Miss Granger on the other hand had nothing to lose and clearly it had driven her to desperate acts. He would have to find them and bring Harry back to the castle before he was exposed to any serious danger. Muggles were not suitable chaperones for Harry Potter.

Miss Granger would have to be allowed to return. He could perhaps, make Harry understand the wrong he had done and allow Miss Granger to return on the condition of Harry’s good behaviour. He would have to make clear there was nothing to be done in regards to the law. Severus would marry her as soon as it could be arranged. She would protest, he thought, but with her situation in life being what it was, she really could only expect him to do what was best for the war effort, her personal feelings would have to be put aside. If she ran away from Severus, he acknowledged that would put Severus in a precarious position with Voldemort. That could be used as leverage he supposed, it seemed unlikely she truly had any respect for the Potions Master, pretty things written in a letter didn’t make them true.

He could negate her effect on Harry, and once he was back in the fold he could make sure Harry knew the wrong he had perpetrated. Yes, Albus thought that would do nicely, it would fulfil Harry’s need to protect his friends and show that as a leader, he could be benevolent to those who had wronged him. It would be a good lesson for Harry to learn.

Of course this was only if he found them before Harry’s coming of age, after that Miss Granger would be free to persuade him to marry her. If that calamity was to befall his plans, then it would need careful negotiation. Harry with a young wife might be less inclined to take direct orders, less likely to undertake those tasks required for the greater good. That would be unfortunate, however, it would be possible he supposed that the situation might lend itself to the required sacrifice, if he could stop Miss Granger interfering further.

 Being a leader wasn’t easy, he wasn’t an evil overlord or a moustachioed villain, but he was a leader, he made the choices and laid out the plans. People he found, needed someone to lead them, they didn’t want to have to make decisions. Follow orders yes, make decisions that might be morally suspect? No.

Here in his office behind his desk, with generation after generation of Headmasters on hand to share their wisdom, and for a wit, not one of them could help him. None of those that went before had had to balance the running of the school with the suppression of a regime that threatened the Statute of Secrecy as much as Voldemort’s did.

Voldemort was allowing his Death Eaters to push the pureblood agenda, exclude the muggle born, and bring magic back into the hands of those with impeccable lineage. How they didn’t see his plans didn’t count those things as important was beyond him. Once he conquered Magical Britain did they think he would stop? The man tortured muggles for showmanship. If he controlled the magical might of Britain the muggles would be next. Once he declared open warfare on the muggles the Statute of Secrecy would be blown wide open. Wizards and witches around the world would suddenly be in danger because of one mad man’s actions.

He supposed that in the rush for grasping what they thought they had lost the supporters of Voldemort hadn’t considered the ramifications. Maybe they were also unhappy with hiding from what they perceived to be a less superior foe. They had forgotten that muggles were dangerous and organised, magic might not be enough against an organised resistance. Voldemort’s plans would lead them to extinction, total inhalation. It was possible, he allowed that one or two might be able to hide from the hunts the muggles would perpetrate against them, but it would be the end of magical society and it could not come to pass. He would not let it come to pass.

 He regarded his desk and map again, the feathers he had retrieved from the owlery had brought welcome results. He had cast the locating spell from the Granger’s home presuming that they would have sent the bird there before leaving on the supposed holiday. The tracking spell had led him to Switzerland. It had been a tedious long broom flight and the cold had been difficult to fend off with warming charms alone. The muggle village he had arrived in had shown no trace of the pair. Now he had a location, he had returned to Hogwarts by apparition to change into warmer clothes and gather some supplies. His flight to Spain had been longer, the weather had been less clement than he would have liked, and the apartment that the spell led him to was empty.

The journey from Switzerland to the location in Spain had taken over two days, pushing the broom and tracking spell to their absolute maximums. It had left him wobbly legged with exhaustion and he had had to rest an hour before feeling up to the apparition to Hogwarts.  Two weeks it had taken him to feel recovered enough, and to shift his workloads around to give himself a clear week in which to return to Spain and trace the next journey. Thankfully the journey had led back to Hogwarts and he had a clear idea of the movements of Harry and Miss Granger up until the point the owl had brought the letter to Minerva.

The return trip he had undertaken in April had been slightly puzzling. The spell had led him from Hogwarts back to the apartment as he expected, then it had fizzled and died for no reason he could fathom. Re casting the spell on the feather had brought the same response. Transfiguring his clothes to allow him to blend in more with the muggle neighbourhood, he’d walked round the outside of the building, examining it for clues to where they might have gone and how long ago. It had been nearly three months since the letter had arrived, it wasn’t inconceivable that they had returned to this previously safe house for a spell in the intervening months.

 The scrub land behind the house had a number of trees in it, a movement had caught his eye. A bright white object moving lazily across the floor in the gentle breeze. Not believing his luck he’d stood and climbed over the low wall to cross to the tree and snatch up the item. It was a bright white feather matching those that had brought him here. The owl had returned here recently.

Hurrying back to the apartment building he’d laid some monitoring wards around the building and property perimeter. If either one of them crossed it he would know and be able to apparate straight to them. He’d cast the tracking charm on the feather and grinned in genuine delight as the spell caused the feather to spin and point out a direction.

He’d had to cancel the spell and return to the castle. He’d asked Minerva to act in his stead and he was aware that she was growing more concerned over his health as he made these journeys. Also it was coming close to exam season and she would be unable to hold his position for him whilst overseeing the exams and her own duties.

 These were encouraging results however.  If the owl had returned it stood to reason they were using this as one of their bases. Just because they had registered at a school, it didn’t mean they would board nor did it mean they would reside in the same country as it.

If they wanted to make it as difficult as possible to find them then they would be better off registering at a school that took day students. Then travelling to it each day, thereby allowing them to move location every few weeks to throw off pursuers. Albus wondered if this was what Miss Granger was doing. Her parents could easily set up a home, allowing them to return for meals and such a safe place to complete homework, but allow the two students to live elsewhere.

It seemed elaborate, but it would he supposed, be seen as an adventure. They wouldn’t really be looking after themselves, just the illusion of doing so. The perfect school age adventure allowing them the comforts of home, a continuing education, and the opportunity to thumb their noses at authority. Albus sighed, were all young people this impetuous?

 The next night the wards alerted him that Remus had entered the castle. Curious as the man hadn’t come to him he found himself walking up to Gryffindor Tower. He saw no one on his walk and the Fat Lady reported that she hadn’t seen Remus, nor let him into the common room. Satisfied that Remus wasn’t pestering Mr Weasley for information, he made his way back to his rooms. At the juncture of the corridor which would lead him to Minerva’s rooms he hesitated. If Remus was in the castle anywhere he would be there. Severus was currently serving Voldemort and Minerva had seemed a little out of sorts at dinner.

Maybe he shouldn’t intrude, Minerva would wear the edges off Remus’ lingering anger at the delay in his being told of Harry absconding, he had fled to her rooms upon hearing the news the first time. Albus knew Minerva supported him fully, she’d never wavered from his side even when her cubs had been hurt, and she was a calming influence. No he wouldn’t intrude, he would likely only make the situation awkward. He returned to his rooms and his work, when the wards alerted him that Remus had left the grounds some hours later he smiled to himself. No doubt next time he saw Remus they would be on their way back to more friendly dealings.

He spent the next couple of weeks developing a new spell. He devoted is evenings to it holing himself up in his office. The tracking spell was all very well but when flying on a broom it was difficult to hold in place. What he wanted was a way to make the spell direct him from the front. With that in mind and the fact that he was tracking an owl feather he was trying to modify the spell so it would form into a silvery owl form, much like a patronus, made of a nimbus of light. This nimbus of light could then fly in front of him allowing him to follow, rather than fly whilst constantly checking the direction the spell was indicating. It would also allow him to guess when the owl had stopped to roost or to hunt, allowing time for himself to have a break. This he hoped would decrease the time it took to follow the owl to the various locations Harry and Miss Granger were using as accommodation. Once he found them all and his ward network was laid, he would be able to monitor them from the castle. So far the pair hadn’t returned to the apartment in Spain but this was not unexpected. Having no idea how many properties they would be using, he couldn’t guess how long they might take before cycling round to it again.

He also made the time to ask Severus for some potions. The dour man had at once doled out dire warnings about his failing health and the consequences of pushing himself. He’d smiled at the Potions Master and sent him on his way. Severus would produce the potions and they would be of excellent quality, it was one advantage to keeping the sour man around.

Albus knew Severus needed him alive and well to keep his level of protection from Voldemort in place. Without Albus he would be friendless and alone.  Once a Death Eater always a Death Eater. Severus had offered information and remorse, and desperate for a spy in the enemy’s camp Albus had made the deal. It didn’t mean that Severus had changed his spots. Just acknowledged they were only useful in the pursuit of information for his new master.

On the 18th of May he once again took his leave of the castle, apparating to the apartment in Spain in short hops. He didn’t want to wear himself out if the flight from Spain turned out to be a long one. He’d finished his spell but had yet to find a way to vary the speed whilst active. Currently he had it set to a steady 40mph mimicking the likely flight speed of the owl. He would test it and make adjustments as he went. If he felt the need to slow it down he could, if he felt the speed could be increased, well he’d just make faster progress. At the apartment he cast a disillusionment spell on himself then cast the tracking spell. He took a moment to admire the glowing form of the owl before he mounted his broom and followed it into the sky. 

12^th May 1997

 May was exam season and it set in for those on both continents. At Hogwarts, Severus and Minerva along with the rest of the staff, found themselves swept into the massive amount of work involved in getting seven years of students through their exams in one piece. For those students taking NEWT’s and OWL’s usually one student a year didn’t make it, sometimes more.

Minerva was on her evening rounds patrolling the corridors, her thoughts occupying her so that the students were given ample time to scramble to the safety of their common rooms. She was worried that Albus, who had not left the castle since the week he was missing in April, was plotting something. Or had he managed to pin the location of the Grangers down more precisely?

 She was aware that as summer approached and Mr Potter came of age the Order were becoming fractious about having him returned, and this had been taking up his time, but he had been squirreled away in his office more than normal.

She hoped he wouldn’t find them. She had, in helping destroy the two horcrux they had found, decided Albus was out of order exposing students to that level of Dark Magic. They had been able to destroy the two horcrux in a secret chamber protected by Merlin only knew what magic. The chamber was so well protected it had fallen into myth. Creepy yes, but a safe place to destroy soul pieces most certainly. Tom hadn’t noticed either being destroyed down there. Which begged the question where had Albus expected Mr Potter to destroy them? Surely anywhere that was less warded than Hogwarts and the Chamber of Secrets would enable Tom to notice, and an incensed Tom bearing down on you didn’t seem worth contemplating. The students would have been in immense danger.

She would very much prefer never to see Miss Granger and Mr Potter again if it meant sparing them from such ludicrous plans.

Albus had told her he would be leaving the castle for another seven days. Severus had confirmed he had been asked to brew several potions for him whilst on his trip. Vitality potions mostly, something to keep the tiredness at bay and the reflexes sharp. Severus had looked concerned as he explained that over use of the potions could induce exhaustion. Albus was still contending with the curse in his arm even if he didn’t notice it, or think about it. In his current state of health, he shouldn’t be over taxing himself never mind propping himself up with potions. Severus had confessed he’d tweaked them as much as he could to reduce the side effects and had cautioned Albus that sleep was the best way to ensure he didn’t over tax himself. From his expression Minerva gathered this advice had fallen on deaf ears. Was Albus so desperate to have Mr Potter back he would push himself that hard?

Yes, the Order would be happier if Mr Potter was back in Britain, the key members knew of the prophecy, and knew of the importance of Harry's role. But the Death Eaters had reported no more luck in tracking them down than Albus seemed to be having and Albus had been following the owl. Where ever he was he was clearly safe, the situation here was in no position to need his presence. What could he do but attend school and be a target for those who would harm him? The idea that Hogwarts was safer than where ever he currently was, was ludicrous, he had been in varying degrees of danger since he started his schooling.

 She paused at the large window on the fourth floor looking out over the grounds. She could see Hagrid’s hut, the light in the window shining out like a beacon in the night. Three weeks and the students would be gone, she would be gone. Back home to her house in Inverness amongst the hustle and bustle of the small magical community there. The eldest Weasley was to be married in August. It was all Molly could speak of when the Order business was done. The bride, a French girl, wasn’t good enough for her son, but he wouldn’t be swayed. The ceremony was to be held at the Burrow, Minerva was invited of course. As was Albus. She would go, she presumed Albus would too. Whilst the stalemate of escalating violence was still in effect there was little risk in attending. The Death Eaters wouldn’t openly attack Albus, he was still too powerful, to public a figure. Tom’s forces were not so large that he could risk the numbers, if he even had them, in such a public display.

She turned from the window and continued her rounds. Maybe she could persuade Severus to join her for a drink, or Septima if Severus was busy, she didn’t feel like being alone tonight.

Chapter Text

21^st April 1997

George was bent over the cauldron measuring out powdered horn when the caterwauling charm on the work room door sounded. Startled he dropped the powder and spoon into the cauldron.

“Fucking hell Fred that’s the third time today, it’s not bloody funny!” he yelled angrily as he cancelled the charm and tried to save the other cauldrons next to the one he’d just spoiled. The combination of powdered horn and silver spoon was causing the cauldron to boil and spit and he didn’t want it to get into the others. Deciding he couldn’t fix the spoiled potion, he vanished the mess and span to glower at his brother. The scowl melted off his face when he saw the culprit stood in the doorway.

“My apologies Mr Weasley, I wasn’t expecting my presence to be announced so …loudly.” Severus said

“Ahh umm. Yeah, we beefed up the wards, Bill put in something from the bank. It sets off a caterwauling charm if you try going through them disillusioned. Works pretty well to deter shoplifters as well,” he said. “Umm sorry, about yelling at you, Sir.”

Severus waved the apology off with a flick of his hand. “I have spoiled your brew. It behoves me to make amends.” He stripped off his outer cloak and frock coat sending them to hang on the coat rack and rolled his shirt sleeves up.

“Err, well, you don’t have to,” George said as his former potions Professor came further into the room tying back his hair, and then stood staring at him, waiting for instructions. George cleared his throat deciding that he’d go with the flow and ask Fred if he slipped him a hallucinogen later.

“Umm, it’s one of the wonder witch products,” George said. He rooted around his desk looking for the book with the recipes and instructions for brewing the potion and handed it over open at the correct page. “I don’t need it anymore.” he explained.

Severus nodded, he glanced down the list of ingredients and turned to the store room shelves gathering what he needed.

George turned back to his other cauldrons and went down the row checking that they had suffered no ill effects.

“What else are you brewing?” Severus asked as he sorted his ingredients and started to chop.

“These are all part of the Skiving Snack Boxes, nose bleed nougat and puking pastilles and their antidotes.” George answered pointing to the cauldrons. “They need to be made in their pairs and since they don’t react with each other, we can make them in bulk.” George moved back to his station, and put his measure of moonstone into his pestle and started grinding, watching Professor Snape as he brewed.

“They are quite ingenious,” Severus said concentrating on his work.

George felt his mouth drop open. “Ah, umm, thank you.”

Severus looked up, his eyes dancing in amusement. “I can admire your work whilst despairing of your ability to disrupt a class. Just because your brother and yourself had no need of the education offered, it was not true for everyone. And call me Severus,” he said in an offhand tone.

“Ah um yes, Sir, Severus. Err I’m George.” he managed to get out over his utter shock. He took his time to add the moonstone to the antidote cauldrons, giving them both the required anti clockwise stirs whilst regaining his composure. “I, uh, suppose we weren’t the easiest of students.”

Severus snorted. “Unlike Miss Granger who was happy to submit reams of parchment to prove her intelligence, you two took a more practical route.”

“We owe them both,” George said absently. “Harry gave us his Tri Wizard winnings to get us set up and Hermione made us work harder. Without either of them I’m not sure we’d have done as well, as fast.”

“Oh?”

George concentrating on his ingredient prep and mind still partly reeling from the shock of having Severus Snape brew in his lab, answered. “She gave us hell for testing on the first years. We had to become sneakier about it, but it made us work harder to make sure the products were safe before we did it. She would have skinned us alive had we accidently hurt anyone and then she’d have told Mum.”

“I can’t say that the wrath of Miss Granger would be more fearsome than your mother once roused.”

“Well,” George said mulling it over. “I don’t know, Hermione’s scary if you piss her off enough, ask Ron. She set a flock of birds on him. Mum shouts and she’s, well, Mum. No one has managed intimidation quite like yourself though.”

Severus snorted an amused laugh. “Its good preparation. Even the meekest first year is immune by the time they gleefully drop potions, and out in the real world no one seems as scary as the bat of the dungeons in high dudgeon.”

“Huh,” George said. “I hadn’t thought of it quite like that.”

“Few do, which is rather a good thing, or it would become less effective.”

“So you don’t really hate all Gryffindor’s? Especially Harry?” George asked, deciding to push his luck.

Severus shot him a look indicating he hadn’t been fooled. He continued with his stirring and George recognised that he was about to reach a natural break in the potion. When he did he laid the stirring rod down, set a timer to go off when the next stage needed to be completed and turned to face George, leaning back on the bench.

“Gryffindor’s are the most disruptive students in the school. It is a badge of honour to stand out within the house, to make a name for yourselves by attracting attention. The current hierarchy of the school affords these students a level of protection that others are not privy to. Despite the student’s collective opinion, I do take points and assign detentions fairly across the entire student body. The Gryffindor students are the ones more likely to be caught, to resent being caught and punished. And if they kick up enough fuss, they stand a chance of the punishment being over turned by higher authority.”

“Profess-, err, I mean Minerva, never overturned our punishments.” George protested.

“No, but Albus would for those in favour.”

“Oh,”

“As for Mr Potter, there is a history there that whilst not being his fault has unfortunately been dragged into his schooling. Albus’ interference, and his general lack lustre performance when he was capable of more and needed to do more.” He shrugged demonstratively.

“I suppose,” George said. “That if you’d not been an utter git you might have had to produce him much like Hermione.”

“That was a consideration, although I admit it was only a real possibility after the Dark Lord's resurrection. I am not a nice person, George, you would do well not to forget it.”

"I’m beginning to think that might not be true,” George said looking at him appraisingly.

Severus snorted and turned back to his brew. They worked in silence until the potion was on its last simmer some half an hour later. At which point Severus tidied the last bits from his station and retrieved his frock coat and cloak. Once donned, he pulled a small stack of books from his pocket and placed them carefully on the edge of the work table.

“These should be of some use with the project Miss Granger set you. They are my books however and as such I wish to have them back in the same condition. I apologise I have not had the opportunity to drop them off sooner, however these last two weeks has been …trying.”

George nodded, coming forward. “I will take care of them.”

Severus nodded and turned for the door.

“Sir, Severus,” George said. Severus stopped and turned back to face George, an eyebrow raised in question. George stuck his hand out. “It’s been a pleasure to brew with you.”

Severus looked him over once before reaching out and shaking the hand. He dropped it, turned again and was gone in a swirl of black wool. George slumped against the table and boggled at what had just happened, looking at the books he’d been left.

Fred’s head appeared round the door frame. “Has he gone?” he asked wide eyed. “Was he really here?”

“Yes,” George said. “Unless you gave yourself the same hallucinogen I thought you’d slipped me.”

“You, you shouted at Professor Snape! You’ve got balls brother! Great big brass ones!” Fred said in awe. “I heard the charm go off so I came to see, and you were yelling at Snape!”

“Severus,” George said smugly. Fred’s jaw dropped in a gratifying manner and George continued. “We had a chat while we brewed.”

“You… he… brewed? Bloody hell George! That was Snape!”

George laughed at his twins incoherent spluttering. “You’re confused! You weren’t in here brewing Skiving Snack Boxes with Severus Snape, Potions Master no less, and being told your work was ingenuous.” Fred’s jaw dropped even more, setting George off further. They both dropped on to the high stools and Fred gathered himself to say. “I think you better tell me everything. I cashed up while you were chatting, so we're done for the day.”

“I ruined the wonder witch batch I was brewing when the charm went off. I thought it was you, but when I turned round it wasn’t and of course I’d yelled by then. I apologised and he said he was going to make amends for spoiling the batch.” George pointed at the perfectly brewed cauldron simmering gently behind him. “We brewed, talked a bit about the stuff we got up to in school. How we started, how Harry and Hermione both helped.” George shrugged. “Nothing world shattering, barely even conversation but from him, it felt, well it felt different. Like maybe we’d stopped being irritating students and were worthy of his time now?  I don’t know, maybe it was just satisfying to have impressed him slightly?”

Fred leaned against the bench. “Yeah, he’s got a Mastery and we’ve not a NEWT between us. It is gratifying to know we managed to impress him, I think. So why did he come?”

George pointed at the stack of books. “Says they’re to help with the mirrors.”

“They are his books? As in he’s lent us his personal books?” Fred said looking at the books. “Does he need our first born?”

George grinned. “No, but he wants them back in the same condition they were lent in. I’ll keep them upstairs I think, away from accidents.”

“Did you hear back from Remus?”

“Yeah, he didn’t help make the mirrors and isn’t even certain that James and Sirius made them. He thinks they might have just been something James found in his house.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, well we can look through those and see if they help.” George said indicating the books.

“Right you are.” Fred agreed. “So shall we get some dinner before starting? We could nip to the Burrow and let Mum feed us.”

George checked the time. “Come on then, we’ll need to be quick, she hates it if we’re late.”

They left the potions cooling in their cauldrons and took Severus’ books up to the flat where they were carefully put on to the bookcase out of harm’s way. While he had been seemingly reasonable if not downright approachable while they had brewed. George decided that working on the idea Severus would be angrier than Hermione if his books were damaged, was probably a safe bet.

They flooed to the Burrow and enjoyed the brief coddling provided by their Mum. Stuffed and sent on their way with a parcel of food that would feed them for a week they returned to the flat.

George poured them each a drink and Fred selected two of the books Severus’ had brought over.

“You know,” Fred said later. “What we really need to do is get hold of Hermione’s reading list from the castle, that would at least give us a direction.”

“Might do.” George agreed. “But she had a collection all of her own didn’t she, and then there's whatever she found in Sirius’ library at the headquarters. If it’s a book she owned or read there, then that wouldn’t help. Though maybe it’s worth asking if we could see it.”

“Shame she couldn’t just give us the whole thing.”

“Too long, it would never have fit on the back of her letter. This way is more rewarding anyway. When we get it, we’ll have got it, and earnt it.” 

Fred got up and found some parchment and a quill and started making notes. “What have you found?” George asked interested.

“Arithmancy, here doesn’t this look familiar to you?”

George came over and looked at the text as it broke down a methodology. “Yeah, it does.” He agreed.

They worked on it until they were yawning too much to continue.

“Well it’s something,” George said as they made their way to bed.

“Yeah it is.” Fred agreed looking pleased. 

18^th May 1997

It was the same time that Albus Dumbledore admired his new spell and followed it into the sky, that two red haired inventors, stood next to each other in their work room, started whooping with excitement. Their enthusiasm lasted ten solid minutes and included whizz bangs being set off in celebration.

They had a pair of working communication mirrors sat on the table in front of them. They did not have a means to communicate with Harry and Hermione. Nonetheless the triumphant, successful completion of the coded notes she had left them had been a challenge and they basked in the feeling of success.

“We have so many questions to answer,” George said grinning from ear to ear.

“Yes, we do brother mine,” Fred said with a matching grin. “I’ve been thinking of a few things we could look at once we got these working. Harry broke his because it was like these, a piece of glass. We need a case for them, so I give you this!” He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small square compact and tossed it at George.

“Where did you get this?” George asked bemused.

“It’s Ginny’s,” Fred said.

George looked at him. “You nicked it from Ginny? She’s going to go mental when she finds out.”

Fred’s grin sharpened to something devilishly evil. “Well dear brother let’s make sure she doesn’t find out. Until the right time of course.”

George matched Fred’s grin and agreed. “So you think we should put them in these cases?”

“Well for the ladies and of course any gentlemen who want one. Loads of witches already carry them. They would offer a concealment and a protection for the mirror at the same time as functioning as a compact.”

“And for the gents?”

“I was thinking something along the lines of a watch face, or slipping it in a frame, so rather than a folding compact it would just be one half.”

“We could do both,” George said. “Some witches might prefer a watch to a compact. You don’t need pockets for a watch”

“True.” Fred agreed. “There’s one other thing. I know we can’t contact them at the moment but I don’t think that will last forever. Maybe when Harry comes of age they might come back or whatever. I think we should make them one. A big mirror to hang on the wall that connects to one here. That way if they don’t come back we can still talk to them and maybe Hermione can carry on helping us out. Or if she still fancies the job, she doesn’t have to come back if she doesn’t want to. She can use the mirror.”

“That Fred, is brilliant! We need to make it spectacular though, something that has all our pizzazz, something they see and think of us!”

“Well I had an idea about that too,” Fred said. “You know how they have gone muggle to hide, well how about having a muggle magic mirror! See I think she’d appreciate that, a nudge to what she’s achieved.”

“Muggles don’t have magic mirrors, they’re muggles,” George said confused.

“Yes they do! Alright they are in books for kids and stuff but they have them. Look I found this.” He held out a slim book.

“What’s that?”

“It’s Hermione’s. I found it when I was in Ginny’s room looking for her compact. It was under the bed and I was curious, it’s a collection of stories for kids. You know the type with some lesson to be learnt at the end, before the happily ever after. They have this story where this Queen talks to a mirror on the wall. It blows a bunch of hot air up her arse, until one day it doesn’t. She gets pissed off about it and orders her daughter, the princess killed. It’s not really a kids story if you ask me, but muggles, so who knows. But look there’s a picture of the mirror the Queen talks to.” Fred took the book and flipped through the pages until he found the picture. Handing the book back he thumped a finger down onto the page. “There, you see; we need to create Hermione that!”

“That is a big mirror Fred.”

“Yeah I know, but it will be amazing! Without the disembodied head floating in it though, that’s just weird.”

“OK it can go on the list. We need to get these mirrors out to the Order first and fill in the paperwork at the Ministry.” George said looking at the picture in the book. “Can I borrow this?”

“Sure, a little light reading before bed is very cultured of you.”

George tucked the book into his pocket and forgot about it as they drew up the list of ingredients and materials they needed to get enough working sets of the mirrors for the Order.

It wasn’t until he had gone to bed, he remembered Fred’s comment and fished the book from his robes and settled back to read. An hour later he stormed into Fred's room waking him in the process and threw the book at his head.

“Wha...?” Fred said as he came awake.

“You were pulling my leg weren’t you? Trying to get me to read it before I went to bed. That’s not funny Fred!”

“What?” Fred replied groggily. He looked down at the book that had clipped him and a dawning smirk of understanding grew on his face.

“You git!” George said seeing it. “Those aren’t kid’s stories! What kind of parent leaves their kids in the woods to be eaten by crones living in houses made of sweets? What self-respecting witch makes her house out of gingerbread anyway? And that Queen, the one with the mirror? What the hell? She wants her kid’s heart cut out and returned to her? Just because she’s not the prettiest anymore? And muggles tell their kids these stories? I’m not going to sleep for a week!”

Fred grinned. “It’s a kids book I’m telling you, look it even says so on the front.”

“Muggles are mental telling kids stories like that!” George grumbled. “You can keep that book to yourself, and budge over. If I’m not going to sleep because you made me read a muggle book you can damn well keep me company.”

A/N The timeline will now return to being linear again!

Chapter Text

24^th May 1997

He stood at the large window on the fourth floor looking out over the grounds, seeing nothing. The Dark Lord had called him tonight to discuss his summer plans. He was going into Europe not to hunt Potter, but for the solution to his wand problem. Whilst Potter had snapped his wand and presumably had a new one, the Dark Lord wanted the unbeatable wand. The wand where it wouldn’t matter who it was wielded against, it would over power them all. Severus thought too much torture had addled Ollivander’s brain and he was now spouting nonsense. He’d told the Dark Lord the story of the three brothers, substantiated it with tales of a wand that had bested others and the Dark Lord had swallowed it hook line and sinker.

Severus made a mental note to tweak the potions he was sneaking Ollivander when he visited next. It was, on one hand cruel to keep the man alive, and as healthy as possible whilst he was still subject to occasional torture, but by doing so it increased the chances of the wand smith surviving his ordeal. 

His meeting with Albus following his meeting with the Dark Lord, had been another of those meetings where he wondered how many times he would pay for his mistakes in life. Unconcerned of the consequences Albus had laid down the law for the coming months. Albus would not relinquish Severus to the Dark Lord in the summer as he would usually, in the weird time share they had somehow agreed without ever discussing it. Albus would be travelling over the summer and required Severus to brew for him should he need it. Severus had argued for leaving Poppy suitably supplied with potions but Albus had stood firm. Severus hoped that having not been commanded to follow the Dark Lord into Europe, he would not have to find a way out of it to satisfy Albus. If he was commanded, he would have to refuse, and refusing the Dark Lord made one’s life expectancy considerably shorter. 

He hadn’t known about the plan. The news, when it hit the papers, sent ripples of shock through the castle at breakfast as the student body and staff read the headlines. Mass outbreak was hard to cover up. Mass outbreak of loyal Death Eaters was never going to be covered up. The Daily Prophet made money, lots of money, out of their scaremongering and time had proven yet again that Azkaban wasn’t the Alcatraz of the wizarding world. Although he mused to himself it was hardly as if that prison had a clean sheet when it came to prisoner breakouts.

In four more days the school would be emptied of its student population, they would be loose and unprotected in a world full of mad men and women freshly released from hell. He hoped that the Dark Lord had a plan for the newly released Death Eaters, and he wasn’t going to leave them to run rampant.

On the last day of term, he got to find out. He was called after dinner; the students were gone, he was tidying his rooms, making lists of potions Poppy needed him to brew for her in the first couple of weeks as was his habit. It didn’t have to be done at the school, he could brew at Spinners End or in the Malfoy dungeon lab as he preferred, or was ordered.

Arriving at Malfoy Manor he walked quickly in to the room the Dark Lord was using as his Audience chamber. The room was a testament to how far the Malfoys had fallen. Narcissa was excellent at interior decorating, the manor was full of beautiful rooms richly appointed declaring superior taste and elegance. The room the Dark Lord had taken over had a number of stains on the carpets, stains that he wasn’t sure were just blood, and the elves hadn’t been able to clean out. The curtains were drawn but not against the night, just to enhance the gloomy mood of a large room lit by too few candles, Minerva’s words about creepy decorating floated back to him and he ruthlessly squashed them.

He knelt and bowed his head to the Dark Lord, sat upon his throne like chair. He was high enough up the rankings he no longer had to kiss his robes, but did have to wait to be dismissed. Draco, who followed behind was not so fortunate, he kissed the robes and scuttled away like a frightened crab. Retreating to the illusion of safety provided by his parents, while Severus re took his feet and stood waiting.

“Severus, tell me, what does your leader of the light have to say about the return of my followers?”

Oh good, a gloating session. Well, since the curses weren’t yet flying, he’d count it as a win, he thought. “The old man is suitably distressed I had been unable to warn him, thus prevent the loss of life incurred,” Severus said, his offhand tone carefully calculated. “He seemed to think your forces were of too great a number. That interfering with the outbreak would cause a loss of life to his Order that would cause its spirit to be broken. Especially when taken into account the current unknown status of their poster child Potter.”

“So his followers are doubting.”

Severus paused to think. “The Order currently believes that once Potter is of age, and marries the mudblood, he will return.”

“Do you believe that Severus? Do you believe that their chosen one will come back?”

“The boy left to protect his friend. The adventure he may have imagined has not come to pass. Boredom does not suit teenaged boys jumped up on their own importance.”  He shrugged, scorn dripping from his tone.

“I am to leave Britain for a time Severus. Information I have indicates that I need to spend some time in Europe. I am leaving you here to watch the fool Dumbledore. If the boy returns you are to tell me if he can be swayed from the fool’s side.”

“Yes my Lord.” He bowed his head in obedience. “Will my Lord be accompanied on this trip?”

“Do not fear Severus, I shall not be travelling alone. Bella and Lucius have agreed to accompany me.” He dismissed Severus who melted back into the crowd looking for Rudolphus. If Bella was going to be away whispering sweet nothings in the ear of the Dark Lord, it would leave only Rudolphus to deal with.

He found the man, and stood by him just as Voldemort changed the subject and he turned his attention back to him.

“…my followers it is time that one of our number step forth, and tell us of the plans they have laid for finding those that defied me.”

Draco came out of the crowds trembling slightly. Masks had been stripped off as they had entered the room and it was clear from Draco’s face he was uncomfortable being the centre of attention.

Severus tuned out again, whatever Draco was planning was not worth listening to. He tuned back in as the Dark Lord drew everyone’s attention, revealing who would accompany him. It fell to his uncles Rudolphus and Rabastan.

“A word if I may, later,” Severus said quietly. The man next to him shot him a questioning look but nodded, before stepping forward. He stood with his brother by Draco’s side. Severus thought that Draco might make it through at least alive. Granted Rabastan was a few screws loose and his brother the same, but they both held to the pureblood mores that family was family. Draco wouldn’t be hurt by their wands; they would leave it for the Dark Lord to meter out punishment.

The meeting dragged on, people reported on missions they had been sent on. The Dark Lord explained his plans for infiltration into Europe once the scourge of Britain had been dealt with. A group was to travel to Europe and find those receptive. The Dark Lord would attend one or two events if enough could be found, and new Death Eaters could be brought into the ranks from those meetings. A recruitment drive then, so sure as he was that the conflict in Britain was soon to be drawn to a close.

Once they were dismissed Rudolphus made his way back in Severus’ direction.

They exchanged a nod then Severus said. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

“The boy will fail; we are there to ensure his compliance, that’s all. Why do you think Lucius has been chosen for escort duty?”

“True enough.”

“What do you want Snape?”

“Our Lord has requested a number of potions to be brewed. Some of the ingredients, without being able to travel to Europe this summer, are difficult to bring into the country without official channels being made aware.”

“That’s why you wanted to go eh?”

“I do not entrust the collection of potion ingredients to others. I would end up with a pile of useless weeds.”

“So what do you want from me? You want Draco to collect them?”

“No, I believe that you still maintain your mother’s greenhouses and woods?”

“Yes.”

“Then, with your permission, some of the flora and fauna are growing there and I would be able to collect them myself.”

Rudolphus eyed him suspiciously for a long moment. Not finding whatever he was looking for he finally nodded. “Fine. I’ll have you added to the wards.”

“My thanks, I shall ensure the Dark Lord knows of your generosity.”

“I don’t need you making nice for me Snape.”

“No, indeed, but never the less.”

 They stood staring at each other for a long moment. Severus was trusted by the Dark Lord and in this organisation that made him a threat and vulnerable. Being in favour never lasted and those that would tear him down looked to elevate their position by doing so. Since he was in favour it limited the attempts to those who were brave or stupid enough to try, or those that knew their own position was sound. Rudolphus was such a man. His dedicated loyalty, spells in prison none withstanding kept him in favour. Neither man made any move to take it further, and they stood silently together before Rudolphus said. “You’ll be keeping an eye on Narcissa?”

“If our Lord asks it of me,” Severus said. Although he raised an eyebrow indicating his curiosity at the statement.

Rudolphus, face blank, replied. “Her husband away, her son travelling for the first time. A woman like Narcissa won’t do well without society.”

Severus said nothing for a moment taking in what Rudolphus said, examining it from every side trying to discern the meanings. “She is a loyal follower. Her family are serving the Dark Lord, it is an honour.”

“Yes, it is.” Rudolphus agreed. “But a woman as used to society as her, may find the transition to solitude difficult. Bella would be most distressed if she was to lose another sister.”

Severus nodded his agreement. “I will keep an eye on her. Lucius tells me it is wise to keep wives happy.”

He received a sharp look for that comment but his bland face seemed to reassure his companion that he had meant nothing more by it.

The social aspect of the meeting took a little longer. Severus was able to find out which Death Eaters would be in Europe over the summer. Those who wouldn’t, and out of those that would be away, he was able to gain permission to enter the property in search of potion ingredients where possible. It helped that most things could be turned into ingredients. Finding an excuse to gain entry for these reasons, backed by the Dark Lord’s want of potions, was enough to reduce the questions down to a minimum. By the time he apparated back to the castle his nerves were frayed and he wanted a hot, deep bath to wash away the grime.

His meeting with Albus was less than satisfactory. Supressing all the memories of the agreements to hunt potion ingredients, he spoke only of the Dark Lord’s plans and the imminent departure of Draco Malfoy. Rudolphus suggestion that Narcissa would bear watching was greeted with surprise then suspicion. Severus didn’t think it would matter, Narcissa would no more trust Albus to hold to his word than she probably expected the Dark Lord to.

The Sunday he spent rearranging his rooms at Hogwarts before travelling to his home. The house was unpleasant, dark and dingy. Having never had to live in it for very long and hating it far too much to think of improving it other than by burning it to the ground. He had left the property with only minimal repairs to keep it weather tight.  One day when this was all over he would burn it. When he had finally finished paying for his sins, he would celebrate by burning this miserable hovel to the ground. Then he would disappear from the world, somewhere warm, somewhere sunny.

Monday dawned and he left for Malfoy Manor, Draco had left the day before allowing him only one night in the bosom of his family. The Dark Lord and his entourage were leaving today and in a show of support he thought he would be there when they left. The Manor would be emptied of flunkies, Narcissa would be alone. He owed Lucius enough that he would at least keep her company for the day.

His company it turned out was not necessary, as soon as the Dark Lord apparated away with her husband, the other travellers were hot on their heels. Other flunkies had been politely told to leave. As the last one left he saw her shoulders drop for an instant before she put the steel back in her spine.

Severus watched as Narcissa claimed back her home. The house elves were assembled, they were given their orders and they jumped to it. The Manor was to be cleaned thoroughly, the stains in the carpets removed or the carpets themselves removed. Except the one in the audience chamber, if it couldn't be cleaned it would be stored until the Dark Lord returned. If he wanted it putting back it would be done.

Finally, she turned and gestured her head to a small sun room. The room was still untouched by the darkness that had come with the Dark Lord’s presence.

Narcissa poured the tea the elf had brought. “I understand you have some brewing projects for our Lord. Lucius bade me to offer the use of the space here for your needs. He would prefer that I was not left alone with our wards as compromised as they are.”

You mean every Tom, Dick and Harry can get in because the Dark Lord let them, he thought to himself. The only thing those wards were keeping out currently was rabbits from the kitchen gardens.

“If I can be of use, Narcissa.”

“I’ll have your usual suite made up.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I may not be available all the time however, the gathering of what I need –“

“Yes, yes.” She waved a hand. “I understand the Dark Lord's needs must be met.” She paused and looked at him. “Tell me Severus, will he find her?”

He looked at her and before he could say anything she waved her wand slightly, throwing up a privacy shield. “It is just us, two old school mates discussing their child and godson. Tell me Severus, will he find her?”

“Narcissa,” he said. “You know why he was sent.”

The tears pooling in her eyes fell. “He will kill him.” She whispered softly. “He’s my son, our only son. Was it not enough that Lucius had to go to that hell hole for the debacle at the Ministry? Now he plays courtier to the Dark Lord himself and my son has been sent on a fool’s errand to die.” She bent over making awful, wracking, sobbing noises and he felt only sympathy for her. Their battle to conceive Draco had been hard fought and only just won.

“He is with family Narcissa, he will not come to harm,” he said trying to comfort her.

She sat up and looked at him. “That’s not enough.”

“That’s all he has,” he said. “I have nothing I can tell you, no way of helping you. The Order is as in the dark as we are. If Potter comes out of hiding, then she will come with him.”

“That filthy mudblood will get my son killed!”

“He will get himself killed Narcissa,” Severus said bluntly. “If he’d kept his mouth shut instead of running it off, thinking Lucius would be able to bail him out each and every time, he wouldn’t be in this situation.”

She snapped her mouth shut over her doubtless angry retort and slumped. “Is there nothing?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “There’s not. I am sorry Narcissa.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and they drank their tea in awkward silence. His because he couldn’t help her, and as much as he thought his godson was a little shit who could do to learn a few truths about the world, this wasn’t the way. And her because she had let the masks slip and shown him her vulnerability. Once he’d finished his cup he stood. “I’ll return later; will dinner be at 7?”

“Oh, oh yes Severus. Have a good afternoon.”

He walked out of the room leaving the icy blonde sat primly in her chair, the weight of the world showing in the worry lines around her eyes.

 Britain was free of the Dark Lord at least for now and that alone was reason to celebrate. If he could find the horcrux and destroy it before the Dark Lord returned that would be another. As it was he had a list of brewing to get through and a relocation to the Manor to undertake.

When he returned to the castle he was told that Albus had left. Upon enquiry he discovered Minerva was still in the castle so made his way there.

“Severus!” she greeted him.

“Minerva, I’ve just come to inform you I will be residing at Malfoy Manor for the summer. If you need to contact me…”

“A Caesar cipher written in three shift?” she said a smile on her face.

“Maybe not so elaborate.”

“Very well, I shall send nothing incriminating. You will be able to find me here, should you need me.”

“Oh?” he enquired.

“Albus has seen fit, in an attempt to let me take over the ropes, to drop all the administration for the summer on to my lap whilst he goes haring off again.”

“I wasn’t aware there was much you didn’t already know how to do,” he said.

“That’s true, however this is the budgeting and dealing with the idiots at the Ministry. Whom think, because they work in government, they have the faintest idea of what it takes to run a school and put a curriculum together.”

“You will have lofty aspirations.” He pointed out.

“I have no aspirations for this I can assure you.”

“Keep the strongbox close.” He advised. “I have been granted permission to gather potion ingredients from a number of prominent Death Eaters houses whilst they are recruiting in Europe. If we are supremely lucky we might be able to knock another off the list.”

“Really Severus? That would be wonderful.”

“Well don’t get your hopes up, I might not be able to find it.”

They exchanged more small talk before he took his leave. In his rooms he Packed more into his bags, then going to Spinners End to collect everything he hadn’t unpacked, before returning to the Manor. He holed himself up in the lab brewing and plotting, only stopping when an elf came to fetch him for dinner.

Chapter Text

Exams were over and they had a summer stretching out before them. Hermione had made a list of projects she wanted to start working on. Things that would help the people they had left behind, and allow her to use her magic to experiment and discover. Something that she had been unable to do in England as an underage witch.

She wanted to get the rechargeable magic rings working. She thought the application of physics her mother suggested, converting the heat back into magical energy a brilliant one and she knew she could do it. She also wanted to find out what other spells she could tie onto jewellery that might come in handy. How much magic could she make accessible to her parents? Magic was a tool and she wanted them to be able to use it as much as possible. To share this unique thing she had been given.

Harry wanted to explore more strategy and tactics while they had the summer ahead. There were opportunities to learn more and he wanted to take them. He also wanted to ski, they had not managed any time away since earlier in the year and he had a burning itch to get back out on to the slopes.

Dobby had reported that Hedwig was doing well and had shown no inclination to come back with him. She had gone from Spain to Italy, then from Italy, had made a tour of the eastern bloc countries. She was currently heading up to Russia.

Their exam results would be returned by the middle of June just two weeks after the end of term. They had been surprised at how quickly they were turned around compared to Hogwarts, but it had meant that the post exam ski trip could be taken sooner if he had met the standard set by John and Helen.

The evening classes they had taken during term time would continue. Hermione was dropping her Animagus class as she had successfully completed her transformation. She had transformed in to a Margay and come home fizzing with excitement, desperate to show off. He had been impressed and it had made him seriously reconsider studying the subject. Once the war was finished, he promised himself, and followed Hermione to the park to watch her scramble amongst the trees that were the natural home for her kind. She was cute for an overgrown house cat he thought, at least she hadn’t turned in to a lion or something overly extravagant. She could sneak out in her form and not attract too much attention. It would be no use in a fight, but as a look out up a tree, her form might have uses, especially at night. 

Harry and John had been holed up in the house library the Wednesday of the second week of the summer holidays. They had agreed that the Wednesday afternoon chats would continue no matter that Hermione had finished her Animagus training. She had taken up another project and barricaded herself away so the time was still free.

Having reached a point in their discussion where they could go no further, they went to find Hermione. She was in the study room experimenting on more rings, the recharge feature was almost working and she had slipped into manic, frenetic work mode. It was reminiscent of her behaviour as exams drew closer, she had been holing herself away as soon as breakfast was done. Dobby took her lunch to her and she reappeared for dinner.

Harry and John entered the room after knocking and sat waiting for her to finish the notes she was writing. “How is it going?” John asked.

“I think I’ve got it. The last spell worked, but the rate of transfer was poor. It wasn’t worth the time to apply the spell. I’ve tweaked it and hopefully the next one will have a better transfer rate.”

“So you’ve basically finished?”

“Well. I wouldn’t say that.” She replied looking at her notes dubiously.

“No you probably wouldn’t, but if we asked you to start something else or give us a feasibility analysis on something else, you could do it?” John asked.

“Of course,” she said looking at both of them. Something in the way they sat tipped her off because she narrowed her eyes and stared harder. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“It’s not a case of like, love. It’s a case of tipping points.” John soothed.

“It’s an edge Hermione, and I think it’s an edge we might need. Only, it’s not something I have the skill to do, but you might.” Harry said.

“Harry.” She sighed. “Is this going to require Mum and an ethical and moral debate?”

“Probably,” John said. “But you might want to hear us out first.”

She waved her hand and Harry took it as his cue to start talking. “We were discussing how fear is used by Tom’s forces. They attack, cast Morsmordre and vanish. It’s not so much what has happened inside that effects everyone, but the learnt fear that has been associated with the spell.”

“Oh-kay,” she said slowly.

“The Order doesn’t have, or employ tactics like that. They show up and help the survivors, or are ambushed and call for help. Things happen to them because they are seen as a weaker force. Something to be pushed into the open and ambushed. The Death Eaters don’t fear the Order.”

“Mmhmm.” She agreed, waiting to see where this was going.

“In the game of fear, they are ahead of the field and its crippling the Order’s efforts. They are afraid of the enemy,” John said.

“OK.” She allowed. “So where do I come in?”

“We need to level the playing field. The Death Eaters don’t fear us, the farce at the Ministry demonstrated that. We need them to fear us.”

“So what? You want to cast a spell to incite fear? Because your target audience isn’t exactly a box of puppies.”

“That’s true, but we think we might have an answer.” Harry said.

“What?” she asked despite herself.

“Fire. People fear fire, it’s dangerous and unforgiving and difficult to control.” John joined in again.

“Yes, it is.” She agreed.

“We thought that if we could make small incendiaries, that would target clothes and burn them. Without any easy way of putting them out, the moments in which the target would try to do so would break the concentration of the target, thus giving time for the opposing side to disarm and capture them.”

“The fire is still fire Dad. Even elemental fire is fire, once It has fuel and air and heat it’s going to burn regardless. You can’t drop fire on to someone then tell it not to be, well, fire.”

“What if it only burnt for a certain amount of time?”

“It’s still fire. If you’ve got lots of layers on you’ll be alright, if not it’s going to burn you. If you put a limit on it people will notice, wear more clothes, and wait it out.”

“Not even your elemental magical fire?” Harry asked.

“Still fire.”

“Huh.” He said, thinking.

“Look, give me some parameters. What do you want to achieve? Distraction, incapacitation, death? All those things are possible. Do you want a spell you can wave your wand for, or an object you can use to activate the spell like the mirrors? Are you sure that other things wouldn’t be a better option? Why fire?” she asked reaching for some more paper.

“People fear it. We don’t have the opportunity to teach people to fear something else, so anything we do has to work within pre-established fears.”

She nodded in understanding and started making notes. “If you make a time delay before it goes out, then people will learn that, so that’s no good. You ideally don’t want anything fatal in case it jumps sides.”

They sat hashing out what they thought would be possible and what was practical. Setting limits and ideals out, filling out the idea of what they wanted to achieve. When they had finished, Hermione looked at her notes. “Well I’ve got some ideas of where to start.” She admitted. “But I’ve never done anything like this before, I can’t tell you I can do it or if it’s even possible.”

“Give it a try love, if you can’t do it we’ll think of something else. Or if you can do it but we can’t control it, we’ll go in a different direction.” John said.

Hermione nodded at him them went to the bookcase of spell books pulling a few out and placing them on her desk. “Alright give me a week or two and I’ll tell you what I think I can manage.”

“Thanks Hermione,” Harry said.

“Don’t thank me yet.” She said smiling. “This is all theory and research.” 

Two weeks later she found them both in their regular Wednesday night conference in the library, maps spread out in front of them as they studied some battle or other.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got an answer about the fire marbles you wanted.”

“Fire marbles?” Harry repeated, curious.

“Yeah, I ran a couple of feasibility trials and something the size of a large marble could hold about the right amount of the fire. It can’t be real fire though, I had a play with some elemental fire since I can actually stop that stuff, and, yeah, no. Real or magical fire is going to start a fire generally, which wasn’t your plan, so it’s going to have to be a spell I think. I suppose if I work at my elemental fire more I could use that. I could I suppose, build the fire marbles then get them working with elemental fire once I’m better at it.”

“No, no,” John said. “Tell us what you’ve come up with. Don’t worry about refining it, we don’t have anything yet.”

“Oh kay.” She nodded. “Well like I said, something the size of a marble to contain the spell. They aren’t heavy and you can carry a lot of them round. They’ll also roll if you need them to, small enough to go unnoticed, since I guess surprise is half the point. I’ve run some initial equations and the spell with the magic to power it can be stored together, and activated on breaking the casing. That way they are pretty inert in transport. One good toss should break the casing, though that will need some trials to work out what’s weak enough to break on impact and strong enough to travel. Maybe a brittle plastic or just another spell to convert the energy of the impact to breaking the casing. I don’t know.”

“What about the fire itself?” John asked genuinely interested in how far she’d taken it.

“Well again, I don’t think fire will work. So a spell to mimic fire, get it to produce flames that burn like fire, spread like fire, do everything fire does without being fire. There isn’t an existing spell because, well what’s the point? Why not have real fire?”

“What about your bluebell flames?” Harry put in.

“They don’t behave like real fire so much, since you can put them in a jar.” She said nodding in agreement. “But yeah, it’s going to be based on that spell. Since it’s a spell then water and smothering won’t harm it. I can use the same adaption the twins did to stop finite incantum from cancelling it.”

“So you think you can do it?” Harry asked.

“I think so, the creation and casing don’t seem so difficult. Controlling it is going to be the problem.  This spell, if I get it working. If I get it to do everything we talked about. It’s going to be scary,” she said. “Magical napalm scary.”

“That bad?” John asked. She nodded.

“But we need something,” Harry said plainly. “If we could win by being nice, I’d do that, but we can’t.”

She sighed and gathered the notes she’d read out as she talked through her research. “OK. Well I’ll give it a try and let you know.”

“Thanks Hermione,” Harry said hugging her. “You are brilliant; you know that don’t you?”

She hugged him back. “Mmmmm you may have mentioned it more than once. On an unrelated note it’s your birthday at the end of the month, thought of what you want to do? Mum was asking the other day.”

“Oh, well umm, I hadn’t really.”

“You’ll be turning 17, you’ll be an adult in the wizarding world. It’s a significant age,” John said. “We’d like to mark it with you.”

“Mrs Weasley would have thrown you a party if you were still there.” Hermione pointed out. “We could have one here.”

“Ummm well, yeah but.”

“Yes?” John enquired.

“Well I, could we that is, maybe not have a party and maybe do something different?”

“Different how?”

“Well I’ve never swum in the sea, and I’ve never been on a proper boat. Not a sail boat, although I’ve never been on one of those either, but like a yacht. Could we maybe hire one for a weekend somewhere sunny? If that’s not too much?”

“Well,” John said thinking. “We didn’t go skiing to celebrate your exam results, which I am sorry about and we hadn’t forgotten. But if you want, we could maybe look into this yacht thing, or at least a beach holiday somewhere warm.”

“That would be great!” Harry said grinning widely.

“Alright then,” John said. “I’ll talk to Helen tonight and we’ll let you know.”

Hermione smiled at Harry, gave him another quick hug, then left the two men in her life to their time together. She was fairly sure that along with everything they discussed about tactics, strategy and the like, there was a good amount of talk about everything else. Harry was more confident in himself. Less worried of causing upset at expressing an opinion that might not tally with those around him. The shadows of his life with the Dursley’s might never leave but at least they were having a lesser impact as he found his own feet. 

15^th July 1997

There comes a moment that is a tipping point. She presumed that everyone who invented anything from a lightbulb to a television to space flight to atom bombs found themselves at it. The point where you realised that all the failures had only brought you closer and now all the work was worth it. The solution was touching distance away, she could as they said, smell it.

She got up, tidied her desk and slipped downstairs. Dobby met her at the door his wide eyes worried.

“I won’t be long,” she said, shrugging her coat on making sure her glamour ring was secure on her finger. “I’ll be in the park. If I’m not back in an hour or so come and find me. If you can’t, wake Mum and Dad.”

The elf nodded and opened the door for her, she transformed and slipped out into the night. Being a nocturnal animagus had advantages.  She climbed the first tree on the street she came to. The trees in the street were mature, and their canopies meshed together, allowing her to traverse the length of the street to the park up out of the eye line of anyone who might be out. She ran down the trunk of the last tree, trotted across the open grass of the park and up the trunk of the first tree in the copse.  Up in the canopy on a thick branch she settled. She needed to think and she needed fewer human distractions whilst she did it.

The fire marbles as they had christened them were all but there.  She could she knew at this point still cry off. Tell her Dad and Harry that she couldn’t do it. If she went on further, then she’d get them working and probably within a week she’d have the first proper prototype. It wouldn’t be as controllable as the spec wanted, but that would be a matter of refinement. 

Could she do it? If the killing curse rendered your soul what did creating something like this do to it? Create a giant stain that would stay with her forever? Indicating to anyone who could see, and who exactly could anyway, that she was some sort of monster? That she had taken magic a gift she had been given, and twisted it. Twisted it the same ways the darkest wizards had done. Better in fact. If Morsmordre was scary, and it was just a cloud in the sky, what would enchanted magical spell fire that was programmed to burn away clothes and blister skin, be seen as?

It wasn’t fire, she’d found very early on that her initial trials and hypotheses proved correct. Even working with elemental fire rather than the regular stuff, fire couldn’t be controlled to the level they needed. If she made the fire marbles out of elemental fire she could control it, she could stop it and snuff it out. But while it was burning it was fire, it would behave as fire, it would spread out, it wouldn’t stop at blistering, it would carry on until its fuel source was gone.

The fire contained in her spell was a magical construct. It looked like fire, burned like fire, acted like fire, but it wasn’t fire. Which had made protecting it from the usual methods of putting fire out easier, because it wasn’t fire it couldn’t be extinguished like fire. If you cast a finite incantum on it much like with the whizz bangs it just got worse.

 She wondered if the twins would look at her the same way again. She had taken something they had invented for fun, for effect, and added it to her spell. A spell that was meant to scare, to frighten, to intimidate and to incapacitate. If she went on from this point, would she be able to look people in the eye? Would she be as bad as the Death Eaters they were fighting?

She stayed there on her branch letting her mind wander in the silver of moonlight. Her racing concerns started to slow and the tension in her shoulders finally started to ease, as she let the world move on without her for a while.

 She heard a rustle of grass, her ears perked up and she saw a figure walk towards the copse of trees. Unconcerned, as very few people would look up into the canopy for potential enemies, and it was night so human vision was all but of no use. She stayed where she was, a cat like curiosity running through her at whom might be out at this time and what they might be up to. The figure resolved into the shape of her mother who was looking around the trees.

“Mwrrrowl!” she called. Her Mum whipped round to the sound. She clicked something in her hand and the yellow light of a torch shone on the ground, then shone at the tree trunks. Hermione took the hint and came down from her branch. Once on the ground she transformed again and stood waiting as her Mum stepped forward.

“It’s a bit late for wandering, do you need a curfew?”

“No, I told Dobby and said he was to come get me in an hour. I wasn’t going to be long, I just needed to think.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Here?”

“Well home might be best. Up a tree might be safe for you, but I’m not that spry, and you can’t talk as a cat.”

She nodded her head, looping her arm through her mothers.

“So?” Helen encouraged.

“The fire marbles.”

“Oh, got them working?”

“Pretty much, I worked out the last problem with the spell. That’s when I came out here.”

“Ahhh.”

“Am I monster?”

“No.”

“But what they do. What they are capable of.”

“Nobody blames the guys who invented the atom bomb love.”

“That doesn’t help. I’m going to be using them as well.”

“True. Do you feel like a monster?”

There was a pause, and a very quiet, soft voice floated out of the darkness, straining Helen’s ears. “Yes.”

Helen sighed, this would explain why Hermione had been up a tree in the middle of the night. They climbed the stairs to the front door which opened for them, Dobby peering round it.

“Thanks, Dobby.” Hermione smiled softly at him. He nodded shyly at her and they made their way into the library shedding their coats which Dobby whipped away. They settled on to the small sofa in the library, knees touching as they faced each other. Dobby reappeared with mugs of hot chocolate. “Thank you Dobby,” Helen said and he quietly left the room.

“They need refinement,” Hermione said. “To make sure the burn time is correct. It’s not going to be correctable for clothing layers so it’s going to have to burn hot enough to get through many clothing layers which means for those wearing fewer…”

“Are you planning on registering a patent on them? Selling the rights so they can be used by others?”

“God no!” Hermione said her eyes wide.

“Then you are designing them for a particular purpose, to fight the Death Eaters. The people who think killing children is acceptable. Who, if they win the war if they take over will treat people as badly as the Nazis did?”

“I know and it’s helped keep me going, but this is different. If I go back up there and finish it, commit that last bit then I’m one of them.”

“You won’t be,” Helen said. “Do you think the Death Eaters are up at night worrying about being monsters?”

“I’m trying to hold myself to a higher standard than Bellatrix, Mum.”

“I know, and you do, and so do we but you know this war isn’t going to be won by nonviolent means. You’ve fought these people before.”

“I don’t want to be a monster. I don’t want people to look at me and wonder what else I could create, because I could Mum. Fire marbles that don’t stop, that burn everything they touch to a crisp is a lot easier. I burned a shed down with one marble Mum, and that was the first one I ever made. If it had been a bigger building it would have burned just as easily. The fire brigade turned up! They think I’m some fire starting delinquent. This is a weapon and in the wrong hands its annihilation.”

“So are guns.”

“What...?”

“We live in America; people have guns openly on the streets. Concealed about their persons, in draws in their kitchens, and any number of places. Give a gun to the wrong person and you have a massacre.  No one is saying that everyone who owns a gun is a monster, or that they should never have been invented. You can hold yourself responsible for creating the fire marbles because you did. It would possibly need someone with your unique set of circumstances to do so. You can hold yourself responsible for how you use them because it’s an act of free will to use them. But you can’t hold yourself responsible for how anyone else uses them. How Harry would use them for instance. That’s not something you can control. You can control who you give them to but after that, you have to take it on trust that they are going to use them in the same way you want them used. Everything else is up to them.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“What you think is right.”

“What if I don’t know what that is?”

“I can’t tell you, I can only give you my opinion. Not because I don’t want the responsibility of making the decision for you, but because it is your decision to make. But know this,” she said pulling her into her arms, burying her face in the riotous curls. “Whatever you decide, whatever you do, we’ll stand with you and give you every support we can. If you continue with them or not.”

“I don’t want my friends to get hurt or die and if these can help.”

“Your friends will get hurt and die whatever you do love, it’s a war, it’s a fight. Those are the outcomes of both. You might be able to offer them an advantage they don’t have, but nothing you can do will stop the risks of injury or death.”

“I’m afraid.”

“I know,” Helen said. “So am I.”

They stayed there, Helens arms wrapped round her daughter, face in her curls. Neither of them mentioned the tears each could feel fall and when Dobby fetched a blanket neither of them acknowledged him. It was only when John came down to find them an hour later they stirred from the sofa.

“Bed,” Helen said.

“Yes Mum.” Hermione hugged her for another long moment. “Thanks.” She whispered before walking into her Dad’s arms hugging him, then ghosting up the stairs to bed.

“Problem?” John asked sleepily.

“Maybe not anymore.”

“Oh?”

They followed Hermione's path and into their own bed. Helen turned to him, burrowing under the covers to get warm again. “How do you tell her she’s not a monster for creating a weapon that scares you?”

“They’re working?”

“She says she fixed the last of the spells and they will if she goes forward.”

John pulled her to him, holding her. “I shouldn’t have asked her to do it.”

“It was theoretical; you couldn’t know she’d make it work.”

“No? When has Hermione ever let something stop her? I knew she’d do it. I just didn’t realise what it would cost her and now it’s too late. She’s not the only one who thinks they are a monster. I’m her Dad, I’m supposed to keep her safe not have her inventing weapons.”

“You are keeping her safe by showing her how to keep herself safe. It’s a magical war John. How much help could we really be?”

“Have I helped? She was up a tree wasn’t she? How is that helping her? Making her question herself like that?”

“I know and I’m as complicit as you. I never told her not to either. How could I when it might keep them both alive?”

They held each other in silent contemplation before sleep finally claimed them both. Further down the hall snuggled in to Harry’s side, Hermione settled down to sleep. Harry half waking from her lower body temperature, rolled over to face her. He threw an arm over her waist, dragging her sleepily into the shelter of his body. Feeling unaccountably comforted she snuggled into him and drifted off.

Chapter Text

It was the day after Harry found her in the study room. He took her pen away from her, span her chair to face him and tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. "You didn't tell me, you didn't wake me. Why not? Why am I the last one to find out and not because you told me?"

"I didn't want you to think less of me." Her voice was small and it made him feel no better.

"Why would I? Why would I think less of you because you are smart enough to make something I can think up but have no real clue if it's possible or not." He asked confused.

"Because, they are singularly awful?"

"They were my idea. Does that mean that I'm awful? No one else wanted these made but me. The Order don't use anything like it and until I came up with the idea you'd not thought of it. So why are you more awful than me? I thought we were a team?"

"We are! But ideas have never hurt anybody. Actions, turning ideas into reality hurt people. I did that. Not you."

"You've not hurt anyone and you're not a monster," he said firmly.

"Is there anything Mum didn't tell you?" she replied looking shamefaced.

"Not really, I don't think she thought you'd kept it from me. I don't want you to keep stuff like this from me. It makes me feel like you don't trust me to be there for you. I'm here."

She shrugged one shoulder. "It's a bit like when everyone found out you were a parselmouth. I didn't want everyone to look at me in suspicion and fear."

"It's me Hermione! If you can cope with the supposed heir of Slytherin, I can cope with the witch who might turn the tide of the war. It would be more than I've done."

"Fighting Tom for the last five years no longer counts?" she asked.

"I had help. You. You took something, an idea, a concept and made it. It's amazing, Hermione. You can be proud of that."

"Couldn't it have been something better?" she asked sadly. "Something that brought joy and happiness?"

"Maybe next time it will be. Maybe you'll cure cancer."

"Do magical people get cancer?"

"I don't know, I don't really know that many magical people. Anyway you're changing the subject, just because you made them doesn't mean it's the only thing you'll make. You made the glamour rings."

"I'm sorry. That I didn't tell you." she said reaching for his hand. "I'm not sure how I feel about them."

He pulled her into a hug. "Tell me next time. Wake me. Let me come with you I'll even climb the tree as well."

John and Helen came into the study room at the end of the week, grinning and clutching on to each other. Harry noticed them and threw a small ball of paper at Hermione to get her attention. It landed next to the other ten he'd flicked at her over the last hour. She'd been deeply engrossed in her spells, scribbling notes, muttering to herself and flicking through the reference books piled five deep on her desk. Not one of his balls had broken her concentration and he'd given it up. This one didn't break it either, so he pulled himself to his feet, walked round to her side of the desks and nudged her hard enough for her to move sideways half a foot. Her pen skidded across her equation causing her head to shoot up, a scowl on her features. The scowl melted away at the sight of her parents.

"Oh, err how long was I…?"

"About an hour, but John and Helen have only just arrived." Harry supplied.

"Oh." she replied faintly. "So umm how can I help?"

"What are you doing the last week of July and the first week of August? Anything that can't be pushed back?"

"Next week?"

"Err no, nothing" They both answered at once.

"Well as Harry is coming of age, and we never really celebrated your 17th Hermione, we've booked a holiday. It's a week sailing and a week in a beach house. Do you think you could arrange a portkey? It's quicker than flying, and we were thinking Dobby could come. Well maybe not sailing, since the boat needs a skipper but certainly to the beach house, it's secluded." Helen said beaming in excitement.

"Really?" Harry said. "Where?"

"The Bahamas!" Helen said still grinning. "We've never been either, the flights from England were so long, but since we're here and we don't have to fly. The beach house belongs to one of the partners at the practice. He said we could borrow it for a week, he never goes to it that time of year as it's too hot. But you can do cooling charms can't you? I think we could all do with a break." Her eyes slid over Hermione buried in her research and spells.

"Yes!" Hermione said. "I'll contact the transport office and organise a portkey. We're really going to the Bahamas? That's amazing! I've got a book here about magical plants that are found in the tropics, do you think we could collect some?"

Helen, John and Harry exchanged a look of fondness at her enthusiasm.

"Yes," John said. "I'm sure once you've finished sunbathing, reading the thirty books you'll no doubt take, snorkelling, and swimming we can collect your magical weeds."

The first week sailing round the islands was a week of swimming, snorkelling and exploring. Lazing in the sun while the skipper took over the controls. The catamaran easily held them all and the deck areas allowed them to lounge, basking in the sun relaxing.

Hermione did spend some time collecting the plants in her books she thought might be helpful in a number of potions. Harry and Helen agreed to help out, John decided he'd give piloting the boat ago while they were all a shore.

There was a determined effort to distract Hermione carried out by all of them. Harry felt guilty he hadn't considered properly what he was asking her to make. He was now thinking he'd have to find a meaningful way to make it up to her. John ad Helen were also in on it, making sure she was happy and not dwelling on her concerns overly much.

It was over all too soon, and it was with reluctance that they left the boat and went to the house on the beach. The house on the beach did not disappoint. Giving them a private section of beach to themselves which the outdoor deck led straight out on to, they felt like they had their own island paradise.

The first night there Hermione was drawn out on to the beach to watch the sun set. It was beautiful and she sat there soaking it up. Harry and her parents were lingering at the dinner table chatting about possible activities they could experience while here.

Dressed in her bikini and sarong, with a shirt over her arm for when it got cooler later, if it actually did, she sat on the beach out of the reach of the surf and stared up at the sky. It was vast and with a lack of light pollution the stars shone brighter than she had ever seen them. She marked out the constellations and simply sat watching, the surf providing a soft whooshing company.

Harry came out half an hour later. He crouched behind her then sat down, placing his legs on the outside of hers, pulling her against him, wrapping his arms around her.

"Have I ever told you how amazing your parents are, and how amazing I find it that they have accepted me and us?"

"Well no, but you might want to tell them that."

"I have." He assured her. He looked up at the stars with her, watching the night sky waiting for a shooting star. It didn't happen but he kept an eye out just in case, the night had that sort of feeling about it.

"Umm." He rested his chin on her shoulders wrapping his arms around her tighter, staring out into the blackness in front of them, unable to tell where night sky met sea.

"Hmmm?" she queried softly, not wanting to break the gentle quiet.

"Do you want to get married?"

A long breath escaped her and she squeezed his hands. "When I was a little girl I didn't really have a princess stage. I read the books of course, and thought about it. What it might be like, having the big wedding, huge dress, massive cake, and all those people. Then I realised I would never have that. My family isn't large, there's just my parents, maybe an odd cousin we haven't spoken to properly for years. Especially after we found out I was a witch. I don't have friends, not enough to fill a church or even a registry office. I would hate the dress, the attention, the crowds. Cake might not be too bad though." Harry huffed a quiet laugh into her ear. "I do love you," she said quietly. "More than I ever thought I could."

"Then what's stopping you having a small ceremony on a tropical beach with just your parents?"

She sighed again. "What do you want to do when you grow up Harry? Do you want to become an Auror? An inventor? A quidditch player? A solicitor?"

"I don't know." He admitted. "An Auror, maybe. Depends on how the war goes, if it's over by then, if…" He stopped and she filled in the rest not needing him to say it.

"If you survive it."

"Yeah."

"I'm not getting married because some stupid law says so. A law that no longer has hold over me. I'm not getting married because we love each other and this is the earliest opportunity to do so, now you are of age today. I don't want to get married before I've finished school, or started a career, or lived in a house that I pay for. I don't want to be a child bride."

"You're hardly a child." He protested.

"We are!" she responded. "Both of us. What have we seen of the world Harry? Out there where real life is, where mortgages and water bills and council tax need to be paid? Of the day to day drudgery of a job that isn't what you want it to be. The disappointment of not getting the job, the thrill of getting the promotion. What do we know of that? I want to live! I want to experience it all, I want to bring that to my marriage and make it better for it."

"You know we'll never worry about a mortgage, or council tax, or water bills. I'm loaded, remember?" he said the smile coming through in his voice.

"Pfft." She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

"OK I get it. We've got a war in front of us, we are wholly inexperienced in living as adults and apparently fighting a monster every year, for the last five, doesn't count in your book."

"I thought before all this, that I would get a job out of school. Maybe take muggle night classes in things I've missed, or maybe get an apprenticeship in Arithmancy or Ancient Runes. Do some spell creation, lobby the Ministry for better rights of the magical races, visit my parents at the weekends. Then we got together, and I suppose I forgot about the future in the immediacy of getting you through the contest, and then through everything with Sirius. Then this happened," she said, trying to explain.

"We don't need to get married now." He soothed her. "I just wanted to know that you wanted to eventually, and let you know that I wanted to. Although if I don't make it then us being married will ensure you're looked after, you'd get everything."

"That's a shit reason Harry," she said appalled.

"Yeah I know, still true though," he said quietly.

"Then no, if that's the reason fuelling this."

"It's not, it's just something to consider."

"Then write a will! Don't put it in your proposal! Christ Harry!"

"Who said I was proposing?" he said hugging her to him.

"You aren't? Then what's all this?" She squirmed in his arms, trying to turn around.

"Finding out what you want, and maybe helping me work out what I want. Hold still woman!"

She stilled her squirming, relaxing back into his arms rather than trying to wiggle away from him.

"I'm not proposing yet." He continued. "If the law hadn't happened, then I, then I would have asked you to get engaged after graduation. I suppose the final battle, war, whatever with Tom would have happened and after that I don't know. I've never really thought past it."

"It's hard." Hermione agreed.

"Yeah, it is just looming out there at me, and it's like a mountain. The closer you get to it, the harder it is to see round it even though you know you can. I guess I thought we would, well I don't know, live? I'd get a job; you'd have a job. We'd go to the Burrow for Sunday dinner."

She snorted. "Not likely, or at least I don't think I'd be invited. Not if Mrs Weasley had anything to say about it. Jilted Ron and ruined Ginny's prospects all in one move."

"Oh yeah, there's that. About Ron."

"Oh don't!" she protested. "You know there's never been anything there."

"He might think differently."

"You mean when he remembers I'm a girl not just a walking homework helper?"

"You were never just a homework helper."

"Not to you."

"Mmm. She'd get over it eventually."

"Mrs Weasley has a pretty low opinion of me. I'm not sure I need that in my life, you know. Only being treated with kindness until she perceives some slight against her. Fred and George and Ginny I'd like to be friends with, and Ron, if we can make up without him being a total prat. I don't want to live with them though."

"No, they are a bit full on. It was great to be wanted. To be part of a family when I had a crap home life, but they were only there when they had permission. No one came except you during the summers."

She leaned back a bit more firmly on him and tilted her head to press kisses to his jaw, conveying comfort. They sat quietly for a time letting the silence grow between them, listening to the surf wash on the beach in front of them.

"I feel small," she said. "Look up there, the universe is immense. What can I do that would make any impact on that?"

He held her a bit tighter, burying his nose in her hair. Burrowing for the skin of her neck, the tender spot under her ear that made her shiver and keen for him when they were in bed together. It made her shiver now, her hands tightening on his arms.

She huffed a quiet laugh. "We're not having sex on the beach. The sand would get everywhere! Also, you know my parents can see us."

"There's a charm for the sand I'm sure." He said nuzzling her again.

"And Mum and Dad?"

"Well OK, you've got me there."

She laughed.

"Tell me something true," he said against her neck, fingers stroking over her sides. She sighed contentedly and settled against him again, tipping her head back on to his shoulder staring into the darkness of the universe.

"I'm afraid of what any end game is going to do to me. We're going to go into the fight armed with the fire marbles and the knowledge of how to fight back. The fight is going to be lethal and there's going to be a point where I'm going to have to kill someone. It might be me or them, or them or someone else, but I'm going to have to kill them. I'm not sure if I can, and if I do, what that will do to me?"

"I know how you feel, I have to kill Tom," he said. "It's easy on one hand because, well, he's evil and he needs to die. Then there's the prophecy, but then, it's all so much bullshit isn't it. I have to kill him? Why me? If his horcruxes have been destroyed, then can't anyone kill him? Walk out in front of traffic? Trip, and fall down the stairs. Why me specifically and what if I can't? What if I can't be a killer? What happens then? Do I have to die? And before we even get to Tom there will be all the people stood between him and me. And the people who will be after you and our friends. How many people will I need to kill to make those I love safe?"

"What did Dad say?" she asked softly, knowing they would have talked it through.

"That he'd rather I left a trail of dead people a mile long behind me, than have to bury either of us."

"Helpful and hyperbolic."

"Good word use." he complimented her, smiling into her neck.

"Shh you."

"He's right I suppose. I can't think of burying you. I can't imagine it, and I don't want to. So I suppose I'm going to have to make sure I don't have to. If that means that's what it takes, how can I do anything less?"

She sat thinking that one over for a few minutes. "I don't know if that's enough, to make it OK"

"Is there an answer that would? Without skipping down the sociopath route?"

"I suppose not." She paused, quiet for a moment then said. "Tell me something true."

"I want the kind of marriage your parents have. I've no idea about how it's meant to work, or if theirs is a good one. But I figure if they can cope with having a magical daughter who has poor taste in men, and will up sticks and leave the country to keep them both safe, then it's got to be pretty good. Pretty strong, and that's what I want."

"There's nothing stopping you having that," she said.

"Well you won't let me propose, and you want to wait till you're 30 or something to get married, so actually," he said smiling.

"Idiot, you know what I meant."

"I did. Tell me something true."

"I like holidays in the Bahamas."

He snorted at her irreverence.

"It's true!" she protested. "It fits within the parameters. Tell me something true."

"I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry we left. I'm not sorry I'm not there to be used as a pawn. I'm not sorry I made the choice I did. I'd make the same one again if I was asked to."

They again lapsed into silence. Harry wrapped round Hermione, the surf washing in on the beach, the stars above them shining. He felt Hermione relax more into his arms and peered at her to see if she'd fallen asleep. She hadn't but her eyes were at half-mast, he squeezed her gently.

"I can feel it," she said softly, whispering.

"Feel what?" he replied just as softly.

"The magic."

He raised an eyebrow wonderingly as she came back to herself to snort at him. Twisting in the space between his legs to face him. "Not that, honestly! Do you remember how to perform legilimency?"

"No," he said not understanding. "The casting yes, but I've no real understanding of the spell."

"Cast it on me. Don't worry."

"Hermione," he said.

"Do it." She insisted, pushing his wand into his hand.

Deeply misgiving he held his wand to her temple and cast the spell. "Legilimency." He felt the rushing falling feeling before he stopped seemingly hovering.

"Ohh, this is odd." She commented internally.

"You know I can hear you right?" he asked.

"Yes, I read about it." The humour and warmth enveloped him. He hadn't really understood what the spell did when Snape had cast it on him. Here, wrapped in Hermione's consciousness, he could understand why it had been so important for him to learn to protect himself. He could feel her. The way the sand felt between her toes, the breeze tugging at her hair, her happiness, her love for him.

"Harry," she said, her amusement flowed over him. "You were wandering."

"Why am I here?" he asked.

"Oh well, because I can feel the magic and you can't, so I thought I'd show you."

"You can do that?"

"We can do this, and you can feel me can't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"Well then hang on, just don't go wandering for a moment its distracting."

He stayed still or at least tried not to do anything that would distract her. He felt her concentration and magic rise around him and he held his breath, or whatever passed for his breath in her head. Then he felt something, something new and different and totally alien, and yet, within the safety of Hermione's consciousness something he didn't have to fear. Hermione knew this feeling.

"It's the earth," she said to him. "This is what earth magic feels like."

He concentrated on the feeling she was sharing. He hadn't ever grasped the elemental magic and as he understood it Hermione was a beginner. She could feel it and do small things with it. Raising mountains and summoning gales were out of her reach at the moment, and she'd laughingly told him that it might be out of her reach for a long time to come, depending on how proficient she became at it. It felt alien, like it was alive, thrumming at an incredibly slow rate but constant. He felt her concentration shift and a lightness filled her, it reminded him of flying.

"Air," she said, and he realised she'd heard his thought. She sent a pulse of her magic out to connect with the air and he felt the whoosh of a warm breeze rush past him ruffling their hair at the same time. He smiled, unable not to at her joy of the working and she dropped the connection to connect to the next.

"Water." She whispered to him and again he could feel the heavy slow steadiness that felt different to how earth had. Hermione concentrated a bit more and he could feel the way the water washed up on the beach and retreated. The movement of the water was part of the magic he could feel.

"I didn't know it was like this," he said.

"I know but wait." She shifted her focus more outward, no longer concentrating on the water in front of them, but on the environment as a whole. She breathed slowly, deeply, and he breathed with her. Waiting for whatever she would show him next. He stopped breathing when he realised that Hermione could feel all the elemental magic as she was sat on the beach in his arms. He could feel through her, the connection each had to the other, and how here on the coast where the sea washed up over the land with the breeze blowing, how the three worked together sliding over each other. Then she sent a spark spiralling into the air and he felt the fourth element come to life. Casting a small ball of enchanted elemental flame, she let him feel how they were wound together. The earth, the water, the air, and fire in balance.

"I didn't know"

"No, unless you can feel it." She shrugged at him then reluctantly pushed him from her mind. The push broke the spell and they both took a moment.

"Wow that's tiring," she said.

"Yeah, though I don't have a headache." he agreed.

"Well you weren't fighting me were you."

"No."

She yawned and he stood, pulling her to her feet, vanishing the sand that stuck to them both.

"Come on, bed. We can star gaze tomorrow as well, we're here a week."

They walked to the house, up on to the deck that wrapped round the single storey bungalow and wished John and Helen a good night.

The next day was spent lazing on the beach, building sand castles with and without magical help. Sunbathing was broken by lazy swims and island exploration. Dobby happily took care of their wants in regards to food, somehow finding a magical community where he could shop for them.

The night was once again spent out on the beach until they retreated back to the house and to bed.

The next day as the sun started its climb in to the blue, Hermione dropped onto a towel next to her mother who was reading under the shade of an umbrella.

"Mum." She started.

"Hmmm?" Helen said looking up from her book. Catching something in Hermione's face she slipped her book marker in place and put the book down. She picked up the fruity cocktail drink Dobby had made her. She hadn't asked what was in it, but they were excellent, and Dobby seemed gleefully happy to bring them to her. Dobby had never been to a beach house or see the sea, and she had an idea when he wasn't busily humming in the kitchen he was out doing his own exploring. He had declared himself delighted to be included and she was happy enough that he was actually having a holiday so left him get on with whatever he felt like doing.

"When did you know you wanted to be a dentist?"

Helen blinked. That wasn't where she thought this was going to go. "Umm, I don't know. I guess when I started in medical school, and had to pick a specialty dentistry just appealed. It's a lot less complicated than some branches of medicine and it offers more immediate results. You can have a patient in your chair with rotten toothache and have it fixed in under an hour. Their life instantly better. Why? What's got you asking?"

"I don't know what I want to do with my life!" she said throwing her hands up frustrated.

"Umm OK, not to sound like your mother but, you haven't finished school yet. Why do you think you need to know?"

"Because!" Hermione said.

"Because….?" Helen echoed still none the wiser.

"Because I do! I need a plan, and there is this war, and Harry and I were talking the other night. And he wanted to tell me that he wanted to marry me, and I said we couldn't because I wasn't ready, and we hadn't finished school. And we hadn't lived like, well normal people, and got jobs and worried about mortgage payments! And then I realised I don't even know what I want to do! So how can I plan anything?"

Helen absorbed the avalanche of information and took a moment to thank whatever gods there were that her daughter had brought such a seemingly normal problem to her. Then she replied. "You know what you are good at, you know what you enjoy, do that."

"Mum! What if I want to do something normal?"

"Normal how?" Helen asked.

"You know, without magic."

"What if you do?" she asked slightly puzzled.

Hermione huffed, frustrated at her lack of understanding. "I don't know how to do anything without magic!" she said in a tone of voice that communicated she hadn't thought that needed explaining.

"Hermione, love. You haven't finished school, until you do there's not a lot you can do. When you have, you can decide if you want a job in the non-magical world or not and if so, what certification you will need. You can't do that until you finish school. If you want to study in the non-magical world, then that will be fine by your Dad and I. You know that."

"Yeah, but I like the inventing."

Helen, completely lost as to what Hermione was driving at, nodded. "OK."

"It was interesting, with the researching and the testing. It felt normal, doing something in a logical way, almost scientifically."

"OK." Helen said again.

"But I can't invent for a living Mum. That's not a real job!"

Helen drank her drink and wondered if adding rum into it would be a good idea. "Yes, you can." She replied. "If that's what you want to do, that is exactly what you can do. Look love, I've no idea what you are driving at here, but we will support you in whatever you want to do. Harry will too, no doubt if you asked him. If you want to get a non-magical job or invent things it doesn't matter, we'll be here."

"But shouldn't I get a job that, I don't know, makes a difference? Helps people?"

"Not unless it's something you want to do, or would make you happy." Helen replied. "Altruism is all very well, but if it makes you miserable or it's not something you want to do really, no one will thank you for martyring yourself to whatever it is."

Hermione subsided and sat thinking. Helen finished her drink and put the empty glass down a little wistfully. Dobby appeared behind her with a soft pop and she turned as he placed a fruit drink next to her and another next to Hermione.

"Thank you Dobby." They both chorused and he grinned widely before leaving with another soft pop. Helen reached for her drink and felt the smooth hit of rum as she swallowed. Dobby was a mind reading genius, and yes it tasted better with rum.

Hermione eyed her drink then her mother, and sipped hers curiously. "Oooohhh these are good!" she said enthusiastically.

"Has yours got rum in it?" Helen asked, her eyes closed in the seeping warmth of the sun and alcohol.

"No, has yours?" Hermione replied.

"Yes, and no I'm not sharing."

"Oh." Hermione's voice sounded disappointed.

Helen felt Hermione pull on the straw in her glass and cracked an eye open. "I did say I wasn't sharing" she said.

"Yes, but yours is much better!" Hermione said.

"You aren't old enough to drink on any continent."

"You let me have wine at dinner."

"That's with food and its one glass."

Hermione grumbled under her breath, then protested. "But yours is better."

"That's because I'm an adult."

"I'm an adult in the wizarding world, and I have drunk before."

"If you are referring to that party hosted by your classmates as an end of term celebration. Where you and Harry both came in steaming drunk off beer, and proceeded to demonstrate that you are a happy, chatty drunk, I wouldn't. It wasn't your finest moment however amusing you were."

"The drinks were spiked." Hermione denied.

"Nice try"

"I'll be legally able to drink here in six weeks."

"Then you're welcome to return then, or ask Dobby to make you one to celebrate. In the meantime, hands off."

"I'm having one with dinner then." Hermione decided.

"As you will," Helen said a smile on her face. They sat companionably sipping their cocktails, Hermione occasionally casting longing looks at Helen's which made Helen smile. Hermione as a wizarding adult, could of course ask Dobby to bring her the drink with rum in it, but it seemed that she still bowed to her mother in some things. She had picked her book back up when Hermione broke the silence again.

"Mum."

"Yes?"

"You won't think it a waste, if I don't get a magical job?"

"A waste how?"

"Well the expense, and the worry I put you through. You had to leave home."

Helen put the book down again. "If we had sent you to private school, which you clearly would have done better at, it would have cost about the same. If, after you went to private school, you decided to bum round the world working as a waitress, we would have wished you well. And worried about all the things that might happen to you. I went straight to medical school, your Dad travelled, and he loved it. Being here has him waxing lyrical about his youth. I never wanted that. I had a plan, I went to medical school, picked a specialty, studied that, and got a job. In between I met your Dad and we got together, and then got married, then you came along. Whatever you do with your life is yours to do. As long as you are happy, and as safe as you can be. If and when you want to marry Harry we will be equally happy for you. If you decide to part ways with Harry then we will support you both as much as we can. We're family Hermione, it's what families do.

"What if…"

"What if what?"

"You know."

Helen turned to face her. "I don't want to bury you or Harry. Never. If there was a way to cut that part, the war and the danger, from your lives I would do it. You are my children, Harry as well. I want to see you grow, see you flourish into the people you both can be."

"What if I have to kill people?"

Helen reached out for Hermione's hands. "If you have to kill people, then it's reached the stage when you have to kill people. It's a war Hermione or at least a battle. The people you are up against aren't going to care that you are young, that you are unsure if it is the morally correct thing to do. They are just going to kill you. Your survival, and that of your friends will need to come first. All the training you've had in defending yourselves and attacking, you're going to have to use it in real life. It won't be a training session. I can tell you it breaks my heart, and I can tell you we'll get you as much therapy afterwards as you need, and I can tell you that no matter what we'll still love you. But it won't change the fact that you are probably going to have to kill people to keep yourself safe."

"What if I can't do it?"

"Then you can't. You'll have to find another way of keeping yourself safe and your enemies incapacitated. I'm not going to tell you killing is the only way. But it might be the only way open to you at the time Hermione."

"Harry doesn't know if he can kill Tom, and he killed his parents and if he isn't sure."

Helen pulled Hermione over to her wrapping her in her arms. She rocked her slightly offering comfort, having no words. Much as when she had found Hermione up a tree, she didn't know how to help. There was nobody she could ask about this, no professional she could ask for advice on how to deal with the situation. She wasn't even sure how they would explain it to a therapist if either of them wanted to see one. Maybe they could find a magical therapist or a squib, who wouldn't need it explaining to.

Helen took John down on to the beach that night, where they wouldn't be over heard, using the surf to mask their conversation and told him everything. "What do we do?" Helen asked John, her voice muffled by his chest. He smelt of sun, sea and himself, and she found it comforting.

"I don't know. Keep talking to them, get them professional help if they need it." They held each other and tried not to think of what might happen.

Helen kept an eye on both of them for the rest of the week, thankfully the talking that both Harry and Hermione had done had soothed whatever anxiety they had had. They seemed relaxed and if the occasional cloud passed over their faces they weren't there long. She made a mental note to send a letter to the Ministry when they returned home asking for a list of practicing wizarding mental health professionals, if such a thing existed. If they both made it through then she wouldn't rest until the pieces were as put back together as they could be.

Chapter Text

The Burrow looked lovely, the house was cleaned within an inch of its life, the trees decorated, and flowering bushes were in pots everywhere. Minerva had never seen it looking so good, she had of course heard all about it, Molly had spoken of nothing but the wedding for months.

The ceremony was lovely, the bride and groom clearly felt themselves in love, even silencing Molly in the end. She had sat away from Albus, next to Remus and Nymphdora who was flashing her wedding ring gleefully at everyone. Remus bore it stoically, not wishing for the attention but the pleased air he gave off showed he didn’t really mind his new wife’s antics.

“We eloped!” She crowed. “To France, took a leaf out of Hermione’s book. Of course we’ve been betrothed for months.” She added with a comical roll of her eyes. “I was a shocked as the next person when Mum pulled the contract out.” Andromeda, who was sat the row behind with her husband Ted flashed a fond look at her daughter, Ted smiled, shaking his head.

“After all married is married. No one seems to care to who, even after all the espoused nonsense in the law.” Tonks continued.

Minerva frowned slightly at that and looked round for Kingsley, spotting him by the buffet table she excused herself and made her way over. 

“Kingsley.”

“Minerva.”

“How is it down at the Ministry? You must be sick of weddings by now?” She took a drink off one of the roving Weasleys carrying trays.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, curious.

“This, this law. This travesty the Ministry instigated.”

“Ah, well I suppose it hasn’t been brought up in meetings, but let me ask you this Minerva. How many muggle born witches are there in the current Hogwarts year coming of age?”

Minerva paused in thought. “We have a number of muggle born.”

“How many are girls?”

“Well, Miss Granger…”

“Yes, she is in fact the only muggle born girl in that year of Hogwarts.”

“But that’s impossible!”

“It’s not, this law was crafted to catch her. It doesn’t apply to males. It conveniently also controls all the witches that would carry children to further ‘pollute’ the magical bloodlines.”

“But the half-bloods?”

“Yes, but there are an amazing number of squibs out there Minerva, it’s shocking really.” Kingsley said, a twinkle in his eye. He continued placing food on his plate walking slowly down the buffet table. “You best put a plate together.” He advised. “I can see Molly coming.”

Minerva glanced round confirming that yes, Molly was heading their way. She picked up a plate dropping some grapes on to it and some delicate pastries. “But…” she said getting the conversation back on track.

Kingsley looked at her sympathetically. “When the Daily Prophet announced that Harry had fled with Hermione, do you remember how the tide changed? All those who wanted to marry, were the first in the queue as it were, so they are happy I suppose. Some are engaged and there is no provision for how long you can stay engaged for. The law states you must be married, a legally binding engagement or betrothal contract is just as good under the law, a loop hole a lovely Ravenclaw witch pointed out. Currently the department that is in charge of enforcing the law is wading through it with the legal team. They can’t shove it too hard you see, or it effects all the contracts the pure blood families use. If they aren’t binding, then a number of those might be dissolved. Not something the families marrying for money and power want so, so far it’s turning up solid. That news has done the rounds and more are turning up with solid engagement or betrothal contracts.”

“But…” she said again feeling like she would never finish a sentence.

“Do you know how difficult it is to disprove squibs? The families that remove them from the bloodlines have no way of refuting the claims of those who say they are squibs. They are, after all the ones that removed all records. All you need is a document to prove you were adopted as a child and bingo. No one is in prison, no one is currently running afoul of the law except Miss Granger. Muggle born are only 20% of the population. More boys are born than girls, any half-blood that can put a squib in their bloodline has done so. Those that can’t have either provided a cast iron engagement contract or have left the country. At the moment the numbers leaving are low, low enough for it not to be causing ripples. I’ve been watching, making sure that they aren’t pursued or enough attention is thrown elsewhere.”

“So it’s not working? And they aren’t enforcing it?” she asked shocked. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Molly veer off to fuss over Albus.

“Oh it’s worked, but only for those who seemed happy to do so. They don’t have a choice long term obviously, but they have discovered they have a choice about how, and when, for now. The Ministry can’t close the loophole without affecting the people in power which was never the point. You-Know-Who might have demanded the law, but it still has to get sign off, and not everyone is on board with him yet. The numbers that are coming forward under the law are enough to stop any direct action being taken.”

“I’m relieved,” she said. “I felt so helpless but they are helping themselves.”

“They had an example to follow. High profile target, lots of news coverage. The tosh about the soul bond helped demonise the Ministry and change the perception of the law. It was all the public needed.”

“What about the betrothals and the engaged?”

“Contracts can be broken,” he said with a casual wave of the hand. “If they had any sense they made ‘gifts’ to each other to be held against the completion of the contract. Something like equal amounts of gold, so no loss would register on either side. Hoisted with their own petard I believe the saying is. The Ministry employees affected have been given less of a choice about it. Although there is less than a handful of single women it affects. Tonks got away with her stunt by the skin of her teeth and only because magically married is magically married. Theirs was the oldest pure blooded rites of the House of Black. Andromeda made sure of it. She’ll probably suffer in her career under the current system for flouting the law, but she would have suffered regardless for marrying Remus. With a bit of luck that won’t be for long, if we can get to the point we can start to clean house.”

“I can’t believe the Ministry is doing nothing,” she said.

“It can’t afford to Minerva. The betrothal contracts are integral to the pureblood power exchanges. No one is going to touch them. Under the law, those people are married, the ceremony is a formality. They can’t marry anyone else while they are in place. Anyone already of age is using the time granted to cobble together a contract or find a squib or leave. There seems to be enough ways round it for mass exodus to not be a problem and you are talking about small numbers anyway. Witches tend to marry young, the number of witches is less than the number of wizards. If you wanted me to guess, I’d say this law affected less than 100 people.”

“Then how did it pass?”

“Because it effected less than 100 people.”

“So they aren’t enforcing it because of the numbers?”

“That, and because there’s no great pressure to. It’s a pointless law, it achieves nothing.”

Minerva stood next to Kingsley turning over what she had learnt in her mind. They had made their way from the table and were now standing in the shade under one of the decorated trees, the plate in her hand forgotten as she thought. “So they could come back,” she said to herself.

“Well on that score.” Kingsley replied. “They’d have to be married. Harry and Hermione are the inspiration of the rebellion. It’s a small rebellion admittedly, and one no one cares about. But the Ministry being what it is, if she steps toe back into the country, married is probably the only way to keep them off her back. Instigating a rebellion gets you noticed.”

“Do you think they’ll come back?” she asked curious about his opinion. He had said little in the Order meetings when the subject had been invariably brought up again and again.

“Honestly? No. What do we have for them here? I’ll grant you Harry is tied to the war with You-Know-Who but it’s not as if he can do anything yet. He’s still missing, his girlfriend is a fugitive from the government. We might need him for the final push but that isn’t yet, and with no way of contacting them we’ll have to wait for them to turn up.”

She looked thoughtful at what he said, somewhat grateful there were a few in the Order that had realised that Mr Potter’s presence wasn’t a necessity. Perhaps when it all came out they might have a few supporters of their actions. That would be nice. She smiled at him and made her excuses. Albus was on his way over, Molly following, a tug boat to his ship and she had no wish to be caught up in another lament at Mr Potters on going absence. She quietly made her way over to Remus, they exchanged small smiles, filled with knowing. When George Weasley came over and stood by her apparently listening to the tales Tonks was regaling the crowd with, she felt reassured. Reassured that she wasn’t in this alone, that there were people around her that understood what she and Severus were trying to achieve, and had thrown their support in with them.

He crossed the ward line in to the Le Strange estate. He felt the magic prickle over him and forced himself to keep walking. He didn’t want to be here, so far he’d been through Yaxley’s and Dolohov’s respective houses. Neither had yielded results although his stocks of potion ingredients were looking better than ever. Despite his actual reasons for wanting to gain access his excuse had been sound. The old estates when tended did yield bountiful crops. Yaxley had in a corner of the garden a rare Japanese bush which had gone to seed. The garden wasn’t well tended and most of the plants had gone wild but this plant was the finest specimen he had seen outside of its native country. He’d harvested as much as was safe from the plant and dug up a few of the seedlings. Pomona might be able to get them growing in the greenhouses at Hogwarts.

The front door opened at his touch and a dirty miserable house elf cowered behind it. “I have been granted access by your Master to harvest some potion ingredients from the estate. You are not to disturb me and are to come when I call,” he said authoritatively as he strode over the threshold. “What is your name?”

“Zoot,” the elf said huddling in on itself.

“Very well Zoot return to your duties.”

The elf disappeared with a near silent pop and Severus made his way through the house looking for the conservatories and orangery’s that would be on the rear of the property.

Whichever elf tended the interior plants had a talent for it. Both spaces were in excellent condition. It was clear that these two spaces had been set up by someone else and lovingly tended. He imagined that if Bella ever used these rooms it would end in shredded vegetation rather than flourishing growth.

Contentedly he set to gathering plants, roots, leaves and seeds. When he had enough from each room he took himself into the house further finding the ballroom, and the public entertaining spaces. Down a corridor hidden by the perspective of the wall he found the rooms that Rudolphus used as his study. He rooted through the shelves and cabinets careful to leave nothing out of place. Finding nothing he extended his magical senses and cast a revealing charm. The charm would search out hidden rooms, false doors that were disguised as bookcases or walls.

The spell tingled on a space on the floor. Lifting the rug Severus found a hidden trapdoor. He felt for the wards that might be holding the lid down. Whatever Rudolphus kept in here wasn’t likely to be overly valuable. The wards were not basic but Severus had run into more sophisticated work and they were a little sloppy. They hadn’t been refreshed in a while either meaning that whatever had been put in here hadn’t been touched in just as long. Optimistic he slid his magic past the wards bringing them down without leaving a trace or activating the alert ward that would tell Rudolphus the wards had been breached.

 He sighed in dismay, if he could by pass them with ease then a curse breaker of any repute would have been in and out faster than it took him to bring them down. Whilst not really wanting to run into anything truly nasty, where was the pride in your work? Maybe that was the teacher in him coming out, thinking that if you were going to ward something, you damn well do it properly. You wouldn’t catch the eldest Weasley laying sloppy wards like this.

He lifted the trap door and looked down inside. There was no cup but there was a thick file. Pulling it out he flicked through it. Lucius would be proud, was the first thought that popped into his head on viewing the contents. It was the collective blackmail material that Rudolphus had on ministry workers, peers, employees. Only the detached mental state he used around the Dark Lord during the demonstrative torture sessions kept his stomach from turning. Considering the rumours of Bella’s tastes he supposed it could have been worse but it was bad enough.

He shoved the file back in the space and closed the lid. He carefully laid the wards back in place and flipped the rug back over.  Then he stopped, thinking. If the war went the way they wanted it to, the material in that cubby hole could be of some use cleaning house at the Ministry. Kingsley would stand half a chance of rooting out the rot armed with that information, as long as he wasn’t too squeamish. Whilst blackmail might not be Kingsley’s style, he would at least be able to make informed decisions. Should he take a copy?

Had he over looked information caches like this at the other properties he had gone through? Granted he hadn’t been looking for more than the cup. Should he return to the estates and ferret out their leverages? Could he risk it? He looked down at the floor again staring through the rug considering the file held under it. “Bugger it.” He muttered to himself and flipped the rug back off the trap door. He slid through the wards again and grabbed the file. Lying it on the floor he checked it for anti-copying charms and muttered a curse when he found none.

Was the Dark Lord struggling to attract even the slightest competent staff? He didn’t like to think that he was the Dark Lord’s most competent member of his Death Eaters. Well Lucius and Narcissa had probably held that title before the night at the Ministry. Bella was too temperamental to be reliable, fanatical yes but when she got into a murderous rage she was a bull in a proverbial china shop.

He made a copy of the file, shrank it and shoved it in his pocket before putting the original back into the hidey hole. He swung the trapdoor closed again re-laid the wards and flipped the rug back. He checked the room very carefully, now paranoid that he might have left something out of place that would tip off his actions.

Satisfied that he had left the room as he found it he continued down the hall. The next room was Bella’s study. It was devoid of feminine touches that he could identify. There were a few display pieces out on the tables and the antique desk looked far to slender and fragile to withstand Bella’s temper. He supposed it was either neither of those things, or it was replaced frequently.

He started on the shelves by the door and slowly made his way round the room. No longer just looking for traces of the dark magic held within the cup but for hidden caches of information.

He found two such caches before he found the cup and he nearly missed it. Placed within eye line of the desk it was set out on display with a decanter of elf crystal. The decanter was exquisite and refracted the sunlight from the windows sending dancing rainbows across the floor. The cup glowed warmly slightly behind the decanter, plainly on view but also slightly hidden.

The magic within it moved across his skin causing his skin to crawl all the way to his elbow. Well he’d found it, excellent. Since it wasn’t tucked away in a safe hidey hole he couldn’t just take it as it would be missed more easily. Even with Bella staying at Malfoy Manor with the Dark Lord, this was something she had chosen to put on display. A gift to guard from her master and the more it meant to the Dark Lord the more jealously the mad bitch would guard it. Since he wasn’t prepared to make a horcrux himself to replace it he was going to have to think of something. Could he risk returning to the estate? Probably. So that meant transfiguring something into a passible copy and infusing it with enough dark magic that a passing glance wouldn’t flag up the copy.

This wasn’t something he was going to be able to do alone. He needed Minerva, he couldn’t detail a copy well enough to be sure it could pass muster. Minerva could. She’d probably know how to stop it being cancelled by other casual magic use. Well that meant he would have to take it, she’d need to see it to copy it and she couldn’t come here.

Muttering imprecations at the stupidity of his actions, and how if anyone ever found out, he wouldn’t live long enough to regret his stupidity. He grabbed a quill from the desk and transfigured it into a passible copy of the cup. It wouldn’t fool anyone who knew the cup or what it was but it would at least act as a place filler while he sorted something better out. Shoving the cup into his bag, he meticulously checked he had missed no other caches and he had left the room exactly as it was before making his way back to the front door.

Once there he called out. “Zoot.”

The elf appeared near instantly and threw itself face first on to the floor. “Yes, master?”

“Get up,” he said. “I am leaving now but I am going to return. The Orangery has a specimen that I need some tools to collect it with.”  Which was true but he hadn’t considered making a return trip to do so. “I will return in two days’ time,” he said.

“Yes, master.”

“If your master contacts you, then you may tell him I have been and am planning to return for the seed pods. Is that understood?”

“Yes, master.”

He turned and reached for the door handle. Zoot leapt up from his (her?) position on the floor and pulled the door open, cowering behind it.

Severus nodded shortly to it and swept out. Once over the ward line he stopped and took a large breath in. Merlin the elves. He didn’t want to know what the elves had been through to make them cower behind doors and debase themselves so completely. Having heard Bella espouse the Black and Le Strange theories on wizarding supremacy he shuddered at the possibilities. Next time he wanted to snap at a Hogwarts elf for the overbearing solicitousness he would have to hold his tongue.

Straightening up he got a grip on himself and thought. The wedding of the eldest Weasley was today, he cast a tempus, 2pm. Well then, she was likely still at the Burrow. Sending his patronus in to find her would likely cause panic and Albus was certainly going to notice. Could he go to the castle hide the cup in his rooms until he could leave it with Minerva? Albus would likely be returning to the castle however and would know Severus had returned and left again. He couldn’t take it over the Malfoy’s ward line, Narcissa would know immediately. Also it would be discourteous to his host to bring it to her house.

That left one place, he swore and apparated on the spot. It was raining in Manchester. Bloody August and it was raining. Swearing again he crossed through the gate and up the path to the front door. The door opened under his hand and he moved quickly not bothering to turn on any lights. In the cellar he stashed the cup in a velvet bag then under every ward and protection he could think of and buried it behind his most volatile and dangerous potion ingredients. He wasn’t happy about having the horcrux in his house, even this house, but it would have to do for now. He’d send a message to Minerva later tonight and see if she knew when Albus was leaving again.

He left the cellar and re warded the door putting far more effort into that he usually did, then left the house. Since Minerva was busy and he had a few hours before Narcissa would require him to attend a meal he went back to the Yaxley estate.

Yaxley was currently working in the ministry so it stood to reason that any cache he might have would be in his office, but he wasn’t a double/triple agent for no reason. Failing everything, and, or if, Albus found some new way to sell him up the river maybe he could use some of the information to buy his freedom. Yaxley’s house on second examination offered up documentation on a smuggling ring operating out of the east coast doing swift business in plants and animal parts that were on several endangered lists with the Ministry. Since he was on a roll so swung by Dolohov’s. Anton either didn’t keep any caches of information at his house, or at all, and relied on his fearsome reputation to bend people to his will.

He arrived back at the Manor with enough time to bury the documentation he had found in the bottom of his potion chest in the dungeon. Grabbing a vial on his way out he slipped the lock on Ollivander’s cell. He approached softly making enough noise to wake the man but not startle him too badly.

“Severus is that you?” the elder wizard croaked.

“Yes, hush. Here, drink this.” He handed the vial over and watched as the wizard drank it down. Ollivander tried to repress the shudder at the taste and Severus ignored it to cast a diagnostic charm. The result was not reassuring. “You’re developing pneumonia; I’ll get something to head that off.”

“An extra blanket would do nicely,” Ollivander said weakly.

Severus cast a warming charm on the wizard and examined the bedding on the straw pallet. He cast some cushioning and a long lasting warming charms, thickening the thin blanket the wizard had.

“There’s not much more I can do without being obvious. I’ll renew the warming charm every day or so as I can. I’ll see if I can’t get some decent food down here.”

“You risk yourself.” Ollivander reproached.

“He’s not here, it’s less risk than it could be. I’m going to try and get you out before he returns. Give me a couple of weeks.”

“Albus?” Ollivander asked hope rising in his eyes.

“No. But I’ll get you to a safe house as soon as I can have one arranged, just don’t die on me old man.” he said brusquely.

Ollivander reached out and grasped his hand in his papery one. “You’re a good man.”

“No, I just have lamentable life choices.” He turned and left locking the cell behind him and went upstairs to dinner.

They sat in the small dining room, a room clearly meant for informal family meals. The meal as ever was excellent and Narcissa held up the conversation chatting of inconsequential things while he applied himself to his food. After the final course was over, and she had served him coffee, he shook off his thinking and looked up at her. “I apologise for my poor conversation; I do your company a disservice.”

“Nothing to forgive,” she said gracefully. “I’m sure our Lords work keeps you busy. I am grateful that you could be here.”

“If you will forgive me, I have some matters that require my attention. I may leave for some hours but I will not be absent all night.”

“I am grateful,” she said, a hint of vulnerability in her tone they both ignored.

He rose, helping her from her seat. He bowed over her hand, and walked her to her sitting room before leaving her, and rushing off to his room. He grabbed his bag and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. Throwing a pinch of floo powder into the grate he connected with Minerva’s floo at the castle. The connection was unlocked so she had at least returned from the wedding. “Are you there Minerva?” he called.

“Severus? Come through.”

He stuck his head into the flame not stepping through. “Has Albus left again?”

“No, tomorrow.”

“Very well I’ll call on you in the evening.”

“Severus, what’s this about?” she reproached him.

“Not now Minerva,” he said sharply and pulled his head free of the flames, closing the connection.

He had twenty-four hours before he could lock the cup under the wards at Hogwarts, and he needed to find a safe house for Ollivander to move to.  He turned to leave just as the door opened and Minerva walked through it.

“Just what was that?” she hissed at him.

“What are you doing here woman? You can’t be seen with me!”

“Fine then!” She reached out, grasped his arm above the elbow, led him out the door and twisted them away into nothing. When they landed in a spacious sitting room she dropped his elbow and rounded on him. “What was all that about?” she repeated.

“Where in Merlin's name are we? And how many people just saw you side along me somewhere? Bloody hell Minerva, every tongue that thinks they saw something is going to be talking. Is subtlety too much to ask for?”

“You called me from a pub!” She replied her voice spiking with anger, her brogue coming through.

“Yes, a pub. A noisy public place where I wouldn’t be overheard and the connection would lead nowhere. Where the hell are we anyway?”

“My house.” she replied.

He looked around in interest, having never considered the sort of home Minerva kept away from the castle.

“No one can follow us. Not even Albus will get through the wards without serious effort.”

“Family estate?”

“Yes.”

“Well bring out the whiskey then. Since you dragged me here you might as well play hostess.”

“As long as you share whatever information you have.” She replied indicating he should take a chair. A small well-dressed elf appeared at her side with a decanter and two glasses.

“Thank you Folly,” Minerva said and Severus twitched.  She raised an eyebrow in query and he waved her off.

“Long story. How was your wedding?”

“Tiresome? Well no, to be fair it was lovely, the girl is part veela. The champion from Beauxbatons, Fleur, remember her? She was stunning, as were her family. Molly had the Burrow shining to within an inch of its life. Remus and Tonks are married and I had an interesting conversation with Kingsley.”

“Really, what did Kingsley have to say for himself?” he asked, ignoring the news of Remus' new status.

“It seems that the example set by Miss Granger and Mr Potter has taken root.”

“People are leaving? I’ve heard nothing.”

“No, well some are but do you know the law only affect less than a 100 witches? No wonder they got it through the wizengot. Anyway it seems that a Ravenclaw witch has found the solution. She presented the department overseeing the law with an iron clad betrothal contract and stated that as it was legally binding she couldn’t abide by the laws conditions.”

“Pureblood betrothal contracts?”

“Yes, or the half-bloods are coming up with Squib parentage.”

“So they’re disobeying?”

“Yes, only those who wanted to are complying and so far it’s been enough that the rest are getting away with what they are doing. Kingsley seems to think the betrothals will hold.”

“They will,” Severus said catching on to what the witches had done. “They’ve put them in the position where to claim them invalid is to do so to all the contracts and that would dissolve the powerbases they negotiated.”

“That’s basically what Kingsley said.” she agreed.

“Good for them.”

“So what’s your news?”

“I’ve got the cup, but that’s only half of it. It was on display in Bella’s study, I need a replica that will pass muster. Can you help?”

“What do you need?” she asked simply.

“It needs to look, weigh and feel exactly like the original, I can infuse it with enough dark magic I think, but it also needs to remain unaffected by casual magic use around it. If Bella loses her temper in that room it wouldn’t do for it to come unravelled.”

“That’s not a simple request.”

“No.”

“It’s going to take me a while.”

“You’ve got 24 hours.”

“Severus be serious!”

“I am. They aren’t here but we’ve no idea when they might return. The elf Zoot, is as cowed as you can get. But I think even it would risk the punishment sure to come, and report if the cup went missing for too long. I’ve left a replica in there for now for casual observation but it won’t pass muster on close examination.”

“When can you get me the original? I’ll need to see it.”

“I take it you don’t want to bring it here?”

“No,” she said shortly.

“I’ll bring it to the castle tomorrow.”

“Fine. Anything else?” She asked sarcastically.

“Well since you mention it. Do you know of a safe house I can hide someone without Albus finding out?”

“Who?”

“Ollivander. He’s contracting pneumonia and if I do any more for him it’s going to be too obvious. I need to get him out of there.”

“Ollivander? But shouldn’t Albus?”

“Albus is happy to leave him there. Not worth the risk apparently, I’ve been slipping him as many potions as I can to keep him stable, but he’s old. Dungeons are not where he needs to be. Also the constant obliviation I have to perform is no longer working, he recognised me today with no fear. The next time the Dark Lord interrogates him he’s going to find out I’ve been helping him.”

She looked shocked and slightly sickened. “Are we all weighed against the end goal? Is anyone worth saving?”

“If you ask Albus probably not. The end game is too important.”

“If we lose everyone on the way, then what do we win when we get there?”

“I don’t know. I’m just doing what I can.”

“Bring him here,” she said. “Folly can look after him.”

“Minerva, this is your home.”

“Yes, and Albus can’t access it. It’s got a staff of elves who are lacking in real work while I live at the castle. How are you going to get him away?”

“Apparate. How are your transfiguration skills?”

“You ask this after requesting a founder’s item in exacting detail to withstand casual magical outbursts. It’s like you doubt me.”

“Uh huh, so if I ask for a stick that can be transfigured into a lifelike dead Ollivander you won’t have any problems will you. I only need it to last for a day or so. Just long enough for verification and disposal. The snakes gone with him so she won’t eat him.”

Minerva paled. “He feeds…”

“Yes, I’d say it’s a convenient way of disposing of the body but she can’t move once she’s eaten…” He trailed off and Minerva looked even paler as she grasped what he was saying.

“Oh gods above and below I didn’t need to know that.”

“Sorry,” he said and meaning it. “You become immune to it after a while. It stops being horrifying until you see someone else react to it.”

“We’ve got to end this,” she said. “I can’t, I can’t keep learning of the atrocities that are happening that I don’t even know about and everyone else does. It’s like I’ve been kept in an ivory tower away from everything.”

He said nothing. What could he say? He’d seen Nagini eat people and until then hadn’t given any thought to how little snakes wanted move after ingesting such large prey. Or that until she’d still been there the next day, skin stretched over the form of what was clearly a body it hadn’t been brought home to him that that the digestion of something that large wasn’t going to be a fast process. He tried hard not to think of it. Very hard.

Chapter Text

Minerva promised to look into what he needed and he agreed he would go to the castle, tomorrow once Albus left. He tried not to worry about the elder witch as she returned them both to a quiet corner of Diagon Alley. He returned back to the Manor and went to find Narcissa. She was in a small sitting room a book lying open next to her on the sofa. The decanter on the tray was half full and he wondered how far gone she was. He didn’t usually spend his evening with her, usually he was down in the lab lost in brewing and research. But Minerva’s reaction to the snake had made a rush of guilt flood him. He had been invited to stay to keep an eye on Narcissa and so far he’d done a poor job of it.

“Severus,” she greeted him, a hand indicating a chair. “Won’t you join me?”

“Thank you.” He sat in the chair and accepted the glass she handed to him. The level in the decanter didn’t change, she could have drunk an entire bottle and no one would be the wiser. He raised the glass to his lips and took a mouthful of the liquid. Lucius finest whiskey rushed down his gullet and warmed his stomach. Hell Lucius guarded this stuff jealously and here Narcissa was knocking it back like it was cheap fire whiskey. “One of the better vintages,” he remarked.

Narcissa’s smile was forced and brief. “There’s no one but me to drink it.”

They sat in quiet contemplation, he didn’t really know how to talk to her. Unlike Minerva he couldn’t challenge her to a discussion of the latest research in their respective specialties. Nor could he complain about the Dark Lord or Albus. Or be a sounding board for her fears as he was for Minerva. His relationship with Narcissa stemmed mostly from his friendship with Lucius, and he wasn’t sure that would last the discovery of his true allegiance.

“Have you heard from Lucius?” he asked, trying anyway.

“Yes,” she admitted. “He wrote to say they were currently in Croatia.”

“They are successful then?”

“He didn’t say,” she said. “I’m not sure that the Dark Lord has been so forthcoming with what it is he is looking for that success can be easily judged.”

“But he is well?” he enquired, not meaning the Dark Lord.

“Yes, as well as can be expected.”

He ran out of things to say and lapsed into silence again nursing his drink. Narcissa sat silently staring into the fire lost in her own thoughts. Eventually, his drink finished, and having had enough of the oppressive silence, he rose. “I will retire for the night is there anything you need me to see to for you before I do so, or tomorrow?”

“No, no thank you Severus,” she answered, smiling a polite smile that went nowhere near her eyes.

He bowed and left her there.

His sleep was restless, his mind too busy trying to calculate the angles and risks to let him sleep fully. When he rose he washed dressed and went down to breakfast. Narcissa was already there looking no worse for her indulgence last night. He dropped the vial of hangover potion next to her soundlessly and took his seat. She inclined her head to him slightly and he nodded in return. They ate and not a word was exchanged. When they had finished he rose and took his leave retreating to his lab. He set to brewing a potion to muffle a magical signature, to allow him to transport Ollivander through the wards without alerting anyone. Time passed without him taking any notice when a soft knock broke his concentration and he looked up to see the door open and Narcissa enter bearing a letter.

“This arrived for you. I didn’t know how important it might be.”

Yet you brought it yourself rather than send an elf, he thought. He took the letter proffered and glanced down at it a worried frown showing on his face he didn’t bother to hide. “It’s from McGonagall,” he said knowing she would have deduced that much herself. He broke the seal and read the letter, the frown getting deeper.

“Problems?” she offered blandly.

“Hmm? Oh yes, it seems that the suppliers have had an issue with the order and McGonagall demands I return to the castle to sort it.”

“She has the authority?” Narcissa asked sounding faintly displeased.

“Yes.” Severus replied then with a sneer. “Albus is grooming her to take over, he seems to have the idea he might not last long.”

“Well gods be praised for that.” she replied. “The fool’s school is dangerous, at least McGonagall might bring the oaf they have teaching care of magical creatures into line and the students might be able to learn in a safe environment.”

“The old fool has a soft spot for the half breed.” he agreed. Which was entirely true, as was the fact that Minerva didn’t approve of Hagrid’s teaching methods either. When she did take over Hagrid would be on his last warning very quickly. “I must go to the castle and resolve this before the suppliers think to take advantage. I do not know how long it will take, is there anything you need me to do for you?”

“No, thank you for the offer.”

He cast a statis spell on the cauldron and started to tidy away his equipment and remaining ingredients, the potion would be fine until he returned. Narcissa watched him work and he ignored her. The kindness he had done her this morning had clearly broken through some barrier or she was truly feeling lonely and even he would do before she started talking to the walls.

He finished his tasks and grabbed the bag holding the seedlings he had collected so far on his gathering runs. If he was at the castle he could get them set up in the greenhouses. He headed to the door pausing waiting for her. She joined him and he held the door politely escorting her to the orangery where she made herself comfortable. 

Minerva met him at the gates and opened them to let him step through.

“Supplier issues, really?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“More truth than fiction in case it was read before handed over. Oh it’s sorted,” she said. “Three crates had gone awry, they thought to inform me a day later than they were obliged to. They are being collected by the elves this afternoon.” The grim smile on her mouth indicating that the suppliers had had short shift from her and were now doing exactly as she requested.

“We aren’t searching for new suppliers next year are we?”

“Merlin no. Now they understand that contractual obligations are exactly that, I think we’ll get on swimmingly.”

“Oh good,” he said. “So why am I here?”

“Ahh well I need the cup. I’ve gotten so far but the next step needs it here. Also while you’re collecting it I need an image of Ollivander to work from. The last I saw of him was taking the new students around before he disappeared and I assume he has changed since then?”

“Yes, have you access to Albus pensive?”

“Yes, it’s in his office I can collect it.”

“Then I’ll leave you a memory to work from and collect the cup. When can I have its replacement?”

“This isn’t easy Severus, you want something that is going to stand up to scrutiny not a cheap replica.” He looked at her and she huffed a sigh. “A couple of hours, but that’s the fastest I’m prepared to go.”

They went to her rooms and she handed him a simple golden goblet that looked like it had come from the dining sets used for students. “I need you to infuse it with the magic you’re going to use,” she said at his questioning look. “I need to know what it will do to the copy.”

He nodded and set it down on the desk, he pulled his wand raised it, and shot spell after spell at the goblet until it was physical straining to hold the magic. He held his hand out and felt the barely contained magic within.

“If you’re going to try and break it,” he advised. “Do it behind a shield. It’s a blasting curse, a nasty one but you’d be in more danger from debris.”

She nodded her understanding, analysing the cup looking for things he couldn’t see or didn’t know to look for. He conjured a vial and removed a memory sealing it in the slender tube and handing it over.

“I’ll return shortly,” he said.

She accepted the vial and laid it on the table with a distracted nod of thanks, still concentrating on her transfiguration project.

Severus made his way to the entrance of the castle then down to the gate. There he apparated to Manchester and retrieved the cup. He made the return journey to Hogwarts and re-joined Minerva in her rooms. He upended the bag and the cup rolled out on to the table.

“Oh,” she said, righting it quickly then wiping her hand on her robes. “It’s such a shame,” she added softly. “History corrupted for such petty reasons.”

“Do you need me for anything?”

“No, no,” she said. “Have you go one of those jars? I’d feel better if it wasn’t …. Loose.” 

“In my office, I’ll retrieve one then I’ve got some bits I’d like to sort in the greenhouses since I’m here.”

“Fine I’ll send you a message when I’m done.” He left her to it, he retrieved the jar and sent it up to her via elf rather than climb all the stairs again. He headed out to the greenhouses and into the one Pomona kept the difficult and rare plants in. The one the students were never allowed in.

He set down his bag on a bench, pulled out his work gloves and set to the task of setting his seedlings and cuttings in to pots. Content in his work, time slipped by him and as he was finishing up a silver streak entered the greenhouse and leapt lightly on to the bench besides him.

“It is done.” Minerva’s voice came from the tabby patronus. He tidied his work station, left a scribbled note for Pomona and set off back to Minerva’s rooms.

She was sat at her desk, a glowing copy of the cup on in front of her, a small flat disk to the side of it. She picked the disk up. “That’s for moving Ollivander. You’ll need me or Folly to get through the wards once you’re away from the Manor.”

 He nodded and slipped the coin into his pocket. Then he picked the cup up turning it around and over in his hands. It was an excellent copy.

“It will stand a decent bout of magic hitting it and a generic finite,” she said looking at it with pride. “If they decide to dismantle the magic though, with any concerted efforts, it will break eventually.”

He nodded his understanding then placed it on her desk and raised his wand. He infused the cup with dark magic, this time reaching deep inside himself for the magic that he had learnt as a rash young man and had never used since. It was magic that he wished he didn’t know. It sank into the cup, swallowing it up in a glowing dark miasma before absorbing right into the very metal. Minerva reached out to touch it but he caught her hand.

“Don’t,” he said. “It’s less friendly now.”

She looked at him before slowly bringing her hand back to her side. He was grateful she hadn’t asked. He wouldn’t have told her but in not doing so, would have told her more than he wanted her to know. One day his past mistakes wouldn’t weigh so heavily.

“Well then, you best get it to where it needs to be,” she said briskly.

“You’ll lock the other away?”

“Already done.” she confirmed. “You said she had it on display in her study, you don’t think she actually used it do you?”

“It was on a shelf next to a decanter.” He grimaced. “I think I’ll pass on thinking too closely on what using a horcrux for a drinking vessel might do to someone.” He placed the cup in his bag and stowed it in his pocket. “I’ll return this then see about moving Ollivander. Do you keep healing supplies in your home?”

“Some,” she confirmed. “Not so many as he might need.” Obliquely referencing the memory Severus had left her.

“I’ll be sure to send some with him then.”

They exchanged pained smiles and she escorted him to the gates. “Be careful,” she offered before he turned to apparate away. He smiled sardonically at her, bowed and vanished with a crack. 

He landed outside the gates to the Le Strange property and stepped carefully over the ward line. He breathed a sigh of relief as the magic prickled over him but accepted his presence. Quickly he made his way to the door and raised his hand. Zoot opened the door and cowered again. Sending the elf back to whence it came he made his way towards Bella’s study.

He cancelled the transfiguration on the goblet he’d created and replaced it with Minerva’s. Her work was astounding. Given the short amount of time he’d given her to get the replica made, he was impressed again at her skill level. He couldn’t help feeling that teaching at least the first five years of students was a tragic waste of her talents. At least the last two years could be taught because they wished to be rather than because it was compulsory.

Cup in place, he made his way to the greenhouses. Pulling his kit from his pocket he found his silver shears, and carefully cut the seedpods from the plant, catching them in a crystal elf made jar. He collected ten or so pods before replacing the stopper and stowing his prize.

He walked to the door and called the elf. “I am leaving and I do not expect to return. Inform your master.”

“Yes, master,” the elf said from its position the floor. He ignored it and turned to the door. The elf was up and pulling the door open in flash. He walked out and didn’t look back, didn’t do anything but walk forward until he crossed the ward line. It would take a lot to get him back in that house. A direct order from the Dark Lord on pain of death might do it but it would be a close run thing. He took a breath and apparated to the Manor. It was just after lunch, if he could get Ollivander away shortly he could brew for the rest of the day. He would need to supply Minerva’s elf with the necessary potions to heal the damage. Content he had a plan he moved to the dungeon entrance. Narcissa intercepted him and his defences immediately slammed into place.

“All is well?” she inquired after greetings were exchanged.

“Mostly.” He agreed. “The suppliers are sending over the missing three crates this afternoon. I will need to return to ensure they have held their end of the contract.”

She nodded in acknowledgment as he mentally blessed Minerva for giving him an excuse. He continued his movement towards the dungeon lab and Narcissa stood watching him go. She was starting to worry him, the distracted air, the questions, the drinking. He didn’t think she suspected him of anything, was fairly sure she wasn’t even really aware she was seeking him out, but it was turning out that Rudolphus might have been correct in his assessment of Narcissa. She wasn’t taking to being alone all that well.

He added it to the list of things he had to juggle and opened the lab door. Nothing had been touched since his departure and he immediately set to work completing the potion to mask Ollivander signature passing through the wards.  A mere half hour later the potion was cooling and he was placing potions from his own stocks into a bag. It would keep Folly going until he could brew more. He decanted the potion and left it by the bag on the edge of the desk

He tidied the lab putting everything away he could, then heated a solid iron cauldron, filling it with water that sizzled and roiled and steamed as it made contact with the hot iron. As the water started to shimmer he added a pinch of blue powder from a vial and sent it flying back to the cupboard. He then took a vial of yellow arrow root powder and dumped the entire contents into the cauldron. Grabbing the bag, he left the lab, warded the door and ran to Ollivander’s cell. Slipping through the locks he forcibly poured the potion down the man’s throat entreating him not to ask questions. He activated the disk Minerva had created, it started to change, growing and beginning to form the shape of a man’s body. As his mental count hit 120, he apparated them both out of the dungeon and off the property, past the ward line. He called for Folly and the elf arrived, quivering to attention.

“Take him,” he said sharply his mental count still running. He thrust the bag and Ollivander towards the elf. “I’ll be by later this evening, contact Minerva if you need anything or his condition gets any worse.” He waited only long enough to see the elf disappear with a crack before apparating himself back to the dungeon corridor outside the lab.

Smoke was pouring from under the door and he set to work casting ventilation charms. Narcissa came down the stairs towards him. “Severus? I felt you cross the wards then heard a bang? What happened?”

“My fault entirely Narcissa, an experimental potion. I was able to ward the room and apparate out just before the explosion. I apologise for my rudeness.”

“Think nothing of it,” she said graciously. “I hope you haven’t suffered to serious a setback in your work?”

“A trifle.” He agreed pleasantly but shrugged indicating it was par for the course. She smiled faintly then turned and walked down the corridor to Ollivander’s cell glancing through the window in the door. She stopped and froze.

He tensed, wondering if the decoy had not worked and they were about to be discovered. The explosion was mostly showmanship, there was no real danger just a loud noise, and plenty of noxious looking smoke that was in fact harmless.

“Severus.” Narcissa called. “Would you watch the door for me?”

He approached as she unbolted the door and entered the room wand raised the end glowing. He stood guarding the door watching as she took in Minerva’s construct. It was impressive, it was exactly like the memory he’d given her of the last time he’d seen the wand smith, before the potion treatments had really taken hold. The construct was gaunt, its skin looked papery, and thin scars criss-crossed where torture had been inflicted. Raised red welts still looking sore and only just healing were visible between the strips of rags it was covered in.

Narcissa approached and crouched down in front of the construct. She held a hand out in front of the face for a moment. Then standing again she cast a diagnostic charm. The charm failed. Severus held his breath. The construct wasn’t alive so the diagnostic charm wouldn’t work on it, but would Narcissa take that to mean that Ollivander was dead, or that this was an imposter.

She turned to face Severus. “I need to get a message to the Dark Lord, it seems that his guest has passed on.” He opened his mouth to agree only for a sharp burning in his left arm to draw his attention. He glanced up at Narcissa who had gone pale at his poorly disguised wince. “I believe he has just realised. I must go.” She nodded and he escorted her to her sitting room before summoning his cloak and mask. He stepped outside the front door, pressed his wand to his mark and vanished.

Minerva was in her office in the castle pouring over the latest drivel to arrive from the Ministry when Folly appeared next to her. “Mistress,” Folly said.

“Folly? What are you doing here? Is there something the matter?”

“No Mistress, Folly has seen to settling the guest into his rooms. But the Master Snape has not returned as he said he would and the Master Snape told Folly to speak to Mistress if there were any issues. Folly does not know if Folly should be treating the wounds that need potions now or later when the guest is feeling better. The potions might weaken the guest and Folly does not wish to cause harm.”

“Severus hasn’t returned?”

“No Mistress.”

“Let’s go Folly, I’ll take a look and see what he needs as best as I can, then I’ll see about finding out where Severus is.”

Folly grasped Minerva’s hand and took them both to the door of the guest room Ollivander had been settled in. Minerva knocked quietly in case he was sleeping and slipped inside, Folly at her side.

Ollivander looked small and wizened like a grape left in the sun to dry into a raisin. She hoped he would recover. He had sold her her first wand, and countless generations before and after. Losing him would be a great loss. She cast a basic diagnostic spell wishing she paid more attention to Poppy when she treated the students. She puzzled out the meaning of the results hovering in front of her. He was malnourished and dehydrated, she knew that without the charm though. He had a number of bruises and sprains and possibly a badly set or still broken tibia.

“What can you heal without putting too much strain on him?” she asked Folly acknowledging that this wasn’t her field of specialty.

“If the bruises are healed that would not harm. The Master Snape left bruise salve.”

“What else did he leave?” Minerva asked.

Folly collected the jars of potions she had set out by the bed side and handed them to Minerva. “Bruise paste, burn paste, pepper up, skeli-grow, nutrient potion?” she said puzzled. “I’ve never seen this before Folly.”

“The Master Snape made it,” Folly said.

“How can you tell?”

“Folly knows.”

Elf thing, Minerva thought. Having lived with them long enough to know sometimes they just knew things. Much like without being properly introduced, Folly used Severus honorific as a Potions Master. Although she could have spoken to, or picked it up from the Hogwarts elves she supposed.

“Do you think the nutrient potion will tax him?”

Folly cocked her head. “Folly does not know but Folly does not think so.”

“Right,” Minerva said making a decision. “Use the salves on the burns and bruises. Get the nutrient potion into him and then thin soup, something his stomach can manage and he needs to drink as much as he can.”

“Yes Mistress,” Folly replied.

Ollivander stirred in the bed and Minerva approached carefully not wanting to frighten the man as he woke in a strange place.

“Severus?” he croaked.

“No Garrick it’s me, Minerva. Severus isn’t here.”

“Minerva? Albus?”

“No, Albus isn’t aware you are here. You’re at my house. Quite safe, no one knows you are here except Severus and myself. Folly will look after you.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me Garrick, all I did was give you somewhere to convalesce.”

He stirred again before falling asleep, or she hoped he was sleeping. She wished she knew more about healing magic, living in a castle with a trained medi witch had made her complacent.

“Keep an eye on him, if his condition worsens come to me. I am going to return to the castle,” she said. Folly nodded.

Minerva left the room to apparate to the castle. She was grateful she’d insisted that Albus change the wards to allow her to apparate in and out of her rooms, then stood her ground with him when he’d demurred. It was about time he started paying back the liberties he was taking dumping the school administration on her desk. It wasn’t as if he was doing anything useful, chasing an owl to find two former students.  Having to walk up from the gate each time she was called away would have become tiresome.

The was an owl roosting on the window ledge of her office, approaching it carefully, it shuffled round to thrust out its leg. She took the letter from it quickly and the owl leapt into the air and flapped away before she could offer any form of payment. She glanced down at the seal on the missive and realised why the owl had seemed familiar. It was the Malfoy owl, she’d seen it deliver post to Severus and Draco. Her stomach churned at the thought of what the letter could contain, if Narcissa Malfoy was writing to her then it could only be news she didn't want to hear.

Madam McGonagall,

  I send my heartfelt congratulations at your recent increased responsibility towards the admirable establishment that is Hogwarts school. I can only believe that as your duties increase you will bring the standard of education to levels unparalleled by your counterparts.

I write in order to inform you that the small matter Severus was attending to at your behest, in relation to his duties as a Potions Master, will unfortunately have to continue without him. He is currently attending business which he was unable to avoid. I am sure once his responsibilities are completed he will attend you, if you still desire it of him.

  Very sincerely,

Narcissa Malfoy

She dropped the note on the side table and leaned on the wall. Was everything they did going to be overshadowed by that accursed man and his undeniable demands on Severus? Was this summons in relation to the rescue of Garrick or was it another marathon brewing session? She wished she could contact him. Albus had refused to allow Severus to carry one of the Weasley’s mirrors, claiming it was too suspicious and should it be found, treacherous for Severus. She hated Albus in that moment, she had felt the hard ball of hate form and she’d been unable to deny it. On a level it was true, it would be dangerous for him, but Severus had been facing Tom for two years and managed to come back each time. Would giving him a way to communicate should he really need it be so dangerous? Or would it just make her feel better?

So he was gone, which meant she had an injured and sick man in her guest room and no idea of what to do for the best to keep him healthy. Clearly Severus had known or was better at healing magic than she. She had options, one was to call Poppy, patient confidentiality would keep the secret of her treating him. But it would mean that she would have to explain why she had a man previously held by the Death Eaters in her guest room, and she couldn’t see how she could explain it without telling the full tale, and that would lead to trouble. Poppy wasn’t in the Order and had her own opinions on the safety of the students in the school but she wouldn’t act in a manner that would oppose Albus.

So that left option two. She gathered some writing materials and blank parchment and set off to the one place in Hogwarts that might have her answers.

The library doors opened under her hand, she slipped through in to the vast space with its towering shelves. It had been years since she had come in here to study, if not since she was a student herself. She smiled softly at the rush of fond memories and made her way through the shelves to the section on magical healing.  Pulling some likely looking books from the shelves and setting them to float after her she made her way to the table she had used as a student and settled down at it, the books forming neat stacks next to her. She was a capable strong witch. She’d help destroy two pieces of Tom’s soul, the foulest magic she had ever come across. She could learn how to heal a man. 

Three hours later, armed with an array of spells and charms she thought might be helpful and a much better understanding of the correct order to administer healing potions, she sent the books back to their places. Thankfully she had done no harm to Garrick in her orders to Folly. Whilst she was still going to need professional help if he took a turn for the worse, she had a better understanding of diagnostic charms, what they would tell her and what that would require her to do in response. As long as Garrick had nothing seriously wrong with him she could manage his recovery. She made her way to the infirmary and sent a silent apology to Poppy as she raided the cupboards for the potions on her lists. If it came to it she would have to dust of her potions kit and brew some more, she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She had a fair idea that Severus would pull her technique to shreds and then keep going. Comforting herself imagining all the vicious things he would say she made her way back to her rooms with her illicit stash of potions. From there she returned to her home and the guest suit.

Garrick was sleeping when she entered the room and she breathed a little easier. She was unaccountably nervous and didn’t want an audience. She cast the first diagnostic, read the output then double checked it against her notes feeling like a first year student.

He was still dehydrated but that was looking better than it had been earlier. His nutrient levels were dangerously low so she made a note to ask Folly to give him more regular doses of the potion Severus had brewed. He had indeed got a broken bone which would require the skeli grow but not until he was significantly healthier. She worked her way down the list making notes so she wouldn’t forget things, and of the results of others so she could compare if he was improving or not. She also made a list of what he had been given in the way of potions in case she needed expert help and they needed to know.

Just as she finished her examination and note taking Garrick stirred. Picking up the glass of cool water with a straw Folly had clearly left for this purpose she carefully perched on the side of the bed. When he opened his eyes fully and focused on her she proffered the straw. He nodded and she held it as he sucked the water down. Folly who had entered the room as Garrick woke took the empty glass from Minerva when it were finished and replaced it with another.

“He should not drink too much at once.” Folly cautioned quietly.

“Thank you Folly. I have made a list of potions already administered. Could you please update it when you give him any. Also I have a schedule of potions he will need. I will come back three times a day to check on his progress but you are to keep an eye on him in the meantime.”

“Yes Mistress,” the elf said dutifully, carefully looking over the parchments and potions.

“How are you feeling Garrick?” Minerva asked.

“Weak, tired, like I haven’t been warm in an eternity.”

“You feel cold?” she asked scrambling to remember everything she had read in the library.

“Only round the edges, Severus said I had pneumonia.”

“Yes, you do,” she agreed. “The potions Folly will give you will help fight it, but I need you to eat and drink as much as you can as well. They’ll work better the stronger you are. I can’t do anything about your leg yet either I’m sorry.”

He waved a weak hand at her. “Don’t be, I’m glad to be out of there.”

“Is there anything I can get you? Books? An extra blanket?”

“Tell me what’s going on. What day is it? What’s been happening? I’ve had so little news.”

Minerva shifted to the chair by the bed and sat thinking for a moment. “It’s Saturday August 2nd. Bill Weasley married the French girl Fleur Delacour yesterday at the Burrow. You-Know-Who is in Europe at the moment, no one is quite sure why. Currently You-Know-Who seems to concentrating on corrupting the Ministry which is slow going, the Order is at least if not holding its own stemming the tide to a trickle on that front. Albus is currently abroad he is searching for Mr Potter who has left the country in order to help protect Miss Granger from the effects of the marriage law the Ministry enacted in September. It’s a game of waiting, there has been no further escalation in the violence perpetrated by You-Know-Who’s Death Eaters, they are waiting to see what happens when Mr Potter comes out of hiding.”

“I see, and my rescue?”

“Was not sanctioned by the Order. I don’t understand why not, but with your health failing and You-Know-Who out of the country Severus decided it was a good time to remove you. You are safe here,” she said. “You can stay here until you can return to your home or once you are well we can get you away somewhere.”

“Here is fine,” he replied. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“We’ll discuss it again when you are feeling stronger. For now rest,” she said gently. His eyes slid shut again and she rose leaving the room on soft feet.

Chapter Text

It was two days after Garrick’s arrival that Minerva received an owl from Albus, it was waiting for her in the morning before she left to see to her house guest. She took the message with her, oversaw Folly’s tending, ran her diagnostic reports and discussed with Folly what they could do next. Her stocks of potions were running out and she really didn’t want to have to find out how much she had forgotten about brewing potions. A meeting though, meant Albus had news, which meant Severus would be back. He hadn’t been in touch and she tried not to imagine what might have befallen him to keep him away from Garrick when he knew Garrick needed his help. That man would be the death of her she was sure.

She arrived at the headquarters and joined the growing numbers in the kitchen. Molly was once again holding court, dishing out tea, mothering everyone that came within range. She stayed out of range and found a chair to sit on. The twins sat across from her grinning widely clearly pleased with themselves over something. Severus wasn’t present. Remus and Tonks came in together and sat down, Kingsley was in conversation with Alastor. She exchanged nods with other members as they trickled in and chatted amongst themselves. Albus was late. When he swept in, ten minutes after the time on the note he was in full grandfather twinkle mode, something had gone well then. Severus slunk in behind him moving to a corner where he could observe. She let her eyes follow him looking for any signs of injury. Finding none she turned her attention back to Albus who was jovially greeting people.

“Could we move this along?” Severus sneered from his corner.

Alastor turned instantly, as if on cue at the sound of his voice. “What’s the matter Snape?” he spat. “Your Death Eater chums missing you? Didn’t kill enough people when you went to break them all out of prison?”

Severus sneered at the man but said nothing. Albus drew the attention back to him by clearing his throat.  “We are not here to discuss the events at Azkaban. Severus has assured me that he did not know of Lord Voldemort’s plans beforehand.”  He gazed round the room, satisfied at what he apparently saw he smiled.

In her newly acquired awareness she watched the room react to what Albus had said. There were those that accepted it, simply put it out of their minds and focused on what Albus was saying. But there were those like Alastor, whose suspicion never wavered. Who stared at Severus with deep misgiving if not open hostility. How Albus thought that this was settled was beyond her.

“We have some excellent news!” he was saying jovially, twinkling merrily at the crowd gathered round the table. She stared back unmoved feeling like an outsider, wondering what he was hiding, wondering when she had lost her faith in him. Was this a true state of mind or simply a reaction to everything she had recently discovered and experienced?

A whisper went round the table, a growing sense of excitement and her stomach dropped. Had he actually found them? A bag appeared next to him and the whisper of excitement from the Order members was suddenly tinged with disappointment and then a growing level of curiosity.

“We have now a way of communicating with each other should the need arise. These have been specially made for the Order. Kingsley if you would explain please.”

Kingsley looked up. “Yes of course. Fred and George approached me with them and of course I agreed that we should use them. The compacts,” he held up one of the folding compacts “Work as a regular ladies compact, however saying the name of the Order member you wish to contact into the top mirror will cause the corresponding mirror to heat. To answer the call you only have to open the compact the callers face will appear in the top half on yours, and your face will appear in the top half on theirs. For those who don’t wish to carry one there is a range of wrist watches instead. They also heat up when being contacted and by pushing the dial on the side you activate and cancel the call. The person trying to contact you appears on the watch face. Obviously these have a smaller image so aren’t as useful for surveillance. They are quite effective though and mean that if anyone gets into trouble they can call for help instantly. If you are in dire need Fred and George assure me that saying S.O.S. will call all the devices at once, ensuring that someone will be able to answer and get aid. I believe Albus has a theory about how such a call should be answered, which he will run through.”

She tuned out. Hers wasn’t a role that would place her in life threatening danger that the Order would be able to help her with. Her role was to play back up to Albus, unstinting loyalty accompanied by unquestioning compliance. It hadn’t been until recently she had learnt to dislike the role or that there might be something wrong with it.

Remus leaned over to her. “Do you think you could find a moment for me later? I need to speak with yourself and Severus.”

“Of course,” she said back softly. “Do we require more privacy than here?”

“If possible,” he replied. “Though Dora won’t be attending if that makes any difference.”

She nodded. “Fine, I’ll corner Severus and you follow us. I’ve somewhere we can meet safely.”

She flicked a glance up the table to see if Albus had noticed them talking, catching Severus' eye in the process. He moved his head in acknowledgement and she wondered how long he’d been reading lips. Then chid herself for foolishness, he was a spy, had been for years, then she fleetingly wondered how many other people knew. She caught the flicker of sardonic amusement flash across his face and written in the tilt of his head. He’d clearly followed the line of her thinking. She tilted her head at Remus slightly. His lips tightened in a reflective distaste she didn’t think he would ever lose, but nodded.

As the compacts and watches were handed out she watched as a group of adult’s descended into childlike wonder. Calls were made to people across the table as those not yet given one gathered around to watch. A number of people effusively thanked Albus as he handed over the device prompting her to watch the reactions of Fred and George. They had been supplied the formula, or the basis of the formula and it had taken them four months to get it working. It was no small feat yet Albus was the one receiving the thanks.

She leaned over catching George’s attention. “You’ve patented these?”

“Yes,” he replied with a small smile. “Everything that goes through the shop is official even if we don’t yet sell them to the public.”

“Then you must be losing a small fortune!”

“Well yes, but not really. The shop will absorb the initial cost of making these for the Order and any replacements but saving lives is important. Afterwards we’ll launch them in linked pairs, in small sets of five or so and large sets for groups. We own the monopoly and these are going to be popular, just look at people. Call it a free public trial. By the time we’ve got all the kinks they’ll be ready for market and if they play a role in the war, well publicity like that doesn’t have a price does it.”

“That’s very pragmatic and slightly ruthless of you,” she said with a small smile.

“You’re forgetting that we did this yes, but we didn’t do this alone. How much recognition do you think Hermione is going to get?” George asked her seriously. “We can’t even tell her we did it. We solved it. Not even so much as a thank you. If she’d been able to stay, work with us we’d have had these up and running months ago.”

She sat back and let the conversations wash over her. Albus came round and handed her a silver compact. “I hope you like it, this was especially made for yourself,” he said with a happy smile. She accepted the compact turning it over in her hands, the outline of a striding cat etched into the metal. “Oh,” she said looking up at George. “Thank you, it’s quite lovely.”

 The young man grinned and nodded, his attention pulled away by his mother as she came bustling over. Minerva slipped it into her pocket and stood. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said to Albus. “If that everything I really must be going, a good friend of mine is sick, I don’t wish to be away for long.”

“There is one more thing if you don’t mind Minerva.”

She sat back down as he gathered to attention the rest of the room. “There is one more piece of sad news to tell you. Information has come to me that Garrick Ollivander has died whilst being held by the Death Eaters.”

 A round of gasps and soft exclamations of loss travelled round the room. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the table unsure that she would be able to keep anything off her face. If Severus could read her easily, it stood to reason Albus might.

“It is a great loss.” Albus continued.

“Then why was nothing done to get him out?” a voice said, and it took three fast heart beats to realise it was her own. She raised her head to glare at Albus, no longer worried what he might read in her expression. She was angry with him, the risks that had been run to get Garrick out had been significant. It had taken both of them to manage it without overt suspicion, but they had managed it.

“He was being held at Malfoy manor my dear. We had no official reason to search the property.” Albus consoled her.

“I don’t believe that stopped the Ministry before, in fact I remember the searches on the Malfoy property being highly publicised by the Ministry and based on no more than hearsay. A raid that proved active prisoners being held and tortured would have done nothing but good? How many people didn’t buy a wand off Ollivander? His rescue from the Death Eaters would have touched far more people surely?”

Albus' kindly expression only deepened and it made her frustration grow by equal measures. “My dear, I understand that this may have seemed like a simple operation but I assure you it was no easy decision. By acting, we could have hastened his demise at the hands of those who held him.”

“Minerva,” Kingsley broke in. “We couldn’t get sign off from above to conduct another raid. Ever since the Ministry infiltration started in earnest the department has been heavily curtailed. I’m as frustrated as yourself but there was nothing official that could be done.”

She met his eyes and saw in them a lingering curiosity, perhaps at her challenge of Albus, perhaps as to what might have been done. She nodded her head at him lips held in a thin, unhappy line.

“And we are only playing by the rules now?" she gestured around her. "The Order was a vigilante group up until a year ago, so now we’ve been publically acknowledge we’re going to play by the rules? We might as well give up now.”

This statement was greeted by a loud murmur of protest.

“Risking lives to rescue Ollivander would have been the noble thing to do but there was no way to enter the Malfoy Manor. The protections around it are quite comprehensive. Anyone who got in may not have been able to get out. It simply wasn’t possible” Albus said firmly ending the discussion and the murmurs of distress at Minerva's words.

She held her peace as Albus smoothed the waters and when he dismissed them she stood, leaving the meeting without acknowledging anyone else. If they stared after her she didn’t care, let them think what they will. The contempt that coloured the thought surprised her but she let it go. She wasn’t a good enough liar to sit there and challenge Albus, and she didn’t want to have to explain her current house guest.

 Severus ghosted up to her in the hallway, making sure to scuff a foot so not to surprise her. Something she’d worked out he did for those lesser mortal such as herself, to stop from scaring everyone out of their skin.

“Can you spare me an hour?” she said to him quietly, watching down the hall.

“Need to vent?” he asked darkly amused.

“No, Remus wants us and I need you to brew for our house guest. Unless you want to waste the effort we both went to in getting him out for me to poison him with my brewing?”

He raised a brow.

“I haven’t brewed since my school days, anything I would be forced to make would have to be made from the student’s supplies, probably in your classroom!”

Severus snorted in amusement. They broke apart as footsteps were heard on the stairs up from the kitchen

“The wards will allow me in?” he asked as the steps came closer.

“Yes,” she said. He nodded and went out the door, it closed just as Remus came into view. He raised an eyebrow at her and she realised she had been crammed into a doorway talking to Severus where they both had had a view of the stairs. Shaking herself she asked as Remus approached. “Are you free now?”

“Yes, Dora is creating a distraction with Fred or George.”

“I shan’t ask.”

“Mmm, I’m sure the breakages can be replaced. Shall we?" he said indicating the door.

They left and on the step inside the fidileous charm she grasped his arm and twisted them into nothing. They landed in the entrance way of the house and she immediately stepped forward breaking the hold.

“Follow me,” she said over her shoulder. “Severus should already be here.” She led him into a sitting room facing the street and waved at a chair. As he seated himself she called for Folly, the elf arrived with a pop. “Tea and whiskey please Folly, and tell Severus we are in here.” Folly nodded and vanished.

“Where are we?” Remus enquired.

“My home.”

“And Severus has access?”

“Yes. Is this a problem?”

“No, no,” he said. “I, erm. You obviously are, umm, good friends.”

“Yes,” Minerva said sharply. “I would hope that Severus would consider me his friend. And as my friend he has access to my home.”

“Well I see my ears should be burning.” A voice drawled from the doorway. “No don’t stop on my behalf.”

She tsk-ed at him and he came into the room, a smirk playing on his lips. He bowed shallowly to her and took his seat, affecting an air of supreme casual comfort and ease. It brought a smile to her lips, she knew it was all a show and done so to make Remus uncomfortable. They were friends but friends were complex things for Syltherins. Severus was a prickly loner before his sorting adding another layer of complexity to his interactions with people.

“Do carry on Lupin,” he said steepling his fingers and watching the man over the top of them the way a snake watches its prey.

“Ahh yes, umm, well.”

Folly chose that moment to enter and Remus gratefully fell on pouring tea for everyone.

She turned to Severus, drawing his attention away from the other man. “Have you got the list of everything I’ve used?”

“Yes, he seems to be on the mend. I’ll replace your purloined supplies and bring you more to keep you going. I didn’t know you knew healing.”

“I didn’t and still don’t. I’ll be honest, Folly came to tell me you hadn’t returned. I did what I knew I could safely, then went back to the castle and went to the library. I’ve got a list of what I’ve done and when and what he’s taken in potions but he needs a real medi-witch or?” she looked at him speculatively.

“I’ve looked your notes over. It’s fine as far as I can tell but my skills would do little more than what you are already doing.” 

“I think his leg will have to wait another few days, he’s stronger but growing a bone is taxing work. The texts I read suggest a week of treatment before I even attempt it.”

“It’s not hurting him. It’s badly set but whilst he’s bedridden, it’s not going to cause a problem. Leave it.”

Remus broke in, he’d been listening avidly as they spoke and he fixed the tea. “Am I to understand you have a house guest staying here? Is this the friend you told Albus was sick?”

“Yes,” Minerva replied. “Only Albus is unaware that it is Garrick.”

“Garrick? As in Garrick Ollivander? But Albus just told the Order he was dead!”

“Albus believes he is dead, as does the Dark Lord,” Severus said.

“I think I’m missing rather a lot here, care to explain?” Remus responded, handing over the tea.

Minerva sighed. “Albus, as you heard today, refused to remove Garrick from the Malfoys. Severus has been treating him to keep him alive but he contracted pneumonia last week. With the Dark Lord away from the Manor, Severus asked me to create him a decoy and help him find a safe house where Garrick could recuperate.”

“But why not tell Albus of your plan? Or even that he’s alive now he’s here?”

“Because Albus didn’t think he was worth saving, so I’ll be damned if I’m handing it to him on a platter to be patted on the head like a good little follower. He barely acknowledged the work Fred and George put into those mirrors. The Order is more than Albus bloody Dumbledore.” Minerva said waspishly.

“Is he’s safe here though? Don’t they know he went through the wards?”

“No,” Severus replied. “Minerva made an excellent decoy and I dampened his magical signature so he could cross undetected. It helps that the Malfoy wards have been heavily tampered with by the Dark Lord. They are next to useless although Narcissa can still tell when they are crossed. Wards that old don’t ever unravel completely.”

“Is he very ill?” Remus asked.

“He has round the clock care, Folly looks after him. He is suffering from the after effects of torture, malnutrition and dehydration. He’s healing but it’s a slow process, anything faster might destabilise his system. I come three times a day to check on him, and talk to him when he’s lucid. Mostly he sleeps.”

Remus nodded. “Are you going to tell Albus? I mean once this is over?”

Minerva looked at him.” When ‘this’ is over many things will need to be addressed, not least the fact that Garrick is alive and well.”

“Why is it you wanted to speak to us?” Severus asked abruptly.

“Ahh, well. You remember Hermione’s letter?”

“Yes, you were working a hunch.” Severus said seemingly disinterested.

“Well yes, that’s not quite the truth. It wasn’t a hunch. She sent me a meeting time date and location.”

There was a silence while this was absorbed. Minerva broke it. “So why are you telling us and why now?”

“Its next month. The 16th of September to be precise.”

“How do you know?” Severus asked.

I’m a werewolf, my life is ruled by the moon. The meeting is set for the full moon of September which falls on the 17th.  The heroine she spoke of in her letter was a native Indian called Pocahontas. A Muggle film maker made a film about her. That’s what prompted Hermione to research her, she hadn’t looked into that period of history in any great detail, it not being the normal course of muggle education in this country. The real story is different to that portrayed and ultimately more tragic. In the film a song is sung and that’s what I had to double check, I couldn’t remember the actual lyrics. But it mentions listening for a wolf cry at a blue corn moon. The blue corn moon doesn’t exist it was made up, it’s a green corn moon. Which is what some Native American tribes call the September moon.”

“So that’s the when. I assume that Pocahontas is relevant to a part of America?” Minerva said.

“Jamestown Virginia.” Remus agreed. “There’s a visitors centre.”

“So you think they’ll be there. You’re going to go and wait there all day until they turn up?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied simply. “I wanted to know if you wanted to come. I understand that with the timing and my condition that you might not wish to.” Remus met Severus eyes without flinching. He had apologised and there was little more he could do, he’d not had any more say in the situation than Severus had.

“Term will have started.” Severus noted.

“I can get away,” Minerva said confidently.

“You can? I have a built in excuse, whilst I’d hate to use it.”

“I’m not in the mood for Albus to question me. I think we need to speak to them. We’ve no further clues about the final horcruxes and if Mr Potter is going to return to re-join the war effort then we have information we need to exchange. Certainly we need people like Miss Granger.” Minerva said firmly.

“Then we’re agreed?” Remus said.

“What about Tonks?” Minerva inquired.

“She’s going to stay here, both of us missing might cause Albus to be concerned. We’ll come up with an excuse closer to the time if we need one.”

“How are you planning on getting there?” Severus asked.

“Portkey.”

“Not through the Ministry surely?” Minevra said surprised.

“No,” he said with a grim smile. “Werewolf status has more than a few downsides.”

“Then we’ll leave from here,” Minerva said firmly.

“There’s a time zone difference so we’ll have to leave around 1pm.” Remus cautioned.

“That’s settled then, we’ll all go.”

Chapter Text

Back from the holiday Harry joined Hermione in the study, the idea he had toyed with while they had been away was now making him itch to get started working on it. It was time he started contributing in a way that had tangible results. The constant talks with John had settled a lot of his questions and had opened his eyes to the practicalities of running the Order. The way information was collected and distributed. The hierarchy that was needed to manage a group of people who, until recently, had been a clandestine vigilante group. He quietly cringed remembering his childish demands to be told things he clearly hadn’t needed to know, just because he felt he should have been. He hoped that with time and distance he might be forgiven those actions.

He pulled together the idea he had been playing with and jotted down the outline of what he wanted to achieve. Grabbing some books from the shelves, he flicked through the first one and started to read. Research was a bit like homework, the difference was this was something he wanted to do. If he could manage this then it might go some way to making up to Hermione the mess he’d made of the marbles.

Dobby brought lunch interrupting both his and Hermione’s research. Pushing his notes away he pulled his lunch towards him and started on the sandwiches.

“How’s your research going?” he asked.

“Not bad,” she said with a smile.

“Huh, what are you working on?”

“Healing magic. You?”

“Umm, well it might be nothing. Mind if I tell you once I’m a bit further on?”

“No I guess not, you are going to tell me though, right?” she asked.

“Yes of course, only if it doesn’t work I might have to change a few things and...” He trailed off following a thread of thought, missing the smile that bloomed on Hermione’s face watching him.

“Well let me know if you need any help. I might need yours when I’m a bit further on if you can spare me some time,” she said still smiling.

“Sure, just let me know,” he agreed.

They finished their lunch in companionable silence and once it was done, drifted back into their work. Dinner brought the next interruption and they tidied their things away before joining the rest of the family downstairs.

 The week continued like this, them both engrossed in their projects pulled away only by food and evening classes, until the weekend.

The 16^th of August dawned and it was a beautiful sunny Saturday. Harry, Hermione and Helen decided to walk to a restaurant for lunch, it was too nice outside to contemplate getting in a car. John would join them if he finished his emergency patient in time, otherwise they would meet back up at the house and they'd do something together that evening. They had been busy, each of them in their own way, since their return from the holiday they hadn’t managed to do much more than eat their evening meals together. 

The walk to the restaurant passed the park, it was full of children playing ball games or chasing each other shrieking with the joy of being young and playing with friends on a sunny day. The restaurant interior was cool and dim, a welcome break from the heat, lunch was leisurely, casual conversation carried on between three people who liked each other and enjoyed each other’s company. It was the walk home that changed everything.

They set off, Hermione in the middle, arm linked with her mother's whilst Harry held her hand and walked closest to the pavement edge.  Hermione and Helen chatted about places they wanted to visit next time they went into the city proper. Harry let the conversation wash over him, his concentration mostly on his ongoing project, smiling quietly to himself, half an ear cocked in case either woman asked his opinion.

As they passed the park at the top of their street time did that funny thing it does when something important happens. It slowed down

Harry noticed the ball cross the pavement in front of them and slowed so they wouldn't trip over it, then he saw a boy no older than eight dart after it. His ears told him that the noise behind him was a truck, probably a delivery truck and that it was travelling at a steady speed. His brain did the calculation and came to the horrifying realisation that the child who had darted over the pavement to reach his ball was going to be in the middle of the road when the truck reached the same position. The kid was toast.

 With time still seemingly operating at a vastly reduced speed he dropped Hermione's hand and went after the boy. Within three strides he was able to scoop him up and toss him towards the other side of the road as two tonnes of steel met the side of his body. He hoped Hermione had cast a cushioning charm because he couldn't be sure how hard he'd thrown the kid forward. He hoped that this wasn't going to hurt too much, for too long.

Hermione had seen the child. She’d felt Harry drop her hand and felt the cool rush of air come between them as he went after him. When she turned her head she saw Harry scoop him up and toss him forward. She managed to cast a wandless and wordless cushioning charm under his body as he landed and bounced. 

She couldn't stop the truck; she couldn't not hear the screech of brakes, nor the noise of the impact when the front of the truck hit Harry.  She couldn't not see how his body bounced forward to land on the road, or the way it went under the truck as the driver frantically tried to stop.  She couldn't stop the anguished scream of Harry’s name that seemed to tear from her very soul as she looked at his limp unmoving body lying in the road. Nor could she make her legs support her as time sped back up and her brain told her heart her boyfriend’s chances of surviving that, were really, really, slim.

 The ambulance took six minutes to reach them. In those minutes Helen had dragged Hermione back to her feet and towards the limp form of Harry. The truck driver had clambered or rather fallen out of the cab to throw up on the verge babbling about how he couldn’t stop. He’d tried and he couldn’t stop. The child who had bounced was surrounded by his friends, one of them had sprinted off to find his mum.

Helen left Hermione slumped next to Harry while she checked him over. Trying to ascertain if he was alive, or breathing, or had a pulse, or anything at all that meant she hadn’t seen the young man that was part of her family die saving a child. She was holding back her own hysteria only because Hermione needed her to. Because giving in to it might mean the difference between keeping Harry alive until help arrived and watching him die in front of her. She held his wrist tracking his pulse. It was thin, stuttering, but most importantly, present. His breathing was shallow and wet sounding and her half remember med school days conjured a quick half dozen reasons why it might be. None of them were good. His leg and ankle were clearly broken. The slide across the road surface after bouncing off the truck had removed skin from his arms and chest where his shirt had ridden up, his jeans were ripped in places but seemed to have mostly survived. One shoe was missing; his glasses were lying broken next to him. He had not opened his eyes or given any sign he was conscious, and she prayed, and prayed, he would be spared major head trauma.

  When the paramedics screeched up, Helen breathed in what felt like the first time in forever. She gratefully let them take over and dragged Hermione bodily backwards to give them space.

They loaded him on to the trolley, told Helen which hospital they were taking him to and were gone. She picked herself up, and pulled Hermione to her feet murmuring nonsense. She left her name, address and contact number with the attending police officer who was taking names from the witnesses. The driver was sat on the side of the road with another officer, someone had found him a blanket and wrapped him in it.

They all but ran down the street to the house, Helen called for Dobby before the front door was shut. Hastily explaining what had happened, asking for a bag to be made up with clothes for everyone she grabbed the phone and called the surgery. She left a message for John and threw the phone back into the cradle not seeing the blood smear she left on the handset.

 Dobby returned clutching a bag and an anxiety potion. She thanked him before tipping the potion down Hermione’s throat. Hermione was still clutching herself on the bottom step where she’d stopped when Helen had let go of her.

“Dobby will take Helen and Hermione to the hospital,” he said firmly still clutching the bag.

“Dobby you can’t, it’s a muggle hospital. They can’t see you and we can’t appear out of nowhere, we’ll need to go in the car.”

“Dobby will take you,” he said again just as firmly.  Helen was torn, Dobby would get them there sooner it was true, but if he was spotted then chaos would ensue. He broke her out of her mental arguments by grasping her hand tightly and taking hold of Hermione. They vanished in a pop and reappeared in what she assumed to be the hospital waiting room.

“Dobby!” she hissed as they landed. Elf travel was much easier on a person than apparition done by either Hermione or Harry. She didn’t have the lurching sickness to contend with, which was good since she’d just appeared out of thin air into a hospital full of non-magical people. Helen glanced round her checking to see who might have seen, and saw that she wasn’t where she thought she would be. “Dobby, where are we?”

A wizard in some sort of robe uniform bustled up to them. “There you are, come with me. We got him off the ambulance once your elf told us to expect him.” The wizard walked off clearly expecting them to follow and Dobby tugged everyone forward.

“Dobby what’s going on?” Helen asked.

“Dobby told the hospital Harry was coming.” Dobby said, clearly thinking this was explanation enough.

Hermione stirred besides her, her environment breaking through the fog she was in. “This is a wizarding hospital Mum.”

“Yes,” Helen said shortly. “I’d gathered that by the lack of running and screaming at our method of entrance and Dobby’s continuing presence going unremarked.”

The sharp sarcasm broke through Hermione’s fug further and she took her Mum’s hand. “Sorry.” She whispered to her. “I couldn’t, I just, shut down.”

Helen wrapped an arm tightly round her waist. “Don’t apologise. Don’t ever apologise. I would have been right there with you.”

“The sound Mum.” She shuddered, her entire body shaking with it. “Oh god.” She clamped her lips together and squeezed her eyes closed.

“Shhh,” Helen comforted. “Come on, if he’s at a magical hospital that’s good, isn’t it?”

The wizard who had been leading them pushed a door open and gestured them inside. He followed and closed the door behind him. Turning to face him the two women and elf huddled together waiting.

“The impact was severe. I understand you were in a muggle populated area so magic use was inappropriate. Thank you for abiding by the law in this case, I understand in times such as these taking care of your loved ones can seem more important than anything else.”

“I’m not magical,” Helen said quietly. “Hermione and Harry are.” 

“Oh,” the wizard said looking at her strangely.

“Squib,” Hermione said softly. “My parents are squibs. I’m a witch, Harry is a wizard, and you haven’t told us how he is!” Her voice breaking on the last part.

“Yes. Well thankfully the muggle paramedics got to him in time. His heart stopped in the ambulance on the way here, but they got him back. Nothing quite beats CPR you know, even we’ve not managed to come up with anything better. He’s undergone healing for his punctured lung and bruised internal organs of which there were a few. The head injury we’re happy is no longer a danger and he’s currently undergoing treatment for his broken bones in his shin and ankle. He’ll be kept in a magical coma until that process is complete, so for the next 12 hours. Then we’ll bring him round once we're happy he’s in no more danger, and his levels are all back to normal. Do you have any questions?”

“Where is he?” Hermione said immediately.

“I’ll take you there now,” the wizard said.

“My husband, can Dobby bring him here?” Helen asked as he led them from the room.

“Yes,” the wizard replied. “As long as someone magical stays with you whilst you are here that’s fine. It’s a safety precaution. If something magical happens to you whilst you were alone, as a non-magical user.” He shrugged.

“That’s fine, we can do that.” Helen nodded. They followed him down the corridor and into another corridor, and down another until Helen had no idea where they were. He opened a door into a small room. “I’ll be back in half an hour or so to check in.”

“Wait,” Helen said as Hermione went to Harry’s bedside. The wizard turned and looked at her eyebrow raised. “Does this work like muggle hospitals? Do I have forms to fill in? Don’t you need insurance details or something?”

“Your admission forms are on the bedside. Your elf registered Mr Black as a patient when he informed us to expect him. You’ll need to complete the forms and hand them in to the front desk. Your insurance will be billed appropriately.”

“But its muggle insurance,” Helen said.

“All insurance is.” The wizard confirmed.

“Oh,” she said, not sure what to make of that.

“Is there anything else? I really do need to be off.”

“Oh, no. Thank you.” she said and watched as he nodded to her and bustled off down the corridors to the next patient.

Helen entered the room, closing the door behind her. She sank into the chair on the other side of the bed and noted that magic had at least made the chair comfortable. Dobby handed her the clipboard with the forms and quill. She snorted at the quill and pulled her bag towards her looking for a pen.

“Dobby, how did you…?” She stopped unsure of how or what to ask.

Dobby nodded his head flapping his ears in understanding. “Helen and John are muggles,” he said. “Harry and Hermione are muggle raised. Dobby knew they wouldn’t know that magical hospital would need to be told, so Dobby told them.”

“Thank you Dobby, I didn’t know the magical hospital could intercept the ambulances. You’ve saved Harry a lot of painful slow healing.”

“Dobby serves,” the elf said solemnly.

“You did very well. Do you think you can bring John here? If he’s finished with his patient he’ll want to be here and I don’t even know where here is.”

“Dobby will be right back!”

“Thank you Dobby.”

 The elf beamed at her, shot a concerned look towards the bed and vanished. Reassured that all she had to worry about for that moment was dry form filling in Helen looked over Hermione and Harry. Hermione had gotten on to the bed and shifted forms. Her animagus form was curled tightly next to Harry. She’d pushed his arm out and was in the space between his arm and chest, her head pushed tightly against his side listening to his heart beat. Helens heart constricted at how close they had come to losing him. She allowed the tears to fall, falling apart quietly so not to disturb either of the beds occupants. After a brief moment she gathered herself and turned back to the forms. 

The door opening drew her out of her meditative contemplation of the ceiling. It brought Hermione’s feline head shooting up staring over her shoulder at the intruder. John entered the room with Dobby clutching his hand. He went over to Hermione stroking down her head and spine. “It’s alright love, only me.”

She purred softly at him then snuggled her head back to the space it had been previously. John looked Harry up and down before coming to Helen’s side and enveloping her in his arms. He turned his back to the bed letting Helen sag against him and he ignored the tears he felt seeping through his shirt to dampen his chest. He’d gotten out of surgery to receive her message. Returning to his office to let his secretary know he’d be unavailable for the rest of the day, he’d found Dobby waiting. Inordinately relieved that they had magical help John had left his messages and let Dobby bring him here.

“He’s alright.” Helen said in a wobbly voice. “Dobby told the hospital to meet the ambulance and they’ve fixed everything. Their just waiting for his leg and ankle bones to grow back before bringing him round.”

“Grow back?” John asked.

“Hmmhm, they vanish the broken bones and grow new ones.”

“That sounds, awful,” John said. “I think I’d rather be unconscious too.” Helen nodded wetly against his chest before loosening the death grip she had him in. “Don’t suppose there’s another chair somewhere is there.” He asked her looking around.

“Dobby can fix that!” Dobby piped up and widened Helen’s chair to fit both of them comfortably.

“Can you get yourself a chair Dobby?” John asked.

Dobby nodded and snapped his fingers. His chair from Harry and Hermione’s study appeared. He placed it next to Helen and John's shared chair and hopped into it. Staying alert for the needs of his family.

“Are magical hospital visiting hours different?” John asked quietly.

“I’ve no idea.” Helen replied. “I don’t think they’ll get Hermione out of here regardless.”

“No, I suppose not. So tell me everything.”

Helen did and it left them pale and clutching hands as they observed the two forms on the bed.

“He’s ok though?” John asked again.

“The wizard who brought us here seemed to think so. He will be brought round tomorrow and discharged as soon as they are happy with him.”

“Thank god for magic,” John said quietly. “That much damage would have meant months in hospital. Not to mention rehab.”

“Thank god for Dobby,” Helen said.

Dobby beamed at them both. “Dobby will fetch food,” he announced before disappearing.

“Oh,” John said. “We won’t have to eat hospital food?”

“Apparently not, muggle hospitals should have chairs this comfortable” Helen said, relaxing back against the chair and John as they settled down to wait.

“That is also another point in favour of magical hospitals.” he agreed. 

 It was grey and foggy when Harry opened his eyes, the echo of a sound ringing in his ears.

He looked about him a little puzzled as to where he was. Streaks of lightening flashed above the clouds overhead. He wondered if that meant it might start raining. He needed to wake up if this was a dream because he’d just run into the road in front of a truck and Hermione was going to kill him… Oh. Yeah, right. Just then a man came into view. He reminded Harry of Percy Weasley. Neatly dressed, clipboard in hand, fussy officious voice.

“Ah, you’re here. Good we can get this moving.”

“What’s going on?” Harry asked looking round him.

“You’re currently dead, in case you weren’t clear on that. The paramedics are driving you to hospital and performing CPR hence the…” he waved a hand at the flashes above him. “Normally in such circumstances we wouldn’t meet until they had failed to bring you back. As it stands these are not normal circumstances.”

“How so?” Harry asked.

“More than one soul arrived when you died,” the Percy lookalike said simply.

“What do you mean? How can a person have more than one soul?”

“They can’t.” the Percy man replied. “Hence the unusual circumstances we find ourselves in. Your soul is intact. The other soul that came with you is not. If the paramedics bring you back to life then you will return without the extra bit. You need to consent to leaving it here with us. I mean it’s not yours, but there’s a bit of a grey area since it came in with you, so it’s best for everybody if you consent to leaving it behind.”

“So I’m not going to die?” Harry asked more confused.

“Well that depends, the CPR seems to be working.” He glanced over his shoulder at the encroaching mist. “You might still die of your injuries of course, and well, obviously everyone dies at some point, but you, right now? Looks like it’s a no.”

“What are you going to do with the soul piece I brought with me?”

“Oh we’ll put it with the others. We’ve nearly got them all now. We’ve had a few in recently and it’s quite interesting.”

“You’ve had more of them?” Harry asked. “But what does that mean? How can you have pieces?”

“It’s complicated,” the Percy man said. “And we really don’t have time to talk now. Maybe later, next time we meet, I’ll explain if you haven’t worked it out.” The man turned and walked away, as he got smaller it got darker, until Harry was left completely in the dark. Then he felt the pain arching through his body, the voices of the paramedics coming faintly in his ears, the wail of the siren. The darkness beckoned again and he gave into it

 When he woke again he was in a room in a soft bed, from the feel of it. He felt awful, his tongue was thick like he’d licked a cat. He groaned as the light needled under his eyelids and stabbed his brain.

“Harry?”

“Oh good. Harry, are you awake?”

He made a noise but it wasn’t coherent, and forced his eyes open. Hermione was sat next to him and she looked a mess. He winced because he was very certain that was his fault, and that he was going to pay for it in ways he was as of yet unaware of. His eyes fell shut, the effort of keeping them open too much.

“Harry, its Helen. You’re in hospital, a magical hospital. You’ve been unconscious for a day while they grew your shin and ankle bones back. You broke some ribs and punctured your lungs, damaged your internal organs and suffered a head trauma. They kept you in a magical coma until it was all fixed.”

“You died!” Hermione’s voice was high pitched and screeching.

Oh, that. Yeah, he was going to pay for this. He heard Helen murmur to Hermione and then he heard sniffles. He twitched a hand and it was grasped in a small familiar warm one, Hermione. He fought to open his eyes and keep them open.

Helen’s voice came again steady and warm. “You died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, they brought you back. You were technically dead for three minutes.”

“Felt longer.” He croaked out. His brain mouth filter had never been amazing, but this spectacular failure left a silence in the room that was deafening. He opened his eyes again to see Hermione’s face as she worked her way up into exploding.

“Right,” Helen said, cutting of whatever Hermione was about to hurl at him. “Well you have had quite a lot of healing done all at once, and you are going to be groggy for a while now. I’m going to take Hermione home.”

“No Mum.”

“Yes, I’m not arguing about this, Harry is awake, and well, slightly delirious. He needs to sleep and you need a shower. We’ll come back once you’ve had a shower and a nap. A short nap but a proper one, not as a cat.”

“Mum!”

“No, Hermione you are coming if it means I have to drug you to get you there. We’ll be back later Harry.” She leant over him, brushed his hair away from his forehead and kissed the top of his head. “I’m glad you’re ok, don’t scare us like that again.” She whispered against his hair. Helen stepped back to be replaced by Hermione. Hermione didn’t say anything but he saw the raw emotion swimming in her eyes. She kissed him gently squeezed his hand and followed her mother out the door looking back over her shoulder as she went.

Harry gave into the creeping darkness. He’d sleep now and when they came back later, maybe he could tell them about the grey place.  Maybe Hermione could tell him why he had more than one soul.

Chapter Text

He woke later, after Helen and Hermione had left, but before they returned. The healer walked in, introduced themselves and proceeded to cast diagnostic charms over him.

He stayed quiet and still while it happened, waiting until they had finished before venturing to ask. “What’s the verdict?”

“Well Mr. Black you had a lucky escape this time. Your bones are back and in good shape, your organs are all now fixed. The head injury was nothing to sniff at but it’s also healed. I’d say given that you are awake and coherent you can return home today.”

“Oh, right. Thanks”

“Something the matter?”

“No, err no. I just, I wasn’t expecting it to be that simple. I mean, I got hit by a truck and I feel, well, fine. Great even.”

The healer smiled tightly, nodded and left the room. Harry tipped his head up to look at the ceiling, taking stock before Hermione, Helen and John returned. He was in for a world of hurt from Hermione, he knew that he’d frightened her badly, clearly more than he had previously. Maybe it was because she knew he had actually died or maybe it was because he had acted on impulse rather than being forced to act. Or maybe it was because their life here had been so trouble free it was easy to forget that near death escapades had been the norm for him.

He didn’t regret it, maybe, if he’d woken up in a muggle hospital attached to drips and plastered from hip to toe he would have. But the magical healing had left him unconscious for a whole day and he felt pretty good. Well assuming the kid made it, but he was pretty sure he would have.

Harry lay there and thought about what had happened to him. As dying went, it was pretty easy. Black out, and wake up in the grey place.

The officious person who had reminded him of Percy hadn’t really told him anything, which was frustrating, but he hadn’t actually asked any questions. Now he had time to think about it, he had a list a mile long of questions he wished he’d asked. Starting with, ‘Where are the loved ones that are meant to meet you?’ and moving swiftly to, ‘Explain what the bloody hell you mean I had a soul riding shotgun?’ Before he got really deep in to his groove of questions he probably should have asked, the door cracked open and John poked his head around it.

“You’re awake?”

“Yeah.” Harry confirmed. John came into the room and closed the door, leaning on it.

“Good stuff. The girls will be here soon, so before they get here, let me take this moment to tell you if you ever, ever, do anything so sublimely fucking stupid again, I will make you regret it.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth soundlessly.

John stared him down. “You put us through hell Harry. Even here in a magical hospital, where they were telling us within the hour you’d be alright. You died in that ambulance. My little girl found out that the man she loved died, and that isn’t something I ever want to see her go through again. Helen and I see you as part of our family, you’re going to be officially eventually, and you died, Harry.” John crossed the room and dropped on to the bottom of the bed, pulling a hand down his face.

He looked his age, Harry thought and felt the swamp of guilt wash over him. “The kid,” Harry said.

“Yeah,” John agreed. “I know, and maybe I would have done the same thing. But for fuck’s sake Harry, next time pull your wand and blow the Statute of Secrecy to the moon. Don’t throw yourself in front of bloody traffic.”

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly.

“It’s alright,” John said. “You frightened us all badly, but you’re alright. Your alive and well, and very likely going to spend the next week or so under the eagle eye of Helen, Hermione and Dobby. I’m not going to save you either. You deserve it.”

Harry winced. John saw it and smiled grimly. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s going to be bad. Neither of those two handle fear well. Hermione is already pissed, which is the other reason I’m here before them. A heads up if you will.”

 Harry shrank back into his pillow and John laughed, a genuine sound that lifted Harry’s heart from the guilt weighing it down.

“Oh yeah, you’re going to be regretting your miraculous survival,” John said.

Harry smiled hesitantly back at John. The elder man grasped his hand where it was on the bed. “It’s alright I’m done now, I've said my piece, you’re alright so it’s over. Still not going to save you though.”

“Yeah, thanks.” 

John shrugged as if to say ‘you made your bed’, which Harry admitted he had.

It was only a moment later that Hermione and Helen walked into the room. On seeing John smiling on the bed with Harry, Hermione’s eyes narrowed and her gaze went flinty. Harry gulped audibly and John sniggered.

Willing to let Hermione take the lead on this one, Helen sidled past Hermione and joined John on the bed, taking his hand, sending a questioning look at him. He tipped his head slightly towards Harry indicating she should wait. She nodded slightly in return and settled in to watch the fireworks.

“So?” Hermione said, her voice colder than an arctic winter.

“I’m alright Hermione.”

“Yes, I am aware that once you jumped in front of the truck, got hit by two tonnes of steel. Bounced off the front of the truck onto the road, and then got dragged under same said truck. Then died on your way to hospital, to be resuscitated by the paramedic, and then transferred to the magical hospital thanks to Dobby. Received the potions you required to heal you, that you would be alright, Harry. Thank you for stating the fucking obvious. Now answer the question and explain to me exactly, what the fucking hell you thought you were playing at?”

Harry had pressed himself back into his pillows as far as he could in the face of her tirade. She stood waiting for him to speak once she’d finished. Hands jammed on her hips, hair sparking and the space around her shimmering as her elemental magic started leaking into the air around her. He swallowed, and shot a look towards John. That caused her to growl, and Harry was forcibly reminded that Hermione’s animagus form was a predator. A small predator maybe, but one none the less.

He screwed up his courage and faced her, then in the calmest soothing tone he could manage he said. “Because somethings are important, and it really seems that I need to put myself in mortal danger at least once a year, and since June passed quietly I was overdue?”

There was an earth shattering silence. He could have heard them split the atom. It pressed against him like a physical force as he refused to look away from her face. Helen had drawn in a breath at his statement but he didn’t dare look away from Hermione. He held his breath slightly, waiting for her to gather herself. He broke in again just as she was about to speak. “I would do it again.”

Her face went blank, and he decided that keeping her off kilter would either release her temper all in one huge blow out, when he ran out of things to say, or would stop her building up any real steam and thus save him from the worst of it. “I wasn’t going to watch a kid die in front of me when I could prevent it.”

Her eyes narrowed and he paused waiting to see which way she was going to go before he said anything else. Her posture still screamed ‘beyond angry’ and she sat herself down stiffly in the chair by the bed.

“So,” she said, drawing out the word. The clash of knives in her voice was still audible and he winced. “Your reasoning, and it had better be good.”

Harry cleared his throat and wondered how far he’d get before she tore him limb from limb. It was a tough call he decided and comforted himself that she’d forgive him, eventually. He’d done dangerous things before and she’d never wavered. He hoped she wouldn’t hold it against him.

 “Hermione.” He grabbed her hand and fleetingly wondered if he’d just grabbed a tiger by the tail. “None of the reasons I did this are going to be good enough, or make any sense. I did it because I could, or because I had to, or because if I survived it I had the best chance of getting medical care I needed to get better faster. Or because I knew what was going to happen and acted rather than witness it. It scared you beyond anything you, or I, could comprehend and I’ll admit I expect you to be angry with me for scaring you. But I don’t expect you to be angry with me for saving a kid’s life.”

She was stiff, and her gaze was still flinty, but he could see that he’d engaged her brain and it was thinking furiously. Helen had also noted her face and offered him a slight smile acknowledging that in defusing Hermione’s temper he had picked the best way to do it. He got the impression that he hadn’t yet been forgiven by Helen, his attempts at sincerity none withstanding, and she was waiting on the outcome of this.

Hermione looked at him. “We had a conversation on the beach in the Bahamas, not two weeks ago about not burying each other.”

“Yes, but this isn’t the same thing.”

“How can you say that? You died!”

“I’m not dead. You’re saying that like it’s still something I am. It’s not, I’m alive!”

“You left me, you made the decision and went ahead without consulting me,” she said.

“Hermione there was a kid in the road, the truck was coming. Saying anything would have resulted in dead kid.”

“I don’t care about the stupid bloody kid you idiot!” She shouted at him, standing up. “I don’t know that kid from a hole in the ground. You, you…” and she broke. He pulled her back into him and she sobbed. Helen and John stood and quietly left the room giving them some privacy.

“It’s OK.” he soothed. “It’s fine, I’m here, you’re alright. I love you, I wouldn’t leave you.”

“But you did!” she whimpered. Minutes passed as she sobbed and eventually quieted in his arms. “You’re not a bloody superhero, you complete moron. What kind of idiot runs out into traffic?” she muttered finally into his chest.

He smiled into the top of her head and she wrapped herself around him, sighing and snuggled closer. “It brought it home,” she said quietly. “When the healer told us you had to be resuscitated in the ambulance. It brought it home that at some point, we’re going out there and we’re going to throw ourselves into a fight where we might not make it. That there might not be a paramedic to perform CPR and the next time I see your body hit the ground, you might not get back up. It was the single most horrible thing and I don’t know how to deal with it. It was like the worst foreshadowing of our future.”

“It’s no worse than me getting into an accident skiing you know. It’s just as dangerous as crossing the street.”

“You ran in front of a truck Harry, it’s not quite the same thing as wiping out on the slopes.”

“Forgive me?” he asked quietly, lifting her chin to meet her eyes.

She looked at him for a moment longer than he liked before she nodded infinitesimally. He kissed her with everything he had, trying to convince her that he was alive and that he wouldn’t leave her. That he was sorry he had frightened her, that she’d had to go through it. When they broke apart she leant her forehead on his, panting slightly.

“Good apology,” she said.

There was a gentle knock on the door and Helen and John walked back in. Helen eyed them both then smiled. “So we’ve moved on to the kissing and making up. I don’t need to check for new wounds Harry?”

“Err no,” he said smiling hugging Hermione to him more firmly. “I seem to have dodged that bullet.”

“Just need to improve your ability to dodge trucks then.” Helen replied smiling. “Everyone needs a hobby, yours seems to be human Frogger.”

John snorted a laugh. “When you’re ready, we’ve signed your release forms and you’ve been cleared to leave.”

“You went to the front desk alone?” Hermione said instantly worried. “Are you alright?”

“Dobby was with us.” Helen soothed.

“Oh, OK.” she subsided.

“OK then, I’ll, umm, just find some clothes.” Harry moved out from under Hermione.

“In the bag by the bed.” Helen advised. “Bathroom is just through that door,” she said pointing to a doorway in the corner.

Harry threw off the sheet and stood up carefully. He took a cautious step and then smiled grabbing the bag. He disappeared into the bathroom and came out dressed in his own clothes once again.

“Shall we then?” he asked.

“Dobby will take everyone home,” the elf said firmly from where he stood at Helen’s side.

“OK” Helen agreed. “Shall we?”

They all held on to Dobby and he vanished them with a pop. They arrived in the hall and Dobby supervised the removal of shoes and coats before taking the removed articles, Harry’s bag and vanishing.

“I want a shower,” Harry said. “Then can I speak to you all? I’ve got something to talk to you about I didn’t want to mention at the hospital.”

“Sure,” John said. “We’ll come up to your study.” 

Half an hour later found everyone gathered in the study and Dobby brought food and drinks. Harry explained everything that had happened once he had technically died. When he finished there was an overall silence that was eventually broken by Helen.

“Wait, so you died, and you were greeted by the ethereal version of Percy Weasley? I find myself somewhat disappointed. What happened to the bright lights? Your life flashing before your eyes? A giant set of golden gates with a chorus of angels?”

“I’m not sure that is the important part,” John said.

“Really?” she asked cocking an eyebrow at him, smiling.

“Well it might be, if you discount the two souls thing.” he agreed pleasantly.

“This isn’t one of those magical things we don’t know about is it?” Helen asked.

“No Mum, you can’t have two souls, even magical people only get one soul each.”

“Then how do you explain Harry?” Helen responded.

“Well it wasn’t a whole soul, it was only part of one.” She said, doodling on her pad, letting her mind run over everything she knew about soul magic, which was unfortunately not a lot.

“You said the Percy person said they had had a few recently,” John said thinking. “So there were more than one of these pieces making a whole. The only thing I know of, that sounds anything like that is these horcruxes you said Mr Dumbledore wanted you to look for.”

Harry’s shoulders dropped in disappointment and he blew out a breath. “Damn,” he said softly. “I thought maybe it was just me jumping to worst case scenario.”

“Yeah, but they were being put in things, not people.” Hermione objected.

“Well could it be done? Could you put one in a living person?” John queried.

“I, I don’t know,” she admitted.

“You said that he killed Harry’s parents and the spell he cast at Harry backfired because of Harry’s mother. Could killing both Harry’s parents have created the soul piece and it latched on to Harry when Tom died due to the backlash?” John elaborated.

“Why would it though?” Hermione argued. “Say that your right, and he was planning on making another one that night. He would have brought something with him to do so. Let’s extrapolate that it was even something of Godric Gryffindor’s and he liked the imagery of killing two Gryffindor’s or the child of the prophecy to make it. Why would the soul piece not latch on to that? I don’t know, but I’m guessing anything you want to store a piece of your soul in had to be prepared somehow. Or even if he brought something and dropped when he died, why didn’t it latch on to the cot or some piece of debris? There’s no reason that’s easily explainable, as to why it would latch on to Harry instead.”

“Survivability?”  Harry suggested. “I mean; I haven’t been, but by all accounts, the house was trashed in the explosion. If I was the most likely chance of its survival would that not be reason enough? The piece in the diary could communicate with you so they can’t be totally without reason.”

“That’s a thought.” John agreed. “If it was partly sentient, but that would mean you had a piece of sentient soul in you. Which is well, creepy.”

Hermione was looking thoughtful. “When did you stop with the visions of Tom?”

“After Switzerland. I thought that maybe everything you were teaching your Mum and Dad somehow helped me block him.” Harry said.

 She nodded. “Possibly, you’ve had nothing since?”

“No, not even a bad dream. My bad dreams are the regular sort I suppose, or as regular as I get.”

“Can you still talk to snakes?” Hermione asked.

He looked at her blankly. “I don’t know, it’s not something I know I’m doing.”

“Might not prove anything anyway,” Helen said also looking thoughtful. “Parselmouth is genetic, or as genetic as magical inheritance gets. Harry is descended from the Peverell’s isn’t he? So was Tom, it’s in that genealogy book we picked up a couple of years ago, sacred 38 or something.”

“28,” Hermione corrected absently

Harry was staring at his desk rubbing a nail into the grain of the wood, his face unhappy.

“What is it Harry? You aren’t going to miss your ability if it’s gone are you?” John asked.

“No, it’s the horcrux. The night my parents died and I got my scar. Dumbledore took me to the Dursley’s, he left me on the doorstep. He’s supposed to be the most powerful wizard of his time.” Harry looked up and met John’s eyes, his face wretched. “We’ve talked about why he does the things he does. And I thought I was getting it. I thought I was learning to think about stuff, about what might be driving the decisions before I thought about how they affected me personally, or how I personally felt about them. But how could he have not known? How could he not have spotted a horcrux inside a toddler? And if he did…” Harry stopped, clamping his lips shut and looked at John, his eyes begging for answers. John glanced at Hermione to see how she was taking it. To his surprise then suspicion, she was still doodling on her pad. Clearly listening, but not looking at anyone or saying anything.

“Hermione?” he said. Harry’s head whipped around to look at her as she raised her eyes to John’s.

“You knew?” Harry asked.

“No. But things are clicking into place,” she said quietly.

“What things?” he demanded, getting angry.

John reached out and put a restraining hand on his arm without taking his gaze from his daughter. “Hermione, could you please explain.”

Harry simmered down under John’s hand but his expression was still hurt and Hermione swallowed before starting. “The visions, the dreams, you always said you could feel him. Feel how he was feeling, it never made any sense. If you had a piece of his soul in you, then it was his soul that was connecting back to him in some way. Because it was a piece of him, it could sense, hear, see, feel what he was. As long as it was strong enough to affect his soul then the piece inside of you would be equally affected. You were a horcrux Harry. Tom could use his connection to you to lead you to the ministry, feed you false information and take information from you.  That’s why Dumbledore insisted you learn Occulmency. And without killing the piece inside you, Tom could never die. Dumbledore knew, he must have.” She rubbed away the couple of tears that had fallen, and those tears did away with any of his lingering anger.

John cleared his throat breaking the silence that was building. “So we are saying that the soul piece inside of Harry was a piece of Tom, and that Tom knows or suspects it. Mr Dumbledore certainly knows about it due to the methods of protection Harry was encouraged to use. Indicating that when Harry was an infant, Mr Dumbledore either missed the piece of soul in Harry that didn’t belong to him, or wilfully left it there. Even if he found out at a later date, Mr Dumbledore would be aware that the soul piece and its container, in this case Harry, would need to be destroyed for Tom to be properly vanquished. Just so we’re all on the same page.”

“That is a hell of an accusation to make.” Helen said cautiously.

“It’s true, Helen, you know it is,” John said tiredly.

“It makes a certain amount of sense,” she allowed.

“What?” Hermione demanded. “What makes sense?”

Helen and John had one of those conversations that was done in looks, twitches and slight gestures. Finally, Helen sighed and sat more comfortably in her chair. “The authorities never got involved in Harry’s home life. You never saw a case worker, were never assessed by Social Services were you?”

“No,” Harry replied. “My Aunt told everyone at school I was trouble.”

“Harry, this might be hard for you to believe but no professional in charge of children would accept that. If you stole things, were violent and rowdy, then yes they might be less inclined to deal with you. But you were small, underfed, quiet, and bullied by your cousin. Any trained professional could see something was wrong.”

“But they never did anything. No one did.” Harry protested.

Helen and John exchanged another look.

“Wait,” Hermione said, following where her parents were going. “You think they did?”

Harry looked at her in shock then turned to stare at Helen and John. “No,” he whispered. “They thought I was trouble, Aunt Petunia told them I was, that I wasn’t to be trusted.”

Helen reached out and grasped his hands. “Harry, your medical records, we had to get a copy to bring you here. You saw doctors, dentists, optometrists. All those health professionals would had seen a small scared child living in hand me down clothes, next to your well-fed pampered cousin, and would have reported it. It’s what we do. The system is flawed, things fall through the cracks, but you didn’t move around, you didn’t move schools, they would have known. Once could be brushed off, but 11 continual years? No.”

“So what then?” Harry spat angrily. “They knew and then what? Why were they allowed to get away with it?”

“Harry!” Hermione grabbed the joined hands of Harry and her mother and met his eyes, hers were swimming.

John spoke up. “We think, and we do not know, although we feel that our revelations of today confirm, that if action was taken by the muggle authorities it was headed off. By magical means.”

“You mean…” He didn’t finish but the three faces in expressions of grief in front of him answered him as clearly as if they had spoken. He closed his eyes.

“Isolated, love starved children can latch on to the person who gives them attention and a sense of worth first. It becomes easier to steer the child, the lack of a sense of worth makes them feel less important than others. That their needs don’t, and shouldn’t matter. Gratitude can be a powerful motivator, fear of being abandoned again causes behaviours to change.” Helen said softly trying to lessen the blow.

“He was being groomed?” Hermione said outraged. Helen and John nodded wordlessly.

“I, I don’t understand,” Harry said. “Why?”

“Because,” John replied. “And again, we’re on the path of supposition with circumstantial evidence, this isn’t proven. This is just what Helen and I had previously discussed and shelved due to lack of any evidence. The prophecy says either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. That you were marked as an equal by Tom’s actions. It’s entirely likely that Mr Dumbledore has taken this as a literal meaning. He thinks that you must face Tom personally, alone. A child of prophecy raised by an uncaring family would be an easier asset to manoeuvre than one raised in a loving home. A child that has a support network behind them would question. Would have someone to go to when they felt unsure of what they had been asked to do, or told to do. Would have their own opinions and thoughts, would be less likely to agree out of fear of having what they sorely wanted snatched from them.”

Harry looked like he was going to be physically sick

“It’s wrong Harry. Mr Dumbledore is wrong. What he has done is considered grooming by the Muggle authorities, its predatory and illegal, he should be in jail not in charge of a school.” Helen said earnestly. “None of this is your fault.”

“He kept me at the Dursley’s to win the war? He knew about the horcrux and did nothing so I would be willing to fulfil the prophecy?” Harry asked wanting it not to be true.

“It seems unlikely to us that his plan would have resulted in your survival. If the killing curse was cast on you, CPR might work but I doubt it’s ever been tested. You might have been given the option of returning again by the Percy person, or you might not.  As it was, you did die but in the hands of trained medical professionals and not from magic. I don’t know if magic would have made a difference or not. You have survived the killing curse before but those conditions seem to have been unique.” John said.

“I didn’t think this could get any weirder,” Harry said quietly his head reeling with everything that was been laid out for him. “I mean I died. I had this whole conversation with a Percy Weasley look alike and now you think that Dumbledore wanted me to die to kill the bit of Tom inside of me? Preferably at the hands of Tom himself to fulfil the prophecy. I know I have terrible luck but this just seems, well, I don’t know, a bit much?”

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” John said.

Harry turned to look at Hermione. “What do you think?”

“I think, I think a lot of things. I think Dumbledore should be arrested and put in prison. I think I want to hex him myself next time I see him. I think we should never step foot inside Hogwarts again.” She pushed her fingers into her hair. “This is a lot. It’s been a lot over a short time frame and I don’t know. This changes things, I mean he’s the Headmaster, and the leader of the Order. Did no one question him?”

“We have no proof anyone knows, or has access to all the information to put it together.” Helen pointed out.

“There’s one bright spot I suppose,” Harry said causing everyone to look at him. “Percy said they had had others. Someone back in England is hunting horcruxes.”

They sat in a moment’s contemplation of that.

“So,” Hermione said. “They found the message in the letter?”

“That, or maybe we forced Dumbledore to act?” Harry said dubiously.

Hermione snorted in derision.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a wry smile. “Maybe not, but that leaves Remus.”

“Well if he found the letter then it means that the 16^th might be more than a reunion.” Hermione said.

There was a round of nods and Helen stood up. “Good. Right. Well that’s something else that will need thinking on then. How we handle that meeting, but not today, let’s just take some time before deciding anything. We’re not making decisions today about the future. Harry’s just got home, we’ve all had a bit of a shock in light of his experiences and frankly any decisions made now will not have had the proper consideration. I think we should leave it here for now. Maybe in a week we can come back to it. Once we’ve all had a chance to think things through. I’m going to go and have a shower then I’ll be in the office if anyone needs me.” She hugged the two teenagers and left for her bedroom.

John also stood. “It’s a lot to think about, you know where we are if you want to talk or either of you wants us.” He walked out the door following Helen’s footsteps, leaving Harry and Hermione together.

“So, then,” Harry said into the silence.

“Yeah, never a dull moment. Fancy watching a film? I don’t want to think any more today. We can go downstairs and veg out. Watch a couple of videos, eat popcorn?” Hermione offered.

“Sounds like a good idea,” he agreed.

Chapter Text

The next few days everyone was adjusting to the new information they had discovered in light of Harrys death and resuscitation. No more was mentioned about what their plans would be in light of the information, but it was clear that as a family, they would be reassessing everything at some point, when they were ready.

As John had predicted Harry was subjected to a near constant state of supervision. It was subtle, it was unobtrusive, and it was ever present. After two days he had come to twitch under the scrutiny. He tried to rein in his temper and not snap. He had scared everyone, they were reacting this way because they loved him. It would go away on its own, snapping would be cruel and unfair. He had been a Horcrux, he’d died, and his childhood might not have been as cut and dried as he had first thought. It was a lot for them to deal with, it was a lot for him.

In order to bear it he decided that returning to his project was the best thing to do. If he started on the trials of embedding his spell, that would mean spending time at his desk, and they might relax the observation they had him under. He would do nothing to worry them and they would stop worrying. Also having something to do might help him ignore them better. So he ate breakfast on the Wednesday morning, smiled at everyone, and excused himself to traipse up to the study he shared with Hermione.

Sat at his desk he pulled out the notes he had been working on last week. Reading them over again, he nodded to himself and started rooting out the spare jewellery they had from making the glamour rings. Having worked with Hermione doing this sort of thing before had given him a framework to use so he could organise his thoughts better. Weed out the ideas that might be hidden gems, and those that would ultimately lead to frustration. He felt confident that what he wanted to do could be done and he’d addressed the problems he could think of before he started.

Dobby brought his lunch, interrupting a long winded internal mental musing after the first trial hadn’t brought about quite what he had been aiming for. Startled, he thanked the elf and looked up. Hermione was sat across from him clearly also just brought out of her own thought process by the arrival of lunch.

“Hi,” he said lamely. “I didn’t notice you arrive.”

“About fifteen minutes after you did, but you looked engrossed so I left you to it. So,” she said, starting to eat her lunch. “Is this the product of the accident?”

“No, this is what I started last week. I started thinking about it before we left on holiday and this is the first point I’ve gotten to where I thought it would work. It’s interesting work. The costume rings and glamour rings were interesting. I never thought I could do magic like that.”

“Oh, it didn’t do what you thought?” she said. “Well I’m sure you’ll fix it, and I can help if you want? I guess it helps if you’ve something to take your mind off the scrutiny as well doesn’t it?”

“How did you guess?” he asked with a wry smile.

She shrugged one shoulder and munched on a crisp. “You’ve never liked being the centre of attention and Mrs Weasley’s mothering was always a little uncomfortable. We, well I, don’t mean to be, intrusive. It’s just…”

“I get it. It’s fine, it’s nice to know you all care.”

“But it’s intrusive?” she said smiling.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But I’ve not noticed anyone this morning so maybe you’ve got a good thing going on here.”

She nodded. “How long do you think your project will take?”

“Hmmmm, maybe a couple of days before I’m sure it’s what I want, then a round of testing? It’s based on the rings so that bit I understand. It’s the spell I want to put in to it, I’ve got a couple of ideas and I think there’s a couple of problems that I’ll need to deal with,” he said, pushing at a scribble he’d made on a page.

“I’ve got brewing to do.” she pointed at the desk they had set up on one side of the room where they did the brewing homework for school. “That’s not going to interfere is it?”

“No, no shouldn’t do, you carry on.”

They ate the meal companionably and Harry saw a tension leave Hermione’s shoulders. Guilt nibbled at him, knowing he put it there. It nibbled a bit harder when Helen’s head popped around the door. “Still alive? You’ve both been so quiet.”

“Busy,” Hermione said pointing at the mass of papers covering both desks.

“So I see. Happy enough? I’ve got to go to the surgery. John wanted to know if you’d still be free this afternoon Harry, or if you’d walled yourself away doing whatever it is you are doing. I can let him know when I get there.”

“Oh yeah, tell him yes, I’m free. A break might help.”

She nodded, smiled and vanished.

Lunches finished they both drifted back to their projects and soon both were lost to their research. Barely noticing when either of them got up to retrieve a text from the shelves.

When John got home Dobby came for him breaking into his thoughts. Tidying his desk, he picked up the sheet of ideas he had mapped out, the first prototype he was confident of, and took it with him into the library. Dobby brought cold drinks and snacks, pushing them on to Harry. Harry thanked him and dropped into a chair.

“So,” John said. “You’re up there working on something, or up there hiding because then you won’t be followed?”

“Both,” Harry said with a smile.

“Fair enough, anything you want to share?”

“Well,” Harry said. “It’s not working perfectly yet and I’ve not done any of the dozen trials Hermione would say I need to do but here, take a look and tell me what you think.”

John took the proffered paper and read over it. “You have a promising career as a doctor if handwriting is a judge,” he said squinting to read a particularly cramped part.

“Wasn’t thinking of it no, but this is a little bit along those lines. It’s for Hermione, Well it’s for you and Helen, but mostly for Hermione. Those marbles, I didn’t realise it would upset her to make them, I just thought they would help.”

“I know,” John said looking at him. “You aren’t the only one, and you aren’t the only one taking responsibility for the effect it’s had on her. We’re all culpable, each of us. But so is Hermione, she could have said no and didn’t.”

“This is, well, I suppose it’s an apology of sorts.”

“A balance?” John asked raising an eyebrow in query.

“Maybe, I know that if and when we go back you’ll come, won’t you. I don’t think Hermione’s gotten that far in her thinking yet, I think I might have derailed her a bit. And I know we’ve not really sat down and discussed anything since the other day but I’ve been thinking. What Dumbledore did, if he did it, because we’ve no proof, was a terrible thing to do. And I’m not sure how to really wrap my head around it. Was it easier when I thought no one cared? Or knowing that someone might have tried and been magically stopped, does that make the awful feel less awful? How am I supposed to feel about the magical world? A world that let a child be treated like that? And it got me thinking. How did Dumbledore stop the others?”

“Others?”

“Well I don’t mean to be full of myself but in my first potions lesson Sn-Professor Snape called me a celebrity. And well, celebrities in the muggle world get fan mail don’t they? So if the magical world think I’m a celebrity what did he do to stop them sending me mail? Or elves? Dobby found me and the post owls could find me when Hermione and Ron wrote. There are so many unanswered questions.”

“Do you want answers?” John asked. “The knowing might be as much of a burden. Suspecting what he did might gnaw at you, but knowing? Knowing is absolute, there’s no going back.”

“I know,” Harry agreed. “And you’re right it is, and if I’m truthful right now it’s less important. My life is better, here with you. Having a family, I know what I was missing, but I have it now. It’s not like I don’t know what happened to my parents. I’m not sure that having the answers now will do anything but distract me.”

“Distract you from what?”

“Tom.”

“Ahh so you are going to go back. You’ve decided.”

“Yes, or well no, but maybe? You were right it changes things, but there’s nothing I can do. It’s done, it’s over. If I can get answers afterwards then I’ll try I guess?”

“As terrible as this might sound what if Dumbledore doesn’t make it out the other side of this conflict? He’s old, he’s clearly a threat on a power basis. Would that change your mind if you knew the window of opportunity was smaller?”

“Do you think he would answer me honestly? If I wrote him a letter say, or if there was a way to arrange a meeting with him, hypothetically of course.”

John sat staring at the paper in his hand considering everything he knew of Albus Dumbledore. All the interactions Hermione had related. The things Harry had told him within this room. “No,” he said finally. “I think, as with Hermione he would tell you the truth couched in something you would want to hear. It would probably be justification obfuscated with concern, and the only thing he could do to keep you safe. I don’t think you’d get any direct answers.”

Harry nodded. “I thought so. So yeah, if he doesn’t make it it’s a risk I’m willing to accept. There’s nothing else I can really do. It might need a public enquiry to get answers and that’s not a short process is it.”

“So these rings.” John said, gesturing to the paper he held. “They are some sort of force field?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed accepting the change of subject. “There is a spell wizard’s use, a protego spell. It’s got some variations that are stronger than the generic one to deflect a hex. I wanted something that you or Helen could use to protect yourselves from spell fire. You’ve no defences against the Death Eaters and as Muggles you are going to be targets if they ever come across you.” Harry held out the ring he’d worked on upstairs. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind being my guinea pig. I need to know how long before its overloaded and how good the block of spell penetration spells is. It won’t do for someone to be able to over load it easily, or throw a decent spell penetration at it and have if fall. You’d be sitting ducks”

“How dangerous is this going to be?” John asked.

“Not very, simple jinxes until it breaks then I should just be able to scale it up. I want to know if I can put Hermione’s recharge on to them as well. Since it’s based on movement you’d be able to keep them charged and that means you’ll be protected for longer.”

“OK, I guess I could help out.” John said squinting at the sheet again.

“Thank you,” Harry said, meaning it. “I thought if you were willing we’d use a light stinging hex. No more than slapping your hand down sharply.”

John nodded and stood up moving to the centre of the room. “Go on then,” he prompted. Harry looked at him. “I want to know what I’m going to be hit with before we start so I’ll know when it breaks.”

“Umm, OK” Harry said standing as well. He removed his wand from the arm holster and stood with it pointing at the floor.

“Go on then” John prompted again. Harry swallowed the sudden misgiving that was rising within him. John was unarmed and willing to help, he wouldn’t actually hurt him, and he wasn’t doing anything sinister by turning his wand on him. He gritted his teeth and cast the stinging hex putting as little power into it as he could. He flinched as the spell hit John’s lower leg. John jumped in surprise.

“Ouch,” he said, reflexively rubbing his leg. “Actually, that wasn’t that bad, I think I’ve hurt myself worse tripping over Crooks. Are you sure that’s going to be enough?”

“Yes, at least at first.” He handed John the ring. “You OK to do this? I mean, standing on the other end of a wand when you’ve got your own isn’t nice, and you don’t have one.”

“You’ll stop if I ask you to?” John said.

“Yes of course,” Harry said, shocked he needed to ask.

“Well then, if the rings work I won’t feel the spells, if it doesn’t you’ll stop after the first hit lands.”

“OK” Harry agreed, drawing in a breath. He squared his shoulders and made sure the ring was on John’s hand before he cast another weak spell at his legs. The spell bounced off, causing the shield to flare a white colour where the hex landed. Harry’s shoulders dropped slightly in relief and a sense of excitement started taking root inside him.

“Was it meant to do that?” John asked. “I certainly didn’t feel anything when the spell hit the shield.”

“I didn’t know it would flash a colour. I need to stop that, if it does that then they’ll know that there’s a shield there and might try harder to break it.”

John nodded his understanding. Harry looked at him. “Are you ready? I’m going to throw three hexes at it one after the other.”

“OK” John agreed. ”Do I need to move about? To keep the ring charged.”

“Yes you will, but I don’t know how soon it will fail, so if we can keep going until it drops with you just standing still. We can try again with you moving when I’ve re-laid it in.”

“Makes sense, you need a base level to work from. OK, I’m ready, go for it.”

Harry sent three stinging hexes at John with more confidence now he knew the shield was working. Each spell caused a flare a white light and both men had to shield their eyes and blink away spots.

“OK, I’m not going to hit it any harder until we can do something about the light,” Harry said ruefully.

“It gets a bit much,” John agreed.

Harry scribbled a note down to remind him to address the flashes of light and straightened. “We can leave it here if you want. We can try again once I’ve modified the flashing.”

“Don’t you need to know how much it can take though?”

“Yes,” Harry admitted.

“Well carry on then. Break it, then you can do your scale up, and sort out the light show.”

Harry grimaced slightly but nodded tossing out more and more hexes at the shield. Eventually John yelped in surprised and he lowered his wand. “Are you alright?” Harry asked concerned.

“Yes,” John said. “It took longer than I was expecting, and it was a bit of a surprise when it went that’s all.”

“OK, good.”

“So what’s next then?” John asked sitting down.

“Well,” Harry said. “I need to get rid of the light show, it has some defensive applications but it’s largely useless. If I can convert the spell energy hitting it back into charging the shield that would be pretty amazing along with Hermione’s recharge.”

“Won’t you need something more substantial than a ring for that though? As I understand it the rings can only hold so much magic, are you at risk of overloading them?”

Harry thought for a moment. “If I make it so its channelling equivalent amounts of magic into the shield as its absorbing, in some sort of ratio, that should stop that happening. But you’re right, that stood ten minutes of gentle stinging hexes, a couple of big spells hitting it would probably bring it down.”

“Like what?”

“Well a powerful stunner maybe?” Harry said unsure.

“Can you repower it? The ring I mean.” John asked.

“Umm, probably? What are you thinking?”

“Charge it back up, get me a crash mat or something to fall on to and hit it with a stunning spell.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes,” John said. “It won’t hurt as long as I don’t hit the actual floor. Helen got to try out the costume rings and this is much better than those,” John grinned.

“Hermione and Helen are going to kill me if they find out about this,” Harry said ruefully,

“Nonsense there’s no risk, no one is getting hurt. Helen will be miffed that she didn’t get to join in that’s all.”

Harry conjured a crash mat and John stood upon it as Harry repowered the ring, handing it back when it was done. John slipped it on and Harry stepped back. “OK, are you ready?” Harry asked.

“Ready.”

Harry raised his wand and sent a stunner across at John. The flash of light was blinding and both men stood with scrunched up eyes trying to get rid of the black spots in their vision

“Ow!” John said.

“It hurt?” Harry asked instantly.

“The blinding flash did, but I’m clearly not unconscious.”

“Right, yeah,” Harry breathed relieved. Human trials were harder than he had thought they would be. He really didn’t want anyone to get hurt, himself included when Hermione found out.

“So again?” John asked, moving his hands to cover his eyes this time.

“OK,” Harry agreed, “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Harry sent another stunner towards the man and this time a detonating crack sounded cutting off the flash mid-way through. John dropped on to the crash mat and Harry rushed forward, blinking his eyes trying to get rid of the shadows as he brought John back around

“Well?” John said once he had come to. “Does that count as one and a half stunners? I saw the flash of light start before I blacked out.”

“I think so.” Harry held out his hand to help John to his feet. John gave him the ring back and Harry vanished the crash mat.  They both found a chair at the desk and Harry scribbled more notes. “Would you be willing to try this again if I can fix this?” he asked

“Sure,” John said.

“OK,” Harry said. “I’ll fix the light show first, then we can do this without having to wear sunglasses inside. Then I’ll look at beefing it up and then the absorption. I might not get that last bit working so I’ll look at a deflection or something to get rid of the magical energy hitting it.” 

He borrowed Hermione’s notes on the recharge to get the magical impact to stop manifesting as a show of light. By applying the same principles she’d used, where energy was moved from the mundane to magical scale, he moved the magical energy burned up as light and fed it back into the magical energy powering the shield. It took more than a couple of days, and was harder than he thought it would be, even with Hermione’s instructions. However, when he had a stable solution the grin of pride spread over his face and stayed there for the rest of the day.  He might not be able to match the Marauders, or the Weasley twins in pranks, or Hermione in sheer intelligence, but he was well on the way to joining them in the pool of really useful inventions he couldn’t believe no one else had thought of.

The trials with John as his guinea pig went as far as he was happy to take them with a live subject wearing the ring, without knowing how much would bring it down. It stood up to multiple stunners and a range of lightweight hexes, but tossing bone breaking curses at John was something he was not going to do until he knew that the shield would hold, which left him with a problem. How could he prove his concept without hospitalising his future father in law and bringing the wrath of Helen and Hermione down on him?

The answer turned out to be simpler than he thought, the magical defence gym they used had training mannequins, which moved around and responded to the magic tossed at them. While he wasn’t sure the magic of the mannequins wouldn’t interfere with his test, a regular mannequin would do fine for the next level of tests. Bone breaking, blasting and cutting curses would break the mannequin which could be easily repaired. Darker stuff such as a blood boiling curse would need thinking about. He wasn’t going to go out and learn a slew of the curses the Death Eaters preferred to prove a concept, but he thought there might be a way to demonstrate some level of safety. If he filled the mannequin with water and threw the charm used to boil water, wouldn’t that demonstrate the same sort of protection?  He wondered whimsically what had come first, the charm to boil water in a kettle or the curse to boil blood in an enemy.

Within two weeks he was happy that the shield would stand up to a decent amount of magic been thrown at it. It didn’t last very long under extreme duress which was something he thought would need looking at, but at least it would mean that should John and Helen be taken by surprise, and attempts were made to incapacitate them rather than out right kill them, they would have enough time to call for help and activate an emergency portkey. Which he was perfectly happy with as a starting point. 10 minutes of a brutal onslaught of magic was a lot and it seemed unlikely they would ever face that unless they accidently walked into the middle of a Death Eater meeting. Under less duress he’d gotten the shield to perform for an hour, with the recharge function working properly it had lasted until he had overloaded it.

If a first year wore it, to defend themselves from the casual hexing that had gone on in the corridors of Hogwarts, as long as they moved around enough he couldn’t see that it would ever run out until it was purposely overloaded. That would take an event not normally within the abilities of first years. The upper years would be able to do it, but such an event would hardly be able to go unnoticed by the staff, his experiences none withstanding. However, if he wanted to tap that market, which seemed a logical step, he would have to ensure that the shield that wrapped around the wearer would then allow the wearer’s magic to exit through the shield. Before he started on that though he thought it was time to share his invention with Helen and Hermione. 

After dinner that night while they were still sat around the table he got their attention.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said to the people he saw as his family. “I know that what we found out was pretty bad and it raises a slew of questions, but I don’t think that for me at least, it changes anything. I know that you all think the prophecy is rubbish and I really, really hope it is, but if it isn’t then it will come down to me or Tom. If that’s the case, and I’m the only person that can put an end to his reign, or whatever then I can’t see how I can turn my back on it. There are more people in magical and muggle Britain that would suffer if I walked away.  And I’m not sure that’s something I will be allowed to do. Tom knows about half the prophecy; he’s tried to kill me over it before. He’s going to keep coming after me, it might be easier if I just face it and get it over with.”

“I’m going with you,” Hermione said immediately.

“I know that,” Harry said smiling, taking her hand and squeezing it. “But I wanted to tell you why, I wanted to lay all the cards on the table as it were. I can’t see this going away and I’m not safe until he’s dead, which means everyone around me isn’t safe and that is what’s driving this. I want to have a happy long safe life with all of you,” he said, ducking his head slightly at his admission.

“Then we’ll help you get that,” John said.

Helen nodded with him. “We’ll do whatever we can to help.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. “And in light of that, here.” He pushed a box towards Helen and grinned excitedly as she opened it.

“Umm, Harry they are lovely, but why are you giving me a ring?” Helen asked puzzled.

“And me,” John said. Taking the slightly wider ring out of the box, he winked at Harry.

“Ok,” Helen said. “Care to explain what you two know and I don’t?”

“And me,” Hermione said peering at the ring for her Mum still in its box. “Usually jewellery is given to the girlfriend not the parents Harry, I thought you knew that?”

“It’s not regular jewellery though and would be useless to you,” Harry said smugly.

Hermione shot him a curious look. “This is what you’ve been working on?”

“Yep, it’s got a magical shield built in to it. Like the glamour and costume rings it’s activated by the wearer, in this case Helen and John. I used the recharge function you got working to keep it running, so as long as you’re moving about it should last until it’s overloaded. Under duress that gives you about ten minutes which should be enough to call for help and get away.”

“Really?” Helen said. “That’s really clever Harry, well done!”

“Wait,” Hermione said her eyes narrowing. “Why would Mum and Dad need protection from magic?”

The three others in the room looked up surprised at her question.

“Because the magical society in Britain don’t like muggles,” Helen said slowly, unsure of why Hermione was asking.

“We don’t live in Britain.” Hermione pointed out, her voice sharp.

“No, but we’re going back aren’t we, and then we’d be vulnerable.” Helen explained.

“No, Harry and I are going back.” Hermione said her voice raising. “You can't. It's too dangerous, you'd be sitting ducks, you must see that. This is a magical fight and you aren't magical. You'll be hurt, if not worse! I won't let you!”

“What do you think you can do to stop us?” Helen asked, curious. “And of course we are coming. You think we'd let either of you two within a million miles of this fight with out of us?” She made a dismissive motion with her hand. “No chance.”

“You can't, it's not safe!” Hermione insisted again.

“It's not safe for you two either, and you're still going” Helen responded.

“We can use magic; we can defend ourselves.” Hermione’s panic was morphing into anger and Harry wondered how long it would be before she lost it completely.

“You're not going without us so this is a pointless argument,” Helen replied calmly.

“It's not pointless! How can you be so blind? You might be killed!”

“So might you,” Helen said sharply. “Do you think we place our lives above those of our children? Is that the kind of people you take us for?”

“No, of course not, but this isn't the same.” Hermione protested, her hair beginning to spark with her temper.

“How is it not the same? You think you two going off, to possibly die, while we are here, is somehow easier to bare?” Helen demanded her own temper rising in response to Hermione’s.

“You can't come, you’re muggles! They’ll target you because they are a bunch of racist bigots without the common sense they were born with. I can stop you from coming!” Hermione said viciously.

“You haven't explained that yet. How do you intend to stop us? With magic? You'll use magic against us like the Death Eaters would because you don't agree with what we’re telling you? You don’t see the problem with that? And do remember Dobby works for me, not either of you two. Anything you do will have to withstand his magic.” Helen pointed out.

“I could make you forget.”

“Forget what? The last 12 months? The last seven years? That we ever had a daughter who was a witch? How far are you willing to take this?”

“As far as I need to keep you safe!” Hermione shouted at her mother.

“No,” Harry said in a quiet voice, wanting to head this off before it went too far, also Helen was right. “You won't raise a wand to either of them. If you do, you'll have to go through me first.” He stood and moved over to stand between Helen and John. “They have given me everything a kid locked in a cupboard under the stairs could ever want in a family. You’ll not harm them no matter your intentions.”

“You're siding with them? You want them to go? They could be hurt!” Hermione said her tone a mixture of anger and hurt.

“You gave me a choice, when you were leaving. You didn't need me to escape the law, you'd done that yourself. You gave me a choice to stand with you, to become part of your family, abide by the rules that that would entail and I did. I chose you, but I chose your parents too. I'm an orphan Hermione, I've no one but you, Helen, and John, and Remus when he remembers. I'd move heaven and earth to keep you all safe but not at the expense of taking away the right to choose. You got to choose, so should they.” He knew she knew all this logically, but it was clear Hermione’s temper, fuelled by her fear was running the show. He wanted to talk to her about this, not end up in a shouting match.

“No,” she spat. “I'm not going to stand by while you help them make an orphan of me.”

Harry flinched, Helen took a sharp breath in.

“Apologise,” a steely hard voice said. Hermione cringed reflexively, she'd rarely pushed her father far enough for him to reprimand her. Usually she butted heads with her mother while he mediated the truce.

“No,” she said angrily meeting his glare. “If you're going to choose this then I'm sorry but I can't agree. You might have tied my hands in stopping you.” She shot Harry a venomous glare. “But you can't expect me to just accept it.”

“Whether you accept it or not is irrelevant,” John said his voice still hard. “What you just said to Harry was inexcusable and you need to apologise now.”

She faltered but raised her chin. “I'm sorry Harry if what I said was hurtful. But frankly, it's going around.” With that said she twisted and vanished with a large crack.

“Well, fuck,” Helen said.

Harry broke out of his shock at what Hermione had said to him to look at Helen in surprise, he wasn't sure he'd ever heard her swear.

“Let her be,” John said rubbing a hand through his hair. “You alright Harry?” he asked.

“What? Err yes, I mean, she's mad because she’s scared. I can understand that after the last month we’ve had. We’ve both fallen out with each other before and said some pretty mean things, at least she didn't send the flock of birds.” He smiled shakily at them both trying to relieve their concern for him.

“I'm sorry she said that, she shouldn't have,” Helen said. She put an arm around him hugging her to him.

Harry shrugged. “She has a point, you are vulnerable. You can't blame her for wanting you safe.”

“She doesn't get to run roughshod over everyone though. You’ve worked really hard on those shields and they deserved to be recognised for what they are,” John responded. “Do you know where she's gone?” he asked Helen.

“No, but Dobby can find her if she doesn't come back before dark.”

“We're not going after her?” Harry asked.

Helen smiled weakly at him. “I'd like to keep my limbs intact if you don't mind. The temper she's in she won't listen anyway. Let her blow off some steam, she'll come around.”

“And if she doesn't? I mean, we fell out while we were at Hogwarts and we didn’t exactly make up quickly.”

“She will,” Helen said. “And it changes nothing if she doesn't. We're coming with you, you've made the shielding bracelets and we're not expecting to run into the actual fight.”

Hermione blew through the doors to the magical defence gym they trained at and headed straight to the back where the hanging bags were. A wave of her wand as she went changed her clothes from her street clothes to something more suitable. As she vented her rage, frustration and worry at the bag, she struggled to get her thinking to calm.

By the time she had worn herself out she was no further on. Startled by a noise behind her, she whirled hurling a curse. “Oh,” she said in surprise. “I thought you were Harry.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Her defence instructor asked, lowering his wand and dispelling the shield he cast to deflect her spell. “Since you’re hurling curses at people you think are your boyfriend.”

“No. Well, yes,” she admitted.

“Huh,” he said coming closer and dropping on to the bench at the side of the bags. “Want to talk about it before you try and destroy my equipment?”

“Thought I couldn't hurt a fly because I'm small?” she sneered. Her temper still bubbling and unwilling to be told more things she didn't want to hear.

“Still smarts then,” he asked.

“What?”

“You don't like being told you can't do what you want. I'd wager very few people stand up to you. Just steamroller them into what you want them to do without thinking about what they might want?”

“What's that got to do with my ability to fight?” she snapped.

“Nothing, everything. Depends on if you're fighting for your life or not,” he said looking at her steadily.

Cold drenching fear washed over her in a sudden wave, quashing her anger in an instant and replacing it with dread. “What do you mean?” she asked gripping her wand more tightly.

“What's the difference between you now, and when you walked through my door six months ago?” he asked conversationally not moving from his seated position, taking note of her shifting into a more defensive stance.

Hermione scanned her eyes over him watching for the slightest twitch that might signal danger. “I don't know,” she replied not taking her eyes off him.

“Really? Shall I tell you then? Your trained, not completely and not enough, but you’re not going to run blindly into a fight now are you? Not against grown wizards with a bent for the sadistic. You might be small still, but you’re not helpless, you’re not going to go toe to toe with someone are you? You're going to find their weakness and exploit it. You’re going to use everything you've been taught against them and if you're half as clever as you think you are you’ll make it. Harry will watch your back, you'll watch his and you’ll make it. Call it my contribution to the war effort,” he said, his gaze not leaving her.

“When did you find out?” she demanded.

He sighed. “I didn't, I put it together. Two teenagers turn up in April with the same first names, you didn’t bother to hide the accents and wanting to learn defensive magic? Oh I'll grant you the glamours you're using are good, and I'm damn curious as to where you got them. But I read the papers, do you think that just because I'm American I don't have family or friends in England? Or that I'd not remember the last war that mad man started?”

“Who have you told?” she demanded again, her instincts straining to read him.

“No one.” He shrugged. “No one to tell. So you want to tell me what’s got your wand in a knot?”

She stared at him, wondering if he could be trusted. But they’d been coming here for six months, if something was going to happen wouldn’t it have by now? She gave in to the need to get it off her chest, to have someone understand. “My parents, they are going with us,” she explained, feeling as tired emotionally as she did physically. “They don't understand the danger but they are going anyway.”

He didn't look surprised and continued to look steadily at her. “You can't stop them.”

“The hell I can't,” she snarled, her anger instantly resurfacing.

“You can't or you wouldn't be here beating up a training aid, you'd be there stopping them.”

“Harry,” she said her stance drooping wearily, “He said I'd have to go through him and I thought about it. For an instant I thought about it and…”

“And?”

“And I could have done it. I'm trained, remember.” she said, scorn in her tone. “I could take him down.”

“No you couldn't,” he replied.

“Too small?” Scorn morphed in to derision.

“No,” he sighed at her stubbornness. “You couldn't because if you could have, you wouldn't be here, and you’re forgetting he knows you as well.”

“So he'd win?”

“Maybe, maybe not. It would depend on which of you could stand to hurt the other enough to stop them getting back up, and I don't think either of you could do that.”

“No,” she sighed. “But I was a bitch and hurt him anyway.”

“It was a fight, that's what happens, people get hurt.”

“So Mum said.”

“She's not a daft woman then is she.”

“How do I keep them safe? If you remember the last war you know what they are facing.” She asked an edge of desperation in her voice.

“You can't.” He shook his head. “Your job is to keep yourself safe and trust that everyone else around you are doing the same thing.”

“That's not good enough.”

“Never is,” he agreed. “It's all you have though.”

“Why didn't you say anything to us? That you knew?” Hermione asked curiously.

“What for? You didn't want me to know. It didn't take much to work out, but like I said I've read the papers. I know what they've been saying about you two and I don’t agree with the law you ran from. No need to rock the boat.”

“Does everyone know? Have we been kidding ourselves?”

“Can't say,” he said. “I'm a curious guy, not everyone is, but people who come to me are looking for one of two things. To learn to defend themselves from everyday threats or to fight. You came to learn how to fight, you’re about the right age, you have the same names and you never tried to hide your accents.  You wouldn’t stand out in a school where the students come from all over, but here one on one. Wasn’t that difficult.”

She dropped onto the bench a little way from him.  “What do I do?” she asked quietly, mostly to herself.

“Go home, apologise, and start again tomorrow.”

“It’s that simple?”

“Maybe not, but its closing time.” He stood indicating she should follow him. She rose to her feet and walked to the door.

“Do you think we can win?” she asked not sure what she wanted the answer to be.

“You two against the world? Probably not. Which is why you should accept all the help that’s been offered instead of being stubborn about it.” He pushed her gently through the door which he closed and locked as she stood considering his words.

 Sighing she turned back to him. “Thanks,” she said simply. He said nothing but stood watching her. She gathered her courage and twisted into nothing.

She landed in the entrance way and slowly made her way forward. She could hear the quiet low murmur of conversation coming from the lounge. Taking a breath, she stepped into the room. The conversation dying a death as the room’s inhabitants noticed her.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I shouldn’t have said what I did, especially to you Harry.” He was looking at her saying nothing, and her courage started leaking away under his blank stare. “I shouldn’t have lashed out because I was afraid. Mum and Dad have a right to make their own choices and, and I won’t interfere. The idea that you’ll all be in danger though, that I might lose everyone I have.” She shrugged and bit her lip to stop the tears.

“You’re allowed to be scared,” John said. “You might be forgiven under the circumstances for lashing out but what you said crosses a line. Harry has worked incredibly hard on the shielding magic to ensure that your Mother and I will be as safe as we can be. If not ensuring we’ll be safer than some on the magic users who will be there, and you didn’t just throw that back in his face, you all but accused him of endangering us. Harry cares for us as much as you do, we might be your family but we are also Harry’s.”

“I know,” she said in a small voice. “And I am really sorry.” She risked a look at Harry and cringed when she saw his face.

She was sat nervously on her side of the bed waiting for him when he came back from the bathroom. He could see the tension radiating through her from the way she was twisting her fingers in her lap, to the set of her shoulders. She’d been quiet as she’d finally listened to the description of what the shielding ring were capable of, and had barely made a murmur when she’d been told John had helped with the initial testing. He mentally grimaced, he’d need to sort this before it dragged on. He dropped on to the bed next to her and took her hand, he pretended not to notice the twitch and the moment of resistance before she let him take it.

“Look,” he said. “What you said, it was hurtful, and yes it hurt, but I’m not going to hold it against you. I’m a bit older now than I was when my broom got confiscated and I’m not saying you were acting for the same reasons, but I do understand that you are scared about what you might lose. You wouldn’t be the only one losing them.”

She opened her mouth to speak but he squeezed her hand to keep her silent. “I think I’ll accept your apology and we’ll not mention it again. You can stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m not going to hurl insults in your face, nor am I going to sulk.”

“Like Ron you mean,” she said.

“Yeah, like Ron,” he agreed. “If you can forgive me for the stuff I do, I can forgive you for lashing out when scared.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. Her voice small and it hurt his heart a little to hear it. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

“To the gym, worked out with a training bag. Rob knows by the way, who we are.”

“He does?” Harry asked. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, he put me straight on a few things then kicked me out.”

Harry snorted. “I suppose it’s a good thing the legal drinking age is higher here, otherwise that sounds like every hero in a movie resolves a dilemma. Getting drunk and talking to a wise barman who puts them straight on life and sends them on their way.”

She smiled slightly. “I guess it does. He said we’d make it. If we watched each other’s back if we were as clever as we thought we were. Our training was his contribution to the war effort.”

Harry whistled softly. “So he really knew? Well that’s comforting at least, it means we’ve learnt the right things. We’re not in danger are we of being found?”

“He said he hadn’t told anyone.”

Harry thought about that for a moment and nodded. “Well of he’s known for this long and nothing’s happened I guess we can continue. We need to agree what we’re going to do about the 16^th, we were talking while you were gone. We’ve not decided anything,” he assured her. “Mostly tossed out ideas of worst case scenario ambushes.”

“Oh,” she said. “You think it’s likely?”

“I think we’d be fools if we didn’t plan for it. We don’t know that Remus found the message nor do we know who else knows. He might have announced it at an Order meeting and the whole lot of them might be there. I’ve no intention of either of us returning to England to be made in to martyrs. I don’t like to think they might stoop to throwing activated portkeys at us, but I wouldn’t put it past them if they were under orders.”

“You don’t think Dumbledore would come for you himself? After all he doesn’t know what we’ve found out.”

“I think it would be better for us if he didn’t appear himself. John mentioned Helen was a bit upset after everything when I got back from the hospital. I got the idea it wasn’t from me dying briefly.”

“Mum’s not the only one,” Hermione said grimly.

“No, I think there would have to be a round of rock paper scissors as to who got first shot in.” He felt her squeeze his hand and he hugged her a bit harder. They’d be alright, they’d weather this the way they weathered everything else that happened to them; together.

Chapter Text

When Minerva had wanted to see him she had sent a letter. It had been based on a truth. It had played to the expected prejudices of anyone that might read it in order to not raise suspicion. She had tried, as well as she could, to employ subterfuge and subtlety and he had appreciated her efforts, given that he was living in the Malfoy residence.

When Albus wanted to see him he sent an elf. The elf was bound to give the message to him in person thus interrupting dinner, a show of bad manners that had made him wince and Narcissa’s expression turn icy. The elf had delivered the message and vanished. He understood why, he might have been inclined to shoot the messenger. Well, might have been until he spent more than half a minute in Zoot’s company. He removed his napkin from his lap and placed it on the table.

“Narcissa, I sincerely apologise. It seems my immediate presence is required at the castle.”

“Then I shall not detain you,” she replied. “Will you return this evening?”

“I expect to; however, I do not know when. I am uncertain as to what could need my immediate attention.” He rose, bowed and left the room, mentally cursing, Albus was going to get him killed.

Back in his lab he grabbed a bag of healing potions just in case, and the latest batch of vitality potions. Putting the bag over his shoulder he made his way to the door and out across the grounds to the ward line. Once across, he apparated to the castle gates and started the walk up the path.

For an evening that had been started on a sour note it went progressively downhill very quickly. Albus had met him at the door and turned them both back out into the evening air. Scottish summers were hardly warm but the evening was still. The air smelt of sun and he could appreciate that the castle in the evening light glowed warmly, giving off the appearance of safety, sanctuary and steadfastness. The bitter part of him acknowledge that it was an illusion, a pretty one, but an illusion none the less.

They headed out towards the lake, when they started on the path leading around it Albus broke the silence. “I called you here because I am leaving again tonight, there’s a conference at the ICW and then there are a few matters to which I must attend.  You are aware that Voldemort is currently in Europe hunting for the Elder wand?”

“Yes.”

“He will not find it, and when he realises its current master I believe it will cause a shift in the war. He will start to plan again; he may even start taking a more public role than he has previously.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because he desires the Elder wand,” Albus replied. “He believes it to be unbeatable, that it will conquer even the protections Lily laid upon Harry. He needs to attain the wand, and to do so he will need to draw its current master out, to force a confrontation to give him the opportunity. It must not happen Severus. Voldemort is not a man who could wield such a wand, the burden of it is great. But that is not all, I fear that I will not be there. That my time is coming to a close.” He glanced down at his arm

“The curse has spread? Why did you not say something?” Severus berated the elder wizard. “We must get you to Poppy.”

“No, Severus.” Albus stopped him. “The curse is still bound, but I am an old man. I cannot live forever so I must make sure that there are those whom can continue the work.”

“The Order will not follow me.”

“No they won’t,” Albus agreed. “But that is not what I need for you to do.”

 They came to a stop on the path and Albus waved his wand conjuring a stone bench with brightly coloured cushions. “Come,” he said, and they both sat, staring out over the lake. “At some point in the future Voldemort is going to stop sending Nagini out to do his bidding. He will keep her close, protect her, and when he does so you must go to Harry.” He held up a hand to ward off anything Severus might say. “Let me finish. Only Harry alone can vanquish Voldemort, and it must be the two of them together. But I do not mean to leave Harry with no protection. You must tell Harry to carry his father’s cloak where ever he goes once Voldemort starts to protect his snake. I have in my will, left him an artefact that he will need, and lastly, you must give him my wand. Only then can he master death, and hope to triumph over Voldemort.”

“What?” Severus said. “Why your wand? I’m sure the boy would be grateful for any wand that does not cause the same problems as his first, but why yours?”

“Because I am the master of the Elder wand,” Albus said solemnly.

Severus gaped at him. “You mean the Dark Lord is going to be hunting you? And you want me to give your wand to Potter? A wand that the Dark Lord wants. We have no idea of where Potter is hiding! Why can’t you give it to Potter?”

“Because the Elder wand cannot be won without bloodshed. Its history is one of violence and death.”

“So invite Potter to a duel and loose.” Severus snapped.

“Alas I cannot. There is only one person I trust to hold the Elder wand until it is Harry’s time and that is you Severus.”

Severus stared hard at the middle distance refusing to move his gaze whilst his mind thought furiously. There was a time, when being told directly, without subterfuge that Albus trusted him was what he thought he wanted most. That being trusted by the great Dumbledore was something to be valued, something to hold up and let the world see.

 But he knew better now. Minerva and Lupin had shown him that being trusted, and trusting Albus Dumbledore was no better for you than not trusting and being distrusted in return. He lied to everyone, some by omission and some directly. Some with lies couched in enough encouragement and praise for you to swallow them.

“So you wish for me to take your wand after your death? When exactly is it you have planned for this auspicious occasion. I shall be sure to clear my diary.”

“No Severus, I wish for you to kill me.”

That did tear his gaze from the middle distance and his eyes moved over Albus’ face, looking for anything that might indicate what he had heard wasn’t what had been said.

“Well shall we get it over with then?” he sneered.

“No I don’t believe so, as I said there are things I must tie up. Loose ends that require my attention. But I do not expect to live past Christmas.”

“I won’t do it.”

“Yes, you will.” Albus responded. His voice was hard and cold, the strength of his magical power leaking through. “You are the only person who can, the only person who would be able to get the wand to Harry so he can finish Voldemort, and so you will.” He stood up, looking down on the dark wizard. “I will leave you now. I shall be away a week or so, I do not need to ask for your discretion in this?”

Severus wordlessly shook his head, Albus patted him on the shoulder and set off for the castle leaving him sat on the stone bench with its garish cushions, staring out into nothing.

Albus had ordered him to kill him. Kill the head of the Order. If you ignored the lunacy of the plan and looked at it on a purely mechanical level, how was he supposed to kill Albus Dumbledore? Poison? Duel? Cleverly disguised assassination attempt? He had the feeling Albus was looking for something more direct. Something that would paint him as the only viable suspect. He was being set up, but he didn’t know why, nor what for.

It went dark; the soft pop of apparition drew him out of his fug. He looked down to see a Malfoy elf stood to his left. “My Mistress wishes to know if you will be returning.”

“Yes,” he said tiredly, standing. “Please, would you take me to my rooms?”

The elf nodded and grasped his hand, they reappeared in Severus’ rooms at the Manor. “Could you tell your mistress that I am thankful for her aid, and I will speak with her in the morning?”

The elf bobbed his head and vanished. Severus hung up his cloak and coat, removed his boots, and threw himself face down on the bed.

He took breakfast the next morning with Narcissa. He apologised again for his rudeness in leaving her the night before with a glib excuse of Albus being difficult over something trivial, and she waved it off.  After breakfast he retreated to his lab, an hour later, when he realised he’d done nothing more than mangle some daisy roots beyond all hope, he put his knife down. Accepting that brewing wasn’t going to burn of the energy and rage and turmoil of thoughts he was currently trying to get a handle on. Admitting to himself there was only one other person he had half a hope of being able to speak to, he gathered his robe, left the mansion and returned to the castle.

Minerva met him on the stairs. “Severus?”

“Minerva, am I interrupting you?”

“No, no, I came to meet you.”

He raised an eyebrow in query.

“As the acting Head over the summer I insisted Albus allow me access to the wards, he did so grudgingly. I don’t suppose he likes his movements monitored any more than the rest of us. But it does allow for me to be aware when the castle gets visitors and greet them appropriately. Now, what can I do for you? Albus is gone again.”

“I know, he summoned me last night.”

She looked him over. “It seems unlikely that that news would cause you to look like you didn’t sleep last night.”

“No. Can you still access Albus’ pensive?”

“Yes,” she said. They stopped on the landing as the staircases rearranged themselves. He conjured a vial and removed the memory of last night’s meeting with Albus.

“Here,” he said handing it over. “I’m going to go up to the seventh floor, I’ll see you there once you’re done.” He turned and leapt lightly onto a staircase just as it moved away and climbed it. Minerva turned and took the staircase to Albus’ office that was politely waiting for her. “Thank you,” she said absently as she got off. 

Severus paced in front of the stretch of wall and the door appeared. Letting himself in, he shed his robe and coat, hanging them on the coat rack the room supplied. He stretched out the kinks in his shoulders, rolling them and then his neck, then faced the tableau the room had provided.

A line of mannequins faced him. Magical mannequins unlike muggle ones moved. When modelling clothes they tended to pose and spin slowly in place in order to show off the clothes. The mannequins the room provided however, would fight back once he cast a reflecting charm on them. The spell would reflect back anything he threw at them after a delayed response until he broke them. A wolfish smile graced his lips as he let his anger and frustration off the leash. It boiled up under his skin, causing the air to crackle, then in a flurry of movement from his body and wand arm, he started casting.

The dummies fought back but ultimately lost. As he was dispatching the last three he heard the door open behind him as Minerva came in. Satisfied that they were not getting back up, he turned back to the door and took the towel from the small table. Drying his face, he drank the water before meeting Minerva’s eyes.

“What in all blazing hell do you think you are playing at?” she demanded. Her tone was deadly calm, and he knew that she was faking it as sure as he knew his own name.

His shirt was sticking to him, he was still flushed from the exercise, and he was resolutely ignoring the shattered remains of the fifteen mannequins he’d gone through before he’d regained control of his temper. “Blowing off steam. Table, chairs and tea please,” he said. The room provided his furniture and an elf popped in with the tea before leaving promptly. He gestured to them with one hand, keeping his wand in his other, unsure of what she would do next.

She moved stiff legged to the table and sat on the chair, her back so straight it made him wince. He poured her tea and pushed it over to her. She picked the cup up and in one movement hurled it against the floor

“Don’t you dare,” she said. “Don’t you dare patronise me with tea. That man has told, no ordered you, to kill him. Don’t you dare hand me tea like it’s nothing.”

“What would you have me do?” he asked. His voice was calm, his eyes never left her, he held his hands loosely in his lap holding his wand. His body language telegraphing that he was no threat.

She stood up and he requested mentally to the room to provide a new set of dummies. She watched as the broken mannequins vanished to be replaced by new ones, He stood and cast the reflecting spell again. With a single glance over her shoulder to him she stalked forward, halting a little way away from them.

“Put a ward up.” Was all she threw back over her shoulder before a quick wave of her wand transfigured her long robes into something resembling an auror uniform, allowing her a wider range of unhindered movement. She started hurling spells at the mannequins, when the first one sent a hex back in response he could see it startled her. Her stance changed and she attacked with increased vigour.

He cast a cleaning and freshening charm over himself and drank his tea. He requested more water and some food, feeling the effects of his expenditure, Minerva joined him once all the mannequins were down. She drank the cool water before accepting another cup of tea, this one she didn’t throw to the floor so he presumed that she had found the work out as beneficial as he.

“You aren’t going to kill him,” she said confidently.

“It would seem Albus doesn’t agree with you.”

“I find myself somewhat unmoved by that consideration,” she replied.

“Then you have a better plan? Assuming that Albus isn’t senile yet and honestly believes he possesses the Elder wand, he has a point about the Dark Lord not getting hold of it.”

“Does the Dark Lord know that Albus has the wand he seeks yet? Assuming we believe the fairy story.”

“I believe he thinks he is close to finding it. He’s currently looking for Gregorovitch who has gotten wind that he is being hunted and gone into hiding.”

“So how did it get from Gregorovitch to Albus? I wasn’t aware Albus had duelled anyone in fifty years since... Oh, Grindewald.”

“Then we don’t have much time before he starts coming after Albus.”

“You’re not killing him.” She repeated. “I’ll do it before I’ll allow you to.”

“You plan on being able to stop me? I’ve seen you duel Madame, I promise you, you’re outclassed.”

“I’ll tell the Order,” she said simply.

“They wouldn’t believe you.”

“I have yet to return your memories.”

“Which you will do so immediately. Blackmail does not become you.”

“Comforting to know.” She pulled the vial from her pocket and handed it over. He looked at her suspiciously. “Unless you are planning on obliviating me I don’t need them. I have my own.” He grunted in acknowledgement. “When he told you to marry Miss Granger you were going to do it, now he’s demanded this of you, and you’ll agree to do it too? What does he have on you that is so compelling you’ll agree to these insane plans?”

“Nothing,” he replied instantly, but under her disbelieving gaze he softened. “Nothing, but I’m a Death Eater. The Order, with very few notable exceptions, don’t trust me. Albus holds all the power, if he so decides to remove his protection that’s all it would take for people like Moody to lock me up.”

“They can’t, all your work for the Order. They know you do it, they can’t just lock you up.”

“They can, and they would. Let’s not kid ourselves here.” He pulled up his sleeve showing her the Dark Mark on his arm. “This means enemy in every language there is. Having it is enough, the whys and wherefores are academic at best.”

“Then you can’t kill him, it would, well it would seal your fate.” She cocked her head as a thought occurred. “You don’t think that’s his plan do you? The wand needs to go to Potter. If you kill him, does Albus believe that that will draw Mr Potter out? On some sort of revenge plot or vendetta to avenge his murder? Thereby putting you both in a situation where there is only one foreseeable outcome. You are bound by the Dark Lord not to kill Mr Potter and Mr Potter needs to win the allegiance of the wand to beat the Dark Lord later.”

“It’s entirely possible that’s his plan.” Severus agreed trying not to show how unhappy he was.

“He’s a cold bastard,” Minerva said. “War or not, end game or no, he’s gambling three lives on a fairy story.”

“He’s gambled more on less Minerva. It’s war, that is what happens.”

“You’re still not doing it,” she said. “He’s all but told us the snake is going to be a horcrux so we’ll have to make a plan to deal with it.”

“It won’t be easy,” he replied, gratefully taking the change in subject. “We can’t poison her as she’s fed directly from his hand. She’s also huge and deadly, so kidnapping her to dispatch her at an alternative location probably won’t work. She is his true familiar so I presume there is some method of communication there. Anything we do needs to be while he is engaged fully elsewhere, or totally unable to return to her until it’s too late. I think we’re only going to get one shot at this and it’s going to be a hard one. It will have to be the last one. We need to find out what that last horcrux is.”

“How long,” she asked. “Before he realises and starts trying to draw Albus out properly?”

“I don’t know, and more to the point how long will Albus ignore him?”

They sat thinking. Only the appearance of Folly at Minerva’s side broke through their individual thoughts

“Yes Folly?” Minerva address the elf.

“Please Mistress, our guest is getting restless and wishes to get out of bed. Folly said the Mistress must come and decide.”

“Very well, Folly. I’ll be right there.”

“Mind if I tag along?” Severus asked shaking his own melancholy away.

“Not at all, I’m sure Garrick will be glad to see someone other than myself.”

He picked up his coat and put it on, holding the robe over his arm. He held out his free arm and gestured. Minerva smiled at him, took the arm and twisted them into the nothing of a side along. They appeared again in her study at the house in Inverness.

“More than just being able to monitor the wards I see.” Severus drawled as he reclaimed his arm.

“It has its advantages,” she agreed smiling smugly. “Walking down to the gate each time would have been tiresome.”

Garrick was feeling better and antsy. “It’s not that I’m not grateful to be here,” he said. “I am; it is infinitely more preferable to my previous situation. But as I am well and comfortable, I find myself with more time than I know what to do with.”

Minerva finished reading her diagnostic reports and made notes on the parchment she was keeping on his progress. She was going to have him seen by a qualified healer just as soon as she could, but she could see no remaining issues. “What can we provide you with?” she asked.

“My tools, I have been without my craft for so long. I do not necessarily need company, just something to occupy my hands.”

Severus exchanged an understanding and sympathetic glance with the elderly wizard. Minerva saw it and made a decision. “Very well, we will see what can be retrieved and bring it to you if you can tell us what and where to find it.”

Ollivander shot her a grateful look and asked for a piece of parchment and a quill. She provided them and stepped over to the corner Severus indicated. “How do you expect to retrieve his belongings? Neither of us can risk been seen in the vicinity of the shop it would raise too many questions,” he said quietly.

“I was going to ask the Weasley twins. They live in the Alley, it would be simple enough for them to slip over. Their presence would go unnoticed if they were seen out and about. I can have them bring everything here and fresh faces will bring fresh conversation. Severus.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I have argued with Albus about this more times than I wish to recall, but the communication mirrors they have working. I understand there is some risk, but please, won’t you carry one?”

“I already do.” he replied. “I leant some books to George, when he got the mirrors working he returned the books with a mirror. It’s linked only to the ones you, Lupin and they carry. I thought you knew?”

“No,” she said. “Albus handed them out. He said they had picked mine out especially, it has a silver case with my animagus form etched on it. I hadn’t thought to ask them personally if it did more.”

“Perhaps you should,” he advised.

“I will,” she agreed. Ollivander completed his list and she retrieved it from him. “I’ll go now and organise getting this to you, it might take a day or so. Will you stay Severus?”

“Yes, if that is alright with you Garrick?” he asked.

“Yes, yes you still owe me a game of chess.” Garrick said.

“Then I shall see myself out later. If I do not call upon you at the castle Minerva let me know if you need any help with your lists. I will be along in a few days with the replacement potions.”

She nodded and took her leave apparating to Diagon Alley and walking to the garish frontage of the joke shop. She walked through the isles noting the number of customers and the different products on display. Come September she was sure that they would be finding them all over the castle despite the best efforts of Argus.

“Minerva!” a loud jovial voice called out to her. “How lovely to see you, are you here to take note of products to ban come September? Or thinking of slipping a few into the staff room?” Fred came bounding towards her through his customers. “I can offer a handsome discount if you promise to slip something to the Headmaster. For morale you understand,” he said winking at her.

“No thank you Fred, though I wonder if you and George could spare me a moment?”

He grinned and led her through to the work room. George looked up from his notes and glanced at Fred in concern.

“No need to look so worried, I have come to ask if you could perhaps lend your talents to collecting some items for me.” Minerva held out the list.

Fred took it, read it through and handed it off to George. “Thinking of a change in career?”

“Not at all, merely trying to keep a house guest occupied.”

“Ollivander?” George asked. “But he died, didn’t he? Two weeks ago or so, locked in the Malfoy dungeons.”

“Not exactly. Severus had been keeping him alive and as well as he was able. A double edge sword admittedly, however he contracted pneumonia. The Order had no plans to resolve the situation so steps were taken.”

“This is a secret then?” Fred asked pointedly.

“For now, yes. Obviously once the situation has resolved itself he will be able to return to his premises, but as it stands.”

“Well alright then. Are we to bring this stuff to you?”

“No,” she replied. “I will with your permission, allow you access to my home, if you can spare the time he may be receptive to visitors with more news than I or Severus have. If you’ll show me to your floo?”

Fred nodded and led her up to the flat where she established a connection with the floo in her study.

“Thank you,” Fred said. “For trusting us with this.”

“Are you not trustworthy?”

“Yes, but the more people you tell things to, the more chance of them getting out. We’re careful, we don’t want to betray anyone. I just thought you should know.”

“Fred, neither Severus nor myself believe that either of you are unworthy of the trust we have placed in you.” By the way,” she pulled her compact from her pocket. “Is there anything I should know about this?”

“Well it can contact all the mirrors or just a select few,” he said, taking it from her and flipping it open. “The top mirror will contact everyone, that’s standard for all the compacts so if anyone else tries to use it, it will work as they expect. The bottom mirror will contact either George, myself Remus or Severus depending on who you ask for, like the top mirror would. There’s one other mirror it is connected to as well. One for Hermione and Harry, we made it for them. Although, we’ve no way of getting it to them.”

Something in the way he said that last part made her look at him closely. He saw the look and a small rueful smile crossed his face. “Remus, when he came over to see if he could help with the mirrors. He said he’d have to ask her about them when he saw her next. It was a throw away comment but since they are missing, and since we know that not all secrets are shared, we thought that maybe you had a way to get in contact with them.”

Minerva mentally made a note to tell Remus to watch his tongue. “Miss Granger left a message hidden on the back of her letter to myself. A letter written by Mr Potter to Remus. In it Miss Granger referenced a meeting date and location.”

“Right,” Fred said nodding. “Well that would explain it. In that case would you take it to them?”

Minerva paused before replying. Would giving them a way to communicate mean more risk? Would they want it? Would it risk exposing what their group was doing to anyone? There were not questions she could easily answer. She looked back at her former student.

“I can take it with me when we go to meet them and offer it to them. I’m afraid I cannot invite you to the meeting itself.”

“No I didn’t expect that.” Fred assured her. Leading the way back to the work room, he picked up a small bag from the shelf. “Here. The bag has the usual charms on it; extension, cushioning. The mirror itself has an anti-breaking charm on it so it should make the journey.”

“There’s one other thing,” George said as he came into the room behind them. He had a messenger bag over his shoulder and a mischievous look on his face. “Fred and I were chatting after the meeting when we were told Ollivander tragically died, and we were wondering. What did the first years do last year for wands?”

“Other suppliers do exist.” Minerva responded drily.

“True, true. But Ollivander was the best wasn’t he?”

“Undoubtedly he is a Master wand smith, but there are others.”

“One more question,” George said. “When do you take the firsties around?”

“Next week,” Minerva said. “Do I want to enquire as to what you two are planning?”

“No, nothing untoward.” George said smiling at her. A smile she was sure hadn’t worked on their mother for many a year.

“Very well,” she said. “‘McGonagal Lodge’ is the floo address. Folly will show you to Ollivander, she is in charge of his care and you will listen to her. Is that clear?”

“Yes Ma’am!” they chorused, snapping off salutes.

She smiled slightly at their antics. “Then I shall leave you to your work. Thank you, both, for doing this.”

They saw her out into the shop and walked her to the door. 

“She took the mirror,” Fred said turning to George the noise of the shop masking their conversation. “There was a secret message on the back of the letter Hermione wrote. One from Harry to Remus, they set a date for a meeting.”

“She told you?” George asked

“It seems that she believes Remus might have let something slip in a throw away comment.” Fred said with a grin.

“Nicely played.” George complimented, impressed.

“Thank you.”

“So we have a man to see about a wand shop.”

“Are you sure he’ll agree to let us sell his wands?” Fred asked, unsure that his twins plan would work.

“I think since the man himself is alive, it may in fact, on this one historic occasion, be better to ask permission than seek forgiveness. Our plan is no less valid, the firsties deserve to have the best wands. The muggleborn are only going to get short shift at the other suppliers. You met Jerkins, you want to send a brand new wet behind the ears muggleborn to him? He’d sell them a doozy just to see it hurt them.” George said.

“We’ve got a week until the firsties come shopping.” Fred said.

“Then we’ve probably got a lot to learn, we’ll go over tonight and see the man. See if he’s amenable, although it would be hard to resist two charming fellows such as ourselves. I collected his things while you were wheedling information out of our comrades, it wasn’t nearly as difficult as it should have been. Or as exciting as the first time.”

Ollivander was amenable, but only after a protracted conversation where Fred and George explained the plan they had concocted between themselves on learning of his supposed death. Ollivander would teach them the basics of matching wizards and witches with wands and they would sell his stock which they had retrieved from his shop. Ollivander would then be able to restock his supplies whilst convalescing, keeping his business afloat ready for his return.

“We’ll need a contract,” Ollivander said sitting neatly in a chair.

“Aren’t you dead?  You know, officially?” Fred asked in surprise.

“Only to wizards,” Ollivander said. “Gringott’s would hardly rely on the word of wizards to conduct their business.”

“Oh right, so we can draw up a contract, make it all safe and legal. That will save us some bother at the Ministry as well.” George agreed.

“Very well gentlemen, we have a deal. Now to match a wizard or a witch to a wand there are a few key things to look out for. The wood and core work together….”

When Minerva came with her first batch of wide eyed 11 year olds to Diagon Alley, she was greeted by a new sign hanging outside of WWW. Leading her flock inside she found Fred for once dressed in sober colours, standing by a clear space in the rear of the shop, wand boxes piled around him.

“Mr Weasley, what is the meaning of this?”

“Well the firsties need wands, and between you and me some of the other suppliers are less open minded than others about what makes a good witch or wizard, so we decided to step in.”

“And what do you know about selling wands? Where did you even get them?”

“Don’t worry, it’s all above board. We’ve been trained, and as for the stock, well, we may have purloined it upon learning of the maker’s untimely death. That handily worked out in our favour though.”

“You mean…?”

“That we nicked it after that Order meeting we found Ollivander was dead?” he nodded, grinning unrepentantly. “You don’t just leave this many wands lying around do you? We were going to see if we could organise something, but then opportunity knocked so here we are. If you want to check it out with our source you are welcome to.” He turned to her flock of students who had made their way through the joke shop finally to stand around her.

“Well,” Fred asked expansively. “Which of you have been lucky enough to find your wand?”

Of the group only one child held their hand up. Another spoke up. “When we went to get mine the shop was only taking private appointments and we didn’t know how to make one.”

Minerva closed her eyes in supressed anger. Opening them to meet Fred’s, she nodded slightly to his unspoken question, confirming that the child was muggleborn. She sent him a small smile then herded her charges into line. “Mr Weasley has some wands, so let’s see if we can’t match you up.”

The first child stepped forward nervously and Fred smiled down at them, his sales patter kicking in. Following Ollivander’s advice he talked to the child, found out something about them and selected a wand to start them on.

The wards Bill had erected around the wand stand got a heavy work out that morning. It took most of the morning but he made it through Minerva’s flock of ten. Exhausted, he arranged with her to meet the rest of her groups which she would stagger through the week. She also agreed to contact each of the families, especially the muggleborn and inform them that wands would be available through WWW.

After they had gone he let George know and floo’d through to see Ollivander. A chat and a run through, with a much needed cup of tea later, he headed back to the shop.

George met him by the till. “We’ve had more come through for wands. Word has gone out, some of them got wands last year and wanted a better fit. Some of them were barely getting anything out of their existing wands and have been able to do things they didn’t think they could with a new wand from us. Merlin, Fred.  I thought wand smiths were about wands, not blood purity. I know what I said to get you to agree to this but…”

Fred clapped him on the shoulder. “One thing at a time George, we can’t fix everything but we can fix this. You up for the first years tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but I think Bill should come over tonight and check that ward. One kid was struggling with his wand so had been pouring more power through it than he realised. When we got him a match he nearly brought the roof down.”

Fred whistled softly, impressed. “Fine, call him on the floo and see if he’s free. How’s everything else?”

“The usual mayhem. Skiving snack boxes are going fast, we’ll need to brew a few batches tonight, and everything else is as expected. Oh, a chap from the ministry came over about the wands. Nothing came of it but I imagine we’ll be hearing from Mum.”

Fred grumbled under his breath about interfering mothers as he made his way back to the small queue of people waiting by the wand display. Pasting an easy grin on his face he stepped forward to deal with his newest customer.

Chapter Text

Minerva wasn’t sure how she had forgotten about it but she had. She’d put the cup into a jar and locked it away in the strongbox once she was sure her copy would pass inspection.

Severus had taken her copy to the Le Stranges, he’d rescued Garrick, Narcissa had written to say he was gone, and she’d had a sick, tortured man to heal. Then, as she found her feet doing that, Albus had called a meeting in which she had publicly challenged his authority, and the twins had handed out the communication mirrors. So perhaps she could be forgiven for it slipping her mind then. But surely, after that she should have remembered? Except of course after that, Remus had announced he had a way to reach Mr Potter and Miss Granger, and after that, Severus had told her Albus was planning on Severus killing him in cold blood. Then Fred and George had turned themselves into wand sellers under the guidance of Garrick. Who was supposed to be dead, but actually hiding from everyone in her home after she had helped Severus save him from his fate in the Malfoy dungeons. Which of course they were keeping secret from the Order, along with all the information Miss Granger and Mr Potter had imparted hidden in the letter. Up to and including the way into the Chamber of Secrets and also the destruction of the Dark Lord’s horcruxes Severus, Remus and herself had undertaken.

So maybe she had good reason for forgetting, her summers had never been so busy. But regardless, the students started back to school in two days’ time and she didn’t want it in the castle with them. She also wanted it to be dealt with before they met up with Mr Potter and Miss Granger.

She gathered her things, putting her dragon hide gloves, the box with the cup, and a jar containing the Basilisk fangs into a bag, and left for the second floor bathroom. Down in the Chamber she moved the rock fall out of the way, and opened the large door on the other side. The movements she was startled to realise, were becoming routine. Striding forward in to the chamber, close to where they had destroyed the Diadem, she settled herself on to her knees and set her bag down on the floor.

Gloves on, she removed the cup from the jar regarding it sadly. Each of the relics housing a horcrux they had destroyed, had been beyond fixing, and another piece of history was about to suffer the same fate. Placing it on the floor, she turned to pull the jar containing the fangs out. A hissing noise had her head jerking up, eyes shooting to the corpse of the Basilisk. It lay still, unmoving, rotting slowly away. She strained to hear anything in the silence that echoed around her. Nothing. Nothing but the rasp of her breathing. Breathing she noted that was shallower and quicker than it had been.  Shaking her head and throwing off the feeling of being watched she turned back to the jar in her hand unscrewing the lid.

The hissing noise came again.

She twisted again to stare at the dead snake and the space behind it leading to the statue, and whatever cavern it guarded. Her eyes and ears both straining for a clue, mentally cursing that they had never explored to ensure the chamber was empty.

A soft eerie laugh came from in front of her and she quickly twisted back around, eyes once again searching the gloom. Her wand twitched in her hand, sending up more globes of light to hover above her. A slight movement caught her eye, a glimmer of a reflection from the cup as a globe hovering overhead highlighted something, something moving. Her gaze dropped to the cup in front of her.

Black. Black swirling, something, was gathering in the bottom of the cup, rising up the sides. Just as she thought it would reach the top and spill over it took a hazy gassy form, swirling outwards and upwards.

Fang jar in hand she scrambled up from her knees to her feet. Nothing like this had happened with the other horcruxes and she watched in sick fascination as the black swirling cloud formed into a tenuous shape, a human shape. A human shape with a face she had only seen on the front cover of the Daily Prophet. Flat, pale, hairless, and notably missing a nose.

“You.” The voice that came from the shape of the Dark Lord was menacing, for all that it lacked in depth and volume, coming as if from a great distance. 

She swallowed audibly, fear rising rapidly within her. Part of her realised she was alone, trapped in a chamber no one else could access. No one knew where she was and no one would think to look for her until term started. The other part of her was horrifyingly pointing out that if this wasn’t bad enough, the last Horcrux manifestation had all but killed Ginny Weasley. Whilst it seemed they had been extremely lucky with the last two, their luck had just run out.

“You think to destroy me?” The voice laughed, strangely breathy and punishingly cruel. The form from which it came shook slightly with scornful mirth. The face was recognisably that which she had seen in print. His form however, resembled the ethereal nearly-not-there-ness of a Dementor, as it swirled, coalescing and dissolving about the central mass. “You, the widow? Albus’ little pet? How do you think to destroy me?”

“You’re just a man, you’ve been stopped before,” she said determinedly, her voice trembling, which she couldn’t stop, but hated for the display of how terrified she was feeling.

“I am not just a man,” the form of the Dark Lord sneered back. “I am more than a man, more than a wizard. I have learnt things that you can’t imagine, that your worst nightmares could only aspire to.  You will bow before me, you and all your type. Blood traitors, muggle lovers, weak, pathetic, snivelling. Unworthy of the magic that flows through you. You think you’ll be able to stop me? That a half blood witch like you could be any match for me? You will bow before me Minerva McGonagall, you will grovel, you will beg, and you will plead for your worthless life.” The form had grown until it loomed above her, dimming the light cast by her conjured balls.

“No!” she protested, fear making her voice high and faltering. “No! We won’t let you.”

“We?” It laughed again, hard and cruel, eyes flashing in the murk. “You think that Severus will help you?” It sounded amused, as if she were a small child to be humoured. “You think that he is on your side?” The amused tone flickered out as if it had never been, replaced by hissing malevolence which made all her skin try to crawl away and her knees try to buckle. “He is mine! Mine! You think he would side with you? What have you done to gain the loyalty of Severus Snape? I gave him standing. A career, purpose, meaning. Who do you think tells me the Order's plans? Who do you think stands at my right hand? You think his loyalty is so cheaply bought by kindness? Where was that kindness when he was your student? Where was the understanding then? No, you threw him away, and he came to me.” The voice had gained volume, the face of the Dark Lord was writ with scorn, and it was focused solely on her.

“No,” she cried, helpless to stop the tears falling down her face or the pain in her chest as her actions were laid before her. “He wouldn’t!” Unable in the terrifying face of her accuser to form more of an abuttal than flat out denial.

It approached her, gliding forward, becoming more solid, more real, and she took a hurried few steps back trying to keep the distance between them.

“Poor foolish naïve Minerva, can’t even see what is in front of you.” It taunted as it moved closer. “You are nothing to anybody. Just a hanger on, a sad old dried up witch, powerless to do anything. Couldn’t keep your favourites safe. Couldn’t keep the students safe, and you think you can do anything to stop me?” The form surged towards her and she stumbled, falling in her haste to get away from the lunging mass.

The shock of the fall jolted her, bruising her tail bone, sending shooting pain through her. She clutched the jar in her hand tightly, looking down to see if she’d spilled the contents. The razor sharp fangs glinted back at her and she remembered why she was there. Why she was there. Fumbling, her fear and the clumsy gloves making her shake and her fingers numb, she shook a fang out of the jar and grasped it. A glance upwards confirmed that the swirling morass was watching her whilst continuing to expand out of the cup. She hazily wondered what it was made of, and if it touched her, what it might feel like. Rolling to her knees she crawled the few steps she’d made it away from the cup before falling.

 It started talking again, mocking her still, bringing forth visions of things that haunted her dreams, things she’d told no one. Ignoring it, set on her course of action, she moved closer to the cup until she reach it. The nebulous Dark Lord watched her, sneering down from its height above her.

“What are you doing?” It asked in derision. “Going to take it to the great Albus Dumbledore and ask him to fix it, pretty please?”

“No, I’m stopping you,” she said, sitting up on her haunches, not looking up, wanting to hold her nerve. Grasping onto the tatters of her courage, shoring it up with her stubbornness, she determined that if this was the last thing she did, then she’d make it damn well count. “You’re wrong, I can protect the students. Severus is my friend, and you’ll never take that.” She snatched the cup up causing the swirling shape to ripple. Casting a wandless finite on the end of the fang she poured the venom through the swirling black cloud into the bowl of the cup.

The form of the Dark Lord screamed as the other horcrux had, as the venom bubbled and spat eating into the bowl of the cup. Grim satisfaction surged in her and she defiantly lifted her face, staring at the rippling twisting mass that had taunted her. It rushed towards her, its arms reaching for her. She ducked her head against the reaching hands, hastily placing the cup on the ground. Bracing the foot with one hand, she stabbed the fang she still held into the bubbling venom and down into the metal.

The cloud hit her, it was cool and slightly damp, as if she walked out in to a fine Scottish mizzle. The magical backlash threw her to the floor, her head banging sharply. She cried out in pain and as the dizziness made her vision swim she called out, then the blackness took her.

The now harmless cup, slagged into a melted mass on a footed stem, complete with fang still buried in it, twinkled in the light of the globes still glowing above the fallen witch. It was into that scene that Folly appeared, called by her Mistress. Folly trembled in distress at the fallen form. Working quickly, she scooped up the strewn belongings, placing them carefully back into their respective jars, then the jars back into the bag. That done she grasped the bag and the hand of her unconscious Mistress and vanished with a pop. 

Severus was relaxing. Sat in the conservatory of the Malfoy Manor his surroundings were lush and green, exotic and domestic foliage with carefully tended flowering specimens covering nearly every surface. The table he was sat at supported a pitcher of cool lemonade made by the House Elves. The book in his hand was engaging and interesting. It was a moment he was savouring. No demands on his time, no plots to overthrow. no students, no lessons, no marking. In this perfect moment he could imagine his life was this perfect serenity.

 It was into this perfect moment that Folly appeared at his side. The usually calm and collected elf was in a state of high distress, ears flat to her head, eyes wide and fearful, and hands twisting manically.

“Master Snape must come!” she squeaked, reaching for him.

“Folly? What’s the matter?” he placed his marker and closed the book, putting it carefully on the table, looking at the elf in concern.

“Master must come!” the elf insisted again holding out her hand.

“Has your houseguest taken a turn for the worse?” He didn’t think that was likely unless Garrick had taken a fall, his health was nearly as good as it could be, and in any case Folly wouldn’t come for him.

Folly grasped his hand and he felt the twisting of elf travel.  He landed in a room he had never been in before, he recognised Minerva’s taste in furnishing before his eyes fell on the figure on the bed, and his heart stilled in his chest.

Minerva was laid out on the bed, her skin grey, her eyes closed and he took a moment to assure himself she was breathing.  On unconscious feet he crossed the room, and dropped to his knees at the side of the bed. He reached for her hand and noted it was cool and limp.

“What happened?” he demanded, his eyes not leaving her face. He reached for his wand not waiting for Folly’s response, casting the few diagnostic spells he knew.

“Folly doesn’t know!” the elf wailed. “Folly was called and Mistress was like this!”

“She was here?” Severus asked.

“No.” Folly shook her head, blotting the tears that were falling. “Mistress was in the secret place.”

Severus looked at the elf trying to understand what she had meant.

“Under the castle,” Folly clarified.

“She was in the Chamber of Secrets?” Severus asked. “What the hell was she doing in there?”

Folly opened the bag she'd put at the end of the bed, and handed him the jar containing the melted cup. “This was with the Mistress”

“The horcrux did this to her?” Severus asked aghast. He read the output of the spell diagnosis again, her magical level was dangerously low and falling, her body was in shock and she was still unconscious. Anything else the horcrux might have done he didn’t know enough to see it in the reports and certainly wouldn’t know how to treat her. She needed a healer. She needed Poppy.

Decision made he turned to the elf. “Return to my lab at the Malfoy Manor, bring me the potion in the blue jar in the supply cupboard and the nutrient potion in the green jar and the healing potion in the red jar. She needs a proper healer but she needs to be stable before we move her again.”

Folly nodded and vanished, returning with the potions he needed moments later. Sitting on the bed he lifted Minerva’s limp form, propping her up against his body. Opening her mouth as gently as he could he carefully tipped the potion in the blue jar into her, massaging her throat to help her swallow. He held her to him, clutching at her, bowing his head. Letting his hair fall forward hiding his face as a sharp pain stabbed into his chest, cracking the shell he had built around his heart.

Minerva was his friend; she was the only person he didn’t pretend around. The only person who knew him, and she was dangerously close to not regaining consciousness. He’d lost one friend in a moment of pain and anger, that relationship had never recovered and Lilly’s death meant it never would. He wouldn’t lose Minerva. He simply couldn’t.

He poured the healing potion into her and sat back against the headboard, dragging her up against his chest. He chaffed her upper arms trying to warm her up, Folly brought a blanket and tucked it around her

“Come on Minerva, come back. You can’t leave now, the students will be back in two days, and you think we could find a Transfiguration Professor in that time? Who is going to teach the monsters how to turn matches into needles? Have I ever told you that’s one of the most pointless things you could teach children by the way? Needles, how many of them do you think even know what to do with a needle other than stick it into their classmates’ arm? And what do I tell Albus? That you were my practice run, ready for his turn?” His hand crept up to her head and stroked over her hair. The greying strands so similar to the colour of her animagus form. His heart clutched again at the thought of losing her and he ruthlessly suppressed the rising panic. She would be fine, the potions would work, she’d regain consciousness and he could take her to the castle to be seen by Poppy.

He recast the diagnostic spell and let his breath out in a large puff as he saw her magical core was no longer falling at the rate it had been. He reached for the blue bottle again and tipped another dose into her mouth. The potion was his own invention, kept on hand for those times that his own magical core was depleted by brewing marathons for both his masters. He couldn’t give her any more than two doses, but the first seemed to have halted the downward spiral the horcrux had caused. He hoped the second would bolster her enough to kick start her recovery. He slipped out from underneath her, laying her carefully back down, securing the blanket around her and sat in the chair opposite the bed. She would need the nutrient potion Garrick had been taking to keep her body fuelled as it tried to replenish her magic. He wasn’t skilled enough to guarantee he could fully fix what was wrong with her and without her conscious and able to tell him what had happened he dared not move her again.

He made himself comfortable and called Folly over to him from her place at the foot of the bed. Explaining what he had done, and what he was going to do, the elf nodded relieved that her Mistress was being looked after.

The three hours that it took for to open her eyes, were some of the worst he had sat through. He left the diagnostic charm floating over her prone form, worried that he might miss something if he cancelled it.

 The worry ate at him, the guilt started making inroads on the worry, and the questions constantly circled. Why had she gone alone to destroy the cup? Why had the cup not been destroyed earlier? If he’d thought to ask her he could have gone with her, she wouldn’t have been alone, and whatever had happened he might have been able to prevent. What had happened in the Chamber of Secrets? Would waiting until she regained consciousness be better for her or should he have Folly bring Poppy? How would he explain to Poppy what had happened to her? Or how he had access to her home? Or how and why Garrick was in the guest room, and how and why he knew that. She’d have to go to the castle, St Mungo’s would demand full disclosure. Albus preferred the Order members to see Poppy where possible to reduce the number of questions asked. Term was starting in a mere two days, Minerva would be incensed if he caused her to be out of the castle and in the hospital for the first week of term.

He felt haggard and drawn, sat slumped in the chair, his head propped on the top of the backrest, legs fully outstretched staring unseeing at the ceiling as he waited. A tea tray provided by Folly complete with sandwiches, sat ignored at his elbow. He was brought snapping back to attention by the rustle of fabric. His eyes jumping to the prone form in the bed to the diagnostic read out hovering above it. The read out showed stable levels of magic, low, but stable. Her hand moved slightly against the covers

He was up and across the room dropping to his knees gently reaching for her hand, scanning her face for any sign of consciousness. “Minerva?” he said softly, his voice hoarse. “Minerva? Come on Minerva come back to me.”

“Severus?” The weak answer came on the exhale of her breath.

He bowed his head to her hand, letting the relief wash over him. The lump in his throat closing it, making him pause a moment or two to swallow it down before lifting his head again. Her eyes were still closed but flickering as she fought to open them. They cracked open and he met her gaze.

“You unimaginably foolish witch. What the bloody hell do you think you were doing going down there alone?” His voice was soft for all that the words were harsh.

“The horcrux,” she croaked. Folly bustled him aside as she held a glass of water with a straw for Minerva to drink, her eyes watchful of her Mistress.

“Thank you, Folly,” Minerva said. “Thank you for coming.”

“Folly serves,” she said simply before vanishing with a pop.

“You need to be moved to the castle,” Severus said. He had taken the moments Folly had attended Minerva to gather himself back under control. His Occlumancy holding everything in check but causing his tone to go flat and cold. “I simply stabilised your magical core. Poppy will need to see to the rest.”

Minerva nodded tiredly.

“You are going to give me a full accounting as soon as you are well enough,” he said to her. She nodded again, losing the battle to keep her eyes open. Carefully, with tenderness that belayed the coldness of his voice, he gathered her up into his arms. “You can’t take us through the wards in your condition so this is going to have to be done the long way.” She sagged against him and he held her tighter.

Folly appeared with a soft pop and held out her hand in a demanding manner. “Folly can take you to the castle.” With no more warning she grasped his leg and vanished them both.

Severus staggered slightly on the landing, quickly regaining his balance, taking care not to jostle the witch in his arms. Folly had brought them to Minerva’s room in the castle and he carefully laid her on the bed, before withdrawing his wand and sending his doe sailing out of the window to Poppy. He smoothed the sheets down around her, fussing, she opened her eyes to smile weakly at him.

“Thank you Severus.”

“Hush, you need your strength. Whatever it did to you, it’s not fixed yet” he chid her. He settled against the wall by the door, waiting for Poppy to arrive, his stance weary but his eyes alert, watching over her.

Sooner than he expected he heard Poppy come through the door to Minerva’s rooms. He’d briefly left Minerva’s side to crack it ajar allowing her entry when she arrived.

“Severus? Minerva?”

“In here Poppy,” he called back. Poppy came bustling into the room, catching sight of Minerva's form on the bed, her step paused for half a beat and he heard the intake of breath before she continued forward, approaching Minerva.

“Well?” she snapped at him, turning her head to glare at him over her shoulder. Her wand was already out casting diagnostic charms.

He stiffened at the accusation in her words and posture. Clamping down on any wayward thought, he faced the witch, relaxing against the wall he was leaning on, smiling a cool calculated smile. “How should I know? Aren’t you the professional in the room? I merely sent for you.”

“I meant what has happened to her? This isn’t exhaustion or stress. It's dark magic, and you Severus Snape, would know more about that than I.”

“Is it? Well, I can’t say I ever expected Minerva to dabble, but I suppose, one never can be too sure these days. I merely found her and sent for medical assistance.”

“Poppy.” Minerva’s weak voice came from the bed. The Mediwitch picked up Minerva’s hand patting it, smiling kindly down at her.

“There there, dear. Don’t worry, we’ll have you fixed up in no time. You’ll be leading the new students in as always.”

“Thank you, Poppy.”

“Nonsense, it’s no trouble.” She turned back to Severus. “As you have nothing helpful to add, if you’ll excuse us I must see to my patient.”

Taking that as the dismissal it clearly was, he glanced over the bed one more time assuring himself that she was being tended to. “If you need anything Poppy, one professional to another, do let me know.” He walked out the door and paused just out of sight, gathering himself.

“I do not know how you cope with that man.” he heard Poppy complain at Minerva

“Severus is completely reliable,” Minerva responded.

“Completely reliable to say something awful,” Poppy sniffed.

“The truth is sometimes awful Poppy. I count myself lucky he puts up with me.”

Severus walked out of the room before he heard any more. He made it to his rooms, dropping into the chair he summoned his whiskey and a glass. He’d go back later when Poppy was finished, when he wouldn’t be accused of hurting her. He’d go back and get her to tell him what had happened, and maybe impart of few of those awful truths in respect to what she’d done.

Chapter Text

The three companions landed lightly to one side of the car park, a screen of trees shielding them from view of anyone who might have been watching. An unnecessary precaution; at 7am they were two hours away from the visitor’s centre opening. 

“Ah, they are here already,” Remus said as they came out of the trees and into the car park.

“What? How do you know?” Minerva said looking around, not seeing anybody.

“There,” he said pointing. She followed the line of his finger to the orange cat sat in the middle of the empty car park, watching them.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked.

“That is Hermione’s cat, Crookshanks.”

“And you know this how?”

“Well he came to the headquarters with her, but Sirius was quite fond of him after he stole the passwords to Gryffindor tower. He is rather unmistakable.”

“The cat stole the passwords?” Minerva asked puzzled. “But Longbottom…”

“Crookshanks somehow knew who Padfoot was. He stole the passwords from Neville and gave them to Sirius. He’s half kneazle, Hermione said.”

“He’s not the most attractive,” Severus pointed out.

“Hermione never struck me as shallow,” Remus said mildly. They reached the cat and stood waiting to see what he would do.

Crookshanks for his part, yowled at Remus and butted his head into his leg, rubbing up against him. Remus reached down and scratched his ears. Flicking his tail, Crookshanks stalked bandy legged around Severus, eyeing him with the distain that came naturally to his kind. Inspection finished he moved on to Minerva. She watched him with a small smile of amusement. “Confident of himself isn’t he?”

“I would imagine he’s neutered Minerva, before you get your hopes up,” Severus drawled. Her head shot up to look at him, outrage written across her face. He smirked at her and she glowered back, lips parting to return a no doubt scathing retort.

“Shall we?” Remus broke in, stepping forward after Crookshanks who had started walking to the path between the trees. Minerva harrumph in indignation followed Remus, Severus brought up the rear still smirking.

They followed Crookshanks through the trees to a field that was laid out with picnic tables. The tables were all empty except one, where a middle aged couple were sat. Crookshanks made a bee line for then and Minerva squinted trying to make them out. “I believe it’s the Grangers,” she said quietly to her companions.

They stopped by the table and Helen and John rose from the bench to greet them.

“Hello,” Helen said. “You must be Remus Lupin.” She held out her hand and Remus took it, looking around him. “I’m Helen, Hermione’s mother, this is my husband John. Professors McGonagall, Snape, I can’t say we were expecting yourselves.”

Minerva stepped forward to offer her own hand. “Call me Minerva,” she said. “And this is Severus.” Severus rolled his eyes at her presumption but stepped forward to offer his own hand.

“Madam.”

Helen eyed him speculatively making no comment. “Shall we sit?” she offered politely after John had shaken hands.

“Where are they?” Remus asked a little sharply.

“Waiting,” Helen said.

“Waiting for what?” Remus asked.

“Waiting for confirmation that Mr Dumbledore has not placed any tracking charms on yourselves and is still occupied elsewhere, and that this is not an ambush. It shouldn’t take more than another minute or two but they won’t be arriving until we’ve had it.”

“How are you tracking Albus?” Minerva asked curiously. Neither gave her an answer but stood patiently waiting for something to happen. The strident blare of trumpets, the opening bars to a piece of music Minevra wasn’t familiar with came from Helen’s hand. In it was a compact that had gone unnoticed and Helen smiled in relief.

“Excellent,” she said then looked down at Crookshanks who was sat by her feet. “Could you fetch Hermione please?” she asked the cat.

He rose to his feet and with a nonchalant twitch of his tail, trotted off to the tree line.  John plucked Helen’s case from her hand, flipped it open and spoke into it.

“Bravo six this is Bravo niner message, over.”

“Bravo six send, over.” Harrys voice came floating back out of the mirror in response.

“Delta Echo confirms the fox is in his hole, over.”

“Copy, over.”

“ViperKnight are a go, the line held, over.”

“Roger Bravo niner, over.”

“Confirm location Bravo six, over.”

“Site B, over.”

“Proceed to drop zone, over.”

“Confirm Bravo niner. Is Jungle Cat on route? Over.”

“Affirmative Bravo six, proceed as directed. Out.”

John snapped the case closed and handed it back to Helen. She looked at him in fond exasperation. “You two watch too much crap on TV.”

John’s grin deepened further. “Nonsense, all the information was transmitted and instructions issued.”

“Really? You could have fooled me.”

 He didn’t reply but still smiling turned back to the two wizards and witch facing him. “They’re on their way, won’t be long. Tea?”

“Yes please,” Minerva said settling herself down on the bench. Severus and Remus also sat, flanking her.

John dug in the bag next to him on the bench drawing out tea cups and saucers followed by a small jug of milk and bowl of sugar. Finally, he pulled the teapot from the bag and placed it on the table. “Handy thing magic, tea from a thermos flask isn’t the same as tea from a pot. Mind you the bag is pretty nifty too, shopping trips have been revolutionised. No more plastic bags cutting circulation off as you traipse back to the first shop you went in to after three hours of looking everywhere else. Milk? Lemon? Sugar?”

Minerva indicated her preference and John poured, pushing the cup in its saucer over before looking inquisitively at the two wizards.

“No thank you,” Severus replied whilst Remus shook his head.  Shrugging casually John proceeded to pour two more cups, placing one in front of himself and Helen.

“You use magic in front of other Muggles?” Minerva asked. Technically she wasn’t sure how that was actually legal, but then they were muggles.

John flashed her a knowing look understanding that his light conversation gambit had been taken to stop the wait becoming awkward. “Not overtly, Muggles are used to seeing people put purchases into bags. So as long as no production is made of digging to the bottom, or pulling out an unfathomable number of things from it, no notice is paid. Unpacking tea like this would raise eyebrows, but probably more so because of the china than the quantity. People aren’t really looking for it, it’s easy enough not to be flamboyant. I have to say you all did a much better job of blending in than I have come to expect.”

Minerva smiled and said drily. “Remus was kind enough to bring a muggle magazine with him before we came since it was such a public setting, and we were unsure of how long our wait would be. It seemed for the best.” She plucked at the casual muggle slacks she had transfigured her robes into. “They are not wholly uncomfortable.” She cast a glance over her companions attired in casual cut trousers and shirts with tweed jackets over the top. They looked respectable, Severus more so than Remus who simply looked smarter dressed than usual thanks to her handy work. The magazine Remus brought to the house had been about some sort of gentrified living in the countryside. The muggles within had all been casually dressed lounging in fields against wooden fences with horse paddocks behind them. She hadn’t taken the time to read any of the text so had no idea if it was normal for muggles to be attired as such. John’s words however had given her confidence they had chosen correctly. She sipped her tea and watched as Helen's eyes which had been scanning the nearby trees suddenly stopped. Two blond haired figures emerged, Crookshanks trotting slightly in front of them.

“Huh, not quite following orders then.” Helen noted quietly to John.

John shrugged in reply. “It has been a whole 12 hours.”

Helen smiled, lifting her cup to her mouth to hide it. “Doing better than you then, you were three hours early to pick her up from her first overnight stay.”

“She was eight, and you know she wasn’t getting along at that school.” John retorted.

“Hmmhmm.”

The two people stopped behind John and Helen, blond hair flashing in the sun.

“Hello Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Remus.” Hermione said smiling in welcome, Harry echoing her. “Ooo tea, yes please!” she added spying the pot and dropping down on to the bench next to Helen. “Is there anything to eat?”

“You’ve not had breakfast?” Helen asked.

“Oh yeah, about five this morning, but that was hours ago. I’m running on fumes.”

John rooted in his bag again pulling out a vail of bright green potion and a sandwich. “Here,” he said passing them over. “Drink and eat that.”

“Is there one of those sandwiches going spare?” Harry asked as he sat next to Hermione, shuffling everyone along slightly.

“You definitely had breakfast,” Helen said.

“But I’m a growing boy!” Harry protested, smiling winningly at her. She rolled her eyes but didn’t stop John handing over another sandwich.

“Harry?” Remus asked tentatively.

“Hi!” Harry said brightly unwrapping the sandwich, peeling it open to check its contents before lifting it.

“You, err, look different?”

Harry nodded chewing the bite of sandwich he’d taken, his blond hair flopping. Swallowing, he agreed. “Well we couldn't be us, could we? We’d have been found, so disguises were pretty much a given.”

“Ahh yes, I see, it’s just, you look nothing like, well, you,” Remus said.

“That was the idea,” Harry said pouring a cup of tea for Hermione and himself. “Tea?” he offered.

“Err well, yes,” Remus replied appearing slightly flustered.

“Sir?” Harry asked looking at Severus, proffering the tea pot slightly. “Tea?”

“No thank you Mr Potter,” Severus replied.

Harry poured Remus' tea. “So how’s things?” he asked casually.

His question was met by silence from the three visitors, Helen looked them over carefully. “I think you should go first. We obviously expected Remus to turn up, but we didn’t expect to see you two particular Professors together.”

Minerva eyed Helen remembering the last meeting they had had with her about Hermione. She’d walked away from that meeting with information it had taken her a while to digest, and if she was honest had helped her see things that she’d been previously blind to. She was however, unwilling to stand for another tirade. Thankfully her internal dilemma was halted by Severus who spoke.

“Mrs Granger-“

“Helen, please. Let’s not stand on formality.”

“Helen, Miss Granger and Mr Potter-“

“Hermione.” Hermione broke in, surfacing from the sandwich and tea she'd been steadily working through.

“Harry, no one here calls me Mr Potter.” Harry contributed.

Severus scowled at his ex-students. “As lacking as the education system you have been attending is in proper manners, it is merely polite to use your proper address.”

“But we did just invite you to use our names, and the education system isn't lacking, I just don’t go by Potter.” Harry re-joined. “Using Potter would have advertised our location.”

Severus scowled a little more, filing the information for later and continued. “Hermione and Harry sent a letter to Minerva.” He paused waiting for some sort of acknowledgment wondering if the two students had acted without the Grangers knowledge.

“Yes,” Helen replied. “We are aware of the information sent in the letter.”

Severus nodded slightly and continued. “That information was found by ourselves as it was intended. It has also not been shared.” As those words left his mouth he saw a slight drop in tension in all four people sat across from him. They had been worried about that then. Curious. “We have been working on locating and disposing of the items that were listed. This has been successful to a point. We have however, a need to exchange information, hence our presence at this meeting.” He sat arms folded, watching and waiting.

Helen nodded at him. “Thank you. We were unsure if the information left for you had been shared and the possible consequences of such.”

“We are not going to force anyone to return.” Minerva said firmly. “We are here to discuss things. To see what further information needs to be exchanged and by less clandestine methods.”

“Very well,” Helen said. “What would you like to cover first?”

“When are you coming back?” Remus asked immediately. Speaking as if he had been forcing himself to stay quiet.

Harry looked at Remus and then at Hermione raising an eyebrow, asking if she wanted to take the lead. She twitched a hand in the negative and he turned back to Remus. “There is no plan for us to return to Britain in terms of our future lives. If it is necessary, and only if it is necessary, we would have a discussion as to our return for the ending of the issue with Tom.”

Remus looked at him, his gaze flicking between Harry and Hermione. “You mean you left for good? Not just until you could marry?”

Harry winced slightly, they had anticipated that Remus would have put more together than it seemed he had. “Hermione and I are not married, that’s not to say it’s not on the cards at some point.” He rolled his eyes at her and she smiled serenely back at him. “But, as was in the letter, it wasn’t something Hermione wanted to do because it was forced upon us.”

“Then why did you leave?” Remus asked.

Harry replied calmly explaining what he had thought had been obvious. “What else could I have done? Let her go alone? Stay behind without her? Find out that the people who I thought were responsible for our safety had done nothing to stop her marriage so she had run to keep herself safe? She was meant to be married to a Death Eater, she was going to be taken to Tom. That was the point of the law so it must be pretty obvious I wouldn’t have taken it well.”

“But the prophecy,” Remus said. “Your friends, your education. You walked away from it all.”

Harry shot a ‘help me’ look towards Hermione, Helen and John. Helen smiled and leant forward to speak to Remus.

“Remus, exactly what is it you object to? Hermione left to avoid being forcibly married off and put in potential danger, when offered the opportunity Harry came with her. Yes, Harry left a dangerous situation where his physical and emotional health were less important than the ongoing war effort. It might have thrown a spanner in the works in terms of the war effort but I hardly think that this is the problem here.”

“Harry isn’t safe,” Remus said. “He needs to be with people who understand him, people who can look after him properly.”

Helen drew back and exchanged a look with Harry and Hermione, a thrill of tension moving through the family group. “What gives you the impression that Harry isn’t safe here? Can you honestly say that without this meeting you were close to locating us?”

“Dumbledore. He’s tracking Hedwig, it is only a matter of time before he locates you. Returning on your own would be better than forcing a confrontation.”

“In which case I would say you were nowhere in locating us,” Helen replied. “I’ll make this simple for you,” she said with a chill creeping into her voice. “This meeting is not going to discuss the return of Harry or Hermione to Britain. It’s off the table, and any further forays into the subject will bring this meeting to an untimely end.”

“But-” Remus protested.

“No.” Helen said.

“Very well,” Minerva broke in, placing a restraining hand on Remus' arm. “In which case shall we move along? As Severus said we have destroyed a number of the horcruxes and have had a confirmation of one of the two unknowns.”

“Really?” Harry asked. “What is it?”

“His familiar, the snake Nagini,” Minerva replied.

“So it is possible then,” Hermione said. Another look passed between the Grangers and Harry

“What is possible?” Minerva queried looking at her former student.

“Making a Horcrux out of a living being.” Hermione answered.

“She is his familiar,” Severus said. “It might be that that connection helped the process.”

“Still, it’s a pretty crappy thing to do to your familiar, possess them like that?" Harry said.

Severus shrugged in response, missing his usual robes, wanting to draw them around him. The muggle attire he was wearing left him feeling exposed, and it had unsettled him to realise that Potter’s disguise had affected him. As much as he hated the visage of James Potter, he had been expecting it, and the lack of green eyes had momentarily thrown him. The teenager in front of him could be anyone and he found himself missing the glimpse of his childhood friend.

“Who else knows,” John asked.

“About?” Minerva replied.

“What you are doing. How many other people are aware you are working with information left for you?”

She nodded her understanding. “We three, and the Weasley twins. They came to me on receiving the message on the tape. They know what it is for and Severus was able to offer some help in getting the communication mirrors operational. The mirrors have now been distributed to the Order although their source was not disclosed. I believe that the general impression from those who saw the formula Hermione provided was that it was for a product for their shop, and there are currently no copies of the letter in circulation. Professor Dumbledore retained and destroyed them all. I still have the original locked away. Fred asked me to pass something along to you both Hermione, Harry.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the small bag she’d agreed to carry. She placed it on the table in front of the two teenagers.

They exchanged a glance before Hermione reached for the bag, undoing the tie holding the neck closed. Looking into the opening she smiled before reaching in and pulling out a large ornately framed mirror

“Well it’s certainly Fred and George’s style,” Hermione said.

Helen stared at the mirror running a finger over the golden filigree around the edges. “It’s certainly making a statement,” she agreed.

Hermione pushed the mirror down in to the bag again closing the top and shoving it into her pocket.

“It can call the mirror George and Fred have set up in their work room and also the mirrors that myself Remus and Severus carry,” Minerva explained.

“So you have a way to contact us then,” Helen asked looking closely at Minerva, suspicious.

“Yes although that information was going to stay between us.” Minerva assured her.

“So what next then?” Helen asked.

“We would like to know if you have any more information in regards to the final horcrux that is unknown,” Minerva said. “Obviously you have been out of the loop but you seem to have had more information than ourselves to start from. Before any further action can be taken these things must be dealt with.”

“Yes,” John answered. “We are aware of the unknown horcrux and it has been dealt with.”

“You found it?” Remus asked, his focus switching to John from his study of Harry. He’d been trying to unite the blond haired young man in front of him with the Harry that he had last seen, and was struggling to reconcile the two. His inner wolf knew Harry was Harry but his eyes were telling his brain that this wasn’t Harry, wasn’t the face of James with the eyes of Lily, his friends he missed so much.

“In a manner of speaking,” John replied.

“Well what was it? How did you destroy it? Did you find a different way other than the Basilisk venom?” Remus asked intently.

“In a manner of speaking,” Harry said echoing John’s words, his tone drew the attention of the visitors. “It was me,” Harry said quietly meeting their gaze one at a time. “I was a horcrux.”

There was a moment of silence following this announcement as the information was turned over and examined by two of the visitors. Remus however, scoffed lightly.

“Harry be serious; how could you be a horcrux? Don’t you think we might have noticed? And even if you were, how could you have possibly dealt with it as you say? The basilisk venom has been destroying the containers.” Remus smiled at Harry indicating that he wasn’t meaning his comments to hurt but to highlight the problems with his statement.

Harrys face closed slightly and his tone lost a little of its brightness as he replied. “Well yes, Remus how did you not notice? I mean we’ve spent so much time together, it’s a wonder really isn’t it?”

The smile on Remus lips faltered before falling away completely. “Harry, I didn’t mean, my problem, it wasn’t safe.”

Harry said nothing allowing Remus to peter out before turning to his other two professors, awaiting their reactions.

“It seems you know something we don’t,” Minerva said in her stern teaching tone. She hadn’t liked the way Harry had confronted Remus, it seemed that while he had yet to antagonise Severus into sneering and sarcasm he was still prepared to revert to petulance to make his point. She watched as the family across from her closed ranks and wondered if her companions noticed. 

“Harry was a horcrux,” Hermione said firmly, staring at the table, her eyes flickered upwards to meet Minerva’s and the elder witch’s breath caught to see the anger in them. “The best theory we have is that when Tom killed the Potter’s he was going to make another. What Harry’s mum did caused a backlash that killed Tom and the torn soul piece to anchor in the living body of Harry. It was the scar, it was in his head. Harry lived with a piece of Tom in his head and Albus Dumbledore did nothing, nothing to help him, nothing to heal him, didn’t even tell him. Did he tell you? When he dropped an infant on a muggle doorstep in November. Did you check that after being pulled from the scene Harry had undergone a medical check-up?” Hermione held the gaze of her favourite Professor, the anger still burning in her eyes despite her relatively calm tone. Daring her to contradict her, or answer her accusations, or say anything at all really.

Harry put a hand on Hermione’s arm, a comforting rather than a repressing gesture and felt a little bit sorry for his old Transfiguration Professor. Hermione had held her in high esteem and the conclusions they had drawn from his early life had tarnished it. It also seemed from Minerva’s expression she didn’t have any answers to Hermione’s accusations. He hoped it was because she like so many others had blindly followed rather than being knowingly complicit. Mostly for Hermione’s sake he hoped that was the case. Remus was looking at Hermione like he hadn’t seen her before, which Harry thought was somewhat amusing. Remus, out of all of the Professors who had turned up to the meeting had spent the most time with Hermione and should really be used to her forthrightness.

Harry shot a quick look at Professor Snape, he was probably never going to call him Severus, he could maybe stick with ‘Sir’. Helen and John had told him to watch his tongue; not because he didn’t have the right to speak up, but because if he was unfailingly polite then he couldn’t be accused of behaving like a child, which was the point that Snape picked on constantly. Harry knew they were correct but his underlying dislike of the man wouldn’t shift. No matter the conversations about spies, their expected roles, the need for cover stories, everything he had hashed over with John, there was just something about Snape he didn’t like.

So they wouldn’t be friends, not a problem. Snape was no longer his teacher so that power over him had gone, which was a huge weight off, so he could be polite. He could do that; how hard could it be? It had gone fine so far although Snape hadn’t said more than a few sentences. Snape’s face was blank and Harry got nothing from him, something that he acknowledged annoyed him. He wanted the man to react, to show any sort of reaction instead of this impenetrable wall of …nothing. Damnit it was annoying, maybe the students of Hogwarts were wrong, and he wasn’t part Vampire he was part Vulcan, thus had no emotions. Maybe Snape used the nerve pinch to bring his enemies down, stalking, or maybe swooping from shadow to shadow, sneaking up on unsuspecting Death Eaters to disarm them and drag them into the nearest broom closet to be obliviated later.

Snape must have noticed his stare as he shifted his gaze from Hermione to Harry and lifted an eyebrow. Drawn out of his mental wandering and hastily remembering Snape was a powerful Legilimens, Harry looked at the table and tried not to laugh at the idea of Snape getting a glimpse of his thoughts. That would probably take more than politeness to smooth over.

“You have something to add Mr-, Harry.” Snape’s cool drawl made his head jerk up on reflex. The eyebrow was still cocked, something about the angle daring Harry to reply. Swallowing down his initial reaction which would probably not help he pasted a polite smile on his face.

“I died,” he said. “Last month, which is why we know about the Horcrux. This isn’t speculation on our parts.” His response shook Hermione from her staring match with Minerva and she turned to him with a small grin he was happy to see.

“You jumped in front of a truck, and yet you think I’m the delinquent?” she said squeezing his hand in thanks. Her tone was light and teasing and Harry thought she was doing a pretty good job of faking it.

“I had a good reason,” he said to her, smiling at her squeezing back.

“No, you watched too many films and had to learn the hard way that films are not real life,” she replied rolling her eyes in mock exasperation.

“Wait you died? You jumped in front of a truck?” Remus said. A look of panic and horror warring on his face. “Why?” He turned to Helen. “You said he was safe and he died? You think that’s safe?” he scowled at Helen.

“Wait,” Harry said sharply. “It’s not Helen's fault, and I am safe. Do you want me to list the number of times I nearly died at Hogwarts?”

“Nearly died, not actually,” Remus said somewhat haughtily.

Harry rolled his eyes “Riiight because that’s not splitting hairs or anything. And the fact that at Hogwarts I was pushed into the situations I nearly died in?”

“If you’d have listened to your teachers…” Remus said weakly, looking away.

“If I’d have done that, then Tom would have killed Ginny. Sirius would have been handed over to the Dementors. Barty Crouch Jr would have taken me back to Tom after his resurrection in the grave yard. The DA wouldn’t have taught everyone what the staff should have been teaching. Hermione would most likely be dead by now, if I’d have listened to my teachers.” Harry stared at Remus lost as to why he was being unreasonable and angry that he had questioned Helen and John’s care of him.

“Perhaps we could move on?” Severus broke through the growing tension between Harry and Remus. “If I’d wanted to watch histrionics I could have stayed in the castle and watched the youngest Mr Weasley brew Manegro Potion.”

Remus shot Severus a scowl and opened his mouth as if to say something, but Minerva instead spoke. “If you could continue Harry?”

Harry nodded to her and took a breath, Hermione nudged his shoulder discreetly and he squeezed the hand he still held. 

“We were walking home past the park and there was this kid. He was only 8 and he ran into the road after his football. There was a truck coming, he wasn’t going to be able to get his ball and get out of the road before the truck hit him so, I umm, went after him and shoved him out of the way.”

“At which point you didn’t make it.” Hermione added drily.

“Well yeah but I didn’t die there and then, it was later in the ambulance, and the paramedics resuscitated me, see, not dead,” he said poking himself in the chest.

“Still counts,” Helen said smiling.

Harry shrugged. “Anyway, in the ambulance I technically died and ended up in this grey space with a guy who reminded me of Percy Weasley.”

“A whole new different level of hell, just for you.” Hermione muttered at him, he nudged her non to gently in reply.

“The Percy guy told me that I’d brought an extra piece of soul with me, and that they were going to keep it with the others they had been getting in. Which is how we knew that someone had been hunting them. That was kind of it really, the paramedics brought me back, and the hospital fixed me up. I was home again less than 48 hours later.”

Minerva broke the silence that had formed on that side of the table, looking over at John. “Do you have anything stronger than tea?”

John nodded and reached into his bag pulling out three tumblers and a bottle of whiskey, pouring a measure into all of them and pushing them over. Minerva nodded her thanks and knocked her drink back. She pushed the glass back towards John who refilled it.

“That is Scottish whiskey,” she said, sipping the second drink.

“Just because we left England doesn’t mean I was prepared to drink swill,” John replied. “I have a stash and when it runs out I can always go back and get more. I’m not the one they are looking for after all.”

Remus and Severus had also made short work of their drinks and John refilled the glasses before pouring himself a cup of tea. He handed the pot off to Harry who held his hand out for it. Harry refilled Helen's, Hermione's and his cups, taking comfort from the warm liquid.

“I’d join you but it’s only half nine for us and it’s still a bit early.” John said conversationally as the group resettled themselves. “We have brought lunch with us for everyone, if you are feeling hungry?”

“That would be welcome,” Minerva said gratefully.

“No problem,” John replied, pulling Tupperware boxes of sandwiches, salad, and cold meat from the bag along with plates, knives, and forks. “It’s a cold lunch, less conspicuous than hot Shephard’s pie, despite the protests.” He glanced at Hermione who pulled a face at him.

The three visitors politely took some food followed by Hermione and Harry. John and Helen plated themselves a few sandwiches and the group started their impromptu lunch.

“How is your schooling, Hermione?” Minerva asked to break the silence and, she quietly admitted to herself, to assuage her guilt that they had been unable to continue at Hogwarts.

“Very well thank you,” Hermione answered. “The teaching style is different, and we’re day students rather than boarders but overall its working out quite well.”

“The language barrier isn’t a problem for you Harry?” Minerva enquired.

“Umm, no? Our lessons are in English so.” He looked at her puzzled.

“I wasn’t aware the European schools offered lessons in English” Minerva said looking back at him equally as puzzled.

“They attend an English speaking school Minerva.” Helen broke in. “Whilst I’m going to assume that you aren’t purposefully digging for information as to our location, I can assure you that neither of them is suffering for moving away from Hogwarts in terms of their education. Hermione’s grades are holding steady and Harry's have improved across the board.”

“That is reassuring to know,” Minerva replied. “I was only concerned that at such a crucial stage the upheaval would have disadvantaged either of them. Your current location is not something I need to know.”

Lunch gave everyone time to adjust and settle. Once everyone had eaten enough Harry and Hermione packed everything back into the bag, casting cleaning charms on the used plates and cutlery.

“So what’s the plan?” John asked. “Only now you know you’ve just the snake and Tom to sort out, is that something you can do without these two?”

Minerva and Remus both looked at Severus, who ignored them to concentrate on John. “Without Harry it is unlikely we will be able to draw the Dark Lord out. Before that can be contemplated a plan must be in place for the snake. She will be difficult to access and lethal, it won’t be easy.”

“But Mr Weasley was bitten and he survived,” Harry said looking at Severus. “If St Mungo’s have an antidote can’t it be synthesised in bulk?”

“Mr Weasley only survived his attack in part due to the early warning you gave and in second because I already had an antidote in progress. Nagini is after all a known weapon of the Dark Lord. However, in the saving of Mr Weasley's life all the antidote I had made was used up, and no Mr Potter, I cannot simply brew more. It requires her venom as an active ingredient, the Dark Lord would not allow me to milk her again and I have no intention of trying without his permission.”

“Would modern antivenin suffice?” Helen asked. “Does anyone know what species of snake she is?”

“Her original species is unknown and whatever magic has been cast on her would presumably make identification and muggle antivenin all but useless.”

“So assassinate the snake then go after Tom. They’re going to have to happen quite close together.” Harry said looking at Severus for confirmation.

“Indeed.” Severus answered. He looked at John and understanding flowed between them.

“We won’t allow you to put our children in harm’s way,” John said firmly. “They are not bait. Polyjuice potion, glamour charms, don’t sit there and tell me you need Harry there in person, unless you don’t mind being called a liar to your face.”

Severus sighed. “The Headmaster and the Dark Lord will want to verify it is Mr Potter not a decoy. He has been away too long for it to be taken on face value.”

“How would you expect him to prove it? His wand was snapped and disposed of, the horcrux has gone. Harry is as normal as the next child in that school of yours.”

“Albus has his wand and I believe if what he recently conveyed is the truth, he has a way to mend it.” Severus replied.

“It doesn’t work though,” Harry said. “We’d just end up shoving against each other. I can see how that might help if you were going to sneak in and assassinate him then, but I don’t know how long I could hold him there. Then there’s all the other Death Eaters to consider.”

“The Dark Lord as a no kill order on you, the Death Eaters are forbidden to do so.” Severus said.

“That’s good to know, I think.” Harry said a wry grin twisting his face. “But I wasn’t talking about me.” He looked deliberately at Hermione.

“Well they are coming after me regardless so I can’t see what difference it makes to the plan.” Hermione shrugged indifferently.

“There are other considerations.” Minerva added. She exchanged a quick glance with Severus gaining his permission to continue. “Currently the Dark Lord is hunting the Elder wand.” She paused waiting for a response. The group across from her looked at her waiting for her to continue, clearly not comprehending the significance of what she’d said. “Do you know the history of the Elder wand?” she asked just to make sure.

“No,” Hermione replied. “I’ve not seen it mentioned in any of my books…”

“Unless you read Wizarding fairy stories it is unlikely you would do so.” Minerva confirmed. “The Elder wand is supposed to be the unbeatable wand, given as a reward by Death to one of three brothers. The brothers supposedly outsmarted Death thus he gave them a gift of their choosing.”

“Like the three wishes you get from a genie?” Hermione asked.

“I am unsure Hermione,” Minerva said frowning slightly.

“Muggle fairy tales, you find a genie you get three wishes.” Hermione clarified.

“Then it is possibly something similar. The eldest brother asked for the unbeatable wand which Death crafted from an Elder tree using the tail hair of a Thestral, hence its name. The second brother asked for a way to bring back those from the dead and was given a pebble which would call back anyone from the dead. They would not be alive, but a shade of those who were living,” she said watching for Harry’s reaction. When he displayed nothing outwardly she could see she moved on. “The third brother asked for a way to hide from Death and was given a cloak of invisibility made from Death's own cloak. The eldest brother lived only one day before being killed in his sleep after bragging about the Elder wand and thus started the wand's bloody history, passing from hand to hand through bloodshed.”

The group listened to the recounting of the tale and it was Helen who then asked. “How do you know this isn’t fiction and is true? I’m not saying that most fairy tales don’t have truth in them, but how do you know that this one is one of them?”

Minerva smiled slightly at the logical question. “The three brothers were from the Pervell family. Whilst it in itself has died out, descendants are still living.” She turned and looked at Harry. “You were given a cloak of invisibility that was your father’s?”

Harry swallowed thickly, his hand reaching into his pocket pulling the shimmering shiny fabric out and putting it on to the table. “This? This is made from Death's Cloak?”

Minerva shrugged lightly in response to his question. “If the story is to be believed then yes. Both Albus and the Dark Lord believe the story, the Dark Lord is now actively hunting that wand. If he should get it.” She stopped, not needing to say more.

“Oh-kay,” John said looking unhappy. “Do we know where this wand is? Its current master? Is the Order doing anything about it?”

Minerva shot another glance at Severus, and John seeing it, let an edge creep into his voice. “I understand that information is a commodity in our current situation but this is ridiculous. You’re either going to share what you know or you aren’t. That was the point of this meeting, or so you claimed earlier.”

“My apologies,” Minerva said. “Some of the information is, distressing.”

“More distressing than a horcrux in your head?” Harry asked pointedly.

“Equally so for those involved,” Minerva replied just as pointedly. Harry subsided, lifting his hand in a show of backing down.

“Minerva, John is right, pussy footing around is pointless. We need Mr Potter and thus we will need him to be prepared.” Severus said. “Tell them.”

Minerva looked at him once more before straightening her shoulders. “Albus has the wand. He has made a ‘plan’ that should ensure that the Dark Lord does not get it and that it can be passed to you, Harry, so you can face the Dark Lord as the prophecy dictates.”

John looked between Severus and Minerva. “I take it this ‘plan’ as you say, is not something either of you think will work.”

Minerva scowled. “Albus has ordered Severus to kill him. This would allow him to claim mastery over the wand. He seems to then believe, or at least we believe he believes, that his subsequent death at the hands of Severus would draw Harry out. Due to the no kill order the Death Eaters are to obey Harry would then gain mastery over the wand.” She reached for her whiskey glass tossing the contents back, muttering about old men. John refilled it for her and she nodded her thanks.

“Umm,” Harry said squinting slightly. “The Headmaster wants me to kill you, Sir?” Severus met his gaze and inclined his head slightly, his face a study in blankness. “Do you have a trick knee? A weakness to kryptonite? A set of slippery stairs perhaps? I mean seriously? The Headmaster wants me to kill the Order’s Spy? Am I the only one who thinks that’s utterly insane? Just, I mean, how?”

“I would not be able to kill you; thus I believe that Albus thinks the advantage would be yours.” Severus said.

“Sir, I think everyone at this table is aware that there is more than one way to skin a cat and I am dead certain you know most of them.”

Severus met Harry’s eyes and for the first time, Harry saw Severus Snape crack a genuine smile. It might have even just touched his eyes. “Indeed, Mr Potter.”

“So, let’s not?” Harry said cursing the hopefulness that seeped into his voice. He would never win a full on duel with Snape but he didn’t want to actually let the man know he knew, even though he clearly did.

“We were discounting it as a plan.” Severus confirmed watching in amusement as Harry struggled to hide the relief crossing his face. A sensible Potter who wasn’t rushing head long into things was a different animal altogether, and he wasn’t sure if he preferred it to the hothead idiotic boy who had left Hogwarts twelvemonths ago. Regardless, he was easier to work with, he begrudgingly admitted. “You are aware you are expected to kill the Dark Lord? A Wizard who has mastered far more than myself. I don’t believe you have quite gotten out of that.”

Harry shot him a dirty look. “Thanks for the unnecessary reminder. Isn’t it meant to be different though, what with the prophecy?”

“I don’t know,” Severus said simply. “It is possible that that is why Albus wishes you to have the Elder wand. To shore up your chances as it were.”

“And the reason he couldn’t just give Harry the wand?” Helen asked tartly. “It seems the coldblooded murder of two men is a rather overblown and elaborate plan.”

“He won’t, he claims to have his reasons but he has not shared them with me.” Severus replied.

“You’ve been quiet, Remus.” Helen said to the man sat on the other side of Minerva. “Do you have anything to add?”

“I, no. I am unhappy with the idea of Harry having to fight Severus for the wand. Whilst the idea of an unbeatable wand is attractive when considering going up against Tom, the method of transfer seems to have much to be desired. Dumbledore has said less to me in regards to his plans than either Minerva or Severus.” Remus said quietly. He turned to Harry. “Won’t you consider returning. Not to Hogwarts if you don’t want to, but to England? The Potter name, now you’re of age, you could do so much good with it. Your father…”

“I’m not my father,” Harry said annoyed that Remus had brought up his return again. “I’m not either of my parents Remus. I’m not Sirius, James, or Lily. They were your friends and I get that you miss them but I’m not them. I don’t know them. Aunt Petunia told me they were wasters, drunks who died in a car crash.”

“No they weren’t they were-” Remus said pained.

“I know, I know that’s not true. We’re not coming back, you’re here so you could see for yourself that I’m safe, because I didn’t get to tell you I was going. Because we needed to make a plan to end the war. Not so you could ask me to go back because you miss your friends. You lost the right to ask that when you left me with the Dursely’s for thirteen years without trying to find me, or visit, or even tell me you existed.” Harry said angrily.

Remus looked at the angry young man in front of him, one he knew was Harry but could see neither James or Lilly in. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“Then help us make a plan. Stop asking me to leave Hermione and my family, I won’t and we will fall out.” Harry said a little more calmly.

“I did tell you Mr Lupin that Harry and Hermione’s return, outside of what is needed for whatever end game plan we come up with, was off the table.” Helen said coldly. “You are not helping anyone here by continuing to raise it.”

“I’m sorry.” Remus apologised, looking at his hands. “If you’ll excuse me I think I’ll just take a walk and clear my head.” He got up from the table and turned walking away.

“Harry, why not go with Mr Lupin, perhaps you could talk about more social things. He may find that more reassuring.” Helen said nodding after him. “You go as well Hermione.”

They rose from their respective places and followed after Remus. Harry called out to the man who had gotten 30 feet ahead and Remus paused while they caught up.

Helen turned back to the table. “Forgive me for sending them away, I know your time is short here but it seemed the best way to deal with his concerns.”

“Not at all,” Minerva replied. “I apologise for Remus, whilst it is understandable that some would feel better if they returned to England I’m not sure it would really make a difference. He has a more personal connection to the family however and Harry is the last remnants of that.”

Helen nodded, not convinced but willing to accept the excuse. “Is there a chance a decisive strike can be made against Tom? I don’t want Harry or Hermione to live with the possibility hanging over them if it’s never going to happen. Equally I don’t want them rushing in under prepared. They have been training in both magical and muggle defence since we got here and settled. They are competent, but they are not going to be a match for people out to kill with years of experience behind them. I want to know what the chances really are.”

“it’s not that simple” Severus said.

“I know that, I’m not stupid but you must have some idea, you’re living this day in day out. Is the end in sight? Has killing of the horcrux made that end more distinct or not? Does Tom even know it’s been done?”

“We believe he doesn’t know, and of course killing them has made a difference. Without doing so everything we might have done would have failed. With the Dark Lord hunting the Elder wand and Albus possessing it it’s possible a confrontation might be engineered which would allow us to move towards ending things. Albus has put a deadline of Christmas on his own demise so you could assume that something will need to be in place before we get there,” Severus answered.

“Christmas, right.” Helen took that in and squared her shoulders. “I suppose winning would be a nice present, wouldn’t it?”

Chapter Text

The crack of apparition brought the heads of the four remaining people at the table whipping around, staring across the field. There were only two figures stood there. Harry and Hermione started to jog back to the table. Remus was not with them

“Where’s Remus?” Helen asked when they reached the bench.

“Gone.” Harry replied.

“Gone where?” Helen asked. “And why?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and dropped on to the bench pulling Hermione down next to him, wrapping his arm around her waist. “We wouldn’t take the rings off. Well you know, just because here’s safe, doesn’t mean over there is. He got a bit insistent and we might have had an exchange of views. Did you know Tonks is pregnant? He’s using it as his excuse to be here if anyone asks. They’re pretending that he’s freaking out because the baby might have lycanthropy. Who does that?” he said indignantly. “I can’t imagine what Tonks thought she was playing at agreeing to that, unless of course, it’s not actually an excuse. I don’t know what’s wrong with him! Why can’t he just accept that this isn’t temporary?” Harry threw his free hand up in frustration.

“Hermione?” Helen asked, “Do you have anything to add?”

“No,” she replied. “He wanted Harry to be Harry, whatever that means. Thinks it’s great we’re having a nice holiday but we need to face up to our responsibilities.” She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, focusing on the table in front of her.

“And?” Helen said with an air of a parent who knows they aren’t getting the full story.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look which caused Helen to let out a breath in annoyance. “Who threw the first hex?” she asked. The guilty look on both faces did nothing to calm her growing annoyance. “Talk,” she ordered. “And make it good. This is not the time to be mucking about.”

“He might have said that we weren’t a real family,” Harry said. “That you weren’t my family.”

“He didn’t exactly agree with our counter argument.” Hermione added.

“Is he bleeding?”

“No,” Hermione said.

“In need of hospital attention?”

“Probably not, although I wouldn’t swear to it, he was on fire when he left,” Harry said, not looking remotely sorry.

“On fire.” Helen’s voice was flat and her gaze swung to Hermione. “How much on fire? New clothes and burn paste on fire, or we won’t find the body on fire?”

“Enough to stop him thinking of apparating Harry away.” Hermione replied meeting her mother’s gaze, her jaw set in defiance. Helen closed her eyes and mentally counted to five. Ten was beyond her.

“I didn’t think he’d try that. I’m sorry for sending you to speak to him. For putting you both in that position,” she said sincerely, looking at both of them.

“I don’t think he thought it through,” Harry offered. “It was more a reaction to our refusal. The no touching in case of sneaky apparition rule seemed to be bugging him. Not that that was the only stick up his arse.” he added as an afterthought.

“No touching…?” Helen trailed off, her gaze switching from Harry to John. He smiled gently at her.

“You were busy sorting everything else and packing for the trip love. It never hurts to be prepared, they both understood the reasons behind it.”

“What else?” she asked.

“Hmm? Oh well, the ward circle might have been my idea,” he said modestly.

“Ward circle?” Minerva broke in. “They are complex magic.”

“So I have been informed,” John replied. “But it comes with a manufactures guarantee, and it’s not the super fancy one so I was fairly confident of it working after I set it up. I even followed the instructions.” he said to Helen with a smile.

“You bought it?” Minerva asked appearing shocked at the idea.

“Yes, from a shop, using money. That is how these things normally go, isn’t it?” John replied.

Helen rubbed her face tiredly. “Minerva could you please call Remus on your mirror if you have it? An explanation of what just happened would be appreciated.”

Minerva had her compact already in hand and was frowning at it. “He’s not answering.”

“You aren’t relying on him for your return to England are you?” Helen asked.

“Remus has the portkey,” Minerva said, her face pinched in disapproval. “It’s the same one we used to get here.”

“I have a spare with me,” Severus said with a negligent wave of his hand. “We are not reliant on him for our return.”

Minerva looked at him in surprise.

“No one would put all their eggs in the basket of a werewolf this close to the moon,” he said. “We only have to hope that in his fit of petulance he doesn’t decide to tell the Order or Albus where we have been. Have you checked yourselves for tracking charms?” He looked at Harry and Hermione.

“No, but we aren’t carrying any.” Hermione said.

Severus raised an eyebrow in challenging enquiry.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “We came over the ward line. It disables all tracking and monitoring charms, stops apparition inside of it as well. We’re clean, if we’d been carrying something it couldn’t disable it would have flashed up as we crossed.”

“It behoves you to be certain.” 

“We are.”

“The wizard who invented them has family who works with the Mexican and South American kidnapping squads. He’s a guest lecturer at the school, one of their graduates of their entrepreneur program. The ward circle is part of a range they use to set up a safe neutral place for parties to meet. He’s got quite an interesting life story,” John said. “Harry smuggled me in last time he was there for a talk.”

“Kidnapping?” Minerva said.

“For ransom. It’s a problem in Mexico City especially, even amongst magical folk it seems.” John explained.

“Is he a risk?” Helen asked Severus, ignoring John’s conversation with Minerva.

“As much as anybody is a risk. He had not informed Albus of our intentions to meet beforehand. Given his history with the Potter family he is unlikely to sell you out to the Death Eaters. Indeed, I believe I have the dubious distinction of being the only Death Eater he could be assured of approaching safely and be listened to by.”

“Well that’s something,” she replied. “What does it change? Plan wise, if he decides to throw his lot in with Dumbledore again?”

“Assuming he keeps his confidences, not a lot. There’s only the snake and the Dark Lord left. Lupin knowing about Albus’ plan for his wand makes little difference to what will happen either way. If he doesn’t, then Minerva will find herself in an uncomfortable position with the Order and Albus. Nothing she has been party to however, has acted against the purported ideas of the Order.”

“Don’t think that it makes a difference to me,” Minerva interrupted, “Albus has more than a little explaining to do himself.”

“What about you?” Helen asked.

“Me?” Severus asked in surprise.

“Yes, you.”

“Nothing,” he replied. “Albus doesn’t trust me so will be unsurprised that I have acted beyond my scope. He may simply tell me less than he already does, however, he must also balance that off with me being his only source of information coming out of the Dark Lord’s camp. I am a necessary evil. The Order will believe what they will of me, it matters little.”

Helen looked him over, her gaze appraising. “Hermione said you didn’t think you’d survive the war.”

He shrugged indifferent. Helen glanced at Minerva and their eyes met for a moment. “Right, well,” Helen said briskly. “I think we should continue we still have things to discuss.”

“Hang on,” Harry spoke up. “What do you mean he doesn’t trust you? He did nothing but tell me he trusted you!”

Severus looked the teenager over. “Just what did you expect him to say? Did you expect him to waste time trying to explain the complexities, and intricacies of running a vigilante group to a petulant child, who believed himself to be right above all others? Your mistrust was dealt with in the same manner in which you presented it.”

“It’s a bit hypocritical that’s all.” Harry grumbled.

“Indeed Mr Potter, a sin I am sure you are free of.”

Hermione was clutching his hand on her waist hard enough to hurt so he opted to say nothing to the challenge issued, and instead turned to the rest of the group. “So what is the plan?”

“Kill the snake and then the Dark Lord, unless you had a flash of brilliance you’ve been waiting to share.” Severus said seemingly purposefully trying to goad a reaction from Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes, his hand was still being held captive by Hermione although he didn’t need the reminder. “I was asking more about specifics than generalities.”

Severus eyed him as if he was weighing up if another jab was worth the effort. Harry saw his eyes flicker to John and Helen beside him. It seemed to make his mind up that getting a reaction would take more effort, and be obviously what he was trying to do. Harry supposed the Slytherin in the man barred him from doing something so overt in front of witnesses, and when he spoke next he answered the question.

“No, it would be impossible to predict the movements of either the Dark Lord or Albus. Manoeuvring either of them into meeting will take time and may not work. It must however be attempted. It might be necessary to inform the Dark Lord that Albus has the Elder wand. With that knowledge he might be more inclined towards direct confrontation, but, without a guaranteed outcome.” Severus shrugged, indicating it wasn't possible to judge.

“Would he send the Death Eaters after the wand?” John asked.

“If by Death Eaters you mean the rabble that conduct raids and such, then no. Albus is old and injured but more than a match for them. Also behind Hogwarts's wards he is untouchable.”

“Well hardly,” Hermione snorted in derision. She looked up at the group whose attention she had drawn with her comment. Biting her lip slightly she continued, “It’s true, Sirius was able to get into the castle, why not the other Death Eaters?”

“Albus would be informed of anyone coming on the school grounds by the wards,” Minerva said. “Whilst they cannot identify an individual, they can pin point the number and point of entry.”

Hermione scrunched her nose up thinking. “But that means that Dumbledore would have known when Sirius came on to the grounds. And where.”

Helen and John exchanged a glance and Helen’s lips tightened, thinning down to an angry line.

“I cannot answer to that.” Minerva replied catching the look between the two parents.

“Is there any need?” Harry said tiredly. “He knew. He probably knew Sirius was innocent and it was convenient to leave him in Azkaban rather than have Sirius challenge him over custody of me. Lupin was easy enough to scare off, but I would imagine that denying a Lord of an Ancient and Noble lineage access to their godson would have ended badly for Dumbledore.”

“Yes,” Minerva said. She didn't understand the undercurrent that was obviously going on but answered honestly. “No one would have contested Sirius’ right to raise you over your muggle relatives had he not been jailed.”

“If he won’t send the Death Eaters would he send you?” John asked looking at Severus, pulling the conversation away from the uncomfortable topic of Harry’s childhood and Albus’ part in it.

Severus stroked a finger over his lip in thought before he answered. “It is possible, however, the manner in which the wand is passed. I am the Dark Lord’s foremost brewer and only spy on the side of the Light. Either of those positions can be filled by another so I am hardly indispensable, but…”

“But good staff is hard to find?” John asked wryly.

“Competence does seem to be in short supply with the Death Eaters,” Severus allowed. “The nature of the punishments the Dark Lord favours does not lend itself to retaining the use of ones facilities in the face of repeat mistakes.”

“So if not you, then who?” Harry asked.

The dour wizard looked at the two teenagers without seeing them. “There is only one who might be in a position, and out of favour enough that the attempt would appear appealing, to gain favour.”

“No.” Minerva denied. “To set him against Albus? He would never succeed.”

“His failure to find Hermione over the summer was met with disappointment. He survived the debriefing and his stock has plummeted along with that of his father’s. Choice is a luxury he no longer has if he wants to survive.”

“Wait, who are we talking about? Who was looking for me?” Hermione asked.

“Draco Malfoy,” Minerva said shortly. “The Dark Lord sent him to Europe to find you this summer as punishment for your successful disappearance.”

“Err, how was that punishment?” Harry asked. “Don’t they have a load of houses and stuff in Europe? it’s not like he ever shut up about how wealthy he was.”

“The punishment was for his entirely predictable failure,” Minerva said.

“Umm, is he OK?” Hermione asked. “I mean, he’s a loathsome bigoted ferret, but I don’t think I ever wished him dead.”

“You may not have, but I am not sure the same can be said of him,” Harry replied darkly.

Hermione shrugged. “I’m not responsible for his behaviour.”

“He is recovered, as the sole heir to the Malfoy line he had a measure of security. The Dark Lord would lose more support than he gained if he ended a line such as the Malfoy’s," Severus answered. Not wanting to think back on the day he had spent pouring everything he could brew down his godson’s throat as Narcissa begged on her knees for him to save her only son. He pulled through, but it had been far too close.

“I don’t know,” Harry muttered quietly to Hermione. “Ron might be inclined to send him a thank you card.” She elbowed him in the ribs and he stifled his smile, it faded completely as he caught the glare from Severus.

“Tom would be willing to send a seventeen-year-old to kill Dumbledore?” Helen asked. “Surely if he failed at one impossible task he would fail another?”

“It’s more about control. Whilst their son is threatened the Malfoys are more amenable to sacrifices they would potentially balk at otherwise.” Severus replied, his scowl still focused on Harry.

“That doesn’t seem a particularly sound way of managing your assets.” John interposed. “Once they are pushed too far won't they push back or swap sides?” he raised a brow at Severus

“It is highly unlikely that the Malfoys would find a sympathetic reception should they decide to betray the Dark Lord.  They are believers in blood purity whatever else they may or may not have done in service to the Dark Lord. The Order obviously is not devoid of people who share their views, but the lengths they have gone to in defence of them would alienate them from most. Also the feud between the Weasleys and themselves is several generations old and not easily set aside. The Weasleys hold a position of power it is unlikely the Malfoys would submit to.” Severus explained.

“But,” Helen protested. “It’s such a flawed belief system, interbreeding is proven to cause the demise of insular populations, there’s studies on it! Without crossing the bloodlines with outliers the infertility rates will rise as will the birth defects. Faulty genetics leading to all sorts of problems for generations!”

Before an answer could be formed by either Severus or Minerva, Helen’s forgotten compact burst into a wailing siren which oscillated up and down the musical scale. Everyone jumped. Helen froze only for a moment before scrambling to pick the compact up, flipping it open, silencing the noise.

“Harry, get under the cloak,” John said. 

Harry scrambled up off the bench pulling on the cloak, swirling it around him, vanishing.

“Hermione, under it with him.” John urged his daughter as she sat watching Helen, waiting for information.

“We don’t both fit,” she replied tearing her eyes away from Helen's compact.

“Then change and get under it.”

“But-,“ she started to protest, tilting her head slightly in the direction of Minerva and Severus.

“It doesn’t matter! Get under that cloak. If anyone turns up or you need to leave it’s better they don’t know where you are to start with.”

She stood, stepping away from the bench and focused. Her shape blurred, dropping below the level of the table top. Her feline form sprang from the ground to the table, spinning in place, using her own momentum, she leapt again into mid-air, centred on Harrys figure as he stood with his arms open for her. As he caught her, his arms cradling her, the cloak fell closed and the two were hidden. The soft oomph at her impact with his chest the only clue they were still there.

“What is going on?” Minerva asked.

“Our tail has lost Dumbledore. The siren was the signal to let us know he’s lost him and trying to locate him again.” John said.

“You don’t think Remus?” Minerva exchanged a glance with Severus.

“If he has then we shall know about it soon enough. It is unlikely Albus would stay away given the opportunity.” Severus replied.

John exchanged a grim look with Helen as they sat waiting. Helen clutching the compact tightly as if she feared it might fly away, the tension between them building.

“You’ve got the arm bands on haven’t you?” Harry asked his voice soft and quiet.

“Yes,” John said turning to face the sound of his voice. “We both have.”

“See, you heard that,” Harry muttered. “They’ll be fine; will you please settle down. It’s not that easy trying to keep us both covered up with you fidgeting.” A disgruntled murrp came from under the cloak followed by another oomph from Harry.

“You know, whilst that cloak makes you invisible, it has zero sound proofing qualities. We can hear you both, which means we can find you, which undermines the point of you hiding,” John pointed out. On not receiving any reply he nodded and turned his attention back to the table.

Minerva cast about for something to say while they waited, to stop the silence growing oppressive. “When did Hermione succeed in her transformation? I wasn’t aware she was studying it?”

“April or May I think,” John replied. “She started studying after meeting Sirius for the first time. The school they attend offers classes in it. She was able to pick them up and complete the transformation with supervision. Which I am grateful for, I can’t imagine what she would have looked like stuck as a cat.”

A snort of laughter came from the cloak which was abruptly cut off by a louder exclamation. “Ow! Watch your claws, that hurt! Damn it, I’m not a tree you can climb at will you know.”

There was a moment of profound silence following that remark as its issuer realised the connotation of what he had said, and his audience.

Helen heard John’s snort of laughter he tried to stifle with his hand, and felt him tremble as he suppressed his mirth. She refused to look anywhere but at the table top in front of her, knowing that even catching a glimmer of John’s face would set her off. The ill-timed comment had turned her growing fear in to hysteria and she didn’t want to make Harry feel more embarrassed than he probably already was.

“Umm,” Harry said. “I, umm, actually no. There’s no recovery from that. Ermm, I’m just going to shut up now.” He dutifully fell silent and Helen leaned harder on John’s arm, savagely biting her lip

“I can see you laughing,” Harry said his voice sounding resigned.

“Umm,” Helen tried, swallowing her laughter. “No, no. I’m not laughing.” She fought down the giggles bubbling in her stomach and John put his head on the table and shook. “You have, umm, unfortunate timing, and phraseology, that’s all.”

They were interrupted again by Helens compact which blared into life, repeating the same bite of music it had the first time.  “There,” Helen said wiping the tears away. “He’s found him again. Stay under the cloak Harry, let’s just see how it goes.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m coming out from under here in a hurry,” he said. “Unless you’ve got a hole I can just drop into?”

“Sadly not,” Helen replied turning to smile in the direction his voice came from. “Never mind love, we’ve all put our foot in it now and again.”

“Yeah,” his voice came tinged with disbelief.

Hermione’s form, it’s a little unusual,” Minerva said, picking up the conversation again, feeling a little bit sorry for Harry and willing to help out.

“Is it?” Helen asked. “I mean; we wouldn’t know but it seems to suit her.”

“Oh?”

“Well it might be different for magical folk but muggles consider owls as an animal symbol for knowledge and learning.” Helen explained.

“She’d make an awful owl,” Harry snorted from under the cloak. “What kind of owl is scared of flying?”

Helen smiled. “That’s true. Margays are nocturnal tree dwellers, something they share with owls, and they are also solitary creatures, something Hermione can be as well.”

“Oh,” Minerva said cocking her head slightly in thought. “Perhaps it does suit her.”

Helen smiled at the elder witch who had, by knocking on the door the day Hermione turned 11, thrown their world upside down. She had given her daughter the greatest gift anyone ever had, and had made Hermione’s world make sense since her first bout of accidental magic. With this in mind Helen told her the truth, and in a soft tone said. “I believe your form is a cat.”

“Oh, oh!” Minerva said in understanding. Her eyes straying back to the spot where Harry had disappeared. Her throat suddenly feeling tight, she met Helen’s gaze and saw in it a wealth of understanding from the muggle woman. Minerva felt instantly gratified and honoured that so much trust had been bestowed, that she had so far risen to the occasion, and equally, a determination not to disappoint these people who were relying on her.

A querying ‘mwwroll’ came from the space Harry and Hermione were stood in. A feline head appeared, poking out between the folds of the cloak. Floating in mid-air in a Cheshire cat-esque manner, looking in query at the people remaining at the bench. Hermione’s eyes narrowed slightly as she eyed the distance, and within a moment she launched herself out of Harry’s arms and landed lightly on the table top. Stepping daintily between the tea cups and scattered glasses she made her way to Helen, her silvered coat gleamed in the sun, the darker rosettes contrasting sharply, her long tail was held low and curled up at the end. Reaching Helen, she butted her head into her shoulder, rubbing affectionately up against her mother who petted her in return.

Hermione’s eyes then turned on Minerva and she took half a step forward, clearly indicating her intentions. Minerva swallowed the lump in her throat and held out her hand granting permission. Hermione crossed the table, dropping her head under the out held palm, stepping so as to run Minerva’s hand along her spine. She purred, a rumbling rough sound so very different from the noise of a domestic cat.

“You are truly very beautiful,” Minerva said in a hoarse voice. Hermione turned on the spot as Minerva reached her tail, pushing her head under her palm again. Dropping her eyes half closed in gratification as Minerva’s fingers found a particularly good spot behind her ear. She sat down in front of the witch curling her tail about her, the end flicking gently, looking the picture of a contented cat.

“Well that’s her gone,” Harry said as he came out from under the cloak and sat next to Helen. “She’ll be expecting tummy rubs in about five minutes.”

“You know, it might not be safe for you to be visible again. She at least has a disguise.” Helen said bumping his shoulder with her own in greeting and affection.

“Maybe, but no one has turned up,” Harry shrugged. He eyed Hermione who had sunk into a crouch under Minerva’s ministrations. A mischievous smirk appeared briefly on his face as he slid his wand from his arm sheath. Subtly, under the table, he conjured a small ball of feathers the size of a small bird. Carefully, he guided the feathers to hover just above Hermione’s ear, waving it backwards and forwards causing her ear to twitch. Helen stifled a smile and John grinned watching his daughter as her ear flicked again in annoyance. As she glanced up Harry made the small bundle flash away from her to hover slightly out of what he knew was her jumping range on the end of the table. Hermione was up instantly as she saw it move. Gathering herself at the edge of the table, she paused only for a heartbeat before pouncing. Front legs fully extended, including her claws, she snatched the ball of feathers out of the air and bore it to the ground before ripping the construct to pieces.

Harry laughed as she returned to the table top, feathers stuck to her fur. He gently extended a hand plucking them from her. She shot him a haughty look before happily butting her head into his fingers. “Small, but fierce,” he said to her softly, cradling her round furred head in his hand.

“I believe we have taken enough of your time,” Severus said addressing himself to Helen and John. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Hermione dropped to the bench next to Harry and turned, blurring as she did so to appear as her normal self. “With the situation with Remus unknown for the moment the longer we stay here the more risk you are exposed to. There is no immediate need for either Hermione or Harry to return to England. We have a way of keeping in touch, if anything becomes urgent Minerva can contact you.”

“Seems sensible,” John agreed. Helen started collecting up the remaining scattered cups and glasses handing them to Harry who cleaned them before packing them away.

"If we do need to return, we’ll need as much notice as you can give. Helen and I will need to arrange cover, and somewhere we can stay that won’t put us at risk of being found.” John continued.

“If and when your return is necessary,” Minerva said. “You may stay at McGonagal Lodge. There is room for all of you and there is only one other guest who will not bother you.”

“Thank you Minerva, that’s very kind,” Helen replied, standing up from the bench checking that everything had been collected up.

“It’s the least I can do,” Minerva said exchanging another loaded look with Helen.

“It’s kind of you all the same,” Helen said, then turned to Harry and Hermione. “Right you two, its half ten, you’ve only missed a class a piece so off to school, I think.”

“What?!” Harry said aghast. “But-,”

“But what?” Helen asked. “It’s a school day, you are meant to be in school so grab a portkey and get yourselves gone. Unless you have a good excuse as to why not?” she raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

“We don’t have our bags!” Harry protested. “And we’ve just had a meeting about ending the war!”

“Your bags and correct books are in John’s bag and one morning meeting is not going to get you out of the rest of your day. That’s not how the world works, call it a learning experience.” Helen said with a smile.

Harry's shoulders dropped in defeat. “I thought we could at least take the rug for a spin but nooo! Plot to save the world and then it’s back to-,” he paused clearly thinking. “Oh no, we’ve got Charms! Eruugh! That woman needs to be introduced to a charm, a depilatory one. How can you concentrate when her moustache is waving in the breeze her mouth makes? It’s impossible!” He continued to mutter and grumble as he pulled his, then Hermione’s school bags out of the bag John proffered.  Everyone looked on in differing levels of amusement at his antics.

“Hermione,” Helen said eyeing her in mild concern. “If you want to skip your last class that’s fine”

Harry spun to face Helen, his face a picture of outrage. “What?! She gets to skip class?”

“She, was up all night scouting to make sure no one was laying a trap for us. Which means she’s not slept properly. You spent last night in your bed. Unless of course you are telling me you didn’t?” Helen folded her arms looking at him challengingly.

“That is so unfair,” he grumbled. Never the less he pulled a spoon from the bag and waved his wand over it, the spoon started to glow blue in his hand. He held out his other hand to Minerva. “It’s been nice to see you again.”

She shook the hand solemnly, hiding her smile. “I’m glad everything is working out for you Harry. Take care of them.”

“I will,” he assured her and stepped aside as Hermione approached.

He looked at the wizard in front of him and held out his hand. “Sir, thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“Mr Potter, you have shown an uncommon level of sense. See that you continue to do so.” Severus said, briefly clasping the out stretched hand.

Harry nodded and stepped back to John and Helen, waiting for Hermione who was speaking with Minerva.

“Thank you for your help,” Hermione said.

“Nonsense Hermione, you are managing quite well. You simply need to believe in yourself more.”

The younger witch blushed at the compliment. “I’ll try,” she said before offering her hand. They shook hands and Hermione stepped over to Severus.

“Umm thank you,” she said squinting up at him. “For, well everything you’ve done so far. I really am sorry if you got in to trouble about me leaving. You said Malfoy was punished for it but you didn’t say if you were, and I can’t see how…” she trailed off. “Well anyway, thank you and I really am sorry.”

“It’s better this way,” Severus replied understanding. “Some things are worth fighting for, as you are no doubt aware.” He took her outstretched hand twisting it slightly and bowed over it, his actions causing a deep blush to race up her face. He straightened and looked at her meeting her eyes. “Until next time Hermione.” He walked the few steps away to join Minerva who was saying goodbye to Helen and John and Harry moved to stand by Hermione.

“Alright?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine. Shall we go?” nodding at the flashing portkey.

“Yeah, school,” he said theatrically. “Can you imagine how plebeian its going to be after this morning?”

“Good word use,” she smiled, reaching for the spoon, as she touched it the blue light pulsed and they were gone.

Chapter Text

Severus’ portkey brought them back to her sitting room at the house, Folly was there seconds later to greet them. With a swish of her wand Minerva cancelled the transfiguration on their clothes, their robes reappearing. Severus she noted, looked immediately more comfortable. The first step she took told her she was going to need to sleep well tonight, international portkey travel was tiring. Severus was at her elbow instantly with a steadying hand. She flashed him a grateful if slightly irritated look. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m not some frail old woman.”

“As you say,” he said, leaving his hand on her elbow, leading her to a chair.

“You needn’t worry.”

He ignored her comment and asked Folly for whiskey. She raised a brow in query.

“I have no intention of returning to the castle today, I have been granted a reprieve and I intend to make full use of it,” he answered settling into a chair, accepting the drink the elf brought.

She sighed. “I don’t think I could face Albus yet. I didn’t say, but I believe Albus knew. On the night he placed Harry with the muggles I asked him about the scar. He said he wouldn’t fix it even if he could.” She rested her elbow on the arm of the chair, propping her chin in her hand. “I can’t believe he’d do that, not to a babe. What kind of monster is he?”

“He’s not a monster Minerva.”

“You’re defending him?”

“No, I'm merely pointing out that he’s hardly the first to make the wrong choice.”

“You didn’t leave a horcrux in a child,” she pointed out acerbically.

“No, I told the Dark Lord half a prophecy that directly led to the events preceding it.”

“You couldn’t know then it was the Potters, that it was Lily.”

He tried not to be surprised that she had put it together. He’d never said anything and had assumed, that like everyone else, she thought he had changed sides to save his skin. “Should it make a difference? Are my actions more or less reprehensible because I asked for one witch to be spared above all others?”

“Everyone has their reasons for standing against the Dark Lord. Why should yours be worth less than anyone else’s?”

“Because I was a Death Eater first. A Death Eater still. Ask the Order Minerva, see how many of them think I am worthy of forgiveness.”

“I don’t care what they think,” she replied. “I know you Severus Snape, you are not the heartless, cold, sneering, sarcastic man you present to the world.”

“Madam, you flatter me!”

“Bugger off,” she said at his smirk. “If you were who you pretended to be I might well not be here. I am not so stupid to not realise that it was your actions that ensured my recovery. Poppy worked from the base you established.”

He avoided her gaze staring at his drink. “Your elf-”

“Folly did as she ought to, she brought the most capable person to my aid. You did the rest, don’t think I don’t know Severus.” He fidgeted in his chair uncomfortable with her gratitude and she moved the conversation along.  “What do we do next? Is there a reasonable and safe way to go after the Dark Lord?”

“No. We know he desires the wand and that will be the draw, but going up against the wand to claim mastery over it? It’s a risky prospect, if the wand cannot be beaten it stands to reason that he would be unable to claim it without some underhandedness. In a direct battle the wand should serve Albus.”

“But Albus wants you to gain the wand. Shouldn’t that mean something? That he’s looking to be defeated?”

He shook his head. “I am not the person to ask. Garrick might be able to shed some light, but after his detention with the Malfoy’s he’s understandably leery of the topic.”

“I’m not going to torture the man for information. If he’s not been able to answer your questions mine will get us no further along.” She brushed the idea aside with a wave of her drink.

“If I tell him Albus has the wand, it will have consequences,” Severus said seriously, watching for her reaction.

“Presumably he’s going to find out at some point. What is to say it is your information or another’s?” she shrugged unconcerned.

“To draw Albus out he will need to take direct action against those who oppose him. The attacks will resume; the Ministry will be moved to work against those who publicly support Albus,” Severus explained.

“I thought the Order had been making moves to halt the Ministry take over?” Minerva said.

“Yes, I imagine if Albus was your only source of information you might think that.”

“They have been utterly unsuccessful?” she asked, a look of upset on her face.

“No, not wholly unsuccessful but what use is the Department of Sports and Games? Or the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts? The Aurors are split, Kingsley has control over half the forces, the rest are loyal to Yaxley. The Wizengamot was mostly in the pocket of the Malfoy’s. Their standing in the Death Eaters has fallen but it doesn’t decrease the value of the information they hold.”

“How do you find all this out? Minerva asked genuinely curious.

“Well I might have purloined some information when looking for the cup.” Severus said, a smug smile on his lips.

“Oh?” she asked smiling in return.

He shrugged, looking modest. “The opportunity arose.”

“So you hold all their dirty little secrets?”

“Not all, not if they had any sense,” he replied.

“It would rather indicate they didn’t, if you’ve managed to acquire the treasure trove without waking the dragon. What do you plan on doing with it?”

“Nothing, I can’t use it unless a decisive victory has been claimed.”

“I suppose not. There’s nothing that would make them turn in our favour?” she asked not really expecting a favourable answer.

“Not without tipping my hand, and they could find confessing to the Dark Lord would resolve their problems and relieve me of all of mine.”

They sat quietly sipping the whiskey letting time pass them by, until Severus, who had been watching her said. “You might think about changing your curriculum.”

“I beg your pardon?” Minerva said shaken out of her thoughts.

“I said,” Severus said with exaggerated patience. “You might consider changing your curriculum.”

“Pray tell, why would I do that?”

“Because Hermione Granger is the fourth of your students who has studied to become an animagus without supervision, successfully. I can only imagine there are more. You are either going to have to stop showing off to impressionable 11 year olds or start teaching them how to do it properly before one of them makes a hash of it.”

“I am ‘showing off’ as you put it, I’m merely demonstrating the upper reaches of the discipline. You are hardly one to talk, you’ve been peddling that ‘stopper in death’ speech for fifteen years”

“Yes Madam, and how many times have I ably demonstrated my abilities?” he asked an eyebrow arched.

“Pish,” she said. “If you won’t publicly take the credit I can hardly be blamed. I can’t teach them how to transform, the Board wouldn’t let me. Can you imagine if Draco Malfoy actually became a ferret? Lucius would have my head. I’d have no end of parents complaining their little darling turned into the wrong thing, and can’t I just change them into something else.” She snorted in contempt. “And when the silly idiots don’t bother to do the study, and attempt a transformation the week before their OWLs or NEWTs. Do you think the Ministry is going to be lenient because they couldn't physically hold a quill when they were half a bear, or something ridiculous?” She waved him off. “The ones who can do it alone are the ones who will do it regardless. Better to tell them its nigh on impossible, and let those few do what they will. As you say, its only four.”

“That you know of,” he said.

“I can’t stop them trying, much like you can’t stop them brewing in bathrooms,” she retorted with a sly grin.

“Your cubs Minerva, not my snakes,” Severus responded.

“Only because you’d let your snakes brew in the classroom,” she protested.

“Naturally,” he agreed. “They would have to ask permission first however. Something your cubs aren’t known for. More of the beg forgiveness afterwards types, or rather, hope you get away scot free types,” he added a little sourly.

Not wanting to spoil the bantering mood, Minerva changed the subject. “What do you intend to do with the rest of your day of leisure?”

“You have a library,” he said. “I fully intend to abuse your hospitality whilst making full use of it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, nodding her acceptance. Standing, with her drink in hand, she led the way to the library at the back of the house.

Hermione didn’t skip her last class. Arithmancy was something she genuinely enjoyed and whilst she was feeling tired, she’d prefer to attend than sit around at home wondering what she was missing. She and Harry met up once they had finished for the day and travelled home via the floo.  Once home, they dumped their bags in the study and went to change out of the clothes they had been in all day.

In the kitchen they found Helen and John, glasses of wine in hand, chatting as John put dinner together for them all.

“Hello,” Helen said as they came in. “How was school?”

“OK,” Harry said, leaning against the counter. “Not as good as flying a carpet but better than chopping rat spleens.”

“Good to know.” Helen nodded at him. “Hermione?”

Hermione scrunched her nose up in thought before responding. “Not as good as a sixth level equation solving but better than Binn’s History of Magic.”

“So a successful day all round then?” Helen summarised.

“Pretty much,” Harry agreed, reaching over to filch a carrot from the chopping board where John had laid them out. Crunching on it, he grinned at John as Hermione reached out and snaffled one too.

“Dinner will be twenty minutes” John said pointedly, pulling his prep away from the hungry teenagers.

“Have you checked the mirror over Minerva gave you?” Helen asked.

“No,” Hermione said in surprise. “I’d forgotten about it actually.”

“Good, you can do that then, while I finish up,” John said, herding them out of the kitchen, pushing Helen along with them.

The three of them trooped off back upstairs, Hermione diverting briefly to fish the bag out of the pocket of her discarded clothes. In the study, she opened the bag and once more pulled the mirror from it. It was large, over half a meter in diameter for the glass alone, with the decorative frame adding more to its dimensions.

“Temporary sticking charm?” Harry suggested.

“On the wall by the window,” Helen said pointing. “That way it won’t be hit by glare and you can both see it from your desks.”

Stuck in place, in the position suggested, they stepped back to look at it.

“Well,” Hermione said. “Any idea on how it works?”

“Call for them? As we do for Dobby?” Helen offered dubiously.

Harry shrugged before calling out. “Fred and George Weasley.” The mirror stayed as a mirror and they exchanged a look.

“We should have asked Minerva if she knew how it worked before she left,” Helen said regretfully.

“I think we are experiencing a revenge of sorts,” Hermione suggested. “We sent the tape which was a riddle wrapped around a password. What’s to say they haven’t done the same thing?”

“That could take ages to work out!” Harry protested. “How would we even know where to start?”

“Well there’s the obvious place,” Hermione said. Approaching the mirror, she withdrew her wand, placing the tip on the glass she recited. “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

The mirror once again stayed as a mirror.

“Too obvious,” Harry commented.  “What about our names?  Sort of like caller ID on a telephone.”

That netted no results either and the three of them stood thinking. More attempts were made using products the twins made in their shop, names of the other Weasley’s, a run through of people from Hogwarts, until after ten minutes’ solid guess work, they sat back defeated.

John came into the room. “Dinners ready,” he said cheerfully. Catching sight of the mirror on the wall he walked closer whistling appreciatively. “They did a really good job, didn’t they?”

“What do you mean?” Helen asked him.

“The detail, it’s nearly exactly as I remember it. They’ve done a good job on it, don’t you think?”

“Remember what?” Hermione asked, no clearer as to what he was going on about than Harry who had sent her a puzzled look.

John looked at them. “You don’t recognise it?”

“No,” Helen replied “I take it you do?”

“What was Hermione’s favourite story when she was six? The one she made us read over, and over, and over again until you threatened to chuck the book out?”

“Snow White, why? What’s that got to do with…” a look of dawning recognition came over Helen’s face as she looked again at the mirror. “You don’t think that that’s the answer do you?”

“Answer?” It was John’s turn to look puzzled.

“To get it to work, we haven’t been able to get it to do anything but show us our reflections,” Helen explained.

“Well it can’t hurt,” John answered, turning to face the mirror he cleared his throat. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

“No way!” Hermione gasped as the surface of the mirror turned a milky grey. The grey swirled in a circle and resolved itself to show two grinning faces.

“Blimey, Granger! We’ve been waiting for you to call all day!”

“Ooh look Gred, there’s ickle Harrykins too!”

“Fred! George! How on earth did you find out about a muggle fairy tale?”  Hermione asked, still goggling at the password set on the mirror.

“Ha! Pay up!” George triumphantly crowed at his twin. “I told you it’s the first thing she’d ask. Not even a simple hello, how are you.” George shot her a wink. “Or even an introduction to her companions.”

“Err,” Hermione said. “Umm, Fred, George, this is my Mum and Dad. Helen and John.”

“Delighted to make your acquaintance,” Fred said. Both Fred and George rose from the bench they were sitting at and bowed to the mirror. Theirs was clearly also hung on the wall, overlooking the workbench and workroom which had cauldrons gently steaming behind them, along with a number of works in progress spread out.

“Enchanted,” John responded drily.” If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll just go and sort out downstairs.”

“We can do this later, or another time.” Hermione offered, looking at her Dad.

“It’s fine, nothing that won’t keep. Catch up with your friends, I’ll be back up in a minute.” John reassured her, moving towards the door.

“So?” she asked, turning back to the mirror. “How do you two know about Snow White?”

“We found a book of your muggle fairy stories in Ginny’s room. We borrowed it, and got the idea from that.” Fred said. Shooting a sideways glance at George he leaned forward and in a stage whisper added. “George isn’t a fan of your muggle stories by the way, has this idea they aren’t suitable for children.”

“Disney or Grimm?” Helen asked curiously from her place behind Hermione and Harry where she was leaning on one of the desks.

“Grimm,” Fred replied. He stepped out of view of the mirror returning with the book in his hand. He waved it at the mirror.  “Mind if we keep it a bit longer? We’re looking at a few things in it for the shop.”

“No problem,” Hermione replied. “What things?”

“Well not the poisoned apple or the red hot shoes,” George said. “But we were thinking glass slippers that help you dance for the girls and dress shoes for the gents. The charm can end at midnight and you'll be back to poor old you. A Waltz would work or some of the formal dances.”

“I could have done with a pair of those for the Yule ball,” Harry said. “I made a complete mess of that, I’m not sure Pavati will ever forgive me.”

“Nah, mate,” Fred said. “You’re probably in the clear, at least you looked half decent. Ronnikins on the other hand.” They sniggered remembering the lace mess that had been their brother.

“They won’t make you spontaneously burst in to the hand jive half way through the night?” Hermione asked. “Only they seem to be more practical than practical joke.”

“We’ll put them into the Wonder Witch line.” George said. “What’s a hand jive?”

“A Muggle dance from the 1950’s, lots of hand waving and clapping.” Helen commented. “It’s out of fashion and if your Wizard dances are as formal and antiquated as I am led to believe it would be wildly inappropriate.”

Fred and George exchanged a look, before they simultaneously turned back to the mirror. “So how wildly inappropriate is wildly inappropriate? For research purposes you understand,” they said together with eager looks on their faces.

Helen found herself laughing at the mischief painted on their faces. “Very, it’s not terribly risqué by today’s muggle standards, but it’s certainly informal and quite… frenetic? Certainly not something you’d expect at a formal dance.”

“I don’t know, I think a bit of Disco would go down a treat, John Travolta style,” Harry said grinning.

“Oh yes! Malfoy strikes me as just the type!” Hermione laughed.

“What is Disco?” the twins asked.

“A muggle dance from the seventies, also inappropriate at a formal dance. How would you get the arm actions in? Without knowing where your arms are going, even for a waltz you’re not going to look natural.” Helen asked.

George eyed Helen, his gaze switching to Hermione who was also looking thoughtful. He subtly nudged Fred next to him who caught the direction of his gaze. He sent an understanding grin back at his brother.

“Well,” George said. “We thought we’d send out instructions with the shoes. Wizard pictures move so a few instructional diagrams later and a bit of practice.” He held his hands out expansively.

“That’s a good idea,” Helen said thinking it over. “Although the book for the hand-jive would be rather long. It might not work for something like the salsa or the tango though, since those aren’t set routines so much as free movement with prescribed steps. I suppose you could put a set routine into the shoes but then everyone would be dancing the same way which isn’t the point. Perhaps a few set routines applied at random. I suppose if you used the shoes enough you’d learn the steps and be able to dance without them.” She mused aloud letting the idea unwind as she spoke.

Hermione brightened listening to her mother. “Yes! You could have training shoes! Ones you could use at home until you felt confident in them. Then the glass ones for the main event, which would either carry you through the steps or just give you the confidence to know you’re getting them right. That way when you’re getting better at the dance you can improvise more. If the booklets are made out of wizarding pictures for arm position, and things like lifts and dips that are in the routine on the shoes, you could study that so you’d move more naturally.” She turned excitedly to the mirror. “How far have you gotten with them?”

Fred laughed. “Slow down! We’ve only tossed it about as an idea, you’ve done more work on it in this conversation than we have.”

“Oh,” she said looking slightly disappointed. “Well I’d be interested in how it’s put together if you don’t mind me watching you work.”

“Granger, or is it Potter?” She shook her head and George continued. “When we start it you can come on board and help. You and Helen if you like.”

“Oh yes,” Helen said. “I quite like the testing phases. Once all the sudden death has been removed from the equation. It’s been years since your Dad and I went dancing, maybe we could take them for a spin as it were, once they are working.”

“Take what for a spin?” John asked as he returned, bringing with him four bowls on a tray. “It’s stir fry, so I guess just this once we can eat up here.” He handed the bowls around offering out cutlery and chop sticks. Fred and George watched in bemusement as Helen and Harry picked up the two sticks and started eating, as Hermione settled for a fork along with John.

Catching their looks Helen clarified. “It’s Chinese food. Usually eaten with chop sticks although for the less proficient standard cutlery can be used.” Indicating Hermione and John.

“I don’t think Hogwarts ever served it,” Fred said.

“No the food was somewhat limited in cuisine,” Hermione said. “What it lacked in variety it made up for in quantity.”

“It wasn’t bad though,” Harry protested.

“So what are we taking for a spin?” John asked again.

“Fred and George’s new product when they make it. Dancing shoes.” Hermione answered.

“Oh,” John said. “What kind of dance? We’re not talking Jackson’s Thriller are we?”

“To be determined,” Helen replied. "Possibly with some help from Hermione."

“And you Mum,” Hermione added.

“So how is everyone there?” Harry asked before the conversation could revert back to the many forms of dancing. 

“Ron and Ginny are OK. Ron’s dating Lavender Brown, it’s sickening, she calls him Won-Won. Ginny says he calls her Lav-Lav in the common room. Mum keeps inviting her round then insisting we come over for dinner as a family, it’s enough to put you off your food. Ginny misses you both. The Order is still in a tizz as to where you both are. Mum thinks you are both going to end up on the wrong end of someone’s wand, then you know who will take over.” George said.

“Dad tried calming her down and pointing out that no one has been able to find you, but she doesn’t seem to be having any of it.” Fred added sadly.

“Great,” Harry muttered. “Not capable of looking after ourselves but expected to end a war. Can anyone else see the hypocrisy?”

“Yes,” Helen answered. “Which is why you’re here.” Harry shot her a grateful look which she acknowledged with a slight smile.

“The rebellion is going well, according to Kingsley the marriage law is all but dead in the water.” George added.

“What rebellion?” Hermione asked.

“The one you two started,” George chortled. “Didn’t you know?”

“No.” Harry responded.

“After your highly publicised bunk on the back of your friendly Pegasus, there was a bit of a change of opinion. A muggleborn Ravenclaw told the Ministry she couldn’t marry as directed because she was already betrothed, and she couldn’t break her contract. Since then, everyone seems to either be betrothed or related to a squib. The only people who have gotten married are people like Remus and Tonks who wanted to.” George explained with an air of delighted glee.

“Kingsley has said though, that because they are laying it at your feet you’d need to be compliant with the law to stay out of trouble.” Fred said, the smile gone from his face for a moment. “The people at the top aren’t too happy they look like idiots. Kingsley reckons they would hold you to account for it.”

Hermione shrugged, putting her empty bowl down. “Well then, they shouldn’t have made such an antiquated ridiculous law. Honestly, muggleborn or not, women are not prizes to be sold off. I don’t think I made them look like idiots, they did that all by themselves.”

“Probably,” Fred agreed. “But you should know just in case.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said flashing him a grin.

“Well,” Fred said, a mischievous look on his face once again. “Since you aren’t hitched to Boy Wonder over there, and you’ve not actually refused my offer, I reckon I’ve still got a shot.” He leered at her comically and she laughed.

“I hate to disappoint you but-“

“Noo!” Fred interrupted. “Don’t say it!” He clutched his hands to his heart dramatically. “Think of George! If you break my heart and I die of disappointment and despair, think of George, left alone without me. How could you live with yourself knowing you orphaned him? How could he hope to continue without me?”

George thumped him in the arm. “I’d realise that I am the more attractive twin and everyone knows the ladies love a tragic figure.” He looked solemnly at Fred, who was looking comically outraged. “I would make sure I dated your share of witches, as well.” The two brothers burst in to laughter leaning on each other, on the other side of the mirror the four joined in.

“How are things otherwise?” Helen asked once they had all regained their composure. “The papers here don’t really go into detail in regards to the political situation.”

“Things are quiet,” George said. “There’s whispers going around about new legislation the Ministry is planning for businesses. Nothing that sounds like trouble per se but things that might make it a little more difficult for some.”

“We’re OK, the shop does well and we’re up to code on everything including the wands.” Fred shrugged. “It’s those that have let things slip that will be caught out, but then, they are supposed to abide by the rules.”

“Wait wands? Real ones? Since when do you sell wands?” Harry asked.

“Err.” The twins exchanged a look. “Well, did you hear that Ollivander died?”

“He did?” Harry said in surprise.

“Yeah, he was being held by the Malfoy’s and he wasn’t well apparently, and he was old. Anyway when we heard he’d been taken we might have nipped over to his shop and collected up his stock for safe keeping.”

“You nicked it?” Harry asked impressed. “He had loads of wands in that shop, they were everywhere!”

“Yeah mate, it was an extension charm like no other, that was.” George nodded grinning. “And that was after we broke in without tipping off the Order who were watching the place.”

“It wasn’t Mungdungus was it?” Harry asked. “Because he probably would have helped for a cut.”

“Nah, ‘Dung doesn’t get rotated in until they are sure nothing is going to happen. He’s got a reputation after all.” Fred said.

“So anyway, we registered at the Ministry as wand sellers and we’re selling the stock. The firsties, they weren’t, well some of the other traders weren’t treating them right.” George looked sadly at Hermione. “We wanted to do something, something more than setting fireworks off in a school. This is something we can do.”

“It’s very brave of you,” Helen said to them both. “I can’t imagine that everyone is happy you’ve done so.”

Fred shrugged. “Our family has been pretty staunch in their support of Dumbledore; we’ve not had any more grief than the usual. Mum’s livid of course, especially since our acquisition of the stock wasn’t exactly lawful.”

“How are you selling them then?” Hermione asked. “Surely you can’t openly sell stolen goods? And who trained you to match wands to people? Ollivander has been doing it for years, it’s not an overnight thing.”

Fred and George exchanged a fleeting glance and Fred replied. “Err let’s leave it at we’ve been trained by the best man for the job, Granger. We’re not putting anyone in danger, it’s all above board.”

She narrowed her eyes at them both and they fidgeted under the glare.

“He’s not dead is he?” Harry’s voice was tinged in amusement.

“What?” Two faces switched to look at him.

“Oh come on,” Harry said. “We’re not stupid. You nicked his stock in the first place, I can see that. But you’d need a wand smith to teach you to sell wands. Any other wand smith would take the stock off your hands and sell it themselves. Only, you’re doing this because the other wand smiths aren’t playing nice with the people who aren’t purebloods. Hiding people isn’t exactly new to the Order, Sirius was a wanted criminal hunted by the Ministry, but how did they get him out?”

Fred and George traded a long look before they turned back to the mirror. “Right, well you know how you sent information you didn’t want to get back to certain people? So you encoded it and stuff, and basically set up this Secret Order within the Order that we’re part of? Well it was the Secret Order that got him out. Dumbledore doesn’t know. When he announced Garrick’s death at the meeting we didn’t know then either. Dumbledore said they hadn’t been able to mitigate the risks of getting around the Malfoy wards,” George said.

“Which makes sense, the Malfoy’s have lived there for generations. The wards would have needed a member of the immediate family, or a whole bunch of really powerful people to bring them down, and hold them down long enough to get him out.” Fred pitched in.

“So how did they?” Harry asked.

“Well, Snape did it,” Fred said, looking at Harry in concern, obviously waiting for the explosion.

“Minerva helped,” George added. “She made some sort of decoy that looked just like him from one of Severus’ memories. Severus brewed something to hide his magical signature so he could take him over the Malfoy’s wards. He’s got access you see, what with You-Know-Who having lived there. Then they took him back to Minerva's house where he still is. Minerva’s been healing him with Severus help. Once he was better she came to us to get his stuff because he was bored, and because he’s supposed to be dead he can’t exactly leave her house.”

“Look we’re all in this secret club yeah, but not all information is shared even between us. We figure that because you’re feeding information in. we can tell you this stuff, but it’s not like we’ve got permission,” Fred said nervously.

“We won’t say anything,” John said from his place next to Helen. “The meeting earlier was a frank exchange of information, with the understanding it would be kept within the Secret Order, as you call it. There is a slight wrinkle however. Mr Lupin made some unfortunate comments and left the meeting early. We have not heard from him or from either Minerva or Severus as to if the Secret Order is a secret no more.”

“Remus?” George said unhappily. “Why would he?”

“Because we refused to come back. We were wearing disguises and wouldn’t take them off and he got upset about it,” Harry filled them in.

“You’ve got disguises?” George said his face brightening.

“Obviously,” Hermione said shaking her head in exasperation. “Walking around looking like us would have been the easiest way to be found.”

“Go on then,” Fred said encouragingly.

Helen passed over the rings from the bowl on the desk where they were kept when not in use. Slipping them on, Harry and Hermione morphed into their blond haired counterparts. The twins let out simultaneous impressed whistles.

“Bilmey, Granger. We were impressed by the rings you sent us.” Fred said.

“These are something else though” George finished. “You look like-“

“Like Helen,” Fred finished this time. “Only you know, more than you do.”

“The hair,” George said cocking his head staring at Hermione.

She put her hand up to her straight blonde hair self-consciously. “What about it?”

“It’s not right,” Fred said. “Does it still spark? You know when you get mad?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “It’s not the same though.”

“You don’t like my hair?” Hermione said turning to him.

“Well no, it’s fine, I just prefer your real hair. It’s more… you.” he said honestly. Mollified she turned back to the mirror raising her eyebrows, inviting more comments.

“Will you teach us how you did it?” Fred asked. “The rings you sent us as well? We were going to take one apart and have a look at it, but, well we didn’t really want to.”

“We can teach you,” Hermione said. “It takes both of us to make them, you two should be able to replicate them pretty easily.”

“Both of you?” Fred looked surprised. “They are that complex?”

“Not really,” Harry said. “It’s easier with two because its less effort for both of you.”

“Not now,” Helen interrupted seeing where the conversation was going. “You two still have school work to do and I imagine its quite late for you two?” She looked at Fred and George.

“Err, yeah, now you mention it.” George replied.

“Can I suggest we set up a time, where you can all work on whatever you like, that is mutually convenient for everyone?” Helen suggested. “We would also be grateful if you could tell us how the mirror works to contact the others, and if it is possible to block people from accessing it.”

“it’s only connected to a few,” George said. “This one, Remus, Severus, and Minerva. I guess you want to stop Remus using it?”

“I think until further notice that would be for the best” Helen replied.

“Fair enough” Fred said seriously. “I can tell you how to do it.” He looked at Hermione and Harry waiting for one of them to volunteer.

“I’ll do it,” Harry said.

Fred explained how to block Remus and how to contact the others while Helen scribbled on a scrap of paper. Waiting until the mirror had been altered she then held up her paper. “Are you in your workroom during the day or is it an afterhours thing?”

“No usually one of us in here, either brewing or working on products,” George said.

“In which case I suggest that around 10am your time you can contact this mirror here and these two will be available for a couple of hours. They will also be in this room usually around this time as well. If we could for now keep this to one or two days a week. We all have lives to be getting on with, and as much as some of the things you want to work on are interesting, Harry and Hermione have school and you have a business to run.” Helen looked around waiting for any protests.

“No that’s fine with us,” Fred said glancing at George for confirmation. “Umm, can I ask something though?”

“Yes?” Helen replied.

“You’re a muggle. I know that you know about magic because of Hermione and Harry, and clearly Hermione got her brains somewhere, but the shoes. How come you came up with all that stuff?”

“Hermione said your mother isn’t a fan of your work,” Helen replied.

“Well no, I mean she wasn’t. I think she’d prefer if we have more traditionally steady job’s and we’d completed our education. But I don’t think she’s as against it as she was.” Fred answered.

“We want what’s best for Hermione and Harry. Just because they can do something we can’t, that doesn’t mean we can’t use it within things like this mirror. Or understand the principles such as they are. Or we can’t have ideas and show an interest in what they are doing. I don’t expect either of them to perform a root canal, but I can reasonably expect them to have at least an idea of what we’re talking about when we discuss our day.” Helen responded watching them. “Fred, I’m sorry she doesn’t take more of an interest. I think some of the things you’ve come up with are quite brilliant.”

“How did you-?” Fred said shocked.

“Tell you apart? You are two different people, and you’ve been stood in front of me for the last thirty minutes,” she responded. Then she flashed him a grin full of mischief. “Also, I’m cheating. Your 42 tooth is slightly longer than your 41 and George’s are both the same. Hermione told me about it.”

“You tell us apart by our teeth?!” Fred asked looking between Helen and Hermione.

“I am the daughter of two dentists.” Hermione shrugged. “You notice teeth.” 

  A mere six days after their return Severus found Minerva in his sitting room. She was slumped in the chair she usually occupied.  It was a pronounced slump, not a slight drop in her shoulders as her back remained in its upright position, nor a casual recline in the chair, but an actual, physical slump. He cast a surreptitious glance at her as he busied himself with the tea pot and decanter.

“So?” he asked when she still had offered no explanation for her presence.

She raised her eyes from the examination of her toes, or his rug, but didn’t meet his gaze. Instead she stared into the fire. “Do you ever wonder…” she started, but didn’t finish.

Concerned that something was truly the matter, and this wasn’t the result of a hard day wrangling knowledge into students who could care less, he pulled out his wand and cast a diagnostic charm on her.

“What are you doing?” she queried, watching the results hover over her.

“Obviously, I’m checking to see if you need to be returned to Poppy’s tender care. It is after all a scant three weeks since your little adventure had you flat on your back. Any relapse will not be laid at my feet.”

“Pish,” she replied. “I’m perfectly well.”

He graced her with a disbelieving look, eyes flicking over her. She waved a hand seeing the look and pulled herself up into a proper sitting position. “I was merely trying something out.”

“Poor posture?” he suggested.

“No. It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t helping anyway. I’m fine, by the way, no relapses.”

“I would prefer to be certain. Poppy does not take lightly to her hard work being casually disregarded.”

She lapsed into silence sipping her tea and he waited for her to speak. When she didn’t he broke in again. “Are you going to spit it out? I will no more indulge your wallowing than I would anyone else.”

She plonked the tea cup down a little roughly, crossing her arms. “I’m not wallowing, I’m just…” she floundered.

“Wallowing?” he supplied helpfully.

She scowled and huffed, re settling herself in the chair. “Do you ever think about what we do?”

“Teach? Constantly, since to not do so would result in the castle being reduced to rubble by some of the less proficient students.”

“Yes that, but no. Do you ever wonder what we do? By taking the muggle born away from their families, pushing them into the magical world. Do you ever question if it’s the right thing to do?”

“Ahh, finding your pedestal a little high?”

“No,” she replied shortly. “And mine is no higher than yours.”

“Whilst I would dispute the validity of the claim that I am on a pedestal at all, when it comes to Hermione Granger, yours is most certainly higher.”

“When I visited to tell them about Hogwarts and magic, she was just this small wee thing. They listened, they asked questions, and once they realised it was true, her face. It was like the sun came out after a week of rain. It lit up Severus, it glowed. I thought, well no, I still think that that was the reason I do it, go around and see them all. To give them the answers, to provide the clarity and understanding. I’ve never once thought about what I’m actually taking away from them. They always look so grateful.” She shrugged unhappily. “The Granger’s, Helen and John. Magic is just a thing to them, a tool, something they can use but can’t manipulate. They don’t see why they can’t be in her life. Why it should, or would, exclude them and yet that is the assumption that we make. That the muggle born will just walk away.”

“They are not the norm Minerva,” Severus said quietly. “Most muggle born do walk away and don’t look back. It’s the price of admission for them.  It’s too difficult to explain to Uncle This and Aunt That, where you went to school, what you do for a living, why they can’t visit.”

“I feel like I’m adrift,” she said. “Everything is being questioned and answers I’ve had all my life are no longer good enough.”

“It’s the waiting,” Severus answered. “Once things get moving again you’ll be too busy to notice.”

“Somehow that’s comforting and chilling at the same time. I spoke to Remus today.” Her voice was offhand.

“Ahh,” he said, understanding. Her mood suddenly making sense, he wondered how much the wolf had upset her before she’d felt able to come to him. “How did that go?”

“I rather think Tonk’s got to him first. He apologised profusely for any embarrassment he might have caused. The moon, he says, made it difficult to control himself.”

Severus muttered something rude. She graced him with a knowing look. “Well yes, I was left unimpressed. He has informed me that he will keep his confidences but plans on spending his time concentrating on his family. He is obviously still committed to the war effort but would prefer that he was kept out of any further dealing with Harry and Hermione, so not to endanger the end game.”

Severus shook his head in disbelief. “That seems out of character. He was sycophantically loyal to Potter and Black. Why not the progeny. Black all but fawned on the boy whenever they were together.”

“Their relationship is not the same.” Minerva pointed out sadly. “Remus let himself be pushed away, even when he met Harry properly, their interaction was hardly close. Harry is most assuredly not James and with the Grangers behind him, he is no longer emotionally vulnerable. He is willing to stand up for himself and risk losing his relationship with Remus.”

“Over Hermione.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, over Hermione.” She looked at him her gaze steady, knowing.

He shrugged ignoring her. “So we’ve lost the wolf.”

“For now,” she agreed. “I thought that they meant more to him. That Harry meant more to him. Yet two muggles, who are for all intents and purposes total strangers to Harry, have taken him in. Accepted their magical daughter and her suitor, the dangers of the war, and it’s not through ignorance. They know what’s going on and yet Remus, the family friend, the honorary uncle. Remus is the one that has left.”

“You couldn’t have stopped it.” Severus said.

“I know that, it’s just Remus was so insistent that they return, that Harry be with magical people and yet Remus is the one who has decided not to be involved! I don’t understand.”

“Guilt.” Severus answered. “He cannot look at Potter and not see his friends. He treats Potter as he would if it were Potter’s father and Potter has called him on it. Lupin has woken up to the fact his friends are no more and he’s got no relationship to speak of with Potter. I can’t imagine that that was how it was expected to go when they were all together. If he walks away, he doesn’t have to see the father in the son and admit he screwed up.”

“They’ve blocked his mirror from calling theirs. He’s asked me to pass along a message,” she admitted quietly.

“Will you?”

“I’ll speak to Helen first if I can. I don’t wish to cause an upset.” she picked her tea back up, nursing it, her mood still unhappy. He said nothing, offering only silent support, more tea, and whiskey as it was requested. By the time she floo’ed back to her rooms her mood was improved and he counted it as a win.

Chapter Text

George rubbed his face casting a dark look at the thick folder on the edge of the work bench. He had to deal with its contents but it drove him mental. He wanted to invent things, to make things to get people to laugh. He wanted to explore the muggle world that was unfolding in front of him through a magic mirror and the parents of two people he was only just getting to know. He really wanted to try some of that Chinese food Hermione seemed addicted to.

They had been using the mirror to talk for two weeks, finding that at the weekend, Harry and Hermione would spend more time chatting and working on their school stuff with the mirror active. He or Fred, sometimes both, would work in the workroom re-stocking for the shop, and fiddling with new products.

Days like today, a Sunday, when the shop was closed, could have all four of them working together casually discussing muggle things, inventions, and quidditch. It was odd, but also quite good as a way to share information and tips. Even the inclusion of Helen and John who would periodically come and see what they were up to, didn’t stop the conversation.  Usually they ended up drawn in, asking more questions, suggesting more answers, and things that he and Fred had never thought of, were brought up. He found himself forgetting they were muggles, that magic wasn’t part of their abilities. Hermione had always been smart, but she was the product of two smart people and George was impressed. Which resulted in both he and Fred really wanting to impress them too, and have both Helen and John like them.

“What’s up?” Hermione’s voice came through the mirror, as if she’d heard his thoughts.

“Running a shop with a product base as diverse as ours, is no fun Granger.”

“Oh? I thought you two were all about fun?”

“Oh we are,” he assured her with a lazy smile. “More fun than you can shake a stick at.” His smile grew broader as she laughed at his use of the muggle phrase. “But the Ministry is most decidedly not about fun. The Ministry would outlaw fun if it could. In fact, if the very idea didn’t bring paroxysms of joy to some department buried in its depths it probably would have. Fortunately, they have stuck their heads together and found a way to make fun miserable for everyone.”

“Oh? And what was their brilliant idea?” she said smiling at him.

“Paperwork! Registration for every product. Registration of suppliers, domestic and foreign. Registration of brewing licenses, registration of wands, registration of wand storage, registration of wands sold. The list, Granger, is longer than Merlin’s beard.”

“Oh no,” she sympathised. “Bureaucracy is the death of all sound work.”

“Bureaucracy is a giant machine operated by pygmies.” Harry added from his place at his desk where he was completing his notes.

“Yes,” George replied emphatically. “It is, whatever a pygmy is, are they like nargles? But it’s not what we want to do, and if we get it wrong they can stop us selling wands. The joke shop we can get around, re-brand and fill the form in properly next time. But the wands Granger, they are important.”

She tapped the end of her pencil on the tip of her nose, eyes narrowing in thought. “What you need is someone who knows the system. Someone who can help you fill the forms in, and can tell you what to do and when. And if you are really lucky, can get you ahead of the curve.”

Harry looked up from his books again, meeting her eyes and raising his brow. She smiled slightly at him and he shrugged back in response. Their silent communication going unnoticed by George who was still scowling at his files.

“Great,” George said. “That sounds great, someone who loves bureaucracy and form filling in. Where do I get one? Is there a suggestion in that yellow book of yours?”

“You know,” Harry said. “You already have someone. And he’s family so really he’s probably duty bound to help you.”

“Dad?” George snorted amused. “No offence Harry, but Dad would be worse than Fred and I at this stuff.”

“He didn’t mean your Dad,” Hermione said.

“Then who?”

“Percy,” they said together.

“Percy?” George repeated horrified.

“What about our treacherous elder brother?” Fred said eagerly as he came into the room. “Have you come up with a new way of making his life miserable?”

“No,” Harry said. “We think you should ask him, -nicely mind, to help you with your paper problem. It is his sort of thing after all.”

“No can do mate,” Fred said still cheerfully, not batting an eyelid. “He pinned his colours to his mast. That is right, isn’t it?” he asked with a questioning glance at Harry.

“Yes,” Harry said.

Fred grinned in satisfaction. Speaking muggle was interesting, they had a phrase for everything and he and George had started using it as another language to communicate with.

“But,” Harry continued. “He was also right, and in fairness he did exactly what you two did, so you’re punishing him whilst following his example. I can’t see the logic in that myself,” he shrugged.

“Wait what? He wasn’t right, and his example? I think not! The last time Percy cracked a joke dinosaurs roamed the earth!” Fred turned to George offering him a held up palm. They hi fived and looked even more pleased with themselves.

“Honestly,” Hermione muttered. “They’re like kids in a sweet shop.”

“Said the girl who announced on the train she’d practiced all the spells in her book.” Harry replied quietly.

Fred and George had turned back to the mirror. “So what was this nonsense about Percy?”

“Percy said that the Ministry was worried about what Dumbledore was up to, in his letter to Ron,” Harry said slowly. “Are you, or are you not, members of a Secret Order working around Dumbledore? So secret there’s only 9 of us, and 8 if you are being honest? He also said that I was putting Ron in danger. Tell me how many near death experiences has Ron had since we both left?”

“Well yeah, but he was a git to Mum and Dad.”

“Because they didn’t support him. They wrote him off and told him he was wrong. Wrong to try and make something of himself, find a job, a career and defend it. Isn’t that what you two did when you left Hogwarts? You left to set up your shop and its brilliant, but your Mum and Dad would have preferred you to stay in Hogwarts and get safe jobs. Told you not to waste your time on it.” Hermione explained.

“It’s not the same,” Fred said.

“Look, all were saying is that you need help. You need help with something Percy does as naturally as breathing. He wasn’t wrong in what he said, just the way it came across. He’s your brother and he’s not irredeemable. You should ask him for help. Nicely. If the wands selling is important, then it’s worth a simple apology.” Harry said.

“Someone once told me that if you needed help and it was offered, you should accept it and stop being stubborn about it,” Hermione said. “He might not want to. But until you give him the option you won’t know, and he’s the best person you can ask.”

The twins exchanged another look, it was doubtful and unconvinced but they turned together back to the mirror. “We’ll ask.”

“Good,” Harry said. “He’s not a bad guy, he helped both of us when we were firsties.”

 Later, after they closed down the mirror Fred and George looked at each other, continuing the conversation that had been dropped earlier.

“Percy?”

“Yeah, do you think they are right, about Percy being right?”

“Can he help us?”

“With the ministry forms? He’d probably see it as Christmas come early.”

“What about, you know, what he’s said?”

“Well it’s not like it’s unusual for a Weasley to lose it.”

“So kidnap?”

“They said ask nicely.”

“Owl? You think he’d read it?”

“Well if he doesn’t, then we can move to kidnap. After all we asked nicely first.”

“And if he says yes?”

“Then, then I don’t know. He’s still family.”

“Truce?”

“We’re going to have to, he’s never going to agree if he thinks we’ll prank him.”

“You think he’ll listen?”

“I think if he’s the only one that can help us, we’re going to have to make sure he does.” 

When the letter was delivered, the first thing he noticed was that it was not addressed correctly.

It merely said Mr Percy Weasley, Ministry of Magic, it didn’t reference his job title, or office, or floor number, as all proper ministry correspondence should do. Whilst it took the author a little more time to write these things, it did ensure that the post was delivered correctly, and in a timely manner. No one really wanted their personal quibbles being delivered to the wrong person and splashed all over the Prophet, but by not correctly addressing correspondence that’s exactly what you risked.

The second thing he noticed made the first thing moot.

He might not have seen his family in a while, but nothing would stop him remembering what his younger siblings handwriting looked like. He had spent hours helping them learn to read and write, and longer regretting it. As invariably, one of their pranks they had cobbled together from a source of books, had been set upon him.

Fred and George had written to him.

It was clearly Fred and George together even though Fred’s hand writing was on the outside. Those two had a hive mind and never acted without the other. If one didn’t want to, the other would talk them round or change the plan until they both agreed. It was what made them brilliant.

He looked at the parchment suspiciously, putting it on the blotter in front of him. He cast a detecting charm on it. The one he had asked Bill for before, well, before.

The charm said the letter contained no jinxes, that opening it wouldn’t turn him yellow, or transfigure his nose into a beak, or anything else the twins might have come up with.

Sadly, this only made his suspicions heighten. Since when did Fred and George pass up an opportunity to prank anyone? Sending a letter without a prank attached … oh Merlin. Suddenly a rushing noise filled his ears and he couldn’t swallow properly. Every harsh word he’d ever exchanged with his loud, boisterous, sometimes alien family, came screaming back to the forefront of his mind. If they hadn’t sent a prank, then they wanted him to read it, and if they wanted him to read it… Merlin, he hoped no one was seriously hurt in whatever foolish errand they had gone on for Dumbledore. He hoped that at worst it was a couple of weeks in St Mungo’s. That he wasn’t being told that fences couldn’t be mended with one of them on a permanent basis.

Hands now trembling and throat so tight he thought he might suffocate, he ripped the letter open, taking less care than he should to ensure he didn’t tear the contents.

His eyes scanned the message not really taking it in just hunting for the news. His shoulders dropped and his head sagged as he realised that it mentioned nothing of any injuries, attacks, and possible deaths. He took a minute or five to get himself back under control.

Picking the letter up he read it over properly. It was short, succinct for the twins, and written as usual in both their handwriting as they had taken it from each other and penned bits.

Percy,

Don’t throw this away. You can’t because we’ve charmed it not to be destroyed. If you want to try you can, but we suggest you don’t set it on fire, being responsible for evacuating the ministry at whatever ungodly hour you chose to start work will look bad on your record.

It’s true don’t try it – unless you know, in case of an emergency sort of thing. Not like a real emergency, where the building is coming down around you and people are already panicking, because no one will notice. But a small emergency, where forewarning was helpful and makes you look good. Seriously, it will work, the siren on this thing is loud. Testing it was a nightmare.

We’re writing because we thought you probably didn’t want us coming to visit. We’d have to ask at the desk which department you were in, and where that was. Since we’re not exactly good for your ministerial image we didn’t think you would appreciate that.

This isn’t about the whole working for the ministry thing.

Well it is, but not because you got huffy and walked out on us.

Right, we weren’t going to mention that so you’d actually listen, so ignore him. We need your help. It’s nothing illegal or dangerous.

The only danger is losing your mind, your arm falling off and a potential national ink shortage.

Exactly, so nothing that is going to make you look bad. We promise to abide by the terms of parley and will meet on accorded neutral ground. We’ve no idea where you ministry types hang out anyway.

Will you come? There’s a park in London called Kensington Gardens. It’s Muggle so you know we can’t pull anything. There’s a statue of Peter Pan, we’ll be there tomorrow after your shift ends. Ask a Muggle for directions.

  Your brothers,

Fred and George

Percy dropped the letter onto his blotter again and looked it over. He was willing to take the twins at their word. They never warned you about the consequences of their products unless they were serious about them, and they weren’t part of whatever they were planning.

What did they want? They said it wasn’t about his separation from the family since they hadn’t been planning on mentioning it.

Where did the twins find out about Kensington Gardens? He knew where the Pan statue was of course. He’d told Audrey about his brothers and she’d in turn told him the tale of the boy who never grew up. It fitted them somehow. They’d gone to look at it on a weekend, enjoying the autumn colours and the fresh air after a tiring week at work.

His shift didn’t end until 5, but he needed to do an hour or so more after that to keep on top of the new legislations that were being pushed through. Without checking them over he couldn’t be sure his boss was getting a full and complete breakdown. It wouldn’t do for the Minister to be under prepared to answer questions at any time. He folded the letter up and slipped it into his pocket. When he was ready to go home he’d think about it then. Otherwise he had a solid day in front of him. 

Fred and George were stood waiting in the dark wishing they had suggested a time rather than after Percy's shift ended.

“Do you think he ever goes home?”

“Think he’s chained to the desk? Manacles rubbing his wrists and ankles sore, wand held hostage?”

“We’d have to think of a daring rescue.”

“Heroic, too.”

“Of course. Maybe we could ask Charlie for a dragon, a small one. We could have it fly around outside the Ministry, distracting everyone. Drawing them outside to gawk, while we bravely battled through the corridors to rescue our fair brother from his prison.”

“I would rather you didn’t if it’s all the same.” A stuffy voice came from behind them. “The dragon alone would need three import licenses signing off.”

“Percy!” the twins whirled as one, throwing themselves on their brother. Hugging him, and thumping his back in greeting before realising that technically, he had left the family in a huff and they might still be annoyed about that.

Percy for his part, had had a moment of surprise as his siblings threw themselves on him, followed by a rush of relief that they had done so. As they drew away he smoothed his hair and robes in an automatic gesture and saw the twins catch each others glances and roll their eyes. He ignored them and instead said. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Yeah, we did,” George responded eagerly. “Do you want to go somewhere warmer? Only it’s a bit cold out here.”

Percy eyed them suddenly wary.

“We’re not going to do anything, and no one in the family knows were here. You can pick where and we’ll behave,” Fred offered seriously.

Percy looked at them, concerned as to why they were being so polite. The twins were not serious people and only earnest when something really mattered. Politics warred with family inside him once again. He sighed. “I suppose you can come to my flat. But I’m taking you in and you are not to touch or otherwise mess about with any of my things.”

“Sure-”

“No problem!”

They both held out arms. Suspicious, but willing to go along with whatever their devious plan was for now, Percy took both their arms, twisting them all into a side along.

They landed with text book correctness in his flat in the hallway. Unbuttoning his coat and removing his shoes he held out his hands for his brother's coats. They hurriedly scrambled out of both coats and shoes, standing waiting for him to hang them up.

Percy led them through to the open plan kitchen living room. Not open plan designer, but open plan because he had three rooms in his flat. His bedroom and bathroom had already claimed the other two. They sat down on the sofa and he waited for them to speak.

“Err, right, well,” Fred said. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Thank you, you said something about needing my help?” Percy replied drily.

“Ah right, well, yes. You see the Ministry in its wisdom have decided that what people really, really need is less fun in their lives. In fact, they would have outlawed fun altogether if that hadn’t actually been fun for someone in the anti-fun department. So to ensure that the misery was equally shared out they invented forms!” Fred explained.

“Forms that are 11 pages long!” George elaborated.

“Forms that ask questions we aren’t even sure there are answers to, never mind what they are and where to find them.” Fred expanded.

“Forms that make NEWTs look like a ten-minute coffee break.” George continued.

“The ministry is only acting in a way to protect its citizens and ensure that standards are maintained. Those forms are there for a reason,” Percy replied

“Yes, we know and whilst they are a gigantic pain, and sap the very soul out of a mere mortal wizard. We’re not saying we don’t want to complete them, we just need help.” They turned their not inconsiderable charm on him, their expressions hopeful.

Percy took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. It had been a long day and now he had his two younger brothers behaving inexplicably. Looking at him as they had when they had been kids, and they thought he could answer all their questions. Wandlessly, he summoned the whiskey and three glasses. Pouring the drinks, he looked back up at them. “What is it exactly you need me for?”

“We need you to help us fill the forms in.”

“Why? You run a business, these are your responsibility as business owners. The same as everyone else.” Percy pointed out.

“Yes, we know that,” George said patiently. “But this isn’t about the joke shop, if we get something wrong or don’t register an ingredient or product properly its fine. We can pull it and fill them in again. This is about the wands. You do know about the wands, don’t you?”

“Yes, I am aware that my two brothers, who threw away their NEWTs on a petty demonstration against a higher authority. To run a ridiculously successful joke shop, have suddenly turned into wand sellers with a fully legal and licensed shop. Practically overnight. What I am not about to do, is ask how and why.” Percy replied using his best authoritative glare.

“You know Fred,” George said after a moments pause. “I think there was a compliment or two in that.”

“I think you’re right,” Fred agreed. “The wands, Percy, they are important. We need to keep selling them, and to do that those forms have got to be beyond reproach. They are trying to close us down, to force everyone to use one of the other suppliers.”

“They are more established.” Percy pointed out. “They have a history and reputation. You are, for all the success you are currently experiencing, an unknown. Things can, and do go wrong. Wands are fundamental to magic use.”

“We are also the only people willing to properly match a muggle born to a wand. The others, they either won’t do it at all, or are selling them something that doesn’t work for them. Percy, we’re serious, this isn’t about our family politics, this is about stopping little kids getting hurt. This is about matching a wizard or a witch with the one thing they are going to rely on, possibly for life. Like you said, its fundamental to magic use.” Fred said leaning forward, trying to get through to his hard headed brother.

Percy looked at them, their identical serious faces, their earnestness and weighed it against them coming to find him to ask for help. Asking politely, not having pranked him, following his instructions to touch and do nothing. Acting against what he knew was their natural curiosity. Their unfailing willingness to charge at everything with joy and abandon was something he had seen every day since his mother had brought them home. In all the days he had watched over them as a war raged on around them. Until they had struck out together and no longer needed him to watch them. Then he’d gone to Hogwarts, they’d followed but their lives had by then, diverted sharply and now they were here, despite everything, asking for him again.

“What was your plan B?” he asked finally.

“Kidnap you on your way home. Hold you hostage until you agreed,” Fred said promptly.

“I am thankful you didn’t resort to that.”

George shrugged. “You are family; you might have a weird way of doing it, but you were looking out for us. You always have. So will you help us? Will you help us fight back and stick it to the bureaucracy?”

Percy was silent and they sat waiting for him to make his mind up.

“Fine,” he said, knowing that it was a battle he had lost some time ago. “I’ll help with your administration. But I am not getting involved with anything else, no Order, no Dumbledore, and you aren't to tell anyone I'm helping.”

“Not a problem. When can we get started?” the twins were grinning happily again.

“Do you have them with you?” Percy asked.

George pulled the file out of his pocket and dropped it on the table. It made a satisfying ‘thunk’ as it hit. “That’s just the wands, the joke shop is bigger but not as urgent,” he explained.

“Bigger?” Percy said eying the impressive file in front of him. He knew obviously, that the forms existed, even why. He knew what information they required and even where most of it could be found within the businesses records. But he’d never seen them, or attempted to fill them in.

“We didn’t want to scare you off if you agreed to help,” Fred said shrugging. “Though it would be appreciated if you could.”

“Let’s get through this lot,” Percy said pulling the file towards him and flipping it open. He marvelled that it was in order and that the most urgent were on the top. He eyed his brothers again as they looked on, an air of anxiety hanging about them despite their easy smiles. He cleared his throat. “Shall we start?” Ink and quills arrived at his finger tips and he started reading over the top piece of parchment. 

Two hours later Percy was having slight doubts about the validity of the forms his brothers had been sent. He kept his council, but the number of reference books spread out on his coffee table lent credence to the belief, that maybe, the twins were not just being dramatic in declaring someone wanted to shut them down. They had had to look up laws that had passed out of use and into history. Laws that Percy wasn’t even sure were enforceable, and chase down pointless references just to make sure the sub sections were correctly noted.

What Percy had found out though, was that his brothers were serious about the wand selling. Wherever they had gotten their stock, and however they had learnt about wands, cores and wand magic, they weren’t playing around. They were determined that they were going to sell wands.

Taking a break from his book, in which he had been reading about unicorn herd types, and how to tell the difference between those that were allowable, and not allowable in wand cores, he looked again in disgust at the form he was filling in. It had required that the by-law subsection had been properly adhered to, which meant he’d had to look it up in the first place to find out what it was. Hence the allowable unicorn herds, only to be led on a wild goose chase to discover that it was moot, because the twins had the documents to support that their cores came from the only type of unicorn in the UK, which fell under allowable. He noted the information in his neat precise hand and pushed the completed parchment onto the ever growing stack.

“If,” Percy said, breaking the quiet scratch of quills on parchment and pages flipping. Fred and George looked up at him. “What I mean is, that if you like, if it would help. I can advise you of the newest legislation coming from the Ministry, and help you fill in the correct forms, to make sure you don’t build up such a back log again. Obviously I can only tell you what has passed into law. Speculation on my part, of anything being discussed at higher levels would be a flagrant disregard of my responsibilities and oaths as a member of the Ministry.”

Fred and George smiled at him. “Would you? That would be great!”

Percy felt a glow of warmth at their gratitude and primly replied. “It is only sensible, you clearly do need help and as your brother I suppose it behoves me to offer aid where I can.”

“Thanks Percy,” Fred said.

Percy waved his hand dismissively, staring down at the next form to complete. Storage and isolation for wand components. He had missed his self-righteous, loud, and larger than life family. “How is everyone?” he asked in a quiet voice. Quiet enough that they could pretend they hadn’t heard him if they wanted.

Fred and George were not so subtle. “OK,” they said. “Mum and Dad are the usual. Bill and Fleur visit occasionally, though not enough for Mum. Ron and Ginny are doing OK at school, no upheavals there. Charlie is still in love with dragons and neglecting writing to Mum so nothing’s changed there either. Oh, and Ron’s dating Lavender Brown” Fred summarised.

“That’s a family dinner you’ll be glad you’ve missed. She calls him Won-Won! It’s beyond cringe worthy. Mum won’t let us do anything while she’s there, doesn’t want to ruin Ron’s chances.” George said shuddering in horror.

“He’s in the dog house with Mum, since Hermione left his grades have dropped. Mum’s going to pieces about it. He invited Lavender over as much as he could over summer to stop her having a go at him, according to Ginny.” Fred added.

“He really should have learnt to study and not to expect Hermione to pick up his slack. She did give him several useful aids I thought.” Percy said fussily. “His grades will decide the rest of his career and it’s his NEWT year. He really will have to apply himself.”

“Yeah well, you know Ron. I think being mates with Harry sort of distracted everyone from that until now.” George offered.

“Still no news on them?”

“Err no,” they said uncomfortably.

Mistaking their discomfort, Percy sniffed. “I wasn’t going to report back, I was merely asking if two people who our family invited in, had been discovered and potentially come to harm.”

“Oh well, no they haven’t,” Fred said. “It’s not that we thought you would, it’s just-”

“You were a rude git about Harry. It’s hardly his fault his parents were murdered and that the wizarding world was happy to hail him as a hero without actually having to do anything themselves. Then when he told the world the truth they called him a nut job.” George said bluntly.

Percy scowled. “You can’t throw out unsubstantiated claims like that, it causes panic amongst the populace.”

Fred sighed. “We’re not arguing with you Percy. It’s just when you look at it from the point of view that Harry was a kid who lost his family, who they called a hero, who only tried to tell the truth, is called a liar and all the rest of it. It’s pretty hard to swallow.”

“It doesn’t help when he’s proven correct either.” George added

“The Ministry couldn’t confirm it was true until they had proof,” Percy said stubbornly. “If they took the word of a 15 year old boy and one elderly wizard every time someone wanted to declare something as true we’d be overrun. We’d have to declare Nargles were real and a protected species even though no one has ever seen one! It would cause bedlam.”

Fred and George exchanged a look and silently agreed to drop the topic. Somethings would take longer to smooth over.

“So who’s the bird?” George asked bluntly, not trying to pretend he wasn’t changing the subject.

Percy looked at him a question written over his face, mouth hanging slightly open as the argument he was forming was cut off.

“The picture.” George pointed at the frame sat on the shelf next to a few books that hadn't made it to the coffee table. “Who is she?”

“Audrey,” Percy replied automatically. “We met shortly after I moved in here.”

“What’s she like?” Fred asked encouragingly. “Would Mum approve?”

“I, she.” Percy shook himself, gathering himself from the abrupt turn in conversation. “I would rather that you didn’t tell Mum and Dad, especially Dad if you don’t mind.”

“Eh? Why not? Mum will be thrilled. You know she’s desperate to marry us all off.”

“Yeah, I see your point there Percy. Best keep it to yourself. Don’t want Mum scaring her off.”

“No, you don’t understand, you see…” Percy trailed off suddenly nervous despite everything. He knew the twins, he knew his family were seen as blood traitors but acknowledging muggleborns was one thing. What he had done, what he was doing, was something entirely different.

“What? Is she a bit posh? Don’t worry, we wore Fleur down. Your Audrey will be no match for our charm.” Fred encouraged.

“I, she. She’s a muggle!” Percy blurted, snapping his mouth closed as the last syllables left his lips. He closed his eyes. He knew that if he ever fixed what was broken between him and his family he would have to tell them about Audrey, about her being a muggle. This was not how he had imagined it happening though.

“Does she know about cinema?” Fred asked. Percy snapped his eyes open his face a picture of shock, gaping at his brother.

“Oh please! Tell me she can get you Chinese food. Can you get it here?” George looked around him as if expecting it to appear.

“I, umm. Yes, she knows about cinema. But, she’s a muggle, I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that but...” Percy answered still processing their reactions.

“But what?” Fred asked amused at Percy's flabbergasted face. “You didn’t think we were going to run screaming did you? Denounce you for not dating some lovely young witch from the Department of So-Boring-I-can’t-remember, did you?”

“I, err, well. Yes?”

“Pfft she’s a muggle Percy, not an alien.” Fred said dismissively. “Can we meet her? Does she know about us? Not the magic bit of course, but you know, your family?”

“She doesn’t think I was born from an egg no” Percy replied recovering his composure.

“That was a muggle saying, wasn’t it?” George asked squinting at him.

“Err yes?” Percy said. George made a satisfied noise and nodded making a mental note. He’d see if he could try it out on John or Helen.

“So?” Fred said again, looking at Percy. “I mean we’ll behave and stuff, and dress properly. Not like you see people like Dad do, where they get it all muddled up, but properly so we look normal.”

“Muggle London is really confusing; do you think she’d show us around a bit? Or you could, you know if you wanted, if you know your way around? Have you been in a proper car? Or on the Tube thingy?” George looked at him hopefully again, the forms laying forgotten on the table. Family dispute buried in the face of being able to explore the world he had glimpsed at through John and Helen.

Percy looked at his over eager younger brothers and part of him celebrated that they had jumped over any awkwardness and straight into acceptance. “I will ask and see if she is amenable. I cannot make any promises on her behalf.”

“Thanks Percy,” the twins chorused at him.

“Shall we complete these?" Percy asked waving a hand at the much diminished pile of parchment. "If we get them completed I can drop them off in the morning on the way in. To make sure they are handed to the correct person and not lost in the Ministry mail.”

“Cheers, that will save us a headache,” George said.

They bent to it and the following hours were spent scratching away at parchment, interrupted and littered with questions about Audrey, and her muggle world.

When they finally left, Percy locked the door and dowsed the lights. He had to be at work in a mere five hours, he eyed the pile of completed forms he promised to drop off. Something wasn’t right there. Maybe he could look into it and possibly help his brothers out. 

A parcel was included in his morning mail which was waiting for him after he finished his trip around the various departments, handing over the paperwork for the twin’s wand business.

He recognised the handwriting but none the less, cast the charms to make sure it was safe to open. Good family relations being restored slightly, meant he was open for pranking again.

A folded leather flip case, the size of a muggle wallet and a women’s silver compact fell out on the desk with a note.

 Percy,

These aren’t official but are fully functional and tested.

Yours is the leather one. Unless you really like the silver one. The other, depending on which you pick, is for Audrey.

The mirror will contact us, or any member of the family. You just say their name into it like calling an elf, their face appears in your mirror and yours appears in theirs.

It’s better than a fire call, you can use it anywhere and distance isn’t a problem.

You don’t have to use it, it’s just an in case of emergency.

The silver one will do the same thing. Audrey can use it as a normal compact, but if she needs to, she can call for help. It might break the rules but it’s better than the alternative, and if needed she can be obliviated later.

  Your brothers

Fred and George.

 Percy stared down at the two objects on his desk. He had thought his family hadn’t listened, he’d been distraught they wouldn’t listen, and refused to see the danger. They seemingly couldn’t see how this was the same as last time, and he couldn’t tell them of the paralysing fear he had lived with the first time. They had thought him too young to understand. Too young to remember, but he did.

A tear rolled down his face. The twins had worked it out. The brilliant, mad twins had done what he had been unable to do, and had given them all a way to stay safe, to call for help.

Chapter Text

“My Lord.” Severus dropped to a knee, bowing his head. It was calculated to draw attention, having earnt the right to stand in the Dark Lord’s presence, few would debase themselves again.  It was a small meeting, only the upper ranks of the Death Eaters, offering a smaller audience to convince, and a smaller audience to witness his punishment if the Dark Lord decided he wasn’t in a listening mood.

“Severus, stand. You have earnt the right whilst in my presence,” the Dark Lord said. “Unless you believe to have displeased me?” It wasn’t really a question.

“No my Lord, I hope that I have remained faithful in my service.”

That perked the Dark Lord’s curiosity and Severus felt the pressure of Legilimency push against his mental shields. He offered only a token resistance to the intrusive presence, letting the Dark Lord see his nerves, his wish to convey information to aid his master in his endeavours

“Speak,” the Dark Lord said as he withdrew from his mind.

Glad that the intrusion was over, Severus pulled his shields back up but remained in his kneeling position. “My Lord I have found out information pertaining to the artefact you were searching for.” His words were met by silence, the group of Death Eaters arrayed behind him had stilled their conversations, watching like eager hyenas, circling to see if they could recover morsels from a larger predators kill.

“Continue.” Came the command.

“I have reason to believe that Albus Dumbledore has what you desire. That he is aware that you are searching for it.”

“Does he? Very good Severus. Now stand in my presence as you have been given leave to do.”

Severus got to his feet watching the Dark Lord. He was reclining in his throne like chair, the stained rug back in position under it. He sat watching Severus, tapping one finger on his chin, calculating.

“So the fool has the wand.”

Severus stayed quiet and still. The reaction hadn’t given him any indication that the Dark Lord had already known this, but equally hadn’t indicated that he hadn’t either.

“What else does the fool know, Severus?”

“He expects you to send someone for it. To use one of the younger members who already have access to the castle. He knows that if he stays behind the walls you cannot take decisive action. He believes that by using the younger unproven members, they will ultimately fail, and he can laud you as a monster for using children.”

“Does he?” The tone was lightly amused. “He has a rather refined sense of irony does he not. If the old fool expects it, it bears thinking of,” he drifted into silence.

“If he thinks you would send a proxy, would my Lord not be best meeting him head on?” Severus ventured his tone deferential.

“You wish for me to challenge Dumbledore while he is in possession of an unbeatable wand.” The Dark Lords wand lashed out and Severus crumpled to the floor. “Do you think me foolish?” he said conversationally as he watched Severus trying to regain his feet. “The wand is unbeatable.”

“My Lord,” Severus rasped out. The flaring pain in his knee where the Dark Lord’s curse had hit him was making standing difficult.  “If he doesn’t expect you, if he can be taken before he draws the wand in defence, it can be won. So its history says.”

The Dark Lord paused, folding his arms, tapping his chin with his wand tip. “Elaborate.”

Severus bit the inside of his cheek, forcing all the pain down behind his shields. “If you personally can eliminate Dumbledore you will gain the wand and you may well draw out Potter from hiding. With the wand in hand you are assured your victory. Decisive victory over Dumbledore by your own hand sends a powerful message across the world, further advancing your cause outside of Britain.”

Bellatrix stepped forward. “My Lord, I will do it. I will kill the old fool for you if Severus is too cowardly.” She shot a sneering glare at Severus before turning back to the Dark Lord with a pleading expression.

“You would, would you Bella? You would take the crown for killing the most powerful wizard alive? You would further the rumours that even I fear Dumbledore? Would you have the world see me as needing assassins to bring down the mighty Dumbledore? Is that how you see me? Weak? Of needing my Death Eater’s to accomplish tasks for me?” he asked staring at her.

Bella trembled in the light of his growing ire. “No, no, my Lord I seek only to spare you, I would lay down my life for yours.”

“Would you?” he hissed at her. “Or would you seek the unbeatable wand for yourself? Do you wish to lead Bella? To rule? To take what is mine for yourself?””

“No! No!” she shrieked throwing herself to her knees, crawling towards his feet. She kissed the hem of his robes. “Anything for you my Lord.”

“Get up Bella. Animals crawl on the floor, at least try to behave a little better.”

She scrambled to her feet and melted back into the assembled Death Eaters.

“You have given me much to think on Severus. Return to the old fool, I wish him to watch for threats within the castle.”

“Do you wish me to pass your orders to another?” Severus asked, his head bowed.

“No. Let us have the old fool watching the school. We will act outside his walls, let him hide behind them, we will not be so cowardly.” 

The front page of the Daily Prophet was blaring the latest new ministerial initiative. To engage with the younger generation, ensuring that jobs and careers could be made available to everybody, no matter their background, and whether they had done well at OWLs or NEWTs, the Ministry was proudly launching a program of apprenticeships. They would be offered across the board allowing those who wished, to apply and spend a year in an official sanctioned apprenticeship. Learning the skills they needed to start in a trade or career they may not have been able to enter, based on exam results alone. There followed a list of prominent businesses and the places they were offering. Along with multiple interviews praising the Ministry for its forward thinking and inclusiveness, opening up positions to all.

Minerva read it with an air of cynicism based on more than a few years listening to the Ministry trumpet half-baked plans from the roof tops. Only for them to either never materialise, or end up so weighed down in bureaucracy that they were hardly worth the time.

The news was printed in the same edition so wasn’t on the front page. On reading the article buried towards the middle of the paper you could be forgiven for thinking it wasn’t anything more than an industrial accident. Curse breaking was hardly a safe career choice. There was a reason they took the best, it was dangerous. It was the sort of article that made you wince in sympathy at the details, and move on with no more than a brief thought that a week or so in hospital wasn’t something you would enjoy.

 Minerva paused on seeing it, reading it through, noting the salient points. She glanced up watching the table of Gryffindor’s in various stages of breakfast. Miss Weasley was sat at the table with her year mates. Mr Weasley was missing. Another sweeping glance confirmed that Miss Brown was also absent. Minerva sighed. If she had to roust them out of a broom closet this early she would be decidedly displeased.

Severus catching her pursed lips smirked to himself slightly. Without taking his eyes from his breakfast and keeping his tone bored and disinterested to match his facial expression, drawled. “Haven’t lost something already have we Minerva?” Her lips pursed even more causing his smirk to grow slightly wider.

“Don’t you start with me Severus. Have you seen Mr Weasley? I wanted to catch them both before lessons.”

“Off discovering the joys of disused broom closets already? Or extracting himself from the one he occupied last night?” Severus asked needling her.

Her frown deepened. “He best have more sense than that. He can hardly claim ignorance of where that sort of behaviour leads. Both his parents would disapprove especially on the back of this news.” She gestured with the paper she held.

“What news?” Severus asked, deciding that a discussion of Ron Weasley's sex life would do nothing but put him off his breakfast, he was happy to change the subject. Minerva handed the folded paper over. He took it and skimmed it, a quiet humming noise escaping him.

“You’re thinking it wasn’t a random attack?” he asked.

“Really Severus, he’s Molly and Arthur’s eldest. I doubt the boy is slouch enough to be sneaked up on. He is hardly unaware of the current political climate. An accident in a dangerous occupation looks exactly like that.”

“I wasn’t aware of any scheduled attack,” he offered quietly.

“Don’t be ridiculous Severus, you can’t possibly be expected to be omnipotent.” She put her hand on his, the briefest of touches with a light pressure. The best she could do in their very public setting to reassure him. She gathered her napkin from her lap and dropped it on the plate. “I must find Mr Weasley and collect Miss Weasley. It is likely that they will want to speak to their parents and assure themselves everything is well. Perhaps Albus would care to offer his office for the meeting.” She looked sourly at the empty chair.

She swept away to the Gryffindor table gathering up Miss Weasley, who was looking slightly concerned at having her head of house bear down on her. They met Mr Weasley on the way out the door, shirt untucked, tie askew, and robes hanging open. Severus saw Minerva’s back straighten and her chin come up as she obviously conveyed her opinion of his slovenly dress. Mr Weasley for his part looked at the breakfast tables longingly before turning and following after his sister and head of house. 

The NEWT potion students packed their things away after a gruelling two hours brewing of varying success. It was the last class of the day and the relief was palpable. They would have been chattering and discussing their evening plans loudly if it hadn’t been his classroom. Sat at his desk watching as they made their way out of the door he called out without raising his voice.

“A moment Mr Malfoy.”

Draco paused stepping out of the rush of students. There were no sympathetic glances shared between Draco and his classmates as there would have been for any other student asked to remain. He approached the desk and stood quietly waiting, eyes firmly planted on the desk in front of him.

Severus looked him over. He was pale or paler, than usual. He was still thin from his recovery and if he squinted at him right he could just see the faint shimmer of glamour charms around his eyes.

“Follow me,” Severus said standing from his chair and turning for his office, not checking that Draco was following. As he entered his office, he made a decision and kept walking through into his sitting room. “Come,” he said gesturing Draco in, pointing at the sofa. He caught a flicker of green flame in the fireplace but it died away. Perhaps Albus or Minerva had called him whilst he waited on his class to exit.

Draco sat with exacting correctness on the sofa waiting, watching him. Severus sat in the chair and watched him back. It took no more than two minutes before Draco broke first, clearing his throat slightly.

“Mother wrote; she says to convey her regards.”

“Did she?”

Draco nodded, a short motion.

“In this letter,” Severus' voice dropped and the words came out silkily smooth. “Did she perchance reference the ongoing needs of your recovery and your necessary steps towards it?”

Draco swallowed and refused to lift his eyes from the wall by Severus' head where he had fixed them. “She may have mentioned that I could prevail upon your expertise if I was feeling unwell. A situation I am happy to report has not come to pass.”

It was nearly, so nearly convincing. If it had been any one else apart from his parents or Severus they would have accepted it.

“You do realise that should your health take a turn for the worse, if you are unable to attend your duties in the manner you are required, it will not be you who is punished?”

Draco’s eyes flickered swinging wildly to Severus then back to the wall. “I, I am aware of that. However, as I said, I am happy to report my recovery is progressing well.”

The urge to say ‘bullshit’ was strong. He could in fact force Draco to tell him the truth but it wasn’t something he wanted to do. He sat quietly thinking, waiting. An inquisitive meow broke his thoughts and he looked over to the source of the noise. A grey tabby stood on the sofa, whiskers straining forward, quivering as her neck stretched towards Draco. Severus blinked.

Draco glanced down at the source of noise and looked startled to see the cat. Cautiously he reached a finger out towards her, touching gently between her ears. Rubbing a little more firmly when the cat stepped forward into the motion and started to purr.

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” Draco said as he continued his administrations.

"I don’t, she belongs to Gryffindor, however she seems to avail herself of whoever will put up with her.” The cat shot him a look and he scowled back at her.

“She seems friendly enough,” Draco said as the cat stepped even closer, bravely daring to step her two forepaws up on to Draco’s leg. Butting her head into his hand, her purr increased in volume as he took the hint and rubbed her ears.

“Apparently so, or at least as foolishly bold as any other of that house,” Severus replied. He watched in fascination as Minerva, because it clearly was Minerva, climbed onto Draco’s lap and settled herself down. She made herself comfortable, tucking her feet under her and her tail around her, as Draco stroked down her head and over her shoulders.

“Oh,” Draco said at the audacity of the cat. He flicked a look at Severus, noting his scowl offered. “I can put her down.”

Severus waved a hand. “Far be it from me to stop her if you have no objection, she isn’t mine after all.”

He got a narrow eyed glare from her for that, which he thought she had a bit of gall for sending him. He wasn’t snuggling up to the heir of the Malfoy family who, if he actually recalled his lessons might remember his Transfiguration Professor could and did turn into the cat purring on his lap. If Draco worked it out he couldn’t imagine how the resulting conversation would go.

The action of stroking the warm soft body however seemed to be helping the teenager. Severus watched as Draco soothed by her overt unconcern, looked up with a tired face. Meeting his eyes briefly before anchoring them on the furry body in front of him, he waved his hand and muttered a word, causing the glamour charms to fade. The circles under his eyes were a bruised purple, his face instantly lost flesh and he looked, old. Older than his 17 nearly 18 years.

“How much sleep are you getting?” Severus asked.

“An hour, maybe two,” Draco admitted not talking to him but the cat on his lap. He didn’t stop the rhythmic stroking and Minerva’s purr was content. “It’s not so much the cold as the damp. Stone castles you see.” The humour fell flat.  “Mother doesn’t want me addicted to Dreamless Sleep so I’ve not been able to use it enough to catch up.”

“The pain?” Severus asked softly not wanting to remind Draco that he was talking to a person not the cat.

“Mostly gone,” he admitted in a small voice.  Minerva shifted in his lap and he soothed her, settling her back down

“I have something you can take. Alas it is as addictive as Dreamless Sleep but it should rid you of the pain. Which should then allow you to sleep naturally. Your mother charged me to look after you Draco. I cannot do that if you do not inform me of what is wrong. If I am not contactable you can visit the infirmary.”

Draco snorted.

“As much as Madam Pomfrey may turn her nose up, she, as the school nurse took an oath. She will not refuse you treatment and as I brew for the infirmary she is not going to give you sub-par potions.” Severus said.

“It’s the look in her eyes,” Draco explained, leaning back on the sofa back carefully, relaxing properly since he entered the room. “She thinks I’m scum.”

“She believes in Dumbledore and the Order,” Severus replied. “It can sometime slop over into her treatment of the Slytherins but she will not refuse you treatment.“

“Can I come to you?”

“If you actually come, Draco.”

Draco sat quietly and Severus mourned the sunny child that had turned into the brattish teenager. From a teenager into an arrogant, insufferable adolescent, who had been broken and humbled at the feet of the Dark Lord, in a room full of his superiors. He might sneer and snipe out in the corridors treating the students as he always had, but Severus knew it was no more than posturing. If Draco was ever to regain his self it would take time and healing, healing that with a war brewing would be a long time coming.

“Do you,” Draco started, still fixed on the cat on his lap.

Severus waited, letting him form the words.

“Mother says, that you are trustworthy, that you have always acted to offer whatever aid you can.  Do you think, that is, would it be possible to… Could she leave?”

Severus didn’t need the broken question explaining. “Not now.”

Draco closed his eyes, his shoulders dropping in misery.

“She wouldn’t leave both of you,” Severus said. “Have you thought of what you will do once your schooling is finished?”

“If I last that long you mean?” the blond said before catching himself. “No, I thought I would join the family business.”

“Can I suggest that you do not? That instead you locate an apprenticeship, perhaps in Italy, where the weather is warmer. It might behove your mother to travel with you and take advantage of the better weather. A metropolis such as Italy would be a welcome change for a witch such as Narcissa. I am sure that she would find herself quite content organising the local society into a more pleasing view point. There is a potions master I have occasion to correspond with. If your grades are worthy I can perhaps write you a letter of introduction. You would need another, of course, but that could be managed.” He watched as Draco took what he said and turned it over looking at it from different angles.

“Would my father let her go? They barely spend time apart.”

“I believe that your father remaining behind would ensure that your interests were looked after. You must remember Draco that competence is a valuable trait. No matter the circumstances now, things have the opportunity of improving. If that improvement can be made whilst you are away, on your return your skills, and a showing of competence will stand you in good stead.”

“I hardly think I could replace you,” Draco said thoughtfully.

“I am not so fortunate to know the future, however to everything there is a season.”

Minerva’s eyes flashed open and she gave him an inscrutable look. He ignored her, Draco was no longer showing signs of tension and had somehow unclenched himself. Severus got to his feet, careful not to startle either of his guests. Walking into his bathroom he returned with a number of vials. He handed over a vail containing his nutrient potion. It seemed that recently he couldn’t brew enough of the stuff and his stocks were going to run low again.

“Drink that. You need to drink one every day. I only have a weeks’ worth here but I will brew more and you will collect it from me before your last dose.”

He handed over the vial and Draco took it uncorking it. Minerva raised up to sniff the vial, whiskers quivering before Draco pushed her gently back so he could swallow it. Handing back the empty vial he stroked over Minerva’s head. “It’s ok puss,” he said softly. “Nothing too terrible.” She butted his fingers purring comfortingly. Severus rolled his eyes at her behaviour.

“Stand up,” he ordered Draco placing the extra nutrient potions on the coffee table. Draco carefully lifted Minerva off his lap and placed her onto the sofa, then stood before Severus.

“Robes and shirt off,” Severus said. Draco shot him an uncomfortable look and Severus stared him down. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before or treated. Since you refuse to attend proper medical care you are stuck with me until I can assure your mother that you are healing.”

Draco shucked off his robes, pulling his tie loose and pulling it and his shirt over his head in one go. Turning, he faced away from Severus, allowing the elder wizard to survey his back. The skin which had been porcelain fair was a mess of angry red slashes.

Flogging done by magic was less tiring for the person administering the punishment, but that seemed to Severus the only advancement. Draco had taken 200 lashes; he’d collapsed for the first time after 20. He’d been revived time and time again until the punishment had been complete. Healing had been done hap-hazardily to ensure there was skin to continue removing. Then he’d been dragged, unconscious and bleeding, from the room, to be dumped unceremoniously on the other side of the door. After the meeting had been dismissed by the Dark Lord, Severus had gone to find his godson and begin the flat out fight to keep him alive.

“The scarring is looking much improved,” he said. He dipped his fingers into the jar of cream he held and gently, with care, he started rubbing it into the skin. “If you keep up the treatment it will heal completely.”

“Do the muggles heal?” Draco asked bitterly.

“It is a punishment the muggles no longer use for their soldiers,” Severus answered. “They would, if they did survive have to live with the scarring. You are more fortunate.”

“Fortunate.” The bitterness was stark.

“You are alive Draco. The Dark Lord has killed over less.”

“Mother,” Draco said his voice lost.

“Your Mother is not marked; she will not stand the same punishment as one of his ranks.”

They both fell quiet until the salve had been applied from base to nape covering the scars. Vanishing the residue on his fingers Severus screwed the lid back on the jar handing it over. “If you will not see Madam Pomfrey return to me. Every three days, unless I am called, I will attend you.”

Draco pulled his shirt and robes back on shoving his tie in his pocket. he took the cream and picked up the nutrient potions, burying them in the bag he had dropped at the end of the sofa.

“Draco, your behaviour whilst in the castle must be beyond reproach. The eldest of the Weasley’s children was attacked, the report was in the Prophet this morning. Tensions are going to run high, you as prefect need to set an example to the younger years. Do not antagonise Mr Weasley. Keep the younger years out of as much trouble as you can. Make sure they understand the importance of correct dress and punctual behaviour. They do not want to be singled out for any reason. If there is a problem with any of the students or the staff I want to be notified.” Severus said returning to teacher mode.

“Yes, Sir,” Draco replied nodding his understanding.

“Keep your head down,” Severus said. “You do not want to stick it above the parapet. You do not want to draw notice to yourself for the next few weeks.”

“Do you know something?” Draco asked hesitantly.

“Only that the Dark Lord is possibly going to be looking for someone to do something for him. Do not let his gaze find you.”

Draco stood a moment in thought before he collected his things, wishing Severus a good evening he turned and left the room. Minerva stood in her place on the sofa watching him go. Once Severus felt Draco cross his wards he turned back to her, his gaze hard and unfriendly. “You better have a fantastic reason why you just did that,” he hissed at her.

Her shape shimmered and she appeared sat primly on the sofa. He wondered how she went from four legs to sitting during her transformation but didn’t ask.

“Do you know how many students in this school will talk to a cat but will not talk to their Head of House or a Professor? Homesickness, heartaches, break ups, makeups, bad news from home, the lot.” She shrugged. “It works. The fact that I don’t talk back, that I’m simply a cat gets through their barriers faster than anything else.”

“You mean you’ve done it before? You weren’t just stuck in the room?”

She scoffed at him. “Severus I am head of house for Gryffindor. You get the collected, together ones, who will only wage war on each other in the common rooms, and then it’s all politics. Pomona’s wouldn’t dream of ganging up against one another, and if they get upset they sit around and sort it out as a group. Filius’ lot shun each other and can be petty but are more interested in their books. I, I get the rest, the ones that try to blow up the castle, the ones that turn into illegal animagus so they can romp with a werewolf. The ones that set up a business whilst still in the school. The ones that have Death Eaters trying to kill them. The ones that are vivacious and shallow, ones that are outsiders to everyone else but brave enough to face the world regardless.  The ones that don’t know there’s a thin line between bravery and stupidity, stubbornness and fortitude. Of course I’ve done it before, I do it every week! I’d do it more if I simply had the time.”

Severus goggled at her.

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” she said dismissively.

"But that’s…" He replied, lost for words.

“It's pragmatic. One weeping 11-year-old is soothed a lot faster by a friendly cat they can pour their hearts out to, than by me. I’m their head of house, I’m the deputy head mistress. Acting head when Albus is away, and the way he’s going I’m acting headmistress when he is in the damn school. They don’t want to talk to me. Why didn’t you tell me what had happened to him?” she said abruptly changing the topic.

“Because it’s nothing to do with you, and if you hadn’t been here falling into the age old trap for cats, you wouldn’t have known either.” His tone snapped back to sharp and biting.

“You didn’t send me away.”

“And how could I explain putting the cat out of the damn room before treating him?”

“How bad is it?” she asked sadly.

“It will heal. If he does as directed scarring will be minimal.”

“You want to send him to Italy?”

“You saw him Minerva, that is what happens to teenagers when they speak out of turn and fail impossible tasks. 200 magical lashes cutting to the bone. He passed out 9 times and at the end he was no more than a bleeding rag doll dumped outside like rubbish. That is the heir of the Malfoy line. What do you think he does to the rest of us?”

“Shall I speak to Poppy?” she offered.

“You can’t tell her she can’t have an opinion.”

“I can tell her to keep it out of her infirmary.”

He looked at her unamused. “He’s not one of your cubs, he’s a snake, and he will stay a snake till the day he breathes no more.”

“Why should that matter?”

“In an ideal world it shouldn’t. Alas, we do not live in such a world.”

She looked at him sadly. “When I was in the Chamber of Secrets and that thing came out of the cup. It told me I couldn’t keep them safe, that I was powerless.” He made a noise to interrupt but she hushed him. “I’m not,” she said. “I destroyed it, and as close as it was to taking me too, it didn’t. I might only have the power to reprimand school nurses about their attitudes towards their charges but I can do it. If all I can do is keep the students safe whilst within these walls, then I will do it. No more, Severus, not this time are we going to lose a generation to that mad man.”

“Lionesses,” he said wryly. “You never should rile them.”

“I’ve a duty to all of them, not just those in Gryffindor.”

“You know you’re not head yet.”

She looked at him calmly, steadily, and he grimaced. “Fine. Point taken. Speak to Poppy for all the good it will do. Why are you here?” he asked as it occurred to him.

“There’s a meeting tonight, I came to tell you.”

“Delivering messages for Albus now?” he said still out of sorts with her.

“No, but by that I take it he hadn’t informed you?”

Severus shrugged unconcerned. “No, but I would imagine that’s more for my benefit than his. There is only so much hysteria I can take, Albus prefers me not to upset his followers if it can be avoided.”

She looked amused. “Really, Severus.”

“Don’t waste your breath, they are simpering fools.” he snapped.

“I’m not sure you can describe Molly as ‘simpering’,” she said thoughtfully.

“Have you seen her run after him?” he retorted.

“She mothers.”

“If you want to call it that.”

“Do you wish to come or not?” she asked exasperated at his difficultness.

“No.”

“Don’t you think you should?”

“Very little could persuade me to spend time listening to raging hysteria counterbalanced by blind belief that Albus hung the moon.”

“Well far be it from me to change your mind.”

She looked hopeful and he smirked. “I am sure that you will have a wonderful time. The conversation will be scintillating and you will come away enlightened in ways you could previously only dream of.”  The dirty look she sent him made him smile more.

“As you will,” she sniffed before apparating from the room.

“Show off,” he muttered to the empty space before settling down by the fire summoning a drink and the days marking. 

After taking her rather abrupt leave of Severus, she arrived on the doorstep of the headquarters. Letting herself in, she made her way to the kitchen. Slipping into a corner where she was shortly joined by Fred and George who were looking unusually worn around the edges.

“Professor,” they greeted her.

“Messer’s Weasley. How is your brother?”

Identical shrugs were her answer. “The healers say he’ll be fine, he’s high as a hippogryph on potions currently. He seemed ok when he was lucid, reckons he’ll have scars to make Charlie jealous,” Fred said.

“I see, and the Aurors?”

“Saying it was a random incident, wrong time, wrong place, no evidence of ‘classified dark magic’. Well those that aren’t writing it off as a work related incident.” George replied.

“He didn’t end up in hospital for excessive cheering charms though did he?” Fred’s tone was bitter and dark. She made no comment and they stood quietly together as more people came into the room.

Albus finally chose to arrive once most people were settled at points around the kitchen.

“Good evening,” Albus said his tone solemn, setting the scene. He sat at the head of the table in the chair left empty for him. There were rustlings and quiet muttering as everyone else organised themselves around the table so they could see. The kitchen felt cramped and over full. Why they had to use it when the house had numerous better proportioned rooms, Minerva didn’t understand. Perhaps it was Molly’s doing. She felt more comfortable here than in one of the formal rooms. Since she would arrive first, everyone else would naturally go looking for the other members that had arrived, and thus the kitchen became the de-facto meeting space.

“As you will have all heard, Arthur and Molly’s eldest is the victim of an attack. It happened whilst he was working. The artefact had been sent in anonymously and was, my sources say, highly dangerous. In carrying out his role as a Curse Breaker the curse on the article was activated. He has been  admitted to St Mungo’s and will remain there for some time. His condition is stable but he was badly hurt. I need not remind you all that we live in dangerous times. Safety is paramount and caution must be used.”

“What is being done?” a voice came from the crowd. Minerva couldn’t see who had called out.

Albus smiled a kind genial smile. “The Aurors are working extremely hard on bringing the perpetrators to justice.”

“What are they going to do against Death Eaters?” another voice grumbled. “Half of them are in His pocket already.”

“We have friends within the ranks still,” Albus chid. “Whilst Voldemort’s forces are trying to move in, the good people working in the Ministry will stand and resist them. It was fortunate that Mr Weasley had his communication mirror with him and was able to call for help, so I would like to remind you all that it is advisable to carry them.”

“That sounds good,” Fred muttered. “But those artefacts are sent in anonymously for a reason. They are full of dangerous curses, that's why people send them to the curse breakers in the first place.”

“You don’t think it was deliberate?” Minerva asked softly, surprised.

“It could have been,” Fred said. “They rotate the teams around so that you don’t spend all your time in the office or in the field. If you wanted to you could have found out who was on office duty. Send something nasty in that would activate when they ran the basic scans on them.” He shrugged. “It’s not implausible.”

“Bill’s hardly the first to be hospitalised,” George explained. “The work is dangerous, and Bill is good but the rate of accidents is hardly insignificant. Dumbledore is pushing this as a Death Eater attack and it might not be. Isn’t winding everyone up, a little presumptive?”

“Perhaps,” Minerva replied. “But if other members now take a little more care than they would have done, it might save someone else.”

Fred and George hummed and refocused on Dumbledore again. The conversation had gone adrift in the moments they hadn’t been paying attention.

“What are we going to do if they are going to start attacking innocent people again? We don’t have enough safe houses as it is!” Hesta Jones was demanding of Albus.

“My dear, provisions will be made as soon as there is need, these things do take some time to organise.”

“And what of Harry Potter? Are we supposed to just give up on him now? Muddle along and hope it all turns out for the best?”

“In that regard I am happy to be able to tell you Harry will soon be re-joining the war effort here in Britian.” Albus twinkled madly as his words sent a shock wave of ripples into the room. Minerva refused to look at the twins. She could feel their shock and disbelieve come from them in waves and hoped they would keep quiet.

“You’ve been in contact with him?” Hesta demanded.

“I assure you my dear, he is well and willing to take up his responsibilities once again.”

“What of Miss Granger? Did they marry?”

“As interesting as Mr Potter’s romantic life might be, it is not what we are here to discuss.” Albus smiled genially. “Rest assured however, when he is needed he will return. Currently he is out of the reach of the Death Eaters and Voldemort, where he will remain until we can make a decisive stand.”

The mood in the Order lightened considerably, their saviour was in contact with Albus. Not one of them had requested proof, Albus was most assuredly not in contact with Harry and they had simply accepted it as gospel.

The meeting continued but no further announcements were made. She wished George and Fred goodnight, inclining her head in understand at their discrete glances at her pocket. They would need to return to their brother in hospital or to the Burrow for a time she supposed. Rather than return to the castle Minerva left via the front door and returned to her home. She would likely be involved in at least one mirror conversation this evening and the comfort of her own home would be preferable to the castle. Especially is she was likely going to have to put a call into the Grangers and update them on the current madness that was Albus and his machinations.

Chapter Text

If it had been a meeting between different people, there might have been shouting, or at least loud exclamations of disbelief, and impertinent questions over the sanity of certain well known persons. As it was, the group mirror call included Severus Snape, and therefore was never going to descend in to hysteria. It also contained all the Grangers, who greeted the news of Albus announcement by Minerva with silence so absolute, that Minerva found herself asking if they were still there.

“Yes,” John replied. “We’re still here. I’d like to say we’re shocked by his behaviour.”

“That seems unlikely,” Minerva replied drily.

“Yes, exactly.”

“It’s a bluff,” Severus said. “Mr Weasley was attacked, Minerva said the members were getting fractious and questioning things, so he threw them something they wanted to hear. That way he gets more time to fix the problems whilst looking like he’s done the impossible and found you.”

“But,” Harry protested. “He can’t know that I am coming back, that we are coming back.”

“He doesn’t need to Potter; he’s not planning on living past Christmas. His grand finale includes a plot that is meant to drag you back to Britain on a quest for vengeance. He’ll be dead. If you do or don’t turn up that’s no longer on him.” Severus drawled, his tone bored.

“That’s,” George said. “I mean that’s brilliant, but…”

Severus shrugged, then remembered that connected to as many mirrors as they were, the image had stopped working, and they were only able to hear each other. “Albus is no slouch. Why admit he’s failed and reduce morale when he can lie? No one will question it, and by the time its exposed he won’t be able to answer to it.”

“Can’t we, I don’t know tell them he’s lying to them?” Harry asked.

“To what end? Honesty? Since when has honesty served you? They don’t want the truth, they want to be told everything is progressing nicely and that it will soon be over.” Severus replied.

“By citing your safety as the reason you are not making an appearance, he does seem to have sewn it up nicely.” Minerva mused.

“So in real terms nothing has changed?” Helen asked.

“Correct,” Severus replied. “Whilst it is useful to keep you abreast of the happenings here, until we have our pieces in place, nothing will change. The Dark Lord is now moving to force Albus out, or change the status quo to the point where Albus will be required to do something. In the meantime, Albus needs to hold the Order together until his plan can come into fruition. We still don’t know who he is going to hand the Order over to, he’s made no mention yet.”

“He’s handing Hogwarts over to me, at least until the Board of Governors ratifies the decision or appoints someone else. I would not be in a position to take over the Order as well. I also do not think they would follow me. Kingsley would be the next logical leader; Alastair is too controversial,” Minerva explained.

“Hypothetically, would Kingsley work with us or continue with the status quo?” Helen asked.

“He is more reasonable than some,” Severus said.

“Well that’s something,” Helen replied.

“Only if he’s appointed,” Minerva pointed out. “And then he may feel differently. Supposition is as much as we have.”

The meeting wound up and Fred, George, and Hermione promised to put their heads together and fix the multi connection image problem.

Fred sat back in his chair fiddling with the detritus on the work bench.

“Spit it out,” George said. “I’m tired and I really want to go to bed.”

“It’s starting again isn’t it. This thing with Bill, it’s like the beginning all over again.”

“It has been pretty quiet ever since Harry and Hermione left,” George pointed out

“I think I started thinking that people might not get hurt, that this war or whatever could be done through politics, and might just end up being a fight between Dumbledore and Tom, and maybe Harry. Because, you know, it's Harry.”

“We had twelve months.”

“And we should be grateful?” Fred asked sarcastically.

George looked at him. “Yeah, yeah Fred, we should.”

They were quiet a moment.

“What about Ron and Ginny?” George said.

“What about them? Minerva’s in the castle.”

“Yeah, but don’t you think we should warn them?”

“Of course, though not so Mum and Dad find out.”

“Do you think, should we tell them to start practising?”

“Start the DA up again you mean?”

They paused as the casual comment coalesced between them into an idea.

“Ron?” George suggested.

“Ginny.” Fred answered confidently.

“But he’s Harry’s mate, won’t that help?”

“If we give Ron an excuse to slack off and not get his head into his studies for his NEWTs, who do you think Mum will come after when his grades aren’t what she expects?” Fred said drily.

“Good point. So Ginny.”

“Ginny’s doing alright. She’s a bit more focused you know, and she can pull the younger students in. The ones that Ron hasn’t noticed since he discovered the charms of Lavender. We’ll need to get more coins.”

“Have you still got yours?” George asked in surprise.

“The Galleon? Yeah, but Harrys got the master. Think he knows where it is?”

“I don’t think it will matter, how many of us will have kept them around?”

“Might be a few though.”

“Better to start from scratch I reckon. This way we can give Ginny the master and she can hand them out again. Also, if she explains that they are new, there’s no way they can link it back to Harry and him being in contact. I’m not fuelling Dumbledore’s lies.”

“You think Severus is right, that it’s a smoke screen to distract from the attacks?”

“Well he doesn’t know where they are does he? And it worked.”

“Remus?”

“No, as upset with their choice as he is he wouldn’t. Look what happened to Harrys parents, they were all big mates weren’t they. Think he’d betray them the same way?”

“Yeah but if he thinks it’s not a betrayal and for their own good?”

George sighed unhappily. “Well yeah, if he did then I can see that. But I don’t think he would. I’m not going to be passing along information and messages to or for him just in case though.”

“So, do we ask Hermione?”

“She said it was a Protean charm. We could give it a go ourselves, if we get stuck she could just show us how.”

“Think we should talk to Ginny first? She might not want to.”

“After the Diary? And she went to the Ministry. I don’t think she’s going to say no.”

“Yeah I guess it is personal for her. OK, owl or mirror?”

“This time of night? Owl. She’ll get it in the morning and she can call us back tomorrow night when she’s on her own.” 

Ginny watched the owls come with the morning post waiting. She’d done the same thing for the last two mornings since the hastily scribbled note from her prankster brothers had arrived the day after she’d found out that Bill was in the hospital.

The mirror call she’d made to them at their demand had been unexpected in its contents. They had been sure that Bills accident was the start of things and were equally convinced she needed to get the DA back up and running. The defence lessons had gotten more intense with Professor Snape teaching them, and she’d argued that they were learning enough in them, but they hadn’t been swayed.

She hadn’t taken much persuading if she was honest. Knowing that people were out there fighting while she was stuck in school had been frustrating. Knowing it was her family had only made it worse.

She’d face Tom and his Death Eaters. Harry and Hermione had left. Ron was more interested in Lavender than what was going on. Confidently blasé, telling her that ‘it was Harry yeah, he’ll come back when we need him, just like always’ and that she was ‘mental’ to be worried about them.

 George had told her it would be today and she wanted to get the package out of sight before Ron spotted it. She’d sat away from him to reduce the chances that he would notice, and it was breakfast so it would take a lot to drag his attention from his plate. But it would lead to accusations of favouritism and since Ron had the subtlety of a brick, the entire castle would know about it before breakfast was over.

An owl swooped towards her carrying a small black pouch. It landed in front of her proffering a leg, she quickly untied the pouch and shoved it in her robes pocket before offering a strip of bacon in thanks. Grabbing the proffered treat, it bobbed its head and scoffed the treat, then lifted off back into the maelstrom.

Finishing her breakfast quickly, she stood and crossed to the Ravenclaw table looking for Luna. The girl rose to meet her and they left the Great Hall and the clamour of breakfast, heading down the corridor for the nearest empty classroom.

“They’ve arrived?” Luna asked.

“Yes.” Ginny dug in her pocket and pulled out the pouch. Carefully, she up ended it over one of the desks.

The rush of galleons tumbled in a metallic gold waterfall on to the desk, glinting and glimmering up at them in the weak morning light. The door opened behind them and they whirled, standing in front of the table to shield its contents.

“Sorry,” Neville said as he closed the door. “I didn’t want to follow too closely but I saw them arrive. Are we going to test them?”

“Yes,” Ginny said with a smile.” Hang on while I find the masters.” They stood around the desk putting the coins into small piles checking for the ones that George said would control the others.

“Here,” Luna said, holding up one coin. “This one has a female head on one side.”

“George said there would be three,” Ginny looked up at her friends. “I told them I wanted three, that way we can each have one.”

Neville plucked another two galleons from the unsorted piles holding them up. “Female heads on these two as well. Why this design?”

“Muggle money. According to Fred and George, it carries the Muggle Queen of England’s head stamped on one side.” Ginny explained. 

“They sent a lot of coins, are we supposed to hand all these out? The DA last time didn’t have this many people in it, and how are we going to keep it a secret? After what Hermione did to Marietta I can’t see that people will want to sign a parchment.” Neville eyed the piles in some dismay.

“Well they’re going to have to,” Ginny said firmly. “At least this time they will know what the consequences are. They weren’t mucking about last time and we aren’t this time.”

“Alright,” Neville held up his hands in mock defeat. “One more question. Are we turning people away? If we let in the ones that want to come, we might get a bit more of a heads up if trouble comes our way.” He looked nervously at his two companions.

“I don’t have a problem with anyone specifically,” Luna said understanding the unspoken question.

“We’re not inviting the ferret,” Ginny said. “Or that cow Parkinson, or any that spout Tom’s bile. Some of the others, the younger ones might be alright, I guess. I don’t really have any problems with the others. They are a pretty tight group though. They might not come because it’s us.”

 “At the risk of sounding like Hermione, do either of you two know what we are meant to be teaching, and where we are supposed to find this information? Professor Snape is dragging us through the curriculum, so it seems that practising that before his lessons would be a good idea. But then we’re just running a study group.” Neville said, wanting to get off the sticky subject of House politics. His idea hadn’t been met with outright refusal and he wanted to leave it there.

“Fred and George have sent me some weirdly precise details,” Ginny said. “They reference a couple of books from the library here and some other stuff. I don’t know who they are talking to but it looks like they are talking to someone with combat or Auror training. The stuff they’ve sent is shielding and hexes. How to cast and shield with a partner, that sort of thing. I think we might need to practice before we try and teach it to others, and we can always see what everyone else wants to learn.”

They heard the sound of feet moving past the door. Grabbing three more regular coins Ginny thrust one at Luna and Neville both. “Here, take these we can each send a message today and see how they work. Shall we meet in the room of requirements tonight after dinner? We can plan a bit more what we are going to do, and how soon we’ll put the word out?”

They both nodded their acceptance and helped shovel the rest of the coins back into the small pouch. Ginny thrust it in her pocket and Neville lead them all from the room.

“This is fun,” he said as they paused before parting. “Doing something again. A bit like when we went to the Ministry.”

“Let’s hope it goes better than that,” Ginny said wryly. “I’m not sure it’s a shining moment for any of us.”

“I think it was,” Luna said smiling softly. “We went together and left together, so it was a complete success in that respect.”

“Yeah,” Ginny said cheerfully as they set off down the corridor. “And we’ll just ignore the broken wrist, broken nose, hefty number of stunning spells taken, a brief bout of Cruiatas and the fact it made front page news, shall we? And that was just us three!”

They shared a grin, the terror of the night had faded allowing them to marvel on what they had dared to do, rather than how utterly terrified they had been.

“I’ll see you after dinner,” Neville said with a smile as they separated. The two girls smiled their goodbyes and waved as they ascended the stairs to their shared lessons. Neville continued down the corridor to join the milling ranks outside his defence classroom. He didn’t enjoy the class but was filled with new resolve. If he was going to help lead the new DA with Ginny and Luna the least he would have to do, would be managing to be in the dark brooding presence of Professor Snape without trembling in fear. Something that in seven years of being taught by the Professor, he had yet to accomplish. Chin raised, resolve hardened within him, he entered the classroom with his classmates and took his seat. 

Having formalised their agreement that they would take anyone who wanted to come, and only exclude those who supported Voldemort, they then agreed that everyone would have to sign the charmed parchment. That would ensure that their secret would be kept. Since what happened to Marietta was widely known about the castle, reportedly because she pissed off Hermione Granger, they were confident anyone who signed would seriously think twice before they said anything that might activate the charm. Coins would be given out to those who signed, and they would be able to replace those that were lost from the surplus that George and Fred had supplied.

They laid out what they were going to do for the first few sessions, including covering what was done in class and things that members might want discuss. Armed with a plan they sent word to the former DA members and told them to pass on the message to anyone who was interested.

Word got out.

The first meeting which was held on the Saturday of the same week Ginny had received the coins found over thirty students coming in small groups into the room of requirements at the allotted time.

Ginny, Neville, and Luna watched in growing sick fascination as the numbers grew until ten minutes after the time stated, the door to the room vanished.

The three exchanged glances and Ginny climbed to her feet from the sofa she was sitting on. The room had been furnished with comfortable seating, groups of chairs and sofas clustered around low tables. Students were wearing their weekend clothes and not school robes, House colours were notably absent.

“Right,” she said loudly. The chatter died down in a circle around her but the wider room continued to chat quietly. Huffing she climbed on to the low coffee table. “OI! You lot!” she shouted.

Silence was total as all the faces in the room turned to focus on her. “Right, good. Now you’re all listening,” she said rolling her eyes. “We’re here because we want start up the DA again. The first time it was set up by my brother, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger was as you might know, because that Umbridge cow couldn’t teach. This time it’s not because we don’t have a decent teacher. It’s because the stuff they want us to know to pass our exams isn’t going to keep us safe out there.” She waved her hand towards the wall where the door had vanished. “Out there there’s a war brewing. Whatever you think, whatever you read in the paper, it’s started. It’s not going to care if you’re a first or seventh year, it’s going to swallow you up and your either going to survive or not. We want to learn how to survive it. Anyone who doesn’t, who isn’t going to take this seriously can leave right now.” She looked around at the assemble faces. No one made a move. “Fair enough then. Everyone who stays writes their name on this piece of parchment.” She held up the rolled parchment and waved it at the room. “If you don’t know the story someone will be able to fill you in,” she said glancing at the younger students huddled in small groups in between the older ones. “The short version is this is charmed. When you sign your name you are agreeing to keep this group, its meetings, and its means of communication a secret. Failure to do so will be met with retribution.”

There was a murmuring at that as some of the younger students asked the older ones and they quickly explained. Some faces went pale.

“It’s non-negotiable,” Ginny said a gimlet glint in her eye, daring anyone to argue with her.

“So you want to fight?” a voice came in the pause. No one Ginny recognised.

“I don’t want to fight,” Ginny explained. “But I’m not stupid enough to think I won’t have to. And I’m not naive enough to think what I learnt at school for an exam is going to be enough.”

“What makes you think you can teach us anything?” another voice called out.

Neville stood up and climbed on the table next to Ginny. “When Harry called the DA in his fifth year, we answered.” he gestured to Ginny and Luna. Former members of the DA looked around guiltily, shifting uncomfortably. “We went with him; we went up against the Death Eaters to keep our friend safe while he tried to save someone from Voldemort. We not saying we’re the best teachers, we’re not saying that what we do teach you, you will find useful or ever have to use. But we are the only ones offering.” Neville looked around the group. “We know what it like up against those people. We’ve had a decent defence teacher for two years, two years out of seven. It’s not going to be enough, so anything we can do now is only going to help.” Neville looked around the room letting the mutters grow then die away. “Any other questions?” Neville asked.

There were a few general ones that he, Ginny and Luna fielded between them. Questioning their teaching plan and how much time would be spent going over things taught in the defence lessons. Luna took notes of things they thought they would have to change or add in so they could work it in to their plans.

 Finally no one had any more questions so Neville stepped down from the table and held a hand out for Ginny. She grinned batted it away and jumped off the table, landing lightly next to him.  Neville took the parchment from her hand. Laying it on the table, he placed a bottle of ink and quill next to them and stood back. Waiting.

They came forward. Whether it was what he and Ginny had said, curiosity or something else, everyone in the room signed the parchment. Satisfied he rolled it back up and slipped it into his bag pulling out the pouch of coins Ginny had put in there.

“You may have seen these before,” Neville said pulling a coin from the pouch holding it up. “They are new, if you’ve got your DA coin from last time it won’t work anymore. These new ones work the same way though. The meetings will always be in here as before and we’ll send out the meetings times and dates. If you’ve got a club, or quidditch training, or anything that is a regular slot that clashes, let one of us know and we’ll work around it as best as we can. We’re looking at once a week which will obviously fall off once exams get closer. We’ll send out the first meeting time by the end of the day.” He stood by the door handing out the coins to every person as they left. Once they had, he willed the door away and returned to the sofa with Ginny and Luna.

“I think that went well,” he offered.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Yeah considering we’ve just agreed to teach some thirty people extracurricular defence.”

“Come on, Harry managed it,” Neville said protesting.

“He had Hermione Granger helping him. She of the infinite knowledge and colour coded notes. I’m suddenly beginning to see why she had them.” Ginny said throwing herself back on the sofa and covering her face with her hands.

“Well we’ve got your brothers and the same library she had so how hard can it be?” Neville said a grin on his face

“You might eat those words yet,” Ginny said from under her hands.

“It will be fine,” Luna said. “No one seemed to be overly concerned about anything we said.” she shrugged. “I think after the first meeting we’ll have a better idea and the DA was fun. As long as people are learning and having fun I think they’ll forgive us the occasional wrackspurts infestation.”

Ginny and Neville exchanged an amused glance. “Good to know Luna,” Neville said keeping the amusement out of his voice. 

He stalked down the corridors his robes billowing out behind him. Whilst his face was set in his habitual scowl he was in rather a good mood. Not that the students who weren’t quick enough to get out of his way would be able to testify to that. On the journey from the dungeons the corridor Dumbledore’s office was on, he had deducted points from all three houses. The Slytherins had melted quickly back into the shadows at the sound of his steps, and those that hadn’t managed it had made sure they had presented a polite, deferent, front to ensure he would be unable to find fault. It was a Saturday so he’d been unable to deduct points for being late for classes, however, slovenly dress, inappropriate behaviour, running, and loitering had all featured so far.

Mentally smiling to himself he approached the gargoyle guarding the door. It paused only for a moment before leaping aside, the password only half out of his mouth. Severus inclined his head in thanks and ascended the winding stairs, he didn’t knock on the door but pushed it open and walked in.

 Albus was sat at his desk looking over some papers. He raised his head as Severus entered the room. “Severus, how delightful.” He removed his glasses, tossing them on top of the papers, briefly rubbing his eyes.

“Albus,” Severus returned, settling himself in a comfy chair in front of the desk. He stretched his legs out in front of him and regarded the elder wizard.

“Tea?” Albus offered, replacing his glasses and tiding the papers to one side.

“To celebrate your triumph?” Severus said mildly. “I’m sure we could push the boat out a little farther.”

Albus raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not sure I follow Severus, to what are you referring?”

Severus gave Albus a pitying look. “Come now, don’t be bashful. I’m not even upset I’m the last to be told and not by you no less. I had obviously noticed you’d stopped travelling but I assumed the duties of the school were more pressing.”

Albus' expression cleared, the confused lines drawn in his forehead smoothing away as he caught on to what Severus was referring to. “Ahh,” he said then called for an elf. “Whiskey then?” he said questioningly.

“Certainly,” Severus replied genially.

The elf brought the drinks and Severus accepted his leaning back in his chair watching Albus closely whilst pretending not to.

“I have to say I’m surprised the information has been distributed outside the meeting,” Albus said faint disapproval in his tone.

“Really?” Severus drawled. “Then you shouldn’t have told that motley collection of fishwives and gossip mongers you call the Order. I’m only surprised it hasn’t reached the front page of the Prophet by now.”

 Albus drew up short at his words and tried to hide the motion by taking up his glass and leaning back in his chair. ”Come Severus, they are not as bad as that.”

“As you say.” Severus allowed, his tone stark in its disbelief.

Albus frowned at him in a kindly manner. “You must cease your relentless suspicion of everyone and everything. They are good, loyal people and act only for the best.”

Severus didn’t try to stop his eyes rolling and changed the subject, before Albus could start waxing lyrical about the innate goodness of his precious Order. “So, the owl?”

“Come now, Severus,” Albus said smiling indulgently. “You can’t expect me to reveal my methods. A wizard needs a little air of mystery.”

“I’m not a sycophant Albus,” Severus said narrowing his eyes at the wizard. “I have little interest in where the boy is, I merely need to know if the Dark Lord will be crowing his own triumph.”

Albus relaxed slightly, waving a negligent hand. “You need not worry Severus, Voldemort will not find him. I have offered my own services in aiding his presence remaining hidden. With the escalating tensions it is perhaps, convenient, that he is out the line of direct scrutiny.”

Severus grunted his acknowledgement and settled further into his chair. Privately he was marvelling at Albus’ gall, not only was the man spinning the lie, he was embellishing it. “Does the werewolf know?” he asked offhand. “I would imagine he’s all but slavering to be reunited.”

“No,” Albus shook his head a little sadly. “I thought it best that Remus not be informed. He would, as you say, be eager to reunite with Harry and potentially put him in danger. I do not wish for him to be told of any contact with Harry.” Albus features hardened. “I will have to ensure that the Order members are not tempted to tell him.”

“He wasn’t there?” Severus asked feigning surprise.

“No,” Albus said. “He is currently infiltrating the packs. Greyback has been concentrating his attentions away from some of the fringe packs and thus giving us a window of opportunity.”

“In light of your fortuitous discovery has your plan changed?” Severus asked bluntly.

Albus’ face showed a moment of dawning understanding before he schooled it back to his grandfatherly persona. “No Severus, the wand must pass to Harry.”

Severus frowned at Albus. “And the Order? Who are you passing that along to?”

“Severus you need not worry it’s all in hand.” Albus reassured him.

“So your chosen successor is aware of my role?” he asked pointedly. “I am to continue reporting into them? To do so would necessitate them being aware of your plans.”

Albus sighed. “You must understand that these things take time to arrange.”

“I am aware they take time to arrange, I simply wish to know that it has been done before we continue with this scheme of yours.”

“It will happen Severus, however unwilling you think you are, you must see to it.”

“I must see to it? You are relying on external factors you have no control over and risking everything on chance. How am I to see to it? What if the boy doesn’t come? Are you going to tell me where he is so I can at least seek him out?”

“No Severus; that is information I cannot risk falling into the hands of Voldemort. Harry will come.”

“So you have discussed this with him? He understands his role?” Severus asked a disbelieving look on his face.

“Harry is still a student Severus it wouldn’t do to over burden him. Have no fear he is aware of his role.”

“What of the Order? Do they understand his role? Are you going to leave any instruction or are we to bumble around guessing what you think should be happening?” Severus snapped at him.

Albus held up a hand his eyes flashing. “You need not concern yourself, instructions will be left and I have every faith that they will be followed.”

Severus growled under his breath, his good mood evaporating. His incredulity at Albus pushing his lie morphing into concern. It seemed that if Albus had his way, the Order would be left rudderless, reeling from his unexpected death, and with no cohesive plan to move forward, or how to bring the Dark Lord down.

“It is not enough Albus, your death will remove one of the biggest factors that is keeping the Dark Lord from more open action. Once you have removed yourself, at my hand no less, you will be by all appearances strengthening his position and weakening the Order.”

“You go too far Severus” Albus said placing his glass down on his desk with a thump, leaning forward, his face hard.

“I don’t go far enough. Do you think without forewarning they will believe your death is anything but murder?” Severus put his own glass down standing and pacing in front of the fire. “What of Potter? Who in the Order will be taking over his training? Or are you hoping that an unbeatable wand will be enough. What training is he undertaking? Do you expect him to face the Dark Lord with no more than his education behind him? Is the Order to stand by and let him?”

“Harry is prophesied to defeat the Dark Lord, Severus. He will, when the time comes know what it is he is to do. You cannot interfere, by doing so you endanger the fulfilment of the prophecy.”

Severus whirled staring in shock at Dumbledore. Albus raised a hand to stop him speaking. “No more, Severus. Once I am gone the Order will be handed over to Kingsley to lead. That is as much as I am willing to discuss with you. As to the method and means of Harry defeating Voldemort, you must see it is not information that can be shared with yourself. Your position within the Death Eaters means that the risk of Voldemort getting it from you is too great.”

Severus stared at him, drawing himself up to his full height, pasting a sneer on his face. “Then excuse me, I shall take up no more of your time.” He whirled striding to the door, his robes flaring out with his movements. The door closed smartly behind him and he strode down the stairs then the hall, anger bubbling within him, fear building around the edges. Kingsley taking over the Order was as good as they could have hoped for, but Albus’ woolly planning, the way he defended and embellished the lie about being in contact with Potter was worrying.

If he was planning on leaving the Order without proper plans in place they would lose cohesion in the days following his death. That lack of cohesion would open the field up to the Dark Lord, and if the Order couldn’t pull itself back together, without Potter to rally around, they risked simply fading away while the Dark Lord took over.

Everything they had worked for, everything they had done would be lost. Everything they had suffered would be meaningless, the Dark Lord could not be allowed to win. He strode on, robes billowing behind him, students scattering before him. Damn Albus. Severus headed down a flight of stairs turning into a quiet corridor. He stopped before a closed door, he rapped sharply on it before turning the knob and pushing it open. “We have a problem!” he announced as he entered the room.

Chapter Text

Harry tossed the ring down on the desk and scowled at it. Everything he had learnt from making the first lot of jewellery for Helen and John had given him the apparently false idea, adapting it for magical people to use would be simple. It was not, he pulled his notes towards him like a condemn man his last meal. Unwilling, and somewhat angry. Noting down how his adaptation hadn’t worked and what the results had been, and he read them all over again. Since he’d heard about the attack on Bill he’d dragged his half idea to protect kids from hexing out into the light of day, determined to protect wizards from worse. Ideas and lofty aspirations had so far gotten him nowhere but grumpy and annoyed. It suddenly made sense why no one had invented them before now. No wizard would think to protect muggles and getting magic out through the shield while reflecting magic trying to come in through it, was proving to be difficult.

Especially when so far all he’d managed was to get the shield to absorb the magic on the inside and use it to strengthen the shield itself, further thwarting his intentions. It was good news in that he could now get the shields to absorb the magic hitting them to power it further. Combined with the recharge function Hermione had made meant these things, once active, were going to be pretty indestructible. If all you wanted to do was run away. Whilst running away was a pretty good option, if you wanted to fight back, the rings were useless.

He wasn’t going back until they had a plan that had a hope of succeeding and currently they didn’t even have a plan. The shielding jewellery was going to be his contribution until then, potentially reducing casualties. But he couldn’t get them working. He scowled harder.

Slumping back into his chair, his eyes strayed over the room settling on Hermione and Helen who were at the bench together.-+ Hermione was starting to brew, Helen was grinding something in a mortar with a pestle. His eyes flicked quickly over the ingredients laid out. Rockstar potion then. The potion was their go to pick me up potion. Invented by a former student at the school it was a pepper up and a mild healing potion all in one. It cured hang overs, tiredness, gave you a boost if you were magically exhausted, leaving you feeling well, like a rock star really, hence its name. Harry suspected that it was invented as a hangover cure primarily and adapted to cover other things. The recipe was handed out freely on campus as long as you agreed not to try to sell it commercially. Both he and Hermione had brewed it until it was nearly ingrained in their minds. It was cheap to make and easy to brew, non-addictive and really useful if you needed a pick me up after a late night’s study. During exam time, the school handed it out to students freely when they were found slumped over their books cramming. It even worked on John and Helen who had tried it after over indulging on night out they had gone on together, much to Harry and Hermione’s amusement.

 He heaved himself up, walking over to the bench they used, maybe if he helped out the distraction would give his brain chance to come up with something. Cudgelling it into a gooey mess had resulted in nothing useful so far.

He stood quietly next to Helen checking on the progress of the ingredient prep, then picking up a jar, shook out a couple of rat spleens and started dicing. It was work that needed concentration and focus but was repetitive for all that. His skills at ingredient prep had come on leaps and bounds since Hogwarts. It might be the new teacher they had, or it might be that he cooked more and the skills from each slopped over to the other. Either way he thought, looking at the neatly diced flesh on his board, even the bat of the dungeon in a filthy mood would have little room to complain.

“Seven, please,” Hermione said quietly. He nodded in acknowledgement, a large batch then. Helen smiled at him as she continued the smooth motion grinding the moonstone to a gritty powder.

“Stuck?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed placing the neatly diced spleen into a bowl and starting on the next one. He concentrated on his work not wanting to spoil the spleens but answered. “I can’t get past the shield. The way I made them they are solid, the magic on the outside can be absorbed and fed back into it to make it stronger which is useful, but any magic cast on the inside is doing the same thing. I need to make it so the magic can pass through somehow without damaging the integrity of the shield itself and I’m stuck.”

“Hmm,” Helen said thinking. Hermione looked up her hair frizzing out from her head in the heat from the cauldron. It was tied back but Harry knew that by the time the potion had finished brewing, it would have mostly escaped to kink and curl around her head in a halo of browns and ambers with glints of gold running through it.

“You’ll think of something,” she said. “We’ll help.  Mum, that will do for that one, pour it into a bowl and get the next lump.”

Helen glanced down at the mortar, then carefully she poured the moonstone into the bowl Hermione had nudged towards her. She held out the mortar and Harry cast a quick cleaning charm on it as Hermione continued to stir the potion base she had in the cauldron.  Drawing it back towards her Helen added a new lump of moonstone and started the laborious task of breaking it down and grinding it into powder.

They stood quietly for ten minutes, Harry and Helen prepping the ingredients whilst Hermione added them into the cauldron. Prep finished, Harry and Helen gathered all the used knives, graters, the pestle and mortar and headed downstairs to clean them. 

“I think you need to find a way of making them semi-permeable,” Helen said as she carefully washed the knives. Rinsing them and laying them out for Harry to dry. “Something a bit like osmosis only not water and not caused by a higher and lower concentration. Or maybe some sort of charge inside the shield that would force the magic out, like polarity. We’ve probably got some books if you want to know more about the theory, though they aren’t going to help with the magic.”

“I’ll take anything,” he said gratefully. “Maybe they’ll give me an idea.”

She nodded finishing the washing up and dried her hands on an edge of a towel. “If you don’t get them working it’s OK you know. The bands John and I have are something really special.”

“It isn’t though,” he replied honestly. “I feel like I could help make a difference, give the people I left behind a chance to get away, or survive, or not wind up in hospital from a mugging. How can I stand idly by when people are being hurt?”

“But working yourself into the ground won’t help them either. You’ve been at these things a week or so. I’m not saying you should have got them working by now. You are inventing something totally new, there’s no saying how long it might take, but equally, it can’t consume you either.”

“You think I’m working too hard?” he said a smile tugging on his mouth as he looked at her.

She smiled back leaning a hip on the cupboards. “I can only encourage you to do the best you can, but I don’t want you to kill yourself over it.”

“I prefer rescuing small children and road traffic accidents for killing myself,” he said solemnly. “It lends more of a heroic self-sacrificing tone don’t you think?”

“Funny.” She rolled her eyes, smiling at him. They gathered up the clean implements and detoured to the library where Helen dug out some of the books she thought might help, then they returned to the study.

Hermione was frowning gently down at the cauldron, keeping count under her breath as she stirred. Each count was followed by a puff of air as she attempted to blow a dangling lock of curls out of her face. Harry crossed the room putting his books and implements down before carefully pulling the lock of hair out of her face and with a wandless temporary sticking charm, stuck the curl back onto the mess of curls still restrained by the tie. He dropped a kiss on the back of her neck and she flashed him a smile as she continued to stir, and he went back to his seat.

Helen took up the next set of instructions Hermione had left out and started gathering up the ingredients she would need. As she laid them all out John entered the room.

“There you all are!” he said coming to give Helen a hug and a quick kiss, then peered over Hermione’s shoulder careful not to interrupt her count. “Need a hand?” he asked. She jerked her head at Helen who handed over the list Hermione had written out. “Ahh,” he said moving over to stand beside Helen. “What are you up to Harry?” he asked noticing the books piled up next to him

“Research,” Harry said.

“Still can’t get the shields working?” John commiserated.

“Nope, Helen suggested I looked into making them semi permeable and gave me some light reading to do,” he replied with a rueful smile.

“Well it’s good idea,” John said. “If you know the science behind things, it might make it easier to adapt. I’ll help if I can, if you like.”

“I think I’ll need your help, some of these words are in Latin!” Harry said in pretend horror. “Like, real Latin!”

John snorted amused. “Yes, well, I’m sure mayhem would have ensued if wizards had made their spells using real Latin. Imagine the chaos if someone discovered they were magical by shouting something offensive in the street.”

“Funny though,” Harry said. They exchanged a grin.

“Right, so, what has the task master got us brewing?” John said to Helen.

“Episkey cream,” Helen answered. “Do you mind doing the grinding? I’ve just done the moonstone for the Rockstar.”

“Can do,” John agreed, picking up the pestle and mortar and placing it in front of him. “What am I bashing to pieces then?” Helen handed him the granite chips and he looked slightly saddened before heaving a good natured sigh. “It’s a good job I had my Weetabix.” Helen smiled in commiseration pulling a bunch of daisy roots towards her and started to mince them.

The room fell into a companionable low hum of four people working together. It wasn’t silent, the potion in Hermione’s cauldron bubbled and spat. Helens knife made a steady repetitive noise as she minced. The pestle made a scraping grinding noise against the mortar as John worked on the granite chips. Harry flicked pages over in the books he was reading, asking questions and explanations of things he wasn’t sure on which John and Helen and Hermione answered for him. He hadn’t studied science to this level before he left for Hogwarts, and whilst osmosis in cells was fascinating, and he could see how Helen thought the idea might help him, he needed a bit more filling in than the text book offered.

It didn’t startle them when the mirror rang out its chime to announce George and Fred were calling but they all looked up at it. Harry flicked his wand from his seat closest to it and the grey swirl of magic resolved to show two anxious faces.

“Oh good, you’re all in.” Fred breathed out in relief.

“We need your help!” George said waving a scrap of parchment at them.

“Is someone hurt?” Harry asked, guilt gnawed at him. Had someone else been hurt while he struggled to get the shields working?

George paused, whatever he was about to say died on his lips. “No Harry mate, no one is hurt. It’s not that kind of help.”

“Oh right,” Harry tried to keep the relief from his face, but it showed in his voice anyway.

He got an understanding glance from both Fred and George and remembered he wasn’t the only one trying to help people stay alive. Fred and George had spent two nights grilling him and Hermione on the defence lessons they took. Scribbling notes, wand movements and spells down, to send to Ginny. They were also talking to Tonks to get insight on the Auror training. The DA he had led had been an Army in name only. The DA Ginny would lead, would if they learnt everything the twins could send them, be an army in more than name. Thinking about the DA caused a rush of tangled emotion to rise in him; guilt, relief, longing, jealousy, and shame. He pushed them down and focused on the mirror.

“Percy wrote to us; you know he’s seeing Audrey, we asked if we could meet her.”

“See if she was good enough for our Percy.”

George waved the parchment again. “He said yes! We’re to meet them in London or he will come and collect us. We need your help.”

“We need to act normal,” Fred said. “You know, muggle normal, and we don’t really know anything about being a muggle.”

“We can’t muck this up, Percy will be mortified and what with Audrey being a muggle and the law.”

They looked pleadingly at the mirror. “You’re the only people we know that might be able to help us pass for normal, if slightly eccentric,” Fred said.

“Dashing and debonair,” George added.

“Younger brothers with a successful business,” Fred finished. They stared hopefully at the group in the mirror channelling all their considerable charm.

John snorted a laugh. “You don’t have to try so hard you know. We’ll help, tell us what you want to know.”

The twins sagged in visible relief. Fred pulled a piece of parchment towards him and a quill and ink pot. “We have a list of things we could think of but hoped you might be able to offer some extra advice too.”

“Shoot,” John said moving to sit by Harry who had a better view of the mirror. He brought the pestle and mortar with him continuing to work the chips from their small gritty pieces into a smooth fine powder. Harry flipped his books closed and indicated he was ready.

“What should we wear? How do muggles get around and how do we operate it? Where do we go for food? How does muggle money work?” George reeled off.

“Clothes shouldn’t be too difficult. Nothing wizardly obviously. Jeans go with everything, casual shirts and a blazer or winter jacket will cover you. You don’t want to go too smart, no ties, collars unbuttoned.” John responded.

“Shoes not trainers,” Helen said. “Do you have work boots? Solid black ones?”

“Yes,” George said as Fred scribbled, he reached down, fumbled for a moment, then held up the dragon hide boots they both wore.

“Those will do,” Helen said nodding. “If you can polish them a bit.”  The last part came out pure exasperated mother. Harry muffled a snort of laughter, making sure his feet were firmly out of sight. George waved his wand at them and dirt vanished leaving a softly gleaming shoe. Helen nodded in satisfaction returning to her chopping.

“You don’t have any ID,” she said. “If you wear shoes you’ll come across as older. Trainers are all very well but you don’t want to draw notice to not having ID. Most muggles have some in one form or another. Not getting questioned in the first place is better than fluffing an excuse.”

“Right,” Fred said looking up from his parchment. “Will we get asked for it?”

“Probably not during the day,” Helen reassured him. “It’s only really to stop under aged kids buying alcohol. You are of age anyway if they ask your birthday, but some bars are open during the day for lunch and so on. If you sit down for a meal they probably won’t ask.”

“OK.” Fred made another note. “Transport,” he said looking up.

“Travelcard,” Hermione said from her cauldron. “You can go and get one beforehand, then you can just use it to get on the tube and the buses. It will save you having to buy separate tickets.”

“How do we do that? Get one I mean.” George asked.

“Go to a train station, or a tube station. King's Cross since you know where that is.  Stay on the muggle side and go up to the ticket office window, wear something muggle, they’ll think you are tourists and won’t think anything odd of you not being familiar with the currency. You want to buy a weekend pass for zones 1-4. They will give you a ticket. Do not lose it! They will also give you a map of the Underground if you ask. The ticket can be used to get you through the barriers and on to the Underground trains. It will also allow you to use the buses as well.” John explained. He waited for Fred to finish his notes and look up before continuing. “To get through the barrier, you walk up to it  and feed the ticket into the slot on the front of the metal pillar. The ticket will go through the machine and come out of the top of the metal pillar. At the same time the barrier will open. You need to collect your ticket and walk through the barrier which will close after a short time. If you get stuck there’s usually someone stood around that can help you wearing a uniform. You don’t need to worry too much, loads of people find the tube confusing at first. If Audrey has lived in London a while she’ll more likely be familiar with it, you can just tell her you never got around to using it because you didn’t want to get lost or something. Buses are easier, though you need to know their routes. The tickets will let you on, you just show it to the driver when you get on board. You can get a map from the train station too.”

“So one ticket will get us around all day?” George clarified.

“Yes,” John said.

“OK,” George said, “So about the money.”

“Muggle money comes in coins and in paper. You’ve seen the coins. 1 galleon is about five pounds and a cinema ticket is around four pounds. There are a hundred pence in a pound, a penny is the lowest amount and everything else is made up of them. Prices are displayed like this.” John put the pestle down leaning over to pick up Harry’s notepad and pen. He scribbled a few numbers down and held them up to the mirror. “The number on the left of the decimal place is the number of whole pounds and the number on the right of the decimal place is the number of pennies. Since you don’t have debit cards you’ll have to carry cash with you.”

“Would fifty galleons cover us?” George asked.

“That’s about two hundred and fifty pounds’” John replied. “That should be more than enough assuming you don’t go mad. Gringotts will exchange the money for you and they will give it to you in fifty pound notes. Ask them for tens, twenties, and fives. Muggles don’t really use fifty pound notes and some places won’t even accept them. Little shops and so on don’t always have enough money in the till to give you the change.”

“Right.” They both looked down at the notes. “What if she asks us where we want to go? We’d have to have some ideas.”

“The Natural History Museum,” Hermione said. There was a collective amused look exchanged by everyone on the Granger side of the mirror.

“No really,” she said. “It’s free to get in and it’s got dinosaurs in it. It’s quite a bit like Hogwarts architecturally so won’t feel completely alien. You can gawp at everything without looking out of place, and there will be loads of people there so you can get used to being in crowds. And it’s really interesting and there’s loads to see.”

“And it’s your favourite museum and you know the curator by name,” John added in teasingly.

Hermione sniffed, raising her head to look down her nose. “I didn’t invite him to my christening though did I?”

“True, true,” John said. “That was your mother.”

“I thought you said the dinosaurs were dead?” George broke in. “When we watched that film, you said they were all dead and it wasn’t real.”

Hermione grinned at him, a little devilry gleaming in her eyes. They had taken the mirror down into the den on a weekend, propped it up and shown Fred and George some muggle films. Jurassic Park was a favourite of Harry’s and had made an impact on both Fred and George. “I didn’t say dinosaurs weren’t real, only that there wasn’t an island with them running around eating people. And they are dead, it’s the fossilised skeletons that are on display. They even have a T-Rex.”

“That big one? The one that chased those people?” Fred asked perking up.

Hermione nodded. Fred and George looked at each other, silent conversation passing between them. smiles blooming on their faces. 

They agreed to meet Percy, and following the advice they had received went to King’s Cross station early on Saturday morning to buy their tickets. It was easier than they had expected. The ticket officer was helpful, though spoke loudly and slowly, as if they were deaf, and stupid. Tickets in hand they stepped away from the window unfolding the map of the Underground. They located the station they were stood at and followed the blue line to see where it went. Fred consulted his notes. He had written them down in to a pocket notebook on advice from the Grangers, as parchment would attract attention. The notebook still had parchment pages but they had assured him it would draw less notice. The wallet of money sat in his inner jacket pocket and the clothes were comfortable. He didn’t feel any different, his wand was tucked away in its holster but he still had it. He could still use his magic if he needed to. George was stood next to him, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. It had an extension charm on it and the Grangers had cautioned them about being subtle in its use.

It was strange, Fred thought, that they didn’t see a problem with using magic around muggles as long as they were careful and subtle. He’d been told for so long that muggles were afraid of magic and would instantly panic like frightened cattle. John and Helen had been brewing! Brewing magical potions! It hadn’t occurred to either he or George to ask what they had been doing until the end of their list of questions. They had been more shocked that they were helping Hermione brew, than by any of the information they had imparted about their planned trip. They couldn’t actually make the potions up themselves. They’d tried out of curiosity to see if they could, since wands weren’t a component part in some potions, but it seemed that magic was infused by the brewer as they went along. They’d ended up with a cauldron of water and congealed ingredients. But they’d tried.

Fred shook his head to clear it and concentrated once again on the map. Percy had accepted their idea of the museum so highly recommended by Hermione, and they were going to meet outside. George was tracing a finger down the coloured lines, “This way I think. They said there were sign posts as well so that will help. Have you got the directions once we’re off the tube?”

Fred showed George the list, they exchanged a grin and put their things back into their bags and pockets. Then tickets in hand marched towards the barrier to let them into the Underground.

The journey had been easy enough with the directions and maps to follow. They had gotten through the barriers, double checked on the large printed board that the train was going where they wanted and went to the correct platform. They were thankful they had had the Granger's advice, they only had to get on one train and stay on it, which would give them time to get used to the travel and gawk at the new world.

On the platform they followed the instructions announced by the strange voice and stayed back from the platform edge. They had been told of the habit of overcrowding and hadn’t been quite quick enough to get on the first train that pulled in, as the rush of people shoving and pushing streamed past them. The train had appeared in a gust of strangely warm air and noise from the dark tunnel, thundering past them as it slowed. They’d clutched each other in surprise as it came out of the tunnel in a sudden clattering after the quiet hush of the platform before.

Prepared for the next train and more aware of what was going to happen, they leaned back on the curved tunnel wall to watch the milling muggles, acting as if this was so routine they couldn’t be bothered to pay attention. Nearly everyone had a newspaper with still, frozen pictures, or a book open, eyes glued to it. Many of them had wires trailing from their ears to a pocket or a bulky square or circular thing clipped to their waist. 

They got on the train, this train was quieter than the one they had missed and they found a pair of seats and settled down for the ride. The doors swung shut, the train started moving, and the carriage plunged into darkness, lit only by the lights above their heads. George twisted around to stare out the window examining the glass that looked too thick. Concentrating to see past the glare he saw sparks fly up from the wheels. The glow of the carriage lights faintly illuminating the walls of the tunnel, which seemed to George only just wide enough for the train. Then they were plunging back into brightness and the train braked heavily, coming to rest at the next stop. For a quarter of an hour they plunged in and out of darkness, the train rattling and swaying, people stood reading books with one hand, hanging from poles and straps suspended in the roof with the other. Muggles were mad George decided, mad and brilliant.

They arrived at their stop and joined the crush alighting from the train, they let the current of the crowd carry them up and out of the station into the daylight. Stepping to one side they consulted the directions they had, then set off down the street to meet Percy. When they arrived they instantly knew what Hermione had meant. It wasn’t a castle, it wasn’t Hogwarts, but it was similar. There were more windows, more arches and less towers, but something about it spoke of the same safety and solidness of the castle. They found their way through the gates and to the high arched doorway where they were to meet Percy and Audrey. People were everywhere, so they found a spot on the stairs out of the flow of traffic and leant against the walls.

They saw them from their slightly elevated position coming towards them. The winter sun made Percy’s hair shine brighter, then it flashed from the simple gold frames of his glasses. Fred nudged George pointing in their direction and they watched as they approached. Audrey was shorter than Percy but taller than Ginny, she had warm brown hair and was dressed in jeans and a warm looking jacket, Percy was dressed similarly.

Their clothes they knew, from the number of people they had seen so far, were nothing out of the ordinary. They had barely raised a glance from anyone. An exasperated sigh from the muggle waiting behind them as Fred had fumbled with the ticket barrier leaving the station, had been they only notice they seemed to have drawn. Percy noticed them waiting on the steps and the look of relief at seeing them, was to Fred and George, clearly due to how normal they looked. He pointed them out to Audrey who looked at them then back at Percy and smiled widely, clearly seeing the family resemblance. Fred and George straightened off the wall as they approached fidgeting nervously before stilling.

“Fred, George, this is Audrey. Audrey these are my brothers, Fred and George.” Percy introduced them stiffly. They held out their hands to her, shaking hers gently, smiling wide smiles of welcome.

“How do I tell you apart?” Audrey asked glancing towards Percy.

“Well usually,” George said.

“No one can,” Fred finished.

“However, we have recently been told,” George said.

“We aren’t actually identical.” Fred finished again. “Although it takes specialist knowledge.”

“Built up from years of study to be able to tell,” George completed.

Audrey’s glance bounced from one to the other as they spoke, finishing each other’s sentences. Percy looked resigned and slightly quelling.

“However,” Fred said. “Since we’d like to make a good impression,” he winked at her with a cheeky smile flashing over his face.

“We promise that today; we’ll answer to our own names.” George finished triumphantly.

Percy looked startled at their words and was about to say something but Audrey said. “Percy told me that you two liked to play practical jokes.” She narrowed her eyes slightly considering them. “Will you tell me who is who to start with? Without knowing who is who until I speak to you, I’m not sure that your offer is as good as it sounds.” She looked at them both, eyes twinkling with merriment.

George grinned back at her saying nothing, Fred stood next to him matching his grin. Audrey’s smile slowly built. “Fine!” she said laughing. “I’ll take what I can get. After all I’ve got Percy on my side, I’m sure between us we can work it out.”

“Challenge accepted!” Fred declared holding out his hand. When Audrey placed hers in his instead of shaking it he turned it and bowed slightly over it. Releasing her hand, he swept an arm dramatically towards the doors of the museum and the people streaming inside. “Your museum awaits m’lady!” he said winking at her. She eyed him, clearly amused and tucked her arm back through Percy’s.

They set off up the stairs and into the museum proper. They paused briefly in the door to drop their donations into the box and walked forwards. Fred and George halted as they glanced to the side and caught sight of the diplodocus Hermione assured them was called Dippy. They stood and gawked openly, stepping closer to the towering frame.

Audrey came up beside them, Percy by her side, delighted laughter in her face at their expressions. “It’s always like that the first time,” she said quietly to Percy. “You can always tell the new visitors to the ones that have been before.”

Percy smiled at her. “I’ll try and get them to behave.” He shot a worried glance to his brothers who were starting to walk slowly down the length of the fossil, their identical grins blooming.

“Nonsense,” Audrey said. “They are grownups, I’m sure it will be fine, and anyway, dinosaurs work on little and big kids alike. Do you think we should take them there first or promise they can go if they are on their best behaviour?” She smiled up at him mischievously and it drew an answering smile to his face, the worried creases smoothing away.  Fred and George came bounding back to them, excitement bubbling over, faces alight.

“How do we get to the dinosaurs? The rest of them. Is the T-Rex still here?” they asked over each other.

Audrey sent a smug smile at Percy before turning back to the twins. “Dinosaurs first or last Fred?”

“First!” Fred said.

“George?”

“First!” he immediately chimed in.

She nodded smiling. “This way then.” Leading them out of the hall and into the flow of people.

They had spent hours in the museum, then she’d led them around London’s biggest tourist attractions, navigating the tube and the streets with familiarity. Fred and George as promised had answered to their own names, but she still hadn’t been able to tell them apart. They had gone deeper into London when George had asked for Chinese for lunch, at a small upstairs restaurant in what she’d told them was China Town. They’d ordered a set banquet for four, George having expressed an interest in trying everything on the menu.

Lunch had been full of laughter, Audrey had a quick wit and fenced with the twins while Percy sat quietly watching, a happy little smile on his lips. That had been followed by a walk in one of the large parks until the daylight had begun to wane and Audrey had made polite noises about getting home. Percy sent Audrey home without him, explaining he wanted a quick word with his brothers and he would meet her at her place. They walked her to the Underground station and she vanished inside.

He led Fred and George to a side alley full of collapsed cardboard boxes rotting away into grey mush and apparated them to his flat. Coats and shoes divested he led them to the sofa and indicated for them to sit down.

“It will take Audrey half an hour or so to get home, so we’ve got that long,” he said as he dropped into the other chair. “Not that I am not grateful for the efforts you have made,” he said without preamble. “But it makes me wonder where you two learnt how to operate in the muggle world.”

George looked up in surprise at the accusation in his tone. “We didn’t want to muck it up for you Percy, and we wanted to meet her, she’s nice.”

Fred pulled out his notebook handing it over, knowing his brother would understand it more than what they said. “We asked some people we know for help,” he explained. “We took notes, lots and lots of notes. They told us what to wear and how to get around.”

Percy looked down and opened the note book flicking through the pages. They were covered with notes; how to buy tickets, how to navigate the trains, and buses, the shops and restaurants. Notes about the money, directions, and comments about trivial history that any normal muggle would probably know. All scribbled in Fred’s hand. He swallowed, “You did this just to meet Audrey?”

“We didn’t want to look like loonies did we? And Audrey’s great.” Fred said nonchalantly, the set of his shoulder belying his anxiousness, awaiting Percy’s approval.

Percy looked up at them both sat clearly wanting to please. “You sent me that note, about Bill.” The question not really formed.

“Well yeah, your family, we thought you’d want to know. We sent it as soon as we found out. Err sorry about the state it was in, we were in the work shop and it was all we had to hand.”

“Dad. Dad didn’t come and see me until a day and a half later.” Percy admitted quietly. He drew a hand down his face. “It didn’t go well.” Fred and George winced, Percy ignored it and continued. “Thank you for that. For letting me know as soon as you did.” They shrugged as if it hadn’t even been a consideration. Percy leaned back in his chair weighing his next words. “I’ve been thinking. I’ve been able to help you with the shop, and the forms and what not-”

“We’re really grateful,” George broke in.

Percy’s brows drew together faintly at the interruption. “Yes,” he said quelling his brothers into silence with his stare. “Whilst I was looking through the latest legislations from the Ministry that might affect you…” he trailed off again, clearly making his mind up. “What do you know of the new apprenticeship scheme?” he asked abruptly.

“Err,” Fred said. “Well we were sent some sort of diversity questionnaire about who we employed, then received a pack back about taking on an apprentice and some of the reasons why. But the shop work is handled by Verity, and the back end stuff?” he shook his head. “It would take too long to train someone up from scratch, and finding someone who has the knack for it is like searching for a needle in a haystack. The wand business is too small to need anyone. We’re doing OK so we have largely ignored it.”

Percy nodded. “That makes sense for you I suppose. I had a look over the paperwork in case you indicated an interest. If, if you know anyone, who wants to take one up,” he said haltingly as if even though he had decided to say something, he still struggled to get the words out. “Tell them to take any contract to a solicitor, a good one.”

“Why?” George asked curious.

“The standard Ministry contract leaves the apprentice open to...” he paused searching. “Well it boils down to indentured labour,” he said finally.

Fred looked at him a faint frown on his face, the thoughts flickering through his sharp mind. “The only people who would use a standard Ministry contract are those who wouldn’t know to draw their own up, or quite what a magical contract can entail,” he said.

“Solicitors are expensive,” George put in. “Especially a good one.”

Percy said nothing allowing them to draw the conclusions he had.

“The apprenticeships would be taken up by those without the connections, the people whose families don’t have the money or position or connections to get them something,” George mused, following the logic.

“The muggle born,” Fred said on a sigh. Percy nodded once, wordlessly.

“How bad are they?” George asked grimly.

“Bad,” Percy said. “They could get themselves into a lot of trouble very easily, without proper guidance.”

“Which wouldn’t be readily available to them.” Fred pointed out. They sat quietly letting the news sink in. “What can we do?” Fred asked George.

“To fix this?  You can’t.” Percy interrupted. “The apprenticeships have got a lot of backing; it was approved by nearly three quarters of the Wizengot. You won’t be able to stop them. The Order, well, there’s nothing they can do except make a fuss and paint targets on themselves. I didn’t tell you so you could stir up trouble.”

“No,” George said. “We weren’t planning on doing, but we can get the word out, let Hogwarts know, and they can tell the students.”

“Dumbledore voted in favour of them,” Percy said. “He’s not going to withdraw his support.”

Fred and George exchanged a glance. “We weren’t thinking of Dumbledore.”

Percy looked at them with sharp narrowed eyes. “Oh?” The single word carrying more weight and questions.

“Look Percy, you said you didn’t want to be involved, and we’re not going to drag you into something you don’t want to be a part of, so the less said the better?” Fred offered, no humour showing on his face.

Percy met his gaze. “I am a part of it. As much as I don’t want to be, I am. Bill is in hospital, you two are up to who knows what, and I’m going to go out on a limb and say Mum and Dad don’t know?” he didn’t wait for the shaking heads. “I can give you information, not much, and not a lot all at once, but maybe it will help.” He took a deep breath releasing it in a heavy sigh. “If I stand to one side and do nothing they’ll win. Dumbledore wants to overthrow the Ministry but not lead it, leaving a vacuum that will be filled by the person with the most clout and not the best person for the job. You-Know-Who wants to have the Ministry in his pocket to run a dictatorship over us all. The current Ministry doesn’t care if Audrey is a Muggle. Unless we have children she’s to be kept in the dark about magic and I can see why that’s reasonable. If we split up and she told someone they’d think she was crazy. The next administration, I don’t think they’ll be as forgiving.  So I’ll help, as much as I can. I’d still rather this was kept quiet though.”

Fred and George exchanged another long look. “What if we could find someone, someone trust worthy and dependable. Someone that you could pass the information along to, that worked in the Ministry? That way you wouldn’t have to risk being spotted seeing us.”

“How many people are there like that in the Ministry? That aren’t in You-Know-Who’s pocket or Dumbledore’s?” Percy asked dispiritedly.

“Percy,” George said. “Since when have we failed to deliver?” He smiled reassuringly. “We’ll find someone. They’ll make contact as soon as its sorted. Don’t worry mate, we’ll keep your secrets. No one will find out about Audrey from us.”

Percy checked his watch. “I need to get moving, Audrey will be home soon and I should probably pick up something to eat for us both.”

They all stood and went to retrieve their coats and shoes from the hall. Fred and George clapped Percy confidently on the shoulder. “Thanks for today Percy, and tell Audrey thanks too. We should do it again some time.” George said.

Percy looked slightly startled but nodded. “I’ll pass along your thanks.” They vanished with a crack and Percy paused only a moment to centre himself. Relief at the decision he made flowing over him, along with a new host of worries. The consequences of someone catching him squirreling information out of the Ministry to Fred and George's contact resurrected the old fear he’d buried deep within him. 

Fred and George contacted Minerva as soon as they returned to the flat. They explained that Percy had volunteered, and their proposal for someone within the Ministry to collect all the information Percy had collated. She agreed in principle, and laid out the plan she and Severus had come up with in light of Severus' meeting with Albus. Conveniently the two ideas meshed and if they could be brought on board, they would make an excellent contact for Percy. Minerva assured then that a meeting had been requested and she was just waiting on a reply.

Chapter Text

Suddenly the stakes they were playing for had become higher. They had been high before, the fate of the outcome of any confrontation with Tom, the safety of the generations of students currently behind the walls of Hogwarts, her reputation, her relationship with the Order.

Now, now they were impossibly high. She was, within the next few minutes going to turn her back on the Order, turn away from those people she had worked, fought and suffered with.  She was going to turn away from Albus and directly undermine him. She knew there were people who wouldn’t forgive her. Even if the outcome was the halting of the needless, senseless deaths, and the defeat of Tom in the cleanest way possible. All they would see was that she had walked away from their shining hero. Anyone who did that, who didn’t stand for what he stood for, simply couldn’t be working for the light, otherwise how could they turn from him?

 They had talked it over, over and over, Severus urging her not to do it, that he would go. She had to though, Severus could have done it, but they both knew his role as a spy, as a marked Death Eater would colour anything he tried to do. The suspicion he was held in, the distrust, it was wrong and stupid but understandable. They needed to act, and they needed not to have to answer a thousand pointless questions designed to prove loyalty and engender a feeling of being mistrusted. Severus wouldn’t stand to be used again, he wouldn’t admit it but she knew, could feel it in her bones, it had to be her.

She checked the time. She still had a few minutes left, she could turn back, walk away. She raised her hand and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” the voice behind it called. She took a last breath turned the knob, and stepped into the room.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was many things but stupid was not one of them. She saw his face flicker as fast as an eye blink through surprise, confusion, and curiosity before settling back into a mask of polite interest. He knew she was coming, she’d asked him for the meeting, they both had busy jobs after all, and it was the polite thing to do. When planning an insurgence, it seemed that being polite about asking people to join was the best way forward.

“Minerva,” he greeted her, offering her a chair. She sat, back straight, hands folded primly in her lap. The persona of unflappable deputy head wrapped around her like a suit of armour.

“Kingsley, thank you for seeing me,” she returned.

He gestured to the tea tray set up on the corner of his desk, steam gently curling from the pot. She inclined her head. He poured and she left the cup on the desk unsure that her hands wouldn’t betray her nerves and set her cup rattling in its saucer.

He looked at her and she thought he might have noticed. “How can I help Minerva? I can’t say I could think of a single reason why you wanted this meeting.”

The fleeting smile that crossed her face was wry, she took a deep breath in as subtly as she could, then concentrated on picking up her cup without letting it rattle, making it look natural. Severus must have nerves of steel to do this.

“Is your office a safe place to talk?” she asked, sipping from the cup, her tone smooth and cool, unwavering.

Kingsley eyed her briefly before flicking his wand at the door then twirling it once. She felt the magic whisper past her and her shoulders relaxed the smallest fraction.

“We can’t be overheard or recorded,” he replied.

“Then I will only ask for your oath of confidence, and that you tell no one by any means of communication of our conversation.”

His face was surprised and she could see in his eyes a growing suspicion. “Minerva, I assure you-“

She cut him off. “Your oath Kingsley, or I will walk out that door.”

He gave her his oath, puzzled, and with the suspicion still lurking in his eyes but her shoulders dropped another fraction, the easy part was over. She placed the cup she’d been holding back on the desk. The tea she drunk sloshed uncomfortably in her stomach. The warmth had soothed some of her frayed nerves but it was merely a prop, and she wanted to be rid of it.

“Good. What do you know of Albus’ plans going forward as to the leadership of the Order?” Severus would be muttering imprecations of Gryffindor subtly mirroring that of a stone block, but she didn’t want to dance a political dance. She didn’t want any more half-truths and hints, that was how Albus operated and she was witnessing exactly how dangerous that method was.

Kingsley blinked clearly not expecting that. “I–, I wasn’t aware there was need for a plan for the leadership of the Order.”

“Don’t play the idiot Kingsley. You’ve seen Albus, you’ve seen the damage to his hand and arm. He is old and he is not recovering,” she replied sharply.

Kingsley looked at her, suspicion moving from his eyes to bloom on his face. “What exactly are you suggesting Minerva?” his voice cool, the accusation clear in the words.

Her answering smile was thin but that was the only answer she gave. He stood up and came around the desk to stand looming before her. “If you are suggesting the deposing of Albus I will not support it. Oath or no oath, I will stand between you and destroying everything the Order has worked for.  Now is not the time, You-Know-Who is moving again. The Ministry infiltration is becoming more and more of a problem; we are losing that fight Minerva. It won’t come to violence, soon it won’t need to, he will have just moved in, taken over, and we will be lost. Albus has found Harry, Harry can defeat him.” He paused staring hard at her eyes searching her face looking for answers, or so she presumed. He leaned closer. “Why?” he asked. “Why now?”

“Don’t loom Kingsley.” Her words surprised him, he drew back and she pointed to his chair. He slowly backed away and settled for leaning back on his desk. Arms crossed in front of him, eyes never leaving her.

“Albus has decided he’s going to die.” She let that sink in. His face went blank in shock before suspicion crowded it out again. “He’s been handing over the running of Hogwarts to me for the last nine months. Currently he is no more than a figurehead, Headmaster in name only.” She picked up the tea again and took a sip. Placing it carefully back down, she flicked her eyes up to meet his watchful ones. “What do you think is going to happen when he dies and the Order is left with no one to lead?”

She sat straight and silent, waiting. Waiting for him to finish running the scenarios in his head, coming to the conclusions that were blatantly obvious, and just as blatantly unpalatable. “Best case scenario,” she said softly. “Is that it folds, drifts apart, and the majority blend back into the crowd. The more prominent members will face increased personal risk until they are either removed from the public view or killed outright. Their deaths will be tragic accidents, or hushed up completely. The public won’t notice the takeover, as you say, it’s mostly done as it stands and the changes are small and insidious. By the time they do notice it will be too late. Worst case scenario they mount a final defensive, under prepared, under strength, unwilling to fight with the necessary violence until they are too few in numbers for it to make any difference. We’ll be killed to a man, then the retribution will fall on the children.”

He looked down at her. “What are you saying?”

“Albus is leading us to ruin. When the Order was given information it could have acted on to bring this war to a close in a more decisive way, he didn’t tell anyone. He hid the information and destroyed it before anyone could act on it, or realise what it was to question him. He’s planning on dying, soon. Leaving us to flounder. I’m here Kingsley because I will not stand aside and let him condemn us all. I want to know if you’ll help me.”

He was still, his eyes were looking at her but not seeing her. His thoughts flashed so quickly across his face she didn’t try and follow them. She stood carefully, not wanting to be perceived as threatening and refreshed both their cups. This time the tea was soothing, the warmth seeped into her hands warming them, she hadn’t realised they had become chilled.

He came back to himself, twisting slightly he picked his tea up, cupping it in his palms. “You aren’t acting alone.” An accusation and question in one.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Who?”

“Will you help?”

“How? What are you planning or, Merlin, Minerva, even thinking?” he spread his hands wide before him, careful not to spill his tea.

“We’re thinking that this has to end. We’re thinking that Albus is not acting in a manner that will result in that. Truly, Kingsley, his great and wonderful plan is to die. To die in a public setting, murdered, so that Harry bloody Potter comes back on a mission of vengeance. A boy, a child, who left this country because we couldn't keep him safe. Because his girlfriend was being threaten for being born to her parents. Why, in the name of all that is magical would he come back? What have we to offer him in return for vanquishing our monster?”

“Albus has found him,” Kingsley protested weakly. He met her gaze, taking in the disbelieving look on her face. “You don’t think he has?”

“He didn’t offer proof. He redirected a conversation that was questioning his effectiveness at keeping the Order members safe. By dropping in that he’d found Potter, knowing that they would concentrate on that. It’s convenient is it not, after such a desperate search to bring him back, back under the protection of Hogwarts wards and Albus’ own guidance, that he is now quite happy to leave him where ever he is.”

Kingsley stood, went around his desk, placed the teacup down and dropped into his chair. A sigh escaping his lips, he eyed her, a dissatisfied look on his face. “There are things that-,” he paused, searching for the words. “That I find unsatisfactory. However, I would not presume that I have all the information nor that I am privy to everything Albus knows. I’m not so naïve to believe that this fight will stay in the shadows as it has been, or that it will be without casualties.”

“Casualties, Kingsley? Casualties of people who understood and accepted the risks, are different to casualties made of people who followed blindly, trusted unreservedly, and were slaughtered for their faith.”

“The Order won’t accept anyone but Albus to lead it. If in the event of his death you seem so sure about, I could take over, but not for long. My role here would be compromised, the smallest chink and they’ll have my job. Then I will be helpless to protect those Aurors that are sent into danger, or threatened by Yaxley. I owe them to keep them as safe as I can, for as long as I can.”

They exchanged quiet looks of understanding, she too owed people their safety.

“How can I help?” he asked eventually.

“By saying nothing. First and foremost, Albus cannot suspect. We are hoping that he will speak to you in regards to the leadership of the Order, pressure has been applied there.”

“Who is we, Minerva? I’m not acting blindly, who exactly am I working with?”

Minerva looked at him. “Severus, Remus, Fred and George Weasley and to some extent Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.”

Kingsley looked at her, shock warring with incredulity and a bloom of outrage. “You knew?” he accused her. “You knew all this time that they were leaving and where they are?” he looked wildly around the room as if looking for an explanation. “Did you help them, Minerva?”

“No,” she said. “I knew nothing until Hermione wrote to me. To me Kingsley.” She waved her hand in a back and forth motion. “We’re not supposed to have favourites. We have so many children under our care, after a while, and years in the job, they blur a little. Occasionally you get one or two that stand out, shine a little brighter. Hermione Granger didn’t shine Kingsley, she blazed. She came to Hogwarts disadvantaged by her birth and didn’t let it stop her. She made friends with Harry Potter and spent the next five years keeping him and Ron Weasley alive. Then we betrayed her, betrayed them both. We did nothing to prevent Albus’ machinations that would have seen her married to Severus and presented to the Dark Lord. How long do you think she would have lived? How long before she would have been broken for some petty small advantage to get at Potter? How long before we shoved Potter out the door, into the face of the Dark Lord and told him to get on with it? The Order stood and did nothing. I stood and did nothing, yet she reached out and gave me another chance.”

“The letter…”

“Yes. It was more than a letter; it was so much more than a damn letter. It was a clue, a map, a code. It took the three of us, Remus, Severus and myself to solve it all, and even then we still needed help, so they sent it. Her and Potter both. They’ve never stopped fighting; they just aren’t doing it here.”

“And Albus doesn’t know?”

She shook her head in a negative. “I am a loyal sycophant he can drop his responsibilities on to whenever he has the need. Oh I’ve stood up to him a time or two, but that’s nothing new really. Severus is the distrusted spy, an irony considering, and Remus is the oft overlooked outsider. Who would think we would come together?”

“What have you done, being doing?” he asked, trying to organise his thoughts better. To wrap his mind around the idea that Minerva McGonagall, the stern, loyal witch, was suddenly more than what she seemed. A small part of him noted that this was probably how they had managed to operate without anyone noticing. Not that anyone was looking.

“What do you know of horcruxes?” she asked in a calm polite tone, as if she’d asked him what he thought of the current fashion for velvet hats. As if their conversation hadn’t been about her defecting from Albus with company, and asking him to join her. Blankley he looked at her, then a faint memory came to him. “They were mentioned in the letter weren’t they?” He struggled to remember what he’d read.

Minerva took pity on him. “To make a horcrux,” she said in her lecturing teacher tone. “One commits an act so vile, as to enable you to tear your soul. Murder seems to work quite well. You then store that piece of torn soul into a container thus making a horcrux. Once you have your horcrux your body can be killed but you won’t be. The horcrux will keep your soul anchored to the mortal plain. A less than simple resurrection spell later and you’re back. Seemingly immortal. A horcrux can be made from anything really, a diary, a locket, a ring, a cup, a tiara, a snake, a baby.”

“You-Know-Who?” he asked hoarsely. Kingsley looked ill, he’d caught on to her meaning and the litany of things she’d spoken seemed to swim before his eyes.

“Yes,” she replied. “Harry destroyed the diary in the Chamber of Secrets. The soul piece within it had fed on the soul of Miss Weasley until it could manifest. The Dark Lord was controlling the Basilisk through her. Potter killed the snake then used one of its fangs to kill the horcrux. That was the first. Albus took on the second, the Dark Lord ensured that his horcruxes were hidden and well protected. The protections on the ring caused the damage to Albus’ arm. Only the timely intervention of Severus and Poppy to contain the curse to his arm, stopped it from consuming him.”

“How many?” he asked.

“Seven,” she replied.

He dropped his head into his hands. “Everything we planned, every direct action would have failed.”

“Against the Dark Lord, without destroying the horcruxes? Yes,” she said.

“Albus knows?”

“Certainly. He had, before Potter left started telling Potter about them, and their significance. Harry passed the information on to us.”

“Have you been able to find any?” Kingsley asked, his face ashen.

“There is currently only one horcrux left.”

His face went blank with shock. “You mean…?”

“If you are asking if Severus and I have been hunting and destroying horcruxes whilst Albus did nothing. Then yes, that’s exactly what happened.”

He looked at her dubiously. She huffed an impatient breath. “Really? This is the part you find difficult to accept?”

“Minerva, please,” Kingsley said, holding up his hands. “I don’t mean to doubt you.”

“But that’s exactly what you are doing. I can’t bring them to you Kingsley, I imagine someone might notice if I walk in here toting artefacts that reek of Dark Magic. Since the Ministry is half under his control someone might think to mention it to him, and the consequences of that would be unimaginable.” Her tone was tart and biting.

“Wait, You-Know-Who doesn’t know you’ve destroyed them?” Kingsley said.

“No, it seems that he can’t tell. Remus and I destroyed one whilst Severus was called to him. Severus reported that he showed no effects.”

“You destroyed it while Severus was there? Are you mad? You-Know-Who would have killed him for sure! We would have lost our only spy!”

“I know that,” she snapped back, anger flooding her. “Of course I know that, but what else was I to do? We’d already destroyed one and he’d called Severus a few days after. We didn’t know if he was being tortured already or not. By destroying it while Severus was there it gave weight to his story of knowing nothing about it.”

Kingsley shook his head. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have… It’s just that...” he shook his head again and opened the bottom draw of his desk. He drew out two glasses and a bottle of whiskey pouring a measure into each, he handed one over. “I wouldn’t normally drink on the job.” A small smile crossed his face, fleeting in its duration.

She matched his smile. “Severus and I drank a lot at first too.”

“Did it help?” Kingsley asked.

“Not in the slightest, it was a nice fiction though.” Minerva picked up the glass and swallowed its contents. “We don’t need you to hunt horcruxes, we need you to take over the Order. If Albus gets his way and Severus is forced to kill him the Order will descend into chaos and turmoil. It can’t happen, you’ll need to hold it together. We need the information Severus can get to have any hope of beating the Dark Lord.”

“Severus is to kill Albus?” Kingsley asked. “Severus told you this?”

Minerva’s faced pinched closed, angry disapproval rolling off her. “Severus gave me the memory of Albus’ orders. Orders, not a request. Albus knows without his support the Order will turn on him. Severus knows it as well. If you feel you need proof, you can have my memory. I can assure you neither Severus’ or my memories have been tampered with.”

Kingsley held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean it the way you took it.”

Her gaze was hard and disbelieving. “If Severus had come to you and told you this, would you have agreed? Would you have acted at all? Or would you have treated him with suspicion and hostility?”

“I would have treated him the same way I treated you Minerva. I am aware that he is a bastard to everyone as part of his role, as well as it being his natural sunny disposition. He lets no one in, no one is allowed to help him.”

She stared at him hard then resettled herself in her chair, allowing her bristling anger to dissipate. “Albus thinks that Harry will come out of hiding to avenge his headmaster’s murder. Conveniently performed by the Professor Harry always hated at Hogwarts. Once he is back he will naturally be drawn back into the fray and somehow complete the prophecy.”

“That seems…” Kingsley said.

“Wildly hopeful? Staggeringly open to abject failure?”  Minerva interjected.

“Unlike Albus,” Kingsley finished. “He never tells you all of the plan naturally, but the bits you are told usually make a lot more coherent sense than that.”

“Because everyone else puts them together. He sits there and takes the credit. You can’t say you’ve never noticed.” Minerva said drily. “Just look at the mirrors the twins made.”

“You said Fred and George were helping?” Kingsley said

“Yes. They have been mending fences with Percy Weasley. Percy has agreed that he will collate information and evidence to pass along so that we can act on it.”

“Percy is the Minister’s aide; he would see everything that the Wizengamot was to discuss. All the new legislation, everything!” Kingsley said his tone hushed in awe. “That kind of information, it could, well it could make all the difference. But, I don’t understand, why isn’t he providing it to the Order?”

“Percy advised his family to stay away from Dumbledore and the Order, for their safety,” Minerva explained. “As a whole they rejected his advice. Words were exchanged and harsh ones at that, from both sides. He cut himself off from them all and wants nothing to do with the Order or Albus.”

“But they could use it!”

“And you’d have to explain how you came across it. Alastor won’t accept confidential informant or anonymous tipster. It’s his price, and I for one am willing to pay it.”

Kingsley sat unhappily back in his chair. “I suppose, so you want me to gather it from him?”

“Yes, as head of the Auror department you can make a nuisance of yourself enough that all your dealings are to be handled by Percy. That way information can be passed, and neither of you will fall under undue suspicion.”

“That would work,” he mused. Does he know it’s me?”

“No, he knows only that you’ll be trustworthy and reporting to neither Albus or the Dark Lord.”

Kingsley nodded. “I’ll speak to him then, set something up. Anything else I can do for you?”

“No.” She stood from her chair. “Go gently with Mr Weasley, his position is precarious and no less dangerous than anyone else’s.”

“You have my word,” he replied solemnly, meaning it.

They exchanged goodbyes and she left the room, sweeping away through the corridors back to the exit. It had been successful and tiring, the tension in her shoulders draining her. In the foyer she stepped into the floo and called for the castle, for the sanctuary of her office, and the peace of the Scottish countryside. 

The whispers were growing in volume as he stalked nearer between the stacks on silent feet.  One voice was urgently pleading, the other obstinately refusing. A secret smile flickered over his face, being caught by Irma was usually unpleasant, being caught by the bat of the dungeon? So many degrees more so. He paused at the end of the stack out of sight to the two students, listening, gleaning as much as he could before revealing himself.

“No, Sarah it’s not fair, I’m not going if you don’t go.”

“I can’t go! You know whose running it, you think they’re going to let me in?”

“It’s on Saturdays! No one wears their robes, they won’t know.”

“They will know and then they’ll kick me out, and maybe you too.”

“I’m not going then; you should be allowed to come.”

“You should go, it’s the only chance we’ve got to learn something. You can show me afterwards what they taught you and we can practice together.”

“You should just come and then we can learn together! Mum said our houses wouldn’t separate us, why are you being so difficult-”

“Shh! Did you hear something?”

Severus appeared around the end of the stack. “Indeed Miss Travis, it is a wonder anyone could hear anything with the volume of noise you seem to think is appropriate for a library.” The two students in front of him turned to face him, standing shoulder to shoulder, identical faces flushing guiltily. Severus recognised them. The Travis twins, first years, Sarah and Stephanie. Stephanie was sporting the yellow of Hufflepuff. Sarah the green of his own house.

“S-Sorry, Sir,” Stephanie stumbled out, gripping her sister’s hand.

“Sorry, Sir,” Sarah said more evenly, the ingrained fear of the dungeon bat notably absent from her demeanour. She was worried about being caught, but not displaying the level of dismay coming off her sister in waves. “We’ll collect our things and-”

“A moment Miss Travis,” he interrupted smoothly. “Since you saw it appropriate to disturb your fellow students who are studying, you will follow me to my office for a full accounting. I see no need to cause further interruption.” A raised eyebrow caused them both to huddle down further, shifting closer together. They hadn’t been at Hogwarts a full term yet, not long enough for the house politics to break their sisterly bond.

Glumly they shovelled their books into their bags and followed him as he swept from the library. Irma flashed him an acknowledging glance that changed to a scowl as the two student scurried past, heads down. They trailed him to his office and stood as close as they could without drawing attention to themselves, hands clasped between them, hidden in the folds of their robes. It made him feel old and weary, knowing that by the end of the year it was likely they wouldn’t publicly show such support for each other.

He raised an expectant eyebrow and Sarah spoke first. “Our apologies, Sir, we didn’t mean to disturb the other students. We were having a discussion that got too loud.”

“And the topic of this discussion that got so out of hand?” he drawled. Sarah bit her lip. “Come Miss Travis, you were unconcerned that the student body hear your conversation, reticence now is hardly useful.”

Stephanie stood up a little straighter. “It’s not Sarah’s fault, its mine!”

He saw Sarah clutch at Stephanie’s hand in warning, which she ignored. Severus sighed to himself. Hufflepuff loyalty to the point of blindness. As a Slytherin Sarah knew that where possible he wouldn’t punish his students. In fact, he had planned on letting them go, once he’d imparted that the large number of empty classrooms were a better place than the very public library for clandestine conversations.

He raised an eyebrow again in enquiry, gesturing with a hand for her to continue. Stephanie, seemingly forgetting to whom she was speaking took the invitation. “She doesn’t think the other students will accept her because she’s in Slytherin.”

Sarah flinched, Severus saw it and his gaze flicked to her. Stephanie felt it and stopped, a guilty look spreading over her face swiftly followed by horror, as she realised her audience.

Severus could see the build-up of convoluted apologies and cut her off. “Miss Travis,” he said addressing Stephanie. “Do us both the kindness of not voicing whatever it is you are currently trying to unknot. Miss Travis,” he turned to address Sarah. “You know that I take a dim view of any of my students being excluded, or marginalised by any of the student body based on their sorting alone."

“Yes Sir,” Sarah said. “It’s just something some of the students have set up Sir, nothing important.” Stephanie was still rendered mercifully speechless.

“Important enough for you to be embroiled in a disagreement with your sister in the library,” he replied. “All Hogwarts student clubs must adhere to a strict code of conduct. That code expressly forbids students from discriminating by House unless it is a House only club. I assume that this is not the case.” Sarah twitched her head in a negative.

“It’s run by the Gryffindor’s,” Stephanie said, then bit her lip again as Sarah sighed in vexation at her side.  “Sorry,” Stephanie whispered to her, then said louder. “But it’s not fair. You’ve done nothing to them”

“Miss Travis,” he said wearily, addressing the irate Hufflepuff. “Whilst I understand your grievance on behalf of your sister, you are not helping your own situation.” Stephanie flushed red again, anger and embarrassment warring, he saw her clutch Sarah's hand tighter. They had yet to let go of one another. “If you give me their names, I can see to it that you are not excluded” Severus offered.

“Thank you, Sir, but we haven’t actually attended yet, and I don’t think it’s a student club per se, just a bunch of us that get together on the weekend.”

“By definition Miss Travis, that is a student club.” he replied. “I cannot help if you do not let me.”

They fidgeted uncomfortably in front of him. Stephanie bit her lip and looked at Sarah, waiting for her to take the lead. That at least had been communicated between them. Idly he wondered if like the Weasley twins, they didn’t necessarily need to talk to communicate.

“There are certain restrictions placed upon those who wish to join, Sir,” Sarah said at last. “If we tell you what we know, we would have in effect rendered ourselves ineligible to join, house non withstanding.”

Instantly Severus knew what they had been discussing. His youngest snakes took longer than the time Sarah had had to learn how to talk in polite blandness, giving nothing away. She’d just told him exactly what was going on. He kept his face blank. “If that is your position then there is little I can do for you. If, however, you change your mind, my door is always open. The discrimination at this school will not end Miss Travis, until you take a stand against it.”

She nodded once. “Thank you Sir, for your offer."

“Thank you, Sir," Stephanie echoed a beat behind her sister.

“Go," he said to them. “Next time you wish to have a private conversation you do not wish to be overheard, there are numerous empty classrooms within these walls. The students trying to study would thank you for availing yourselves of one.” He flicked a hand at the door which cracked open and they took the dismissal and hastily left the room. He hadn’t moved from his desk before he heard Stephanie say not so quietly.

“Is he always like that with you?”

“We’re his house, dummy,” came the reply. Their voices trailed away and Severus remained at his desk thinking.

The DA had started up again. Run by discriminating Gryffindor’s, or so it would seem. He could go to Minerva, or he could go straight to the source. If nothing else, he wanted to know what the hell they were playing at with another hexed parchment after what had happened last time.

He got up from his chair and checked his watch. Smiling grimly to himself he collected his cloak from his room. By the time he had walked down to the apparation point it would be getting on for closing time. It had been a while since he’d had either of them looking at him with the proper amount of fear. It might make a nice change from how well they all seemed to be getting along.

Fred and George did in fact jump and scramble backwards before catching themselves when he appeared, tall, dark, and scowling, at the door to their workroom.

“Merlin! You scared us,” Fred said dropping on to the stool by the desk. “I think I’ve just lost ten years.”

“Ten glor-” George began.

“Before you get started,” Severus said, his tone cold and biting, cutting them off. They blinked at him, the smiles vanishing from their faces as quickly as they had come. “You can explain to me exactly why you have supplied the students of Hogwarts with another hexed parchment. Did none of you learn from last time?”

Realisation dawned on both their faces and they simultaneously held up their hands. “It’s not hexed.”

Severus drew up short from his looming. His scowl deepened, but he pulled out a stool and sat on it, facing both of them. “Talk,” he demanded imperiously.

“Look, Bill was attacked and we know you’re teaching defence and its loads better than when we were there. But you’re getting them through an exam. We’re giving them something else.”

“We knew that it would likely run into trouble if they tried to set it up legitimately, so we decided to use what worked.”

“The parchment,” Severus demanded.

“It’s not hexed! We didn’t agree with what Hermione did to Marietta. When she said it was hexed, well it was Hermione, she’s got a temper but we didn’t think she’d do that.”

“It wasn’t fair, not really. Marietta grassed us up, but Umbridge was threatening her Mum.” They exchanged a glance and shrugged. “A school club doesn’t win over family.”

“The parchment we gave them, it’s got a charm on it so you know who told, and they will vomit a couple of times as soon as they actually do tell, but that’s it. Nothing Madam Pomphrey would worry about.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Who is running it?”

Fred and George exchanged a look again. “We don’t want to get any one into trouble.”

“You should have thought of that before you decided to supply teenagers locked up in a castle ways to attack each other,” he snapped at them. “I’ve already had two students in my office.”

“They’ve not had the first meeting yet!” Fred protested. “They’ve had the get together to get numbers, put their names down and get coins but that’s it. They've not taught anyone anything.”

“Names, Mr Weasley!”

“Ginny, Luna, and Neville” George answered for Fred.

Severus glowered at them. “Is Mr Weasley not involved?”

“No, it’s his NEWT year, he needs to concentrate on those.” George said. His hand was gripping Fred’s arm hard, stopping his twin from setting off Severus' temper. “Can I ask why you had students in your office? Like Fred said, they’ve not actually started the meetings properly yet.” His tone was carefully polite and deferential.

Severus considered George and gave him a short nod in acknowledgment. He took a breath and calmed is own temper. “The students were first years. Sisters, twins, separated by sorting. The sister in Hufflepuff was distressed that her sister who was sorted into Slytherin wanted her to go alone to attend the meetings. The sister in Slytherin felt that as the club was run by Gryffindor’s she wouldn’t be allowed to attend. As a consequence, if she did attend, it would result in her sister being asked to leave as well.”

“Ginny said they talked about it,” Fred said quietly, his temper reined back in at Severus’ explanation and under George’s hand. “Anyone who came and put their name down was welcome. They are going to have the meetings on weekends. They won’t be wearing school robes.”

Severus was quiet for a moment, considering. “Why?”

Fred shrugged. “They have a problem with Malfoy and his bunch of idiots. What trouble have firsties caused? We went after Slytherin because they fought back, it made it fair. The Hufflepuffs wouldn’t, the Ravenclaws lack a sense of humour, the Slytherins like to up the game.”

“They became harder to catch, sneakier about revenge. They made us work for it,” George added.

Severus stared at them. “You used a well-established house rivalry for practice?!”

“Well, yeah,” Fred said.

“And shoving students into broken vanishing cabinets was part of that?” They had the grace to look guilty and offer no excuses. Severus grimaced. “You’re going to tell me what they are teaching the students. All of it, and now. I am not going to find bits of students blasted all over the corridor walls without knowing who is responsible.”

George got up and moved to the shelf on the wall, returning with a small book. He handed it over and Severus flicked through it. “This is Auror shielding,” he said, stopping on a random page.

“Yeah, we’ve been talking to Tonks. Harry and Hermione have gone through their training with us as well.”

Severus dropped the book on the table in front of him. He muttered a spell and the book duplicated. Fred got up and returned with a sheet of parchment, he muttered a similar spell and handed it over.

“That’s the list, of everyone whose joined up so far. Ginny doesn’t know we have a copy and, well, I’m not sure why we do, it was just an idea we had at the time. It will update as people join and leave. Yours will to.”

Severus glanced down the list, checking names scrawled there. “They’ve got people from every house,” he said. “Two second years from Slytherin already.” He looked up at Fred and George. “I will do nothing. I will watch and see how this unfolds. If it starts spilling out into the corridors, I will shut it down. If I find my students unnecessarily targeted, I will shut it down. I understand what you are trying to do, but they are still under the protection of Hogwarts and her staff. That over rides good intentions.”

They nodded numbly at him and he stood sweeping up the book and copy of the list they had supplied him. “Did you not think that using the coins would feed the rumour Potter was in touch?” he asked pausing at the door.

“We made new ones,” George said. “Ginny and Neville made it clear that they were new and the old ones wouldn’t work. We weren’t going to feed Dumbledore’s lies.”

“You realise that I am horrified that Neville Longbottom is leading this.”

“Neville went to the Ministry that night with Harry. Bellatrix LeStrange put him under the Cruiatas. I think you are underestimating Neville, with all due respect, Sir.” George responded, meeting and holding Severus’ gaze.

Severus said nothing but inclined his head and swept from the room crossing the ward line before apparating away.

“Bugger,” Fred said wearily. “We’ve really messed up this time. He’s livid.”

“Nah,” George said reassuringly. “He’s not. He’s looking out for the students. If he thought two little firsties were being picked on by our lot because of something we did? You can’t blame him, and he’s not going to do anything. Not until it spills over or causes grief, and then they could expect to find someone breathing down their necks about it.”

Chapter Text

Kingsley Shacklebolt winked at Percy as he left the Minister’s office and passed by the younger man’s desk on the way out the door. Percy pretended not to notice. He had come to the realisation that the six requests by the Head of the DMLE to see the Minister this week was part of a ploy. It was Wednesday, nobody needed six meetings with the Minister in three days.

The Minister was, Percy knew, getting more and more annoyed about the constant disruptions and meeting requests, never mind the meetings themselves. He hadn’t been able to turn Kingsley down, they had been to discuss the budget for the DMLE in light of the wave of attacks that had taken place, Percy’s brother amongst them.

Auror Shacklebolt was pushing for paid over time, better equipment, and more training. In short everything the Head of the DMLE would push for in such a case, but rather than being polite about it Auror Shacklebolt was getting up the Minister’s nose.  When the Minister had been unable to have the actual meeting due to his schedule, he’d come back from his lunch breaks muttering imprecations. Percy got the impression that Auror Shacklebolt had somehow managed to find the Minister at lunch, and turn the hour long leisurely meal the Minister liked to enjoy, into a half hour meeting about budgeting.

“Weasley!” The demand came from inside the Minister’s office, through the open door. Percy picked up his parchment and quill and walked through the door to stand in front of the Minister’s desk.

“Yes, Minister?”

“Weasley, it cannot be borne.”

“Minister?” Percy asked deferentially.

“Six meetings Weasley! Even when I say no he’s finding me in the corridors and at lunch! You are to block all further requests from the Auror Department!”

“I’m sorry Minister but Auror Shacklebolt has the right to speak to you directly,” Percy said. “To block his requests would be acting against the legislation of the Minster for Magic’s office and could lead to a formal complaint.” The Minister’s face turned an interesting shade of pink on hearing the news.

“Minister,” a cool voice drawled, heavy sarcasm on the title. “What is the good of having staff if you don’t use them? Have Weasley here meet with Shacklebolt. If that doesn’t impinge on legislation?” Lucius Malfoy was sat in the corner of the office, his sneer firmly in place, a lazy hand resting on the head of his cane.

The Minister looked at Lucius before turning to Percy. “Well?” he snapped at Percy. “Would that work?”

Percy paused framing his response. As he did a ministerial memo folded into an aeroplane flew into the room and stopped, hovering in front of Percy. Percy plucked it out of the air and unfolded it, he glanced over it quickly. “Auror Shacklebolt requests a meeting at your convenience to further discuss implementing the new proposals you have discussed.”

“That’s it!” The Minister shouted, banging a fist down on the desk for emphasis. “I will not see that man any more. Weasley, deal with it.”

Percy opened his mouth to object.

“I don’t want to hear it. Meet with him, take notes, write a report. I don’t care! I will not have this office interrupted constantly by that man again. Just where does he expect me to find the budget?! Well? Why are you stood there? Get out!”

Percy nodded to the Minster and turned to leave, nodding to Lucius Malfoy, as little as he could without been rude. Lucius smiled a condescending smile and nodded more deeply in reply. “Good day, Mr Weasley.”

Percy left the room and closed the door firmly behind him. He went to his desk and jotted a reply onto the memo setting up a meeting for that afternoon. He sent the plane whizzing from the room, Fred and George had come through. They’d found him a contact and their soon to be meetings were the idea of the Minister himself, helped along by no other than Lucius Malfoy.

Percy swallowed, pulling a report towards himself, he stared at it determinedly, forcing his thoughts to clear, and focus on his work. He’d made his choices, now he would honour them.

The attack didn’t come in the middle of the night under the cover of darkness, Nor did it come as the first witches and wizards appeared and started travelling down the cobbled street to their places of business and work. Nor did it come as the sun heaved itself into the sky, casting its weak winter light down to glint on the dew caught between the stones. By the time the morning had gotten itself into full swing, the businesses of Diagon Alley were receiving a steady trickle of customers and early Christmas shoppers. It looked like it would be nothing more than a routine Wednesday.

As the bells in Muggle London rang out their noon day chimes which echoed across Diagon Alley, first one, then two, then three black cloaked figures apparated into the street. The small group stayed out of sight as more joined them. Only when their numbers reached twenty, did they step out of the shadows and appear at the bottom of the Alley, by the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. One black cloaked figure detached themselves from the group that faced up the cobbled street and turned back to the archway that was the entrance and exit at this end of the Alley. A few wand movements later, the archway glowed a sickly violet and froze. No one would be able to pass through it coming or going until the spell was removed. Satisfied, the figured turned around again and melded back in to the faceless crowd of Death Eaters.

Oddly, they didn’t attract much attention stood in a group in the shadows of the overhanging building. It wasn’t until they stepped into the middle of the Alley, the weak sun catching their up raised masked faces and sending a reflection bouncing back down the street, that the first person noticed. They dropped silently to the floor as a brown coloured curse hit them in the leg. Their companion watched in surprise until their eyes followed back the direction of the spell. Then they screamed in terror. The screams were quickly turned from terror to agony as they were hit by a number of spells, then as they writhed, the downed wizard and his screaming companion were levitated up to hang above the group.

Attention was instantly directed at the group, and as if it had been the cue they were waiting for, they moved forward. The first victims were kept aloft over the group, one clearly injured and unconscious, or worse, the other still screaming and writhing.  The shoppers froze, caught in the vision of the tableau that had first haunted them some decades ago, then more recently at the Quidditch World Cup, and now once again in Diagon Alley.

They made no noise, they didn’t need to, their levitated victim was making enough. The shoppers in the streets started to unfreeze, terror and panic making apparition a dicey prospect, fleeing by apparition to splinch yourself badly and wind up dead anyway, was attractive only to a few. The rest cried out in terror and fled towards the other end of the street, or dived into shops to put doors, windows and walls between themselves and their attackers. Some dodged past the group of Death Eaters to flee towards the exit, the safety of the Leaky Cauldron and the Muggle streets beyond it. Only to reach it and find the archway frozen and themselves targets of whatever spells were thrown back at them. Spells that were thrown back by the rear most Death Eaters, in almost lazy disinterest. They turned, walking backwards for some paces, shooting hexes towards the milling, frightened people. Like shooting fish in a barrel, aim was unnecessary, every spell landed and people collapsed.

As for the people who fled before them, desperately running up the street; one in three dropped to the ground, tripping those next to them and those coming behind. Shop doors were slammed shut, frightened faces peering out of windows, but those hiding in the buildings turned out to be no safer. Hexes were flung, glass and wood exploded, and the fronts of the shops were damaged and destroyed. Those that had huddled behind glass, frightened but watching, flung themselves to the floor to avoid the rain of debris.

Potages Cauldron shop was the first to set on fire, smoke came pouring out of the broken front window, as bright green flames danced and crackled over the interior. The witches and wizards who had taken refuge suddenly found themselves coughing and choking on the smoke. A crush developed at the door as those closest to the exit refused to step out into the Alley where the group of Death Eaters still struck down those within range. Those at the back of the group pushed forward, trying to flee the flames that were steadily licking up the walls, as unnaturally as their colour indicated. More than one person collapsed in the crush, dragging those next to then down as they fell, causing more panic within the little group.

On seeing the indecision of the people, on facing the group of Death Eaters in the alley over staying in a building that was on fire, three Death Eaters broke away from the main group. They turned to face the shop opposite, the second hand book shop, which also had a contingent of terrified shoppers inside. They stood in a line blocking the window and blasted it out, then together they started casting burning and flame hexes, more and more, and more of them, breaking the anti-flame charms set upon the shop and its products by brute strength and perseverance. It took only three minutes and a barrage of spells before the nearest books started to blacken and curl. It took half a minute more for them to burst in to flames. The flames crawled over the books devouring them, then spread on to the shelves. The rest of the wards fell under the strain and more of the stacked books laid out on tables and shelves started to blacken and burn. Satisfied, the three Death Eaters re-joined the main party and continued up the road. The shops occupants spilled out on the Alley huddling back against the wall, presenting as little profile as they could. Those that didn’t fell to the ground either twitching, screaming, a horrifying combination of the two, or deathly still.

There were more shops with broken windows as the group continued up the street, their progress unimpeded. Until, that was, a rallying shout was heard from further up the street. Coming at a steady jog, a group of eight Aurors led by the Head of the DMLE, Auror Shacklebolt himself, made their way down the street towards them.

The Death Eaters fanned out slightly and their pace increased to meet them.

In one practiced movement, whilst still jogging towards their target, the Aurors let out a round of dazzling spells. Shielding spells instantly went up in front of the leading Death Eaters, deflecting and bouncing the spells back at the Aurors, or to harmlessly splash against walls, or even to catch those unlucky few that had thought that with the arrival of the Aurors they were safe, and had stepped from their hiding places.

Then the Death Eaters returned the salvo. Shielding spells were thrown up by the Aurors, spells were deflected with more care and the fight was properly engaged. It was short lived. As the Aurors gained ground the Death Eaters fought back, but their numbers nearly instantly started thinning as they apparated away. Some were downed by the Aurors to lay still on the cobbled street joining their victims, most got away.

The Auror team stayed to help put out the fires, get the wounded to hospital and interview the witnesses. More apparated in and Kingsley tried to believe that when he’d grabbed every able bodied Auror in the office, as the first reports had come in, these members of his department had been absent for good reason.

“They broke easily, too easily,” Tonks said as she stood next to Kingsley her eyes narrowed, watching for any further activity.

“It wasn’t about facing us,” Kingsley answered. “It was about making a statement, they came, they scared people and destroyed property. Who is going to see this in the Prophet and not remember the first war? This was a message. Stay in your houses, stay away, go about your daily lives and don’t get yourself noticed.”

“What’s the point though?” Tonks asked. “This brings them out into the open, everything they’ve done so far has been hidden. There’s been attacks with his mark cast but the Prophet has been playing them down.”

“The Prophet,” Kingsley said, crinkling his eyes in amusement at her. “Honestly Tonks, do you believe everything you read in that rag? You don’t think that paper isn’t in the pocket of the likes of Lucius Malfoy and his ilk? They’ll print what they are told, especially if their families are under the threat of You-Know-Who. Print what we want or watch your wives and daughters raped and tortured.”

Tonks twisted her face in disgust. “Great,” she muttered. “Without people knowing what’s going on, they scupper the chances of people becoming outraged and standing up against them.”

“That too. Nobody who wants to rule wants the population they are going to rule over, decimated first. Oh the muggleborn won’t live in peace and ethnic cleansing is all but a certainty but everyone else? He needs them intact. Working, paying taxes, economic stability. Even here there hasn’t been that much damaged, a few small fires, broken windows and doors, damanged and lost stock but nothing that can’t be fixed. Nothing that’s going to put anyone out of business for more than a week or so. No one cast an Unforgivable, some might not survive their injuries but no one was killed outright. It wasn’t meant to be a massacre.”

Tonks looked around the street, the walking wounded, the smoke coming from inside some of the buildings. People huddled together, looking around cautiously, peering at the shadows they previously hadn’t noticed. “I don’t think everything is fixable. I think the last of the pretence has just been stripped away,” she commented softly.

Kingsley nodded. “Aren’t you meant to be in the office, at your desk? I'm sure that where I ordered you to stay.” He looked at her middle the baby bump not disguised by the heavy robe she was wearing against the cold.

“The fighting is over, and was before I stepped one dainty toe out of the building,” she said. “I can still take statements and help, Kingsley. It was also a good excuse to see Fred and George. Molly has been fussing, she’s not seen them in a while when Remus and I went for lunch. I was going to give them a heads up. I don’t always feel up to visiting after work.”

Kingsley smiled at her. “I suppose I could overlook it, since you did me the courtesy of not bringing your unborn child into a wand fight. Is everything going OK? I haven’t really had time to ask recently and I know Remus has been away a lot.”

Tonks expression didn’t change but he saw the cloud of worry that shaded her eyes. “He’s with the packs. Two of them have chosen to stay away so its not a total loss but. But I’m not sure he’s going to get any further, and I think I’d rather he was home than out there.”

“He’s not been hurt?” Kingsley asked concerned.

“Not very badly,” she said quietly but her shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. “I don’t want to raise a child on my own.”

Kingsley looked uncomfortable for a moment then said. “Remus is a smart man, he knows what he’s got to lose, he’ll be back before you know it. Come on, let me walk you to see what Fred and George have come up with for Christmas. I need a word with one of them myself.”

She nodded in agreement and they turned, walking down the Alley and through to the bright colourful, untouched door of the joke shop.

The shop was unusually busy. People were standing around in small clumps, people that Kingsley would not have pegged as customers of the products available from the shop. He led the way through the quiet murmuring crowds, looking for the bright red hair of either of the shops proprietors.

He found them in conference with a slim blonde. They noticed him and Fred or George shot him a look and held up a finger. They finished their conversation and the blonde left, a tray of teacups and a steaming kettle floating serenely after her as she made her way to the customers. Fred and George came over, sober and solemn.

“Kingsley, Tonks, we’ve already submitted our report,” Fred or George said.

“You have?” Kingsley said. “Fair enough, it wasn’t why I really came anyway.”

Tonks smiled wanly up at them. “I came to offer a warning in the guise of doing the parts of my job I’m allowed to do and Kings came with me.”

“Alright Tonks?” Fred asked her looking concerned.

“Today none withstanding,” she said. “Your Mum is on the warpath; you’ve not been home enough. I thought I should give you a heads up and take the opportunity to do some Christmas shopping at the same time. Whilst interviewing you about the recent events of course.” She flashed Kingsley a cheeky grin.

“Ahh, right you are,” Fred said. He held out his arm. “For someone gracious and lovely enough to send out a warning of Mum on the warpath, I shall offer you my personal services in selecting the very finest of our products for your loved ones.”

Tonks took the arm offered. “I’ll file the report tomorrow Kings,” she said as Fred turned them back towards the stocked shelves.

“Yes, tomorrow at the latest, and no I don’t want a biting teacup set for Christmas thank you very much. I’m quite satisfied with the set you bought me last year.”

She grinned at him. “Challenge accepted!” she said before allowing Fred to lead her away.

“What can I do for you?” George asked the man who had remained with him.

Kingsley opened his mouth to speak and paused.

“George,” George responded.

Kingsley smiled his thanks and continued. “George, a few things. Firstly, your shop is undamaged after an attack that caused property damage to nearly every property they reached.”

George nodded. “Our wards, they held. They are newer than some in the street. I’m sure that it's nothing more than that. We do have some products that would be unappreciative of targeted damage so it does behove us to keep them in good shape.”

Kingsley looked at him. “The Order have not been requested to add to your security. I deal with all such requests myself.”

George smiled knowingly. “It does help that one of our brothers is a rather accomplished curse breaker. To be an accomplished curse breaker you do have to have quite a lot of knowledge about wards and such.”

Kingsley felt his eyebrows rise and a slow smile spread across his face. “Bill warded your shop?”

“Bill made some suggestions he felt would be appropriate for a business such as ours. He is of course contracted to Gringotts and thus would be unable to undertake such work himself without a contract from Gringotts.”

“Right,” Kingsley agreed. He watched the face of George Weasley or Fred, because he couldn’t tell them apart and he was more than aware they would pretend to be each other as they preferred. The customary smile died and it was replaced by a grim, serious face.

“Our business is very important to us. We knew we’d face opposition and they have been very good at it so far, but they won’t stop us Kingsley. If it takes a two-thousand-year old ward that six people in the whole of Britain have ever heard of, then that is what it takes.”

“You have a two-thousand-year old ward on this place? I know it’s your business and your livelihood, but don’t you think that’s a bit extreme for a joke shop?”

George looked at him in surprise and then understanding. “Not the joke shop Kings, the wands. They’ve been trying to drown us in paperwork and legislation to shut us down. Today, today was a bit more hands on.” He shrugged unconcerned. “It doesn’t matter, they haven’t succeeded and we aren’t going to let them.”

Kingsley thought about that, then asked. “These don’t seem like the usual customers for such an establishment.”

George’s face didn’t lighten, if anything it got grimmer. “Everyone on the street we could get inside behind the wards.” He waved a hand in the direction the slim blonde had gone. “Verity’s doing the tea round, as soon as they feel up to it they’ll go.”

Kingsley looked on in understanding at the motley group of people in and amongst the shop's vibrant stock. There were more than twenty of them, and he wondered how long they had stood herding people inside as the hexes flew. “I have another question for you.” He reached into his inner pocket and drew out a rolled parchment. “I had a meeting with Percy,” he said quietly. “He’s been asked to deal with me instead of the Minister. He left this with me and suggested that I might find it of interest.”

Kingsley held out the parchment. It was at first glance a summary and the full report of the annual budget disbursement for the Ministry of Magic for 1996. “I have to confess its dry reading but he gave me a simple little charm to summarise it. I wondered if you knew of it?”

George took the parchment and looked at it. He turned it over to look at the reverse then handed it back. “He taught us that one when we were small. Comes in handy when you want one piece of information out of a whole lot of waffle. It’s fallen out of favour but it is in the Ministry Departmental handbook you know. Dad has his copy at home.”

Kingsley glanced down at the rolled parchment. “I see,” he said. “Exactly when did this fall out of favour? I don’t think I recall it.”

“Ooh about 1780 if I remember,” George said.

Kingsley choked down the next thing he was going to say, his concern that Percy was passing information in a way that might be identified easily, suddenly dismissed. “That, that was quite some time ago.”

George nodded serenely. “I would imagine he’s had to tweak it a bit, probably something on the parchment when the spell is cast, to get it to work for you. I wouldn’t let anyone else use it on any documents he gives you for light reading, but other than that there’s nothing out of the ordinary about it. Just an old spell fallen out of fashion. If there’s nothing else I can help you with I do need to get back to my customers.”

“No thank you. You’ve been very helpful. I need to get back as well, the first of the reports should be coming in and I’ll need something to take to the Minister before the evening edition goes to print.” Kingsley said.

He made his way to the front of the shop waving at Tonks as he passed her and out into the street. The budget report was again tucked snugly in his pocket, it seemed that Percy had a bigger streak of daring in him than he had ever given the man credit for. 

The rain lashed the windows, the wind tossing it against the glass in gusty splatters which interspersed the regular patter. Harry sat in the study room his books spread about him, studying and ruminating in equal measures. The house was quiet, Hermione was holed up in the library, Helen and John were probably with her or in the den. He was for now, alone in his little pool of quiet with only the noise of the rain for company.

They’d been gone nearly a year. It would be Christmas in a matter of four or five weeks. Christmas was supposed to be the point when it stepped up back in England, and became more of a race than it already was. The plan to drag Dumbledore and Tom together to end the war was taking shape.

The light glinted off the small pile of rings on his desk he still hadn’t gotten working. He picked one up, rolling it between his fingers feeling the smooth cool metal absently. Another splatter of rain hitting the glass attracted his gaze, and he stared out of the window past the glare of the reflected light, into the growing darkness of outside. They wouldn’t see snow till the New Year according to the local’s, maybe not a white Christmas, but you never knew. Not that white Christmases were common in England unless you stayed in the castle.

Harry’s thoughts drifted back to Hogwarts. The Christmas trees Hagrid would bring in and decorate, the snow, the courtyards that looked like something from a postcard. The trips to the infirmary to see Madam Pomphrey to kill off the colds and sniffles before they got going. The cold crisp air that nearly hurt as he swooped through it over the Quidditch pitch. The blazing fires in the common rooms. He missed Hogwarts. Not the politics or the life threatening situations he found himself in but the best bits, the friendships, the warmth, the feeling of belonging somewhere after years of loneliness.

He looked without seeing at the ring he was still rolling in his fingers. The ideas that he had tried and failed marching through his thoughts. It was possible, he knew it was, he just hadn’t found the right approach, the way to stop the shield magic treating the wearer’s magic as the enemy and absorbing it. Like a virus your body had to fight against, breaking it down and absorbing it, using the template to create the antibodies. The idea stuck in his head, suddenly the only stationary thought in a drifting flow of random unrelated thoughts.

He glanced down at the ring seeing it properly. Was that the answer? To immunise the shield to the wearer’s magic? The thoughts started running in a single direction and he reached for his pen, needing to get the ideas down before they left him completely. Scribbling he set his brain loose, problems and solutions flowing from him down on the paper, his handwriting becoming messy and scrawled in his haste. Eventually his idea stream ran out and he released the pen, flexing his fingers to relieve the cramps.

It was, he thought, the best idea he had had. Magic after all was part of someone, if he made it so the magic reservoir held in the jewellery only contained enough to allow the wearer’s magic to bond to the jewellery, then the wearer’s magic would fill up the rest of the reservoir in the usual way through kinetic movement. It would mean they would need charging like batteries before using but they would then work.

A delighted grin stretched over his face and he rooted in his desk draw to find the folder of ideas he’d tried and discarded as failures. He crossed to their shared bookcases and pulled the books he thought he would need from their shelves. Silently he sent up a message of thanks that Hermione was a massive book worm and their reference collection had only grown since they’d moved in, aided and abetted by Helen and John. He tidied his school work into a pile, revision for exams could wait, this was going to be it. He just knew.

Hours later the grin was so broad it was making his cheeks hurt. The first test had worked. Not well but he thought that might be to do with his magic passing through the shield and leaking away to power it. The point was he had a shield that let the wearer's magic out. Everything else was details. He dropped the ring on the desk and went to find Hermione. He needed another source of magic to test with.

She followed him back into the room towed by the grip he had on her wrist. “Slow down,” she protested but doing so with a smile. “It will still be there if we get there half a breath slower!”

“Yeah, but I think it’s working, Hermione.” He dropped her arm as they stopped by his desk and picked up the ring. “It’s letting my magic out! There’s a half dozen problems,” he admitted. “But I need to know if it’s working because it works, rather than I’ve cobbled something together that only works for me.”

“That would be a start though and pretty impressive,” she said. “So, you want me to try one. Go on then.” She held out her hand,  he gave her the ring he had used and she slipped it on.

“Cast something on me first,” he said stepping back to give her room.

She raised her wand and cast a cheering charm at him. The magic hit the shield and swirled around Hermione in a warm golden glow. The glow illuminated the oblong shaped sphere that she was stood in briefly, then it vanished, absorbed by the interior of the shield.

“Oh,” she said, blinking the shadow of the glow away. “Well, that was pretty.”

Harry flicked his wand and his own cheering charm hit the outside of the shield. The spell splashed up against the shield, highlighting it once again before it vanished, absorbed to power the shield.

“Well you can’t hit me, and I can’t hit you,” Hermione said, she removed the ring and handed it back. “You put it on,”

He did and she flicked another cheering charm at him, it also splashed up against the shield.

He flicked his wand again in return but the spell didn’t hit the inside of the shield, illuminating it. Instead, it continued out past the shield to hit Hermione. She felt her legs start to involuntarily move. She raised her wand, cancelling the spell and her legs stilled. She staggered catching her balance and shot Harry an amused glance. “Well it works for you, so?”

Harry slipped off the ring returning to her side at his desk. “Yeah, well the next step is to get one working for you. Take a look at this.” He thrust out the sheet with his calculations and notes on and Hermione took it, placing her wand down on the desk she leant against, absently pushing a curl behind her ear. Her brow creased as her eyes flicked over and down the sheet.

“Yes, I see what you did there. That’s quite clever, so you think that by making the wearer charge the ring in the first instance it will stop the shield absorbing the magic as it would the magic its protecting you from?” 

“Yes,” he nodded. “The normal spell doesn’t usually have the witch or wizard holding it in place while casting through it. There are stories of Aurors that worked closely whose magic eventually could do it but we don’t have the time or the same situation. So the quick and dirty version is melding the magic at the start so it recognises the wearer’s magic and allows it through. The shield spell stops all magic coming back through it so I’m not messing with that, and then the recharging and absorption thing I’ve tacked on here.”

She nodded an excited gleam in her eyes and a smile on her lips. “This is amazing,” she said.

“This isn’t tested yet,” Harry cautioned. “It might only work for me because it’s my magic doing all of it. It might not work for everyone, or it might not work as well and if someone relies on it and it fails...” Doubts flickered across his face at the enormity of what her was trying to achieve.

“Well come on then, we’ll give it ago and then you’ll have at least one answer,” she said laying his notes down.

He reached for another ring out of the box of blanks and laid the foundation spells into the jewellery, pushing in only a small amount of magic then he handed it over. Hermione looked up at him. “Do I just feed power in?”

“You could,” Harry said. “But that’s not going to be viable for everyone, so wear it and waggle your hand about a bit. It might help if we know how long it takes to charge.”

She slipped it on and waggled her hand back and forth vigorously. Three minutes later when her wrist was getting tired she stopped and looked at him expectantly. “Go on then let’s give it ago.”

He cast a gentle cheering charm at her. The shield glowed softly to life as the spell hit. Looking more nebulous than the one produced by Harry’s ring. It held however and the spell faded away, the magic sucked up to further power the ring. “Do it again,” she said. “How hard can you hit it to power it without breaking it?”

He put more behind the next spell and as it hit, the visible shield looked less nebulous than it had a moment before. It sucked the spell up again, though this time the glow vanished more quickly. He cast again and the resulting shield appeared looking more solid. The spell vanished again, sucked greedily up by the rings absorption magic.

Hermione laughed in delight. “This is amazing; it’s using your magic against you. Do something else, something with a bit more punch.”

Harry looked at her, but she was watching the space around her where the shield appeared. He lobbed a stunning spell at her, putting as much power behind it as he would to knock someone out. The shield flared up around her solid and fully formed as the spell splashed against it and slowly dissipated.

Blinking she looked at him. “I think these are a success but you’re going to need to do something about the blinding flashes. Mum and Dad’s don’t do that.”

“I know,” he said. “They did at first but I didn’t bother putting that part in since I wasn’t sure they would work. I’ll get it fixed though.”

She threw herself at him hugging him hard, grinning widely. “You are the best, Harry Potter. These are, these are beyond amazing. You’ve changed everything.”

“Thanks,” he said wrapping one arm around her hugging her back, his grin was as broad as hers, excitement bubbling in him. “I’ve made two and they need improvements, and until they are out there I’ve not changed anything.”

“Harry,” she protested. “Admit it, these are the biggest thing to happen to the Wizarding world since skiving snack boxes!”

“Skiving snack boxes?” he said with a confused look.

“Yes! Do you have any idea how much those things revolutionised the ability to get out of lessons! All those kids that would hex themselves and end up in the infirmary for real?”

“That isn’t quite what I expected you to say,” he replied.

“Hmm well, until Fred and George came along innovation wasn’t exactly the done thing in the Wizarding world. I mean quills, really? There’s no reason to use them, fountain pens write better, are less messy, and use fresh ink if that’s your thing. I can just about stretch to understanding candles but magical people have lights you can conjure so even then candles seem a little outdated. Are they even real candles? I can’t remember any of them ever burning down so maybe they are magical lights just held on an identifiable object or maybe they aren’t. Either way it is still a medieval way of going about things.”

Harry looked at her bemused and wondered how the conversation had deviated so quickly. “Well,” he said interrupting. “Do you think we should get Fred and George on board? Teach them how to make them and get them to pass them out?”

“Sure,” she said biting her lip. It was the first sign of misgiving he’d seen from her. He looked at her waiting for her to clarify but she shook her head. “Teach me and we can do it together. It will go faster that way.”

“OK,” Harry said cautiously, still waiting for her to explain her misgiving.

“It’s nothing,” she said smiling, shaking her head. “They’re great, you’re great. You’re a brilliant wizard Harry.”

Chapter Text

It was dark and her voice was quiet as it floated up to be swallowed by the darkness. “Harry? Are you awake?”

“No,” he replied in a sleepy voice.

“Harry,” she said a little more insistently.

“Fine, I’m awake, but I’d rather not be.” He scooted over, closing the small gap that lay between them and rolled on to his side, her form a darker blob next to him. She scrunched down until her head was under his chin, pushing her back against his chest, entangling their legs and feet together. He settled an arm around her and waited, hoping he wouldn’t fall asleep before she got off her chest what was bothering her. He didn’t have to wait long.

“You know the shields?”

He made an encouraging noise.

“Do you, do you worry that, well, that they might make things worse?”

 He could feel under his hand and against his chest the tension that had entered her. The slight hunching of her shoulders as she said the words, and it made him pause and think, measuring his reply. She’d been stewing on this for a couple of days, she’d not said anything, but he’d seen the glances at the small dish on his desk containing the jewellery he’d made. She’d said nothing when he’d asked what was wrong and he’d decided to let her tell him when she was ready. It seemed now she was.

“Worse how?” he asked softly.

“If we give them to everyone now, won’t we just make the Death Eater’s try harder?”

“Try harder?”

“To hurt people, to inflict fear. The shields will protect people, but once the shock wears off then they’ll have something to aim for, to break. There’s no way of knowing what they might do to break them, and if someone isn’t wearing one, are they at risk of being hurt more because they might be?”

“Ah,” Harry said. “I had thought of that.”

“Oh?” she said twisting her head to look at him in the darkness. Her shoulders followed the movement and she resettled herself facing him

“If we hand them out indiscriminately then yes, we’re going to force them to try harder to hurt people. If we don’t hand out them at all then we leave people open to being hurt when we could help prevent it. If we give the Death Eaters an opportunity to get hold of one, by whatever means, then they’ll get the chance to counter them. I am not quite big headed enough to think someone wouldn’t be able to unravel the spells and find a way around them. Or make their own. Death Eaters and Aurors all wearing shielding jewellery going at it hammer and tongues? It’s a recipe for disaster. I think we’re going to have to keep them a sort of secret. There’s an argument that handing them around the higher risk Order members is a good idea, as long as they don’t stand and make a fight of it, and only use them while they get out of Dodge. That way it looks like bad luck on the Death Eaters part, but it’s not a decision I think we can make, it’s something that only Snape or Dumbledore, or maybe Kingsley can. We’re only going to get one or maybe two opportunities, I think, to use them to the utmost effectiveness. The fight that’s coming? Yeah, we need everyone going out there to be wearing one. The general public day to day?” He shook his head.

“You’re ok with that?” she asked. “You got them working because of what happened to Bill. You wanted to get them working to protect kids.”

“They can still protect kids from school bullies, just not yet. As for the other, it’s not my call.”

She settled against him once more and he waited for her to speak again. She didn’t and he felt her body relax as she fell asleep, mentally shrugging, he let himself follow her into sleep.

“Harry? Have you got a minute?”

Harry looked up from his books at John stood in the door way. “Sure.”

“Come down to the library,” John said and waited for Harry to stand before turning and leading the way.

Once in the library they took their familiar seats and Harry waited in puzzled silence as John seemed to marshal his thoughts. “Is there something wrong?” he asked finally when it seemed that John hadn’t decided whatever it was he was struggling with.

“No,” John replied a comforting smile flashing over his face. “It’s just this isn’t something I ever saw myself doing. But Helen won the coin toss so here I am.”

Harry relaxed letting the unconscious tension that had been creeping into his neck and shoulders dissipate. If this had involved a coin toss it was likely going to be embarrassing and uncomfortable rather than life threatening and world ending. “Oh, OK,” he said aloud. “So what’s up?”

John looked at Harry. “What are your intentions towards my daughter?”

Harry gaped at him in surprise. “I, um, well we’re together and I thought you both were OK with that?”

John waved a hand. “We are, there’s no problem there. Are you planning on marrying her?”

“I’ve asked,” Harry confessed sheepishly. “Well, sort of. When we went to the Bahamas. She said no, sort of.”

John looked both puzzled and amused. “Care to elaborate?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I gathered it boiled down to the problem isn’t me, or our relationship, only that the law had soured the idea for her. She wasn’t going to be forced into anything and that she wasn’t going to be some sort of child bride. She said she wanted to be 30, live her life before getting married. That sort of thing.”

“And you?”

Harry sat in quiet thought before speaking. “It’s her. It’s always going to be her, today, tomorrow, it doesn’t matter. I’ve got no problem waiting for her to decide she’s ready.”

“But you’d get married earlier?”

Harry shrugged. “Probably, yeah. Why?”

“Because she can’t return without being married and she won’t stay behind when you go. Being arrested on returning to England would put a spanner in all the plans and it is an unnecessary risk.”

“Umm,” Harry started to say but stopped as John pulled a folded piece of parchment out of a pocket. “What’s that?” he asked instead.

“This,” John said unfolding the parchment and handing it over. “Is the standard UK betrothal contract that the muggleborn are using to get around the Ministry law.”

“You think we should sign one?”

“We think you’re going to need some form of legal protection. Forcing both, or either of you into something you aren’t ready for isn’t something we are going to push for. This gives you more breathing room.”

“But she doesn’t want to…” Harry said.

“She doesn’t want to get married," John corrected. "Engaged on the other hand? An exchange of promises, a long engagement, what difference would it really make?”

Harry looked at John. “You know she isn’t going to see it that way, especially not if we ask her to sign this.”

“That,” John said a small wicked smile creeping on to his face. “Is the beauty of one of these. She doesn’t need to sign it, the head of her family does.”

Harry looked at John, amusement mixed with shock. “You’re going to…?”

John nodded.

“No wonder there was a coin toss, she’ll go nuts.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to sign it until she agreed.” John said equally amused. “I’m not quite selling her off to that extent.”

“It’s that bad?”

“It does mention a bride price so technically, yes, I would be selling her.”

“Christ,” Harry swore. “I really don’t want to do that. She’s a person not a lamp. Is it necessary? Can’t we just change it? How do you even do it anyway?”

“Well I saw someone in a film once sell their sister for a herd of camels,” John offered drily.

“Right,” Harry said. “You can tell her how many camels she’s worth. I’ll be elsewhere, a long way away until she’s calmed down.”

“I think I’ll take a pass on that one too thanks.”

Harry started reading the parchment in his hands but gave up before he made it past the first paragraph, the dry legalese making little sense to him. “So what do we do?”

“First you’re going to have to propose again. Properly this time, not sort of, and she needs to say yes and not ’Not yet’. A long engagement, not running off to Vegas tomorrow, sort of thing. Which is what you have now really, so it’s not going to be much different, just a promise and a bit of jewellery. See if she likes that idea any better. Whilst you’re doing that I’ll have this checked by a solicitor so we all know what we’re getting into, then you two will have to agree to have it signed.”

“If we do, wont it register at the UK Ministry? Will it give away where we are?”

“I don’t know,” John replied. “I’ll ask the solicitor when I speak to them.”

“Won't they have to be magical?”

“Dobby has been proving his worth again,” John replied. “Minerva gave Helen the name of her solicitor and we’ve been sending Dobby to ask questions. Apparently it’s not unheard of in the magical world.”

“Alright,” Harry said nodding. “So proposing to Hermione. Any suggestions?”

“Nope,” John replied. “I am her father after all. I believe my role is to warn you off and declare you not good enough for my princess. Happily for you, I happen to know that you are good enough for her, and if I tried to warn you off both she and her mother would have things to say. Loudly, and repetitively.”

“Thanks,” Harry said glancing over at the smiling man. “It’s not like it went all that well the first time.”

“Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat,” John said. He stood from his chair and took the contract back from Harry. “I’ll sort this; you go get the girl.”

Harry returned to his desk and sat staring at his books. He had three NEWT exams to complete before Christmas, followed by two after. He spent more time cramming information into his brain recently than he felt he had ever previously during his seven years in education.

It had seemed like a good idea when Helen had suggested it at the beginning of the school year. He could get his exams out of the way, then if the war dragged out he wouldn’t have to worry about them. Not that he thought exams were the most important thing going on, but he supposed having them done and dusted meant afterwards, he wouldn’t have to go back to school and study unless he wanted to.

Going back to school after defeating one of the darkest wizards of the current time seemed to Harry, something that he wouldn’t want to do. His life could finally begin out from under the shadow of Tom and the prophecy, school seemed like it wouldn’t appeal. So he’d agreed, and thanks to Helen and Hermione’s organisation and his own considerable efforts, he was well on track to gaining three respectable qualifications in Charms, Transfiguration and Herbology only five months earlier than most students his age. After Christmas he’d take Defence and Potions then he would be free. Well, sort of free. He had started, thanks to the work they had done with the jewellery, to study Ancient Runes. They had been incorporated into all the spells they had developed to make the glamours and shields, and he had found it more useful than he had thought the subject would be back in Hogwarts. Using Hermione’s notes from Hogwarts he had signed up for classes at school. He might actually be one of the oldest in the class as it was held as an out of hours’ remedial class, but it had meant he’d been able to get Hermione to help him study at home and the lecturer to assess his progress. He had hoped this year to take his OWL equivalent but with the cramming for his finals he hadn’t been able to give it as much time as he needed. He supposed he could keep going with it after, depending on what he wanted to do.

And free of course, was somewhat subjective. If the plan they were cooking up went sideways, he might not be able to take his exams at all, never mind early. If it went really sideways it might not even matter. He tried not to think about that. And on top of his concerns about his exams, and his concerns about what going back to England would actually mean, and how he was supposed to defeat Tom in the first place, and his ongoing worry about Hermione going into danger with him, he now had to find a way to convince her to get engaged.

His head thumped down on to the open book in front of him and he closed his eyes with a groan. He was 17, what did he know about saving the world and getting the girl, and not necessarily in that order?

He turned his head slightly and regarded the mirror hung on the wall. Was there anyone on the other end of that, that might be able to offer him some sound advice?

Fred and George? Probably not, they might come through but they were more than likely to take the piss and suggest something outrageous. There was no way he was asking Minerva and doubly so in regards to Professor Snape. He couldn’t actually imagine how hard Snape would sneer at him for even contacting him, never mind asking for relationship advice.

That left Remus. Harry pondered that for a moment. He was no longer angry at the man. The anger had long faded and become, he felt around the feeling like a tongue probing a sore tooth. He was resigned? Sad? He let that sink in for a moment then readdressed the question. Could Remus help him?

Remus was married to Tonks, and Tonks and Hermione were both strong opinionated people. But Tonks had pursued Remus not the other way around. He looked at the mirror again. Could he? Should he? Would he get another chance to mend the hurt if he didn’t do it now? It was a grim thought to be sure, but the fight with Tom was coming. His survival of that fight was hung in the balance no matter what anyone said. He stared a long moment at the mirror half wishing it would chime and end his deliberations for him. Sighing he sat up and reached for his wand, he flicked it at the mirror and it turned pearlescent grey before resolving.

“Harry?”

“Hello Remus,” Harry said. “How are you?” 

 “You’ve been outmanoeuvred old man. Your plan is no longer viable.”

“I don’t see how,” Albus replied calmly. The argument had been circling for nearly an hour and Severus felt his temper fraying.

“Because,” he said a growl in his throat. “The Dark Lord is going to replace Scrimgeour. The Prophet is running a smear campaign against him after the incident in the Alley. He’s made some bad choices he isn’t aware of, and now Lucius Malfoy is pulling his strings at the behest of the Dark Lord. He’s considered too Light to remain in power despite the hold they have on him and he’s going to be replaced.”

“Minister Scrimgeour is a good man,” Albus said serenely. “He is an agent of the Light.”

“He doesn’t like you, doesn’t agree with the power you wield and whilst he clearly isn’t a card carrying Death Eater, he’s hardly a loyal sycophant. That is what is keeping him alive for now and if, if he goes quietly he will remain so, but he is going to be replaced.”

“I think you underestimate-“

“I don’t underestimate anyone!” he snapped back, anger boiling in his tone and his dark eyes glaring at the obfuscating wizard sat across from him. “Your plan is no longer conscionable. If you continue with it, it won’t matter if Potter returns or not we will have lost. The Order won’t recover from the replacement of a slightly tarred but genuinely good man with a puppet of the Dark Lord’s choosing without you there to hold their hands and tell them it will all work out. The populace isn’t going to stand up and make themselves a target. Not one defensive spell was cast in that attack on the Alley. They were caught by surprise and immobilised with it and fear. Without an example to follow they are not going to make themselves a target.”

“You are overstating my influence,” Albus said picking out another lemon drop and popping it into his mouth.

“On this occasion old man, I am not.”

Albus smiled kindly. “They will rally to Harry.”

Severus leant his head back and stared at the ceiling, Albus wasn’t listening, or didn’t care for what was being said. “Your plan hinges on my cooperation. Whilst I have no wish to be involved you have forced my hand as you always do. I might be willing to go along with this preposterous plan but not at the expense of everything else. You aren’t that important to the cause Albus. I am not willingly going to throw away an advantage to pander to your ego.”

Albus twinkled at him. “The plan still has merit. Your cooperation is of course preferred, but not necessary. There are a number of poisons in the school that I could indulge in and achieve the same results.”

Severus didn’t blink. He wasn’t surprised and he was too tired to build up any form of outrage at the idea that Albus would do such a thing. “Not quite the public statement that you wanted to make though.”

“No, but I believe it would serve the same purpose.”

“You’re a fool,” Severus said to the ceiling. “After the inauguration ceremony, after New Year once the Order has acclimatised to the new rule. Then your plan would be back on a level where it might work as you wish it to once again. He’s taunting you, trying to draw you out, he wants the wand. If you die and he gets his puppet in, he’ll just take it. There will be no options left open. I’ll be dead. Potter will stay away and do whatever mourning of you that you deserve from a distance. Everyone else will suffer. Hogwarts will suffer, he’ll take her over and no one will be able to stop him. The students, the staff. You’ll leave them with nothing, no shield to defend them from the atrocities that he will visit upon this place if only to destroy everything you built, to drag you down further.” Severus climbed to his feet, weary, tired and despondent. “You’ll do as you wish, of that I am sure.”

He reached the door before Albus spoke.

“That was very poetic Severus, one might almost think you care.”

“I care Albus, I just hadn’t realised until now that you didn’t.”

 He turned and left, pacing down the corridors. At the junction he paused then turned and headed up to the astronomy tower. He’d roust whatever love sickened students might be occupying it and claim the space his own for a while. 

The command to enter, in response to the knock on her door died on her lips as he entered, sailing into the room. “Minerva,” he said gregariously.

“Albus,” she returned cautiously. A swish of his wand transfigured one of the hard back chairs in front of her desk into a comfortable arm chair and he settled himself into it. She said nothing as he did so, waiting, watching him over her glasses, quill still in hand.

“I wondered if you had a moment for an old friend,” he said. “You’ve been busy recently.”

She replaced her quill in its holder carefully, placing the student’s parchments to one side and removed her glasses. All the movements precise, then she called for an elf and requested tea. The tea came moments later and she calmly made them both a cup. Then she settled back in her chair raising an eyebrow in invitation.

Albus smiled serenely back at her taking a sip of his tea. “I thought I’d pop in and make sure everything was alright. I am aware that I have been letting the responsibility of the school lie in your hands, and I wanted to express my gratitude that you’ve coped so admirably with it all.”

Minerva gave him a small smile and reminded herself that she was loyal, that she still had to maintain the façade of sycophant, and burning resentment was not the appropriate response.

The smile was thin. “Indeed Albus, I am of course always willing to help where ever I can.”

Albus smiled at her, the twinkle in his eyes that once reassured her, making her suspicious of what he wanted and why he had come to her office. “Is there something in particular I can help you with?” She indicated the pile of marking. “I do have things that require my attention.”

“Is everything alright Minerva?” he asked gently, as if she was a small child who might not want to tell the adults what was troubling her.

Cold fear flashed through her and she ruthlessly suppressed it, not wanting it to show on her face and give her away.  The sharpening of Albus’ gaze told her she hadn’t managed to fully hide her reaction to his words. “Why do you ask?” she responded as calmly as she could, taking a sip of her tea to buy time.

Albus gave her a look full of concern. “I had noticed that you have been absent from the castle for a number of evenings. Forgive me my impudence but I enquired of Poppy as to your health. You didn’t mention you had been unwell at the beginning of the school year. Is there something I can help you with?”

Minerva felt relieved that Poppy hadn’t disclosed the cause of her illness to Albus, he certainly would have mentioned it sooner had she done so. “I am quite well Albus,” she said smoothly. “As for my absences, I believe my evenings are my own when I do not have patrols. If the students have need of me, one of the elves has been instructed to find me. There would be no delay in my attending them aside from the time it takes for me to return by floo.”

Albus made a pacifying motion. “Yes, yes, and your sick relative you were nursing?”

“Quite recovered,” she supplied crisply.

He nodded sagely. “So your absences?”

She huffed an impatient breath at him. “Albus why is this so important to you? I leave the castle of an evening when I am not required. It is well within my rights to do so when you are present in the castle. You can’t possibly expect me to become some sort of prisoner, I do have a life outside these walls.”

“Ah,” Albus said understanding lightening his face. “I see” he said. “I apologise, of course.” His eyes started twinkling madly. “It is wonderful for you, after so long and after Robert.” He smiled wider at her flabbergasted face. “Come, come Minerva, I won’t tell anyone your secret. And if you need me to step in if he turns out to be a scoundrel I would, of course.” He winked at her and she felt her jaw drop slightly. Albus, clearly delighted he’d discovered the reason for her absences, continued. “Not that I think I would need to, you are of course a capable witch but a little back up never hurt.”

Minerva gathered her scattered wits. “I, don’t…”  her voice was a little scratchy so she lifted her cup.

“Have you been courting long?” Albus enquired blithely.

Minerva, if she’d completed the movement of her cup, would have spat out the tea. Was Albus expecting some sort of girl talk about her supposed courtship? A courtship he had entirely made up?

“I, um,” she floundered momentarily, then the devil on her shoulder spoke up and she found herself saying. “Well its early days yet, we’re not so much a couple as two people finding out if were compatible.”

Albus’ smile, if it was possible, which she suspected it was not, grew wider at her admission. “Oh delightful. To find someone amidst so much turmoil. It gives us all hope.”

“Albus,” she said sharply. “I do not wish my personal life to be bandied about the castle. I accept that you might need to know in as to how it pertains to my role here, but I will not become public fodder.”

The wizard across from her nodded in agreement. “Of course, of course I shall not say a word. You will take precautions however when you meet with your young man?”

Minerva had a moment of horror as she contemplated Albus Dumbledore cautioning her to engage in safe sex. The moment thankfully passed when he continued. “The situation with the Ministry is sadly devolving and it is not becoming any safer out there especially for those who have made their positions clear.”

She nodded in agreement. “I assure you Albus that I am not looking to draw attention from unwanted corners.”

He nodded sagaciously at her wisdom, finishing his cup of tea he placed it back on the tray and stood. “I’m glad that you feel you can still speak to me. If you do have any further concerns my door is always open.”

She nodded ducking her head slightly so he couldn’t fully see her face while she got herself under control.

“I’ll let you get back to your marking. Give your chap my best won’t you.” With that he turned and sailed from the room leaving her feeling flummoxed and somewhat blindsided. Placing her own cup down she sat back in her chair. Then after a few minutes to make sure that Albus had sailed off to upturn someone else’s day she left the room herself, in search of someone to explain what had just happened. 

 She found him up there. It was later, the sun was still in the sky but had moved around the tower. He hadn't been disturbed until then, which meant the students had either realised he was there before he'd noticed them, or word had travelled that he was up here and no one was prepared to find out if he had left.

He did wonder how she'd found him, but briefly, vaguely, a passing consideration in the turmoil of his troublesome, tumbling thoughts. He'd gotten no further, a half dozen plans thought through then discarded. The wish that it could become someone else's responsibility, someone else’s problem, had been fervently, if not desperately wished, then laid aside.

She stood next to him where he was leaning against the wall staring out at nothing. She stayed quiet and still, letting the silence grow, the peace return to cover them both.

Then quietly she spoke. “I've thought about it too. About laying it all down and walking away. I imagine everyone has those moments.”

He let out a breath quietly, only slightly irked she'd seen the direction of his thoughts some hours ago. “You wouldn't though.”

“Nor would you. Twenty years of staying true to your cause with no real need to? Says enough don’t you think?”

“It speaks of my stupidity, my desperation, my regret.” The last was whispered.

“It speaks of your love,” she rebutted softly. “What woman wouldn't want to be loved like that?”

“Lilly Evans,” he replied surly.

“Nonsense. If you'd have chosen differently so would she.”

He made a pained noise.

“She wouldn't have wanted you miserable though.”

“Slaving under two masters is hardly going to make me bucolic.”

The smile that formed on her lips was warm and full of humour. “No, you're not the skipping through meadows type”

He snorted at that. “Albus.”

“Albus is who Albus is, we were already working around him.” She pointed out.

“He's threatened suicide by poison if I don't comply.”

She let a soft hiss escape through her lips. “That man! Can he not just leave well enough alone?” Her voice still soft and gentle despite the words and her obvious displeasure.

He raised a hand in gesture. “I've thought about it six ways to Sunday and if he acts too early we’re lost.”

“The new Minister?”

“A puppet,” he confirmed.

“Early confrontation?”

He sighed heavily. “Are we ready?”

“We’ll never be ready Severus, you know that.” She turned back to face outwards, staring across the expanse of countryside rolling out below them towards the horizon. “In other news,” she said. “Albus has been to visit me today.”

Severus made an enquiring noise without breaking his gaze from the horizon.

“It seems that he’s noticed my absences and was wondering if all was well.”

“Oh?” he asked looking at her. “And what did you tell him?”

“Nothing,” she replied. “I have the right to leave the castle as and when I am not required.”

“So what did you tell him?” Severus repeated.

She sighed, chagrin and embarrassment warring on her face and she refused to look at him as she admitted. “He’s gotten it into his head that I’m courting.”

He looked at her in incomprehension.

“It wasn’t my idea!” she said indignantly. “I told him to mind his own business and he asked if I was. I couldn’t quite believe what he suggested and he took my silence as indication he was right.” She shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

He threw his head back and laughed, loudly, from deep within him, a purely happy sound. “It’s not that funny,” she protested weakly. The laughter had made his eyes shine and it lightened her load a little to see it.

“Minerva,” he drawled, his lips still tilted up in a smile. “You let Albus think you are carrying on a courtship rather than tell him to mind his own business.”

She cast a warming charm on them both and renewed the silencing charm on the door. “It seemed simpler,” she replied. “He was already suspicious and it's not as if I could tell him why I leave the castle. I nearly spat out my tea when he jumped to the conclusion.”

He eyed her and she tilted her head. “What?”

“Well, it’s not improbable I suppose.”

“Severus Snape! Are you insinuating what I think you are?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“I don’t think so; my days of courting are well behind me.”

“You’re not that old,” he pointed out.

“It’s not about age Severus.  You of all people know that.” They had a moment of quiet understanding pass between them. The memories, the might have’s.

“He’s not going to let it drop you know,” Severus said the smile faded but his tone no longer bleak.

“I know, damn him and love is the greatest power, and his happily ever after nonsense.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked curiously.

“Nothing,” she replied. “I’ve told him he’s not to spread it over the castle and hopefully he actually pays heed.”

Severus looked at her sceptically. “You will have to do something to keep him satisfied on the topic. Otherwise he might realise he railroaded you into it and start digging at what you are really hiding.”

Minerva shook her head. “That is a worry for another day. It’s cold up here, have you brooded enough for one day?”

They separated once down from the tower. He expressed a need to get his marking completed before dinner and she agreed that she had her own work to complete.

Back in his room he settled down at his desk, but the devil inside of him kept whispering, and once he’d finished he let the whispers come together into a full blown idea. He considered it for only a moment more before calling for an elf. The elf was sent to retrieve the item he had requested and returned bearing the catalogue.

Severus paced over to his bookshelves, when he had been younger and more foolish, he thought that his mother’s book might aid him in courting and wooing a witch. Now he thought it might come in useful in shoring up Albus' belief in the reasons Minerva absented the castle. It wouldn’t do for him to become suspicious and if it tweaked her tail at the same time? Well, he wasn’t going to complain.

He flipped through the book considering his options, jotting a few notes, then found the list of meetings Albus had arranged for the staff. Breakfast would be too overt and set tongues wagging across the castle, not just with the staff, but with the student body. The same went for general staff meetings, the staff would talk and then the students would find out. A Head of House meeting however, yes, that would do. Filius and Pomona could be trusted to keep their mouths closed and well, she might try and take it out of his hide, but that didn’t mean he would let her.

Smirking to himself he completed the owl order form and called an elf. Handing over the form and instructions he sent the elf on it's way with a needless caution about the need for secrecy. The scathing look the elf shot him as it turned away he supposed he deserved, but still, a direct order couldn’t be countermanded where an implied one could. 

Three days later he arrived in the staff room early for the Heads of House meeting. Settling into an out of the way chair he hid behind a potions journal, allowing the conversations his entrance had stilled to start back up again. As the time for the meeting drew closer the other members of staff drifted away. Filius and Pomona were already present chatting quietly to themselves, Minerva and Albus had yet to arrive.

Right on time a Hogwarts elf appeared in the room burdened under a tall box. It placed the box on the table and vanished from the room with a quiet pop. Severus watched it go then cast his eye over the parcel it had delivered. It shimmered in its silvery paper enticingly, the bow, he decided was altogether too jaunty but it was a tasteful shade of grey to go with the wrapping paper. It took a moment more for Pomona and Filius to notice the arrival and Pomona made a noise of inquisitiveness before rising to her feet and checking the label.

“It’s for Minerva,” she told Filius. She flipped the hanging tag over to display the shops logo on the reverse. “Oh, my,” she breathed. “It’s from Flores.”

“Really?” Filius squeaked, entirely too enthusiastically Severus thought to himself. “And they are for Minerva?” Pomona exchanged a glance with Filius before sitting back down and exchanging silly grins with each other. Severus rolled his eyes behind the journal. Granted it was Lucius’ go to florist when he needed to grovel to Narcissa but they were still only flowers. After all the preservation charms put on them they couldn’t even be used as potion ingredients once they started to lose their lustre.

It was fortunate, Severus thought, that Albus and Minerva both arrived only a minute or two later. Pomona and Filius had begun to all but squirm in impatience and giddy excitement.

They swept into the room together and Minerva made for her usual seat, by-passing the box without paying it the slightest bit of attention. Severus watched as Pomona and Filius exchanged puzzled looks, their bubbling excitement leaking away. Albus clearly saw the box and Pomona and Filius expectant faces and glanced at Minerva. He however drew no more attention to it than the witch had and brought the meeting to order. Severus watched, as throughout the meeting, which he contributed only what he needed to, his two co-workers grew more and more antsy at Minerva’s apparent ignorance of the box, its intended recipient, and its likely contents. It wasn’t until the meeting was dismissed and she made to leave that Pomona’s patience broke.

“Aren’t you going to open it Minerva?” she asked half desperately.

“Open what?” Minerva asked looking at Pomona with a faintly puzzled look on her face.

Pomona pointed at the box still on the table where the elf had left it. “That,” she said. “It’s for you.”

“It is?” Minerva said, approaching the box cautiously. She pulled her wand out and cast a detection spell on it and Severus couldn’t quite help the feeling of smug approval. Pomona however tutted and sighed. “It’s not going to bite Minerva, it’s from Flores.”

“Flores?” she asked Pomona in a querying tone.

“Yes, very exclusive,” the other witch enthused. “They do lovely arrangements and I’d give my eye teeth for some of their plants.”

Severus rolled his eyes, trust Pomona to bring it back to the plants rather than the flowers, but he supposed it was better than her gushing over them. He shot a quick glance at Albus who was smiling altogether too knowingly. Severus watched as the three crowded close to Minerva as she pulled the ribbon undone. As she did, the ribbon and the paper vanished from around the arrangement in a whisper of magic. The charms keeping the blooms from being damaged whilst wrapped and the scents from escaping also vanished and the arrangement almost seemed to shiver in relief, the sweet perfume drifting out into the room.

It was a tall arrangement, the gladioli were matched in height by the snapdragons and blue iris, while the proteas circled them all just above the lip of the vase. Severus eyed it and decided that it would do quite nicely. From the expression on Albus face Minerva’s alibi had just moved from believable to rock solid.

Minerva plucked the card from the vase and flipped it open. She scanned it once then tucked it into her robes pocket. The others were already cooing over the blooms sending her sideways looks.

“They are very lovely,” Albus said. “You’ve obviously made an impression.”

Minerva sent him a narrowed eyed glare and said quellingly. “Yes, quite.”

“Who are they from?” Pomona asked, walking straight into the middle of Minerva’s and Albus staring match.

“A friend,” Minerva said.

“Oh really? I rather think I might like a friend like yours.” Pomona winked and nudged Minerva with her elbow. “Does this friend have a name?”

Minerva looked blankly at Pomona, and Severus stepped into fill the gap.

“Delightful as this all is, since the meeting is finished do you think you could possibly stop blocking the door? Flowers that aren’t good for potion ingredients or taking cuttings from, can hardly warrant this much attention.”

“Oh hush you,” Pomona chid him. “We’re only being curious. Minerva’s got an admirer, there’s no need to be sour about it.” The unspoken words hung in the air between them.

He sneered at her in response and she stepped sideways away from where she had in fact being blocking the door.

He swept from the room and returned to his, where he placed the decanter of whiskey and to glasses out on his coffee table. He removed his outer robe and made himself comfortable. By his estimate he had five minutes or less before he’d have company.

It was three before she appeared storming out of his floo vanishing the soot and ash with an impatient jerk of her wand.

“Severus Snape I ought to hex you to next week!” she declared.

“Yes, but you won’t.”

“Do you know how long it took me to get away from them?”

“Approximately three minutes,” he replied unconcerned, rising to pour them both a glass.

She took it with a murmur of thanks and then stared down at him as he settled back into his chair. “Dare I ask why you took it upon yourself to do such a thing?”

“Because your deplorable alibi needed shoring up, and judging from Albus’ face he’s probably planning on presiding over your nuptials if not giving you away himself.”

She looked at him aghast. “What?”

“Well yes,” he agreed. “It did work out a little better than I thought it might.”

“Filius and Pomona have promised to keep it to themselves so it won’t be all over the castle by supper.” She sat in a chair and eyed him. “Thank you for them, they are quite lovely.”

Severus shrugged.

“You have Pomona cooing at any rate and Filius was decoding them as soon as you left. Snapdragons?”

“You are deceiving people are you not?” he asked with a smirk.

She answered it with her own. “Rather better now than before. They are all aflutter with the secrecy of it.”

Chapter Text

He took a breath of the cold sharp air in through his nose. He reminded himself that he had been sorted into the house of the brave, and it wasn't just because of his entanglement with a psychotic wizard. That he was nearly sorted into the house of the ambitious and resourceful, and whilst he might not embrace everything about Slytherin, those were two traits he could use.

He stole a glance at Hermione who walked at his side, arm threaded through his as they meandered through the park. The sun shine on her hair caused golden highlights to flash in the curls escaping from beneath her knitted hat. He loved her. It was the warm feeling in his chest that kept him going when he didn't know how to. He couldn't imagine his life without her, and didn't want to.

The park was doing him proud. The trees were a riot of vibrant reds, golds, and greens as they flaunted their autumn colours. The sun wasn’t warm but it made everything seem crisper, brighter, and he felt like he could see colours he hadn’t ever perceived before.

The duck pond was quiet, the shouts of children playing on the wide grassy areas were softened by the trees, a flock of ducks still swam out on the pond. They stepped up on to the ornate stone bridge spanning the pond and stopped at the peak of it.

He took another deep breath. Romantic location, check. Happy, contented girlfriend that had been taken for a nicer than normal lunch and let loose on a bookshop for an uninterrupted hour, check. He hadn't done anything stupid in the last twenty-four hours that she might suddenly remember, so he was probably ahead on points. Another breath in steadied his nerves and he turned to face her.

“Hermione?”

“Yes?” she replied not taking her eyes from the milling ducks. “We should have brought bread.”

“Uh, yeah. We can come back if you like,” he agreed. He could feel the bead of sweat from between his shoulders under his layers and tugged her hand gently to get her attention.  “Hermione,” he said again.

She turned to look at him, and something in his face must have given him away because she turned away from the ducks to face him fully. “What is it Harry?” a small frown of concern crinkling her brow.

He swallowed and held her hand between both of his, locking his gaze on hers, refusing to let either of them look away. “You know I love you? And you know that for me, you're it?”

She nodded at the words, concern and worry starting to show on her face. “Harry?” she questioned, but he shook his head indicating her to be quiet.

“I know that what we have in front of us isn’t going to be easy, and whilst it is a factor, it's not the reason.” He sucked a breath in and wondered where all his saliva had gone. “Would you. Will you marry me?” he hurried on, before she could form words, wanting to get everything out. “Not tomorrow, or next month, but will you marry me when you are ready? When you've done everything you want to do? Will you? Would you consent to giving me that promise?”

He stopped, and waited, something in his head telling him to shut up before he made a mess of it and he watched her face. The way he could see her think about what he said. The way her eyes got a little moister than they had been from the cold wind, and the way she blinked quickly to stop the moisture escaping as tears.

Her lips started to frame her answer and then they stopped. He saw her register where they were, the day they had spent together, and the sudden gleam as she understood he'd planned this and it hadn't been a spur of the moment thing. Something in her eyes changed then, and he was suddenly enveloped in a tight hug, her curls smothering him. Without being able to help himself he buried his nose in them, breathing in the scent of her. She pulled away slightly and the tears had fallen making tracks down her face. She sniffed.

“Yes,” she said nodding. A wide smile curving her mouth upwards. Her hands flew up to cover her lips as if it hadn't been what she was going to say. “Yes!” she repeated, the laughter bubbling up, spilling from her delighted and happy. “Oh my God Harry, you planned all of this?” She punched him lightly on the arm. “How?”

He laughed, relief coursing through him knocking the strength from his knees. A smile as wide as hers stretched across his face. “I wanted you to say yes,” he answered.

She threaded her arm back through his and turned to look back over the pond, her head tilted to rest against his shoulder. “So, I'm engaged.”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “You are.”

“This is pretty romantic you know. Possibly the most romantic thing you've ever done.”

“More romantic than a moonlit flight on the back of a hippogriff?” he teased.

She looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment then laughed again. “Yes!” she said. “I was terrified, that was not romantic that was, desperate and scary!”

Harry shrugged, releasing his arm from hers and wrapping it around her waist, pulling her into him. “Whenever you're ready, we’ll have the ceremony.  If you change your mind about being thirty I won't mind.”

She looked up at him. “Do Mum and Dad know?” she asked. “That you were going to ask me, like this?”

“It might have come up,” he agreed.

“You asked my Dad for permission to marry me?” she asked, an amused light sparkling in her eyes.

“Not exactly,” Harry hedged. “But John did say that I was worthy of you and that if he tried to get in between us you and Helen might have something to say about it.”

“That doesn't exactly sound like permission granted.”

Harry shrugged. “One other thing,” he said cautiously. “Traditionally there's supposed to be a ring. I would like you to have one.” He stopped unsure of how to explain.

“Go on,” she said encouragingly.

“Being here with you and Helen and John. It's like having a family, a real one, not like the Dursley's where they were relations but hated me. Or like the Weasley’s who accepted me and loved me but only for a couple of weeks a year. Here it's, well it's, what I always thought families were supposed to be. But this is your family.” She made a sound of protest but he held up his hand. “Hang on, let me finish. I've not asked and it's a conversation for later, but I imagine you've got thoughts about taking your husband’s name when you get married, and I imagine that with my name, it's a different ball game altogether. But my name is all I have left of my family. That and a bank vault. So, I would very much like it, if when at all possible, we go and find a ring for you from the Potter vaults. I would like to give you something of my family, the way you have given me yours. If you hate everything then I'll buy you something, but would you mind if we at least looked?”

Her fingers were pressed firmly against her lips and the tears were filling her eyes to fall on to her cheeks. She nodded though and he smiled in relief. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I didn't mean to make you cry though.”

Hermione stepped closer and buried her head on his chest, her sniffles loud in the stillness. “I'm not sad, I'm happy, and touched, and moved, and of course I'll wear a Potter ring.” 

He hugged her again while she got herself back under control. After she'd mopped her face and blown her nose, he released her and turned them towards home.

“Shall we go tell your parents?” he asked.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Mum is going to want to hear all about it.” 

After they got home and gathered Helen, John and Dobby in the library Hermione broke the news, a wide happy smile on her face. Effusive congratulations were offered and warm hugs were exchanged, a bottle of champagne John had kept in the fridge for the occasion was opened and the happy couple toasted.

A knowing look passed between the two parents and Helen snagged Hermione, leading her off to go over the whole day in more detail. John stood by Harry and watched them go.

Harry placed his glass on the side. “Subtle,” he commented.

“Not in the slightest,” John said. “I give Hermione the time it takes to tell her the story once more with all the mushy bits thrown in before she notices.”

“There weren’t that many mushy bits,” Harry protested.

“There were enough, she said yes didn’t she?”

“She did,” Harry said, a grin creeping over his face.

“Well not to totally burst your bubble but we’ve got one more thing to do.”

Harry groaned. “You know I was doing an excellent job of forgetting about it.”

“I don’t blame you. I won’t spring it on her today, don’t worry. The solicitors been through it, we’ve removed some of the more, ah, archaic points without damaging its binding legality.”

Harry looked up at John. “Do I want to know what these archaic parts were?”

“Not really,” John replied. “I think I’ve got my head around what it means for her to be magical, you know? And how backwards something as fantastic as magic has made a society, and then we end up hip deep in betrothal clauses that make the Dark Ages look progressive.”

Harry winced. “There’s nothing left in it like that is there?”

“No,” John said. “We need her to agree to signing it after all. You both could do with writing your wills as well. It’s a good idea regardless of the circumstances.”

“OK, put it on the list.” Harry said casting a quick glance up at John. "Can I have the short version?"

John crossed over to the desk in the library and pulled a rolled up piece of parchment out. He unrolled it reading through it as he spoke. "Simply put, you're agreeing to marrying her and supporting her and any resulting children. There's a clause if either of you break your vows, separation and division of martial good and property. You'll support any children you may have if you separate. Your rights over your wealth and property you bring into the marriage, same for her. You need to read it and have it looked over by a solicitor of your own. Minerva's solicitor recommended another solicitor, or we can find out who your family solicitor is."

"In your eyes, is it fair for both of us?" Harry asked.

John shrugged "Harry, I'm not a solicitor. She's my daughter, I'm fairly sure I'm biased."

"If you're happy for her to sign it, I'll sign it," Harry said. "I'm not going to quibble over who gets the silver spoons. That isn't what this is about."

"No, but its still legally binding." John cautioned.

"So's marriage. I need to make a call."

John nodded in understanding. “Do you want me to send her up?”

“No I won’t be long.” He left the library and went up to the study. He sat on the edge of the desk doing a quick calculation in his head, it would be about eight in the evening in the UK. He flicked his wand at the mirror and its surface swirled in the familiar pattern. The reflection resolved its self into the image of Remus sat in a chair in what looked to be a comfortable room. Remus and Tonk's house he wondered. “Remus, I’m not interrupting am I?” Harry asked.

“Hello Harry. No, it’s fine, I was hoping you’d call. So? She said yes?”

“She did.”

“That's great!”

“Thanks”

“So when's the wedding?”

“Whenever she's ready I guess. I didn't push it.”

“Is that wise? I know what you said she said last time we spoke, about her not wanting to get married because of the law but surely now…?”

“I don't think she's going to change her mind Remus. I mean, she was pretty set against the law forcing her to.”

“But she just said yes to marrying you. What difference does it make now?”

Harry raised his hands helplessly. “It makes a difference to her. I'm not going to force the issue. When she's ready, she's ready. I don't want for her to look back in five, ten years’ time, and wonder if she did the right thing.”

“But you said you love each other,” Remus protested.

“Yeah, but that doesn't make rushing her OK,” Harry tried to explain. “It isn't enough I love her, she loves me. If she marries me because it's the right thing to do, or the necessary thing to do, whatever, in five years’ time will she regret it? Will she wish we could have done things differently? Will she then become dissatisfied? And that leads to the breakup of what we might have?”

Remus looked at him. “That seems a rather dramatic conclusion to reach.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “But I borrowed some of the magazines from the dental practice and had a flip through. Women are entirely irrational about this stuff. The problem pages!” Harry shook his head. “I thought Tom was my biggest worry.”

Remus laughed. “You read problem pages in magazines?”

Harry grumbled quietly. “I'm seventeen, my total knowledge of the opposite sex begins and ends with Hogwarts. Which mostly means the same girl and there are days I can barely keep up with her. So yes, I read the magazines. I wanted some ideas on how to get her to say yes when I asked.”

“I'm sorry Harry, I didn't mean to laugh, it’s just,” Remus broke off smiling, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Yeah well, it worked,” Harry responded. “So I'm not going to knock it.”

“What else did you learn?” Remus asked curiously. 

Harry sent him a sideways glance. “Quite a bit, some of it was quite interesting. Though I admit to skipping over the fashion and beauty stuff.”

Remus laughed again. “They would be proud you know,” he said quietly. “I know we agreed to leave the topic alone, but I think that you should know that they would be proud.”

Harry looked down at his feet. They had agreed to leave the topic of his parents to one side lest they disagree again, but Remus was right, it was comforting to know that they would have been proud. He tried to ignore the little stab in his heart which he knew was bitterness that they weren't here to tell him themselves. It was pointless, they weren't and he was finally doing ok. He nodded acknowledging Remus' comment but not looking up at the man.

Remus cleared his throat. “Yes, well, there's something else.”

“Oh?” Harry said.

“Dora and I have been talking. The baby, we'd like it very much if you'd be willing to be godfather. If you want to that is.”

Harry looked up at Remus his throat suddenly tight. “Me?” he asked his voice catching.

“Yes,” Remus said. “It would mean a lot to both of us, and we know that should anything happen to either of us you would, well they would be with someone who would understand.”

Harry swallowed, it didn't ease the tightness but he managed to say. “I'd be honoured. I really would.”

Remus nodded taking his own moment to look away and wipe a hand over his face. “Good, I'll tell Dora you accepted. Thank you.”

“Well, nothing is going to happen to you both, right?” Harry said. “So I'll just have to be that guy who brings inappropriate gifts around.”

“Yeah,” Remus said. “That would be great. So, what are you doing for Christmas?”

“Err, I think we might be going skiing, have a bit of a break. We've both got exams before and after so I think Helen and John are looking to get us a bit of down time so we don't have melt downs. Exams are hard.”

“They're treating you well?” Remus asked.

“They're the best,” Harry replied with conviction.

“Are you doing anything wizarding?”

“Wizarding?” Harry asked puzzled.

“You know, in the magical community?”

“I don't know, I don't think so.”

“Don't you think you should? I mean you're in a different magical community. Isn’t it a good time to explore it?”

“Maybe, but John and Helen might not be able to manage. They are pretty good with most things but some things you still need magic for.”

Remus paused before speaking. “Harry, you are a wizard, Hermione is a witch; you belong to the magical world as well.”

“I know,” Harry agreed.

“Then isn’t spending sometime in the magical world a good idea? You’ve got an opportunity to see how the magical community you have joined compares to the one in England, it might help you to decide what you want to do after.”

“We’ve been shopping for the things we need and such. We’ve not exactly had a lot of time to really get involved. School is still taking up a lot of our time and with our exams and extra classes.” Harry shrugged.

“Then isn’t your holiday time a good time to look into it? I’m not saying you have to leave Helen and John behind, but balancing between the magical and muggle world is hard Harry. That’s why most muggle born don’t.”

“That, and the prejudice against them,” Harry pointed out.

“That too,” Remus agreed. “It’s not perfect, but you’ve got an opportunity to have a good look at which community you’d prefer to live in.”

“You wouldn’t mind if we didn’t return?” Harry asked.

Remus sighed softly. “I have apologised for my behaviour Harry, and the things I said. I am worried about you, but as you said, you are cared for and well. Obviously I would like you to be happy and if that means not returning to England. Well international portkeys aren’t that hard to come by.”

Harry smiled cautiously at Remus. “Well I guess we could look into it a bit more. Things are different here. There is less prejudice here, it’s not a society built on the same foundations as in England. It is better in some respects.”

“That’s good then. Have you looked into careers and such like?”

“No,” Harry admitted. “I mean I wanted to be an Auror or I think I did, and I should have the right number of NEWTs if I wanted to join up, but we haven’t really looked into it yet.”

“Maybe you could put it on your To Do List. I’m sure you could fit it in between saving the world and getting married.” Remus joked.

Harry smiled in appreciation at the attempt of humour. “Yeah I guess we could. So, umm being godfather. Do you have christenings and stuff I need to come to?”

“No.” Remus shook his head. “You’ll be put on the birth registration and that’s it. You only needed to willingly agree to make it official.”

“Oh right, OK.” Harry heard a noise from downstairs and turned his head in the direction trying to discern what it might be. “I might have to get going,” he said turning back to the mirror.

Remus smiled. “That’s fine, you go enjoy your day. Would you mind if I told Dora?”

“No. We’re not going to make a big deal about it though I don’t think.”

“Good night Harry,” Remus said.

“Yeah, good night Remus, and thanks, you know, for your advice.”

“No problem,” Remus said, then he was gone and the mirror's surface returned to reflecting the room.

Harry stood gathering his thoughts. Godfather. He had no idea how to do that, but that was nothing new. He glanced at their reference shelves knowing that there wasn’t anything there to help him. He smiled to himself as he made to leave the room, maybe Hermione would consent to a trip to a bookshop and a bit of research.

He found the others in the den, he froze in the doorway as he took in the room. Helen and John were on the sofa, Hermione was on her feet, a piece of parchment in her hand, from her face he had a horrible feeling he knew what the parchment was.

Her head shot up at the noise of him coming into the room. Her expression was distinctly unhappy and he went over to her cautiously, standing next to her and wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Did you know about this?” she asked in a small voice. Harry snatched a look at John and Helen who looked equally guilty and unhappy.

“That depends on what this is,” he hedged.

 She lifted her head and looked at him her gaze assessing. “This,” she waggled the parchment in front of him. “Is our betrothal contract.”

“Then yes I knew about it.”

She looked shocked then hurt. “You did?”

He guided her to a chair. She went with him reluctantly and sat when he indicated the armchair next to the sofa Helen and John were sitting on. Once she was sat he crouched in front of her looking up at her face. “Hermione?”

“I’m concentrating on not feeling hurt that you would think that this wasn’t something you should have spoken to me about,” she said, her voice quiet.

“OK,” he nodded. “That’s fair.” He pulled the parchment from her grasp and put it on the floor, taking her hands in his. “We were going to tell you about it, and we were not going to sign it until you were happy.” Her head came up enough to meet his eyes and he could see the hurt morphing into anger. He swallowed and continued. “For you to return to England with me, you have to comply with the Ministry laws regarding your blood status. We don’t know how long we might need to be there, or how public we will need to be once we are there. For you to not get immediately thrown in to Azkaban you need to be married or beyond the reach of the law.”

“So today was what? Just a way to get me to sign that?” The hurt and anger was making her eyes flash.

“No,” he said calmly. “Today was about me asking the woman I love the most important question I could ask her, and hoping like hell she said yes this time. The contract, it’s not really anything more than putting that down on paper.”

“It’s a betrothal contract Harry, they are used to sell women for political or monetary advantage.”

“Hermione,” Harry said. “Do you think we’d do that to you?”

She visibly swallowed the retort she was going to make and closed her eyes taking a deep breath. “No.” Her eyes opened again and the anger had receded to be replaced by confused hurt that pierced him.

“We,” he waved a hand back at Helen and John. “Know that this, it’s awful. That it is unfair that this should be part of what getting engaged means, but I promise it’s been gone over with a toothcomb. You’re not property, you’re not being sold by your Dad and I’m not buying you. It’s more like a pre-nuptial agreement, this is America after all.” He smiled weakly at her. He picked the parchment up. “Have you read it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not fully.”

He handed it back to her. “Read it,” he urged her as she took it. “If you’ve got any questions or objections then we’ll address them.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face then her gaze moved to her parents who were still saying nothing. Harry got up from his crouch and sat on the sofa.

Hermione unrolled the parchment and bent her head to it trying to ignore her companions. Harry sat watching her, he hadn’t read it either and he was hoping that he hadn’t just dropped them all in a heap of trouble.

The contract wasn’t long and whilst he watched her, she read it twice. He said nothing until she raised her head and dropped the parchment onto the coffee table, watching it curl back up.

She looked once at her dad and then at Harry before taking a breath. “It doesn’t require my signature.”

“No,” John said quietly. “But to ensure it couldn’t be challenged it was recommended that you do sign it, as neither your mother or I are magical.”

“Then why haven’t you signed it?”

“Because we’d prefer to see it as a pre-nuptial agreement than a betrothal contract.” John answered.

“When, when were you going to tell me?”

“In a couple of days,” John replied.

“How long have you-?” Hermione said, not finishing the question.

“It’s taken a while to get it straightened out, to make sure it’s not onerous on either of you whilst conforming to what the contract needs to be to pass Ministry inspection.” John answered.

“Oh-kay,” Hermione said taking in a breath. She looked at the parchment on the table, her parents and Harry, all sat waiting for her to say something. “This isn’t quite where I was expecting today to go,” she offered as an explanation.

“No,” John agreed. “None of us wanted to spoil your day.”

“Sign it,” she said shortly.

“Are you sure?” Harry said immediately, his eyes searching her face.

“It doesn’t change the long engagement does it?”

“No,” Harry rushed to assure her.

“Well then, like you said its nothing more than what I said and it needs to be done doesn’t it?”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked again.

She gave him a smile; it wasn’t the wide happy grin that had been on her face earlier but it was still a smile. “Yes. It might have knocked the romance a bit, but it’s necessary and its better than the alternative.”

John picked up a pen from the coffee table and signed the bottom of the contract before pushing it over to Harry. Harry shot one more questioning glance at Hermione who nodded her encouragement, he signed the parchment and pushed it at her. Hermione picked up the pen and signed the bottom under her dad’s signature.

“Well now that’s dealt with,” Helen said breaking the silence that had gathered. “Back to celebrating I think. Dobby!”

Dobby appeared with a pop. “How can Dobby serve?”

“Dobby, how do you feel about cooking up a celebratory meal for the happy couple?”

Dobby nodded enthusiastically. “Dobby would like that very much!” He disappeared with another pop.

Dobby out did himself on dinner and the celebratory mood returned. By the time they decided enough was enough for the day, Hermione’s smile had become warm and soft. It was a smile that reassured Harry that despite the hiccup of her finding out about the contract earlier than they had planned it hadn’t ruined the whole day. 

 Harry found that after that weekend, the end of term and his exams seemed determined to crash down upon him at a breakneck speed. He and Hermione spent all their spare time revising and quizzing each other, eking out as much revision time as they could. When the exams arrived, they spent the week ostensibly locked away in a room with ten others taking the exams. It seemed that there hadn’t been enough time to learn everything and yet the day he had proposed seemed so far away.

The end of term arrived and they wished their friends and classmates happy holidays before flooing home.

Taking Remus’ advice he and Hermione explored the magical community they had stayed on the fringe of. Helen and John agreed that they should look into it further and encouraged them to go out. They went skiing as a family and spent time allowing themselves to just be a family on holiday for the season. On New Year’s Eve they all went to Time Square to join in the celebrations there. It was crowded noisy and full of life, it was the perfect end to their holiday.

Chapter Text

Christmas was mad. It was their second Christmas and it was proving to be every bit as exhausting as their first. Their mail order business was very possibly going to cause the expiration of the post office’s parliament of owls it was so busy. The foot traffic in the Alley had picked back up after the attack and as the days had past and the shops repaired it seemed that the events were simply forgotten about.

Of course it was brilliant, they had a business and it was flourishing. They had drafted Lee in to help Verity in the shop just so they could concentrate on brewing and re stocking. They were up at the crack of dawn and rarely in bed until the small hours.

Due to their extended hours in the workshop they had been able to spend more time talking to Harry and Hermione as they studied and revised. They had teased the pair for being swots, for taking their exams in the first place when they had such marvellous examples of how exams weren’t the be all and end all. That stance had caused Hermione to sniff at them and bury her head back in a book that was quite honestly written in Greek as far as they were concerned.

They had had their moment of jealousy however when they had been told of the impending skiing trip. Still being in school had its advantages and being able to enjoy the holiday season as a holiday was one of them.

Harry had told them of Remus asking him to be godparent and they had offered what wisdom they could. Helen, John and Hermione had joined in, sharing what it meant from the muggle perspective and they had an interesting conversation that had explored the differences between the two cultures they inhabited.

The Order meeting just before Christmas was held at Grimmauld place. They arrived late, the shop had been extremely busy and it had taken longer than expected to get the last customers out and the shop tidy. They still had a night of brewing ahead of them once the meeting was finished.

They snuck in as quietly as they could winding their way through the throng of people to stand by Minerva. The meeting had by sheer numbers been moved to one of the large reception rooms on the ground floor of the town house.

The room was gloomy and depressing, someone had been through and at least removed the dust and cobwebs, but nothing would make the room either cheery or welcoming.

Albus was already there chatting but the meeting hadn’t yet begun, allowing them to dodge the worst of their mother’s glares with apologetic grimaces.

“Fred, George,” Minerva greeted them quietly.

“Minerva,”

“Long day?” she asked looking them over.

“Yes,” George agreed leaning up against the wall, letting the tiredness seep through his tall frame for just a moment. 

“How many of your products will I be confiscating in the new year?”

“At the rate we’re going, enough to restock us for a month.”

She looked surprised.

“I think it’s partly because people are determined to ignore what’s happening,” Fred said as he lent against the wall next to George mirroring his pose. “The attack, it’s like people have decided they aren’t going to think about it and are going to have as much fun as possible. It’s got an air of desperation about it.”

Minerva nodded. “It was like that last time in the beginning. Things were starting to go noticeably badly and everyone seemed to want to try that bit harder to enjoy themselves.”

“They’d be better off protecting themselves,” George said grumpily. “I mean its great business and we’ve seen an uptake in the defensive line we offer but it’s not really the answer is it. If enough people would stand up and do something instead.”

“I sympathise I really do, but people just won’t,” she said with a sad smile. “I understand your frustration, but they are scared. They don’t see how one person can make a difference, can stand against what they see as inevitable so they don’t. They stay out of sight, hoping that the monster will pass them by, go after someone else. Its selfish but no less true.”

“Whilst being perfectly happy to throw harry under the hippogriff so to speak.” George said.

Minerva nodded sadly. “You can’t blame them for being afraid.”

Fred looked around as Dumbledore started to make his way to the front of the room. “There’s rather a lot of us here,” he commented.

Albus had reached the front of the room and raised his hands for hush preventing Minerva from answering.

“Ladies, gentlemen, friends. I would like to thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend. I understand that a few of you are wondering why there are so many of us here tonight and I wish to explain. I have an announcement to make an I understand that it may cause concern for a number of you and raise questions. I wish to tell you that that the Minister for Magic Rufus Scrimgeour will shortly be removed from his post. It is fully expected that he will retire and cite his recent failings in light of the Death Eater attacks as the reason.”

“You’re taking the job?” a voice called out from the back of the assembled group. Dumbledore smiled, good humour radiating from him.

“No, my position is here, with you. Pius Thicknesse will be taking the position of Minister of Magic and will be sworn in within a fortnight. Then the Ministry's annual Christmas Gala will be used to present him to the public.”

“But he’s a Death Eater! He’s in league with You-Know-Who!” another voice called out. That announcement caused a short cry of fear to be let loose from some attendees. It was quickly muffled, but caused a ripple of unease to shoot around the room. Albus raised his hands gaining the attention of the room again.

“As I was saying, this news will cause some of us concern and I would like to give everyone time to voice them and raise any issues now, while we are altogether.” He looked around the group smiling benevolently, his confident and calm demeanour soothed many of the fledgling fears that had sprouted at the news he had delivered.

Fred and George exchanged glances then looked over at Minerva. She seemed calm and was looking engaged and interested in what was going on. Taking their cue from her, they both hid their concerns and tried to look unruffled.

“Our mission hasn’t changed,” Albus continued. “We will triumph over the evil that is Voldemort. We can expect to be pushed back into the shadows but we have worked there before with much success and we will do again.”

“What of the people working at the Ministry?” someone called out.

“Those that work there should continue to do so,” Albus replied. “If you feel your personal safety and that of your family is being threatened, then we will do all we can to support you.”

Few others raised questions, Albus’ calm, unflappable demeanour did much to quash the senseless fears that would have ordinarily frozen the group. Minerva nodded to herself slightly. Severus had been right, with Albus stood there telling them to carry on, the Order hadn’t reacted as badly as could have been expected to the news of the new Minister. Without him she could see how they might have let fear rile them. She sighed to herself. He could do so much good. He did a lot of good, but somewhere along the way his course had diverted. The war with Voldemort had changed him and it hadn’t been for the better.

“Where is Severus?” the question came from beside her.

“Not here,” she answered.

They looked at her expectantly, and amused, she elaborated. “I don’t know where he is. I’m not his keeper and he certainly doesn’t tell me his whereabouts every time he leaves the castle, if he even has. Albus lets him stay away from things like this. His position is too controversial and many here don’t know about it. It would descend into a fight, Alastor would say something derogatory, Severus would respond and the meeting would derail. The work that needed to be done wouldn’t be.”

The twins listened and considered her words. “He knows about all this?” Fred waved a hand in the general direction of Albus.

“Yes, this was his idea.” That got her two piercing looks of surprise followed by calculation.

“Dumbledore didn’t want to hold this meeting.”

“No,” she confirmed.

“Did he even want to be alive?” George asked quietly. “Wasn’t it part of his plan to have left us all floundering by this point?”

Minerva raised an eyebrow. “Who told you?”

“Our friends,” Fred replied giving her a meaningful look.

“Ah,” Minerva said.

“Why didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t for me to do so.”

“But we're supposed to be in this together, yet we’re still not told everything.”

“We are,” Minerva responded. “But Severus is an intensely private man, and what has been asked of him is monstrous. What do you think would have happened if he had complied with Albus’ wishes?”

“We know,” Fred said. “We worked it out ourselves, it’s just sometimes, it would be nice to be trusted enough to be told.”

“It isn’t about trust,” Minerva responded. “At this stage it can hardly be so.”

George put a hand on Fred’s arm in warning. “We’re drawing attention,” he murmured.

A quick glance around showed that their quiet but intense conversation had drawn some looks from the more senior members of the Order.

Kingsley wandered over, a cup of tea in his hand and an interested look on his face. “Not still complaining about the ban on your products at the school are you?” he asked slightly too loudly.

Fred took up a wounded stance. “Hardly complaining Kingsley, the ban Hogwarts has implemented has stifled our ability to continue our reign of mayhem. All those little first years that won’t understand our legacy.”

George watched the room surreptitiously as Fred replied. The interested looks had turned from curious to knowingly indulgent smiles, casually dismissing them as nothing more than pranksters trying to flout the rules. “Merlin that’s depressing,” he murmured mostly to himself.

Minerva heard him and made a humming noise of agreement. George turned his head to see her also watching the room and the casual dismissal of their group.

“Sorry,” George offered.

“Not at all Mr Weasley.” She offered him a small tired smile. “It’s wearing on us all.”

Kingsley flashed her a knowing smile as he continued to tease Fred about the Hogwarts ban. Fred played his part well and after a few minutes the conversation was wound down.

“So that’s how you did it,” Kingsley said.

“Did what?” Minerva asked archly.

“Operated under our noses.”

“We hardly tried, Kingsley.” She gestured to the room. “We’re all just who we appear to be.”

“Hardly,” Kingsley responded. He turned to Fred and George. “I wonder if you’ve spoken to Percy recently? I’ve not managed to meet him for over a fortnight, he’s caught up in the changeover. I can only imagine that his office is chaos and I didn’t want to draw attention.”

“No,” Fred and George said. “We’ve been caught up with the shop and one thing and another. It’s probably been about the same since we last spoke.”

Kingsley nodded in understanding. “If you get chance and do speak to him, any information he has would be welcome, especially now.”

They nodded. “We’ll try and visit, we should anyway. He’ll be alright?” Fred asked hesitantly. “We don’t pretend to understand what he does, and he won’t speak of it when we do see him, but this isn’t going to put him in more danger is it?”

“I don’t know,” Kingsley admitted. “Which is the other reason I wanted to speak to him. He will know himself how it will affect him. He’s a valuable asset to the office of the Minister of Magic and not many can do his job as well as he can. The information he can get us has proven its worth multiple times but it’s not worth his life.”

“If he quits though, and the situation doesn’t resolve, wont that cast more suspicion on him? Lucius Malfoy has practically lived in the Minister's office for the last two months according to him, and, Percy is still a Weasley.”

“Yes, but he defected,” Kingsley said. “Quite publicly. He’s not in any danger because he’s seen as an agent of the Light as it were.”

Behind them the murmur of polite chatter grew louder signalling the end of the social part of the meeting and people began to move towards the door.

“If you will excuse me,” Minerva said. “I have an errand to run before I return to the castle.”

They exchanged farewells and she moved towards the door. Fred and George exchanged a look. “Brewing?” Fred said and George nodded.

“Thanks Kingsley,” George said. “For stepping in earlier.”

“No need,” Kingsley replied. “I was on my way over anyway. Ah, I see Moody is leaving, I must just catch him. Gentlemen.” Kingsley flashed them a smile then moved to intercept Moody at the door.

The twins glanced once about the room and turned for the door themselves when someone caught Fred’s arm. 

Bill had watched his two brothers during the meeting and was somewhat confused by their serious conversation with their former Head of House. No one was close enough to hear so he was unable to judge what it was about. When Kingsley had challenged them about the product ban at Hogwarts he had noticed how only Fred had engaged in the conversation leaving George unaccountably silent at his side. 

He made his way over when he saw that they were about to leave, catching Fred’s arm. “Do you have a couple of minutes?”

Fred shot him an apologetic glance. “Not really, but if whatever you want can be dealt with while we brew then we’ve got all evening.”

“That’s fine,” Bill said following them to the front step. He pulled his collar up to cover the scars on his neck, protecting them from the biting cold. The scars crept out from Bill’s collar up his neck and chased over his jaw and up to his ear.

 Fred had seen Bill before he left the hospital and knew that the scars on his neck continued down and wrapped around his shoulder where the worst of the spell damage had occurred.

Bill had been pragmatic about them, pointing out that Charlie had more scars in more places than his collection, and in his line of work he hadn’t expected to stay free of them. Predictably their mother had more to say on the topic but Bill had simply smiled kindly and let her fuss.

 Fred and George led their brother into their work room, they sent their outer robes flying off to hang up and started heaving cauldrons up on to their stands, igniting flames underneath them. Then they moved to pulling the necessary ingredients from the shelves and dumping them in piles on the work bench.

They worked together fluidly, a consequence of being two people who spent so much time together and the long practice of making their products. Bill stayed out of the way until the initial flurry was over and they were settled into preparing the ingredients and minding cauldrons. Then he cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you might be able to offer some wisdom.”

Fred and George both looked up in surprise at Bill. “Err, Bill,” Fred said amused confusion readily apparent. “You are asking for wisdom from us? Wouldn’t you be better talking to Dad?”

“No,” Bill said. “This is more up your street than his.  The mirrors you made,”

Fred and George exchanged a cautious glance. “Yes, what about them?” George said warily.

Bill looked at them. “Why am I now thinking there’s a story behind them that I wasn’t aware of?”

“No idea,” Fred said with a guileless smile.

“Huh,” Bill said. “Well leaving that aside, you didn’t take them to Professor Dumbledore did you? When you wanted to offer them to the Order.”

“No,” Fred said, he watched the cauldron he was stirring intently as he answered. “We took them to Kingsley first.”

“Why?”

Fred glanced up at Bill then looked at George who had mirrored his twin’s actions. Bill watched the routine with familiar exasperation and envy tugging at him as his brothers communicated silently between themselves. He’d seen them do it since they were little and it never failed to make him feel the same way. Annoyed that they could do it and he couldn’t, that they were that close and he had nothing comparable with any of his siblings, and fondness that they hadn’t changed. That they had somehow, stayed the same, in tune with each other.

“We weren’t sure that Dumbledore would allow us to issue them to the Order. It seemed that Kingsley would see their tactical advantage and therefore would carry more weight when getting them approved.” Fred answered.

“We are just pranksters that quit school to run a joke shop you see. We do sell a number of defence items, but everyone knows us for the pranks.”

“Why don’t you trust him? Dumbledore,” Bill clarified.

“Who said we don’t?”

Bill just looked at them both with the patience of an elder brother with a large number of siblings. “Do you?” he asked.

They fidgeted slightly. “It’s not that we don’t trust him,” Fred said.

“It’s that some of his decisions we don’t agree with.” George elaborated.

“And since we’re not running the order we don’t get to know everything so there’s no point in making a fuss.”

“He needs to win a war. With as few casualties as possible.”

“But when those casualties are your friends.”

“It’s harder to swallow when it seems that there is another way.”

“It’s war, there’s always going to be casualties, people that will get hurt and die.” Bill said, cutting off the running speech the twins used.

“Not those sorts of casualties, although there are those too.” George replied.

“The people he runs roughshod over, the ones he doesn’t protect because it doesn’t fit with his plan although it wouldn’t risk anything.” Fred added.

“So you wouldn’t take any of your inventions to him?”

“To the Order yes. To Dumbledore? No,” Fred said and they both shook their heads.

Bill sighed. “I’m not sure what to do then.”

“Well if you tell us a bit more we might be able to help.” George offered.

“Not unless either of you went and got yourselves the dark mark lately you can’t,” Bill said slightly glumly.

“No we haven’t, but why do you need a marked Death Eater?” Fred asked as he waved his wand and three bottles levitated out of the corner of the storeroom where they kept their equipment. A quick cooling charm was applied and the bottle caps removed. He handed one to George and to Bill before taking a mouthful of his own. He considered the brew then flipped the bottle cap into the Yes box they had set up to decide if they would buy the beer again. George followed suit and they clinked the necks of the bottles together before drinking again.

Bill watched bemused before trying the drink himself. It wasn’t what he was expecting and he peered at the label and its unusual text and symbols. “Is this muggle beer?”

“Yes,” Fred said. “Pale Ale, not quite craft beer but close enough and widely available in muggle supermarkets.”

Bill looked at the twins in surprise. “When did you go to a muggle supermarket? And when did you start drinking muggle beer?!”

“Once a month or so to stock up on essentials,” George said waggling the beer bottle. “And we’ve been drinking it for ages, Muggles get really into brewing beer. Its good stuff, and it’s easier drinking this than drinking fire whiskey all the time.”

“Oh,” Bill said considering the bottle in his hand again.

“You don’t drink muggle alcohol?” George asked.

“I can’t say I take any notice of where the wine we drink comes from. Fleur’s family send it over by the case full.” he shrugged apologetically.

“So why a marked Death Eater?” George said placing his bottle down and continuing with his ingredient prep. Fred moved around the cauldrons adding in ingredients stirring and setting the charmed stirring rods off on those cauldrons he wasn’t tending himself.

“Do you remember when you came and showed me those rings you got for your birthday last year?”

The twins nodded.

“It got me thinking, one of the biggest problems after the first war was that you couldn’t tell who was a Death Eater and who wasn’t, just by looking at them. Their clothes made them look like everyone else, and without a fashion for short sleeves becoming all the rage there was no way of proving it. People like Malfoy got away with claiming imperious. So I’ve been working on something, I think I’ve got it but I need to test it.”

“What is it?”

“A ward barrier that can’t be breached by those carrying the Dark Mark.” Bill said with a modest grin of achievement.

Fred and George looked up at Bill distracted from their tasks. Bill could see from the gleam in their eyes that they were already spinning out the possibilities. The possibilities that had driven him to try and had kept him going in the face of his failures.

“That would-”

“Change everything!”

“No one who is marked-”

“Could claim Imperious.”

“You could lock them out of the Ministry!”

“Protect places like St Mungo’s from attack.”

“Will you show it us?” they chorused together.

Bill held his hands up his smile wide. “I don’t know if it works properly yet, that’s why I need help.”

“Does it work at all?” Fred asked.

“Yes,” Bill nodded. “I have got it to exclude certain types of dark magic already so all I need now is to attune it to the Dark Mark.”

The twins continued their brewing silently for a few minutes, which was broken by the sounds of George's chopping and the scraping noise of the stirring rods in the cauldrons. For all that they didn’t speak Bill got the impression that they were communicating.

“Have you asked Se-Snape?” George asked.

“No,” Bill said. “With his role I thought that if I was to ask for his aid, I would have to go through Professor Dumbledore.”

George nodded in understanding.

“I would ask him,” Fred said. “Tell him what you want him to do, let him look over your notes and ask him if he would be willing to help.”

“You think I should?”

“If you go through Dumbledore, he’ll make it an order,” George said.

“So?” Bill said.

“If you want his help, ask him for it,” Fred said.

“He’ll tell you if he thinks it will compromise his role or not,” George added.

“How do you know?” Bill asked.

“We’ve had a few dealings with him,” George said smoothly.

Bill eyed them but didn’t ask for further clarification. He picked his beer up and nursed it quietly as his brothers continued with their brewing. Their movements confident and sure, the quiet bubbling of cauldrons a comforting reminder of his school days when things had been simpler. Bill let his mind wander over the Order meeting. “Do you think Percy will be alright?”

He hadn’t realised he’d voiced the thought, but the way in which Fred and George both stiffened slightly at the sound of Percy’s name had him snapping back to attention.

“What?” he asked. “What was that? You can’t still be mad at him.”

Fred his eyes firmly on his cauldron asked casually. “Have you seen Percy recently?”

Bill narrowed his eyes in suspicion, neither of his brothers were looking at him their attention taken by the bubbling cauldrons they were tending. “He came to see me in the hospital. Come to think of it, I asked him if Mum or Dad had been to see him and he said he heard through work.” He watched them both carefully and suddenly something clicked in their too casual acceptance of what he was saying. “You told him didn’t you?”

“Yes,” George said. “We sent him a note when we found out.”

“Why? You didn’t want to even speak to him never mind see him after he sent that letter.”

“Because he’s our brother and yours too. We thought he should know.”

“Dad went to see him the day after he visited.” Bill said. “Dad said they’d fought and I thought he meant he’d seen him again, but he hadn’t, had he?”

“Probably not, no,” Fred said.

Bill looked at his two brothers. The twins, the pranksters, the carefree spirits, the ones that never stopped smiling, laughing. The ones that were never without each other, and he felt like he was seeing them for the first time. Not as his younger brothers but as two men who had their own ideas about things. “How deeply are you involved?” he asked quietly.

“Involved in what?” George asked flicking him a glance from the cauldron he was carefully tending as the colours started to swirl and change.

“In the Order. You don’t trust Dumbledore though,” Bill mused out loud. “Which means you’re in deep enough to see things you don’t like or-”

“Bill,” Fred interrupted. “Don’t. We can’t tell you.”

Bill looked stunned for a moment then concern flickered over his face. “You aren’t doing anything dangerous are you?”

George smiled, the humour not reaching his eyes. “It’s a war,” he said quietly. “It’s all dangerous.”

“Nothing out right dangerous then? Nothing that means I’m going to have to explain to Mum that I knew you were involved in something and didn’t say anything.”

“We’re just trying to make the world a better place,” Fred said his smile crooked. “Nothing any more dangerous than when we brought the rings to you.”

Bill looked at them, his misgivings plain on his face. “Fine, I won’t ask, I’ll keep your secrets but after, when this is all over you’re going to tell me everything.” It wasn’t a request and his brothers both smiled at him.

“Yes Bill!” they said in unison their cheeky grins flashing.

Bill swallowed the last of his beer and put the bottle down with a small clunk. “I’m going before I find out things I don’t want to. Thank you for the chat.” He readied himself to apparate home but paused. “If you run into Percy, tell him it was good to see him again.” Then he left in a sharp quiet crack.  

Harry sat back in his chair flexing his fingers to relieve the cramp. This was it. His final exam. He was no longer a student; his magical education was over. He glanced around the room, there were a few people still writing but more like him were now stretching and looking around the room after an hour and a half of transmitting their horded knowledge on to parchment.

It wasn’t the end he had envisioned. When he had started Hogwarts when he had found out he was a wizard he hadn’t figured that his life would involve fighting Tom. He’d thought that this magical world he was suddenly thrust into would offer him a way out, a way to escape the misery that was the Dursely’s. It had, he thought, at the very least done that.

Now he was done. He had five NEWTs, or would, assuming he hadn’t completely buggered them up. He glanced around once more, Hermione was a couple of rows over, her head still bent. He wasn’t surprised, he supressed the urge to look around again, knowing that Ron’s bright red head wasn’t in the room. He wondered if Ron had had enough time to get over his understandable anger at their flight. Fred and George hadn’t really mentioned Ron in their conversations. He wasn’t sure if it was tact on their part or just because Ron was at Hogwarts and they weren’t. He and Hermione had sent gifts for Christmas to the Weasley’s, small things that wouldn’t give away where they were, but would show they hadn’t been forgotten. Dobby had happily dropped them off at the Burrow.

Fred and George had conveyed the thanks of the family and told them how they had sat around discussing how the gifts had been left, and if it was likely they had been done so in person.

They hadn’t asked outright how it had been done but dropped enough hints that they wanted to know. Harry and Hermione had kept quiet refusing to tell them much to their annoyance. Ron had accepted his present according to Fred and George with genuine happiness. Harry hoped that it was a good sign, they would find out soon enough. Hermione had one more week of exams left. Then it would be February and they would be returning to England.

Sat in the exam room knowing that the school campus was spread out around him it was hard to imagine returning and what it would mean to go out to meet Tom on the field of battle. He stifled a snort 'the field of battle', wasn’t that just making it sound grand. Some noble cause, him a shining knight on a noble steed, shield and lance ready to charge down the enemy. He was brought out of his idle imaginings by the sounding of the bell to indicate time was up. There was a louder murmur and scuffling as all the students stopped and tidied their papers before the moderator summoned them to him.

Once they were dismissed Harry stood from his desk and waited for the rush of students to pass him before making his way over to Hermione.

She smiled at him taking his arm as they made their way out of the room.

“Home?” Harry offered.

“I want to call by the library,” she said ruefully. “There’s a book I want to take out for my Athrimancy exam.”

Harry nodded amiably. “Come on then, then we’ll go home and celebrate the end of the week’s exams.”

“I can probably manage that,” Hermione said. They moved through the corridors and crossed through the open spaces.

“Do you mind?” Harry asked.

“Mind what?”

“That you aren’t taking everything at NEWT level.”

She paused as they crossed a busy intersection. “No,” she said slowly after some thought. “Maybe before, when we were at Hogwarts, it was more about proving I was more than people like Malfoy said I was. Here, I'm doing the NEWTs I wanted and think I might use. We’ve got an opportunity to carry on with our studies afterwards so if I really want them I can get them.”

“Will you? Go back to school?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Fred and George still want me to work with them and we don’t have to stay in England to do that if we don’t want to. Then there’s Mum and Dad to consider. I mean, they wouldn’t want us not to do what we wanted, but they did just uproot their lives for me.” She shrugged one shoulder as they entered the library foyer. “I owe them something for that at the very least.”

They fell silent as they moved between the stacks to the Athrimancy section. It took only a moment or two for Hermione to locate the book she wanted and they returned to the desk to check it out.

She put it in her bag and took his hand again as they set off back across the campus to the floo room. “What about you?”

“Me?” Harry asked.

“Well yeah, you seemed keen on studying runes, are you going to carry on?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe as a side thing to whatever it is I decide to do. Not that I know what that is.”

They reached the floor room and Harry stepped ahead of her, smiling he held the door open and bowed her through it. She rolled her eyes at him but dropped him a quick curtsey in reply. They stepped into the floo and out the other side to be met by Dobby who vanished the soot and ash of their travel.

“Thanks Dobby,” they said stripping out of their coats which the elf also made vanish along with their school bags.

“Dobby has made sandwiches. Helen and John have informed Dobby they will be late home.” Dobby reported.

“Great, thanks Dobby.” Harry smiled at the elf as he made straight for the kitchen followed by Hermione. Harry grabbed the whole plate while Hermione filled a pair of glasses with drinks then they took their spoils to the den.

“A night off,” Harry said as he settled on to the sofa. “No revision or talk of exams until tomorrow,” he declared looking at Hermione sternly. “You’ll get exam fatigue.”

“Did you just make that up?” Hermione asked sitting next to him.

“Yes,” Harry nodded, “But it’s probably a real thing and if you get yourself as worked up about these as you did your OWLs I might be forced to take drastic action.”

“You know,” Hermione said, leaning her head back on the sofa and closing her eyes. “I can probably manage not to revise tonight.”

Harry looked at her startled, he hadn’t expected her to give in this easily. “Are you alright?”

She smiled, her eyes still closed. “Yes, Harry I’m fine. It’s only one night after all.”

“You are being decidedly calm about this,” Harry pointed out suspiciously.

Hermione rolled her head to the side and opened her eyes to look at him. “Do you know since I started my magical education this is the first time we haven’t been hip deep in some mad scheme. We’ve not been sneaking around the school playing detective. You’ve had no contact with Tom, it’s been,” she paused. “Oddly relaxing. I’ve actually been able to study, and not have to devote a large portion of my efforts into solving whatever riddle you’d gotten yourself tangled up in. I feel more prepared than I usually would. So one night off? Yeah, I can do that and not worry.”

“Huh, I didn’t realise.”

“I’m not blaming you Harry,” she said finding his hand and squeezing it. “I wouldn’t change any of it, it’s just this time, it’s nice, you know, for there not to be a million things to juggle.”

“I guess I can see that. I’ve passed half a whole school year and not spent a single night in the infirmary.” He paused for a moment as that struck him.

Hermione laughed at the look of realisation on his face. “Yes, it’s something I’m also quite glad about.”

“You know; I’m suddenly wondering how I managed to pass any of my exams with my track record.” Harry said.

“Well you’ve no excuses for your NEWTs I’m afraid.”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “You can’t say this year has been smooth sailing, I did die.”

“Wasn’t during term time,” Hermione said dismissing his claim and helping herself to the pile of sandwiches Dobby had prepared.

“Yeah but I died,” Harry responded taking a sandwich for himself and relaxing back onto the sofa. “I’m positive it must count for something.”

“Nope,” Hermione said shaking her head. “It wasn’t during school time.”

“Ah,” Harry holding up a hand ignoring that it was full of sandwich. “But when we go back, that will be during school time.”

Hermione paused and pursed her lips considering. “Nope,” she repeated decidedly and took a bite of the sandwich she held.

“Why not?” Harry protested smiling at her and the absurdity of their conversation.

“Because,” she reasoned after swallowing her food. “You won’t actually be a student any more. You’ve just finished your exams, we both will have, before we go back so it doesn’t count.”

“So we’ve broken a seven-year tradition?” he said with mock sadness.

“Yep,” she confirmed. “And I for one have to say I’m not sorry.”

“Me either,” he agreed. “So what are we doing after we’ve eaten all Dobby’s food?”

Hermione stretched, considering. “Film? If Mum and Dad are going to be really late we can order pizza.”

“Fine by me,” Harry agreed. 

When Helen initially had called on the small mirror to find out where Minerva was and if she’d had time to talk, Minerva had been in her office wrestling with the stupidity of students. Students who had, by the standard of the work in front of her, not realised their exams were only a few months away. Happy to drop her marking and floo home Minerva had hung up and called the Grangers from the comfort of her own home, behind her wards and away from whatever prying eyes Albus had about the castle.

Minerva sat in front of her own large mirror set up in her house. Fred and George had given it to her when they had resolved the problems with conference calling on them. It was much easier to use than her small mirror, especially if they spent longer than five minutes on a call. This call promised to be longer than five minutes.

Helen stood leaning on the edge of the desk in what Minerva knew to be the room Harry and Hermione completed all their school work. Helen was dressed in some sort of white smock which Minerva took as the uniform for Helen's work as a healer.

“Hello Minerva, sorry for pulling you away from your work.”

“Nonsense, it wasn’t worth the reading anyway.”

“That bad?”

Minerva shot the other woman a knowing look. “The students have been back in school less than four weeks. Long enough for the holiday buzz to wear off but not long enough for the fear of exams to kick in. Another month or so and they’ll work it out.”

“How are things there? I gather from Fred and George the new Minister is barely pretending he’s in control and the orders are coming direct from Tom.”

“Yes, there’s been a few things go before the Wizengamot that shouldn’t have seen the light of day. Currently its largely aimed at magical creatures but you’d have to be blind to not see where its heading. They’ve got a few restrictions on muggle born passed already. Nothing that on its own is cause for alarm but it can easily be built on.” Minerva shook her head. “Last time it was easier in some respects, he was terrorising people, people were dying left and right, attacks and persecution. He’s not making the same mistakes this time. Other than that one time in the Ministry a couple of years ago he’s staying out of sight and its making it harder to get enough people to stand up to him.”

“So we need to end it.” Helen said a wry smile pulling at her mouth.

“That would be ideal,” Minerva agreed matching her smile with Helen’s.

“How is the plan going?”

“I rather imagine that you know as much as I, since you are calling.”

Helen waggled a hand in a so-so gesture. “It’s close? This final act?”

“Yes, Severus assures me that the Dark Lord has taken to the idea of directly confronting Albus and defeating him in front of as many of the Order that can be managed. To break their spirit as it were, and to ensure an uprising does not ensue from Albus’ defeat. Albus has told Severus his death is to be soon and with the need of witnesses the plan has merit for him too. It’s just convincing Albus to cooperate, and of course keeping the two sides from discovering any of the plans.”

“Albus has gotten cold feet about his death?” Helen asked in surprise.

“Not in the slightest, but he wants to be the one pulling the strings.  The tale Severus is spinning is that the headquarters we currently use are going to be compromised and he needs to look at using the Burrow instead. Thus giving Albus the audience he craves and a space out in the open to which the Dark Lord and his followers can appear into whilst keeping the innocent bystanders to a minimum.”

“Good lord yes, the Burrow is in the countryside isn’t it? Devon somewhere, I think Hermione told me. What was Albus expecting? To do it at the school?”

“I would very much like to refute that and say he would never think of putting the students in the line of fire, however,” Minerva shrugged. “I am no longer certain of the things I once was.”

“Well then, I think it’s about time we came back to England.” Helen said.

“You’re coming back?” Minerva asked. “When?”

“Around the thirtieth is the plan currently. John and I have a month’s absence sorted with work. We’ve told them we have to return for a family matter. They are being supportive so far, but a month is probably as much as we can both do together. Any longer and we’ll have to start switching who is here and who is over there with you.”

“What about Harry and Hermione’s exams?” Minerva enquired. “Unless your exam schedule runs differently to ours they’ll be sitting their NEWT’s in a few months. Surely the interruption to their schooling at this stage would be detrimental?”

“More so than having to face a deranged psychotic wizard that most of the magical society fears in a one on one fight, is detrimental to their studies?”

“Well when you put it like that, no.” Minerva replied.

“They’re done Minerva, both of them, Hermione is currently doing her final week. But she has been ready to take her finals since the day she finished her OWLs, and Harry has worked really hard. He knows what is in front of him and we thought it would be better if he was free to concentrate on it. He could hardly do that with his NEWTs looming over him, the school allowed us to put them in early. It’s not as if here they’ve been involved in the day to day of the war, they had the space to do them and no real reason not to. If they don’t do as well as they hoped on some subjects, they can re-sit them.”

“I find myself impressed,” Minerva admitted a warm expression on her face. “I was worried that Harry would end up so tied up in this war that he would miss the opportunity to take his exams.”

“I think he wouldn’t have minded,” Helen said with a smile. “But it might have been an issue later on for him, especially if he doesn’t stay in England. He’s less famous over here, and I don’t think he’d find it as easy to trade on his supposed fame.”

“Or that was what you told him,” Minerva said shrewdly.

“It has the advantage of being true as well,” Helen agreed.

 “My offer still stands,” Minerva said. “The house will take you all easily, there’s only Garrick here, the Weasley twins pop in now and again to keep him company and research for the wand selling. I come by as often as I can, only Severus has direct access and Remus is the only other person who has been.”

“Then we’ll gratefully accept. Is there somewhere we can brew at your house? We’ll bring our own things of course, packing isn’t a problem,” she rolled her eyes cheerfully.

“Of course, I can have a room cleared when Folly prepares your rooms. Will you be coming by muggle means?”

“No,” Helen said. “Harry was going to make arrangements for a portkey I believe, or Dobby can bring us over. We’ll need a day or so to get over the time zone change I should think and Harry needs to go to Gringotts to sort his affairs there.”

There was another small pause a silent acknowledgement of what was not being said.

“Dobby?” Minerva asked to break the silence.

Helen smiled a wide smile full of humour. “Yes I suppose it’s time that that particular secret came out. Dobby is our House Elf. Harry freed him from service to the Malfoys the year he went into the Chamber of Secrets. He worked in Hogwarts until he came into my service when we moved here.”

“You have a house elf? But-”

“I am a muggle? Helen asked archly.

“No, only Hermione, she started some sort of campaign to free house elves-”

Helen burst out laughing. “Oh I know! Bless her! Her hearts in the right place really, but she didn’t quite know what she was doing did she?” Helens laughter melted into a warm smile.

Minerva was equally amused. “Yes she did seem quite determined, there wasn’t an easy way of telling her she was heading in the wrong direction. We rather hoped she would drop it before she left. The Hogwarts elves are quite resigned to the odd muggle born campaigning for them.”

The two women shared a moment of quiet humour that faded into understanding.

“How are you?” Helen asked. “Really?”

“Can I not ask you the same question?” Minerva returned.

“You can,” Helen agreed. “And I could tell you that there isn’t a day I don’t wish I could keep them both here, hiding. Make the break final and complete, keep them away from everything that is, and will happen.”

“But you won’t,” Minerva said quietly.

Helen shook her head sadly.

Minerva paused then said honestly. “I’m tired. The plots, the secrets, the lies, I’m not made for this. Severus doesn’t plan on surviving,” she admitted softly, voicing the truth she had been hiding from. “He’s a good man, he’s made mistakes and paid for them, is still paying for them. Under all the bitterness, the snark, the legion of defences designed to push people away is a good man, and I can’t even save him. His death, he thinks, will finally balance his scale.”

Helen hissed a quiet breath in empathy with the other woman’s pain. Then she straightened her spine and took a breath. “You gave him a choice in the matter?”

Minerva looked up and met Helens eyes, understanding dawning, the sorrow receding. Her spine straightened to match Helen’s and her chin came up slightly in acknowledgement. “Quite,” she said crisply. 

Helens smile was understanding and Minerva matched it. “When you arrive, I’ll come and share a dram.”

“I’ll tell John he’ll enjoy that.”

“Tell him to bring his best then,” Minerva said smiling with wicked humour this time, wiping years of her face.

Helen nodded and reached forward to cancel the connection. “We’ll send word. Take care of yourself Minerva, you and yours.”

“Likewise,” Minerva said and the mirrors went blank. Minerva sat back in her chair considering, she would need to stock up on her favourites before the Grangers arrived, and perhaps Helen had a point. After all, just because Severus thought he had to die, it didn’t mean she had let to him. She got to her feet and made her way to the floo. She needed to return to the castle, she had homework to mark and things to think on. 

Travel to the UK was handled by Dobby. Minerva was given a time of arrival and sent Folly to meet them at their location. Folly brought them into the house and they all flopped gratefully down into the sitting room to catch their breath after the trip. Dobby, somewhat protective of his family chivvied them all into eating and drinking something before Helen told him to get his chair, and sit in it for at least ten minutes since he had done all the work.

Dobby agreed albeit reluctantly and Hermione dug his shrunken chair out of her bag where she had stowed it and their other possessions for the trip.

Now seated Dobby continued to attentively watch over his charges. Folly upon seeing the chair looked somewhat impressed and slightly awed that Dobby was in possession of one and left the room looking distinctly thoughtful. Helen watched her go. “I think we’ve just caused trouble for our hostess.”

“Nonsense,” Hermione said primly. “I’m quite sure that Minerva would be happy to let Folly have a chair.”

“Hmmm, well maybe, but still.”

Folly took that moment to reappear she looked at Helen and John before looking at Hermione and Harry. “There’s an owl here. A white one.”

“Hedwig!” Harry cried gladly. “Can she come in? She’s house trained.”

Folly nodded and vanished.

“Well,” Harry said after the elf left. “She was house trained, she’s been flying wild for quite a long time now.”

The door opened and a large white shape flew across the space to land upon Harry’s shoulder, staggering him slightly.

“Hedwig!” Harry said in delight stroking her breast. He retook his seat and persuaded her to leave his shoulder in favour of his arm so he could see her better. He looked her over as she hooted happily at him. “I think you’ve grown, all that flying must have been good for you. I’m glad you’re alright though. We’ll be here a while now and you don’t have to fly any more if you don’t want.”

She preened her feathers proudly at his praise and hooted again before returning to her perch on his shoulder, settling herself down.

“It is good to see her again,” Hermione agreed leaning over to stroke over her ear tuff. Hedwig hooted softly at Hermione and caught her finger in a friendly gesture.

“She’ll be safe behind the wards though right?” Harry asked looking at Helen and John.

“I don’t know we’ll need to ask. Dobby, if we ask Folly to come here will she? I’d rather not cause any awkwardness.”

“Folly is to obey as her Mistress told her to. She can tell you if she is to obey.” Dobby replied. Shrugging at the less than clear answer Helen called for the elf.

Folly appeared promptly bowing slightly. “How may Folly serve the Mistress' guests?”

“Firstly Folly I’m Helen, this is John, Hermione, and Harry. First names are perfectly acceptable for you to use. And if it’s alright with you bowing and curtsying are really unnecessary.”

“Folly is to respect the Mistress' guests,” the elf replied.

“Oh, OK,” Helen said with misgiving. She didn’t want to offend the elf. Dobby had had admittedly been backed into a corner about his behaviour but he did seem genuinely happy. She wasn’t going to risk offending Minerva by upsetting her elf however. “Folly, may we ask you some questions?”

Folly looked at Helen silent and waiting.

“May we call you while we are here?”

“Folly is to serve Mistress' guests.” Folly replied politely.

“OK, is Dobby allowed to serve us while he is in your home?”

“Dobby is to serve as he is commanded.” Folly replied looking at Helen with a frown

“Alright, I didn’t want to upset anybody.” Helen explained.

Folly looked at Helen curiously and at Dobby, who was still sat in his chair beaming proudly.

“Can you tell me if Mr Dumbledore will be able to follow Hedwig’s trail here? He was using her feathers to track her movements.”

Folly shook her head. “McGonagall Lodge and its inhabitants are protected by the wards. If he follows he will not find the owl.”

“But he’ll know she’s in the area and maybe where the house is?”

Folly shook her head again, her chest puffing out with pride. “He will not.”

“Alright thank you, Folly. If you would permit, will you show Hedwig where she may enter and exit freely? If it’s not permissible for her to have the run of the house could you show her the rooms she may enter?”

Folly cocked her head at the owl. “Owls not to be flying in the house. Folly will allow access to the bedroom and sitting room.”

“Thank you Folly,” Harry said gratefully. “I’ve not seen her in such a long time.”

Folly nodded then looked back at Helen.

“Thank you Folly. If you could show us to our rooms we would be grateful.”

Folly nodded and Dobby hopped immediately to his feet, snapping his fingers to vanish his chair.

“One more thing, Folly,” Helen said as they followed her out of the room. “Where will Dobby sleep? He has his own space in our house. Is there a guest quarter for house elves, or will he stay with the other elves?”

Folly turned her head and blinked at Helen who seemed not to notice. “Does Dobby require a room?” she asked a curious lilt to her tone.

“Dobby?” Helen turned to the elf who was walking by her side. “Do you have a preference?”

“Dobby will stay with the elves,” Dobby replied promptly.

“Very well, is that acceptable to you Folly?”

Folly cast another glance at Helen as she led them upstairs. “Folly will see to it.”

The rooms were spacious and comfortable, they held large beds, a wardrobe, chest of drawers and a door leading to a bathroom. Once they had unloaded their bags of their clothes, which Dobby took upon himself to put away, they returned to the sitting room.

“Do you think it will be safe enough for us to go for a walk outside?” Hermione asked her parents.

“Probably, but wear the glamour rings. We don’t know how long we’ll be here and I would like not to draw attention to ourselves.” John answered.

“Not today,” Hermione said. “But being stuck under house arrest for a month doesn’t really appeal.”

“Really?” Harry said. “Because I’ll bet Minerva has a library and you could spend a month in there without noticing.”

“Not a whole month, I would have to eat and sleep,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

After dinner Minerva appeared through the floo and went to find her house guests. The house had a different feel to it as she moved through the corridors, the low burble of conversation led her into the sitting room.

“Minerva!” Helen said as the witch came into the room, moving to greet her followed by the rest of the family. “You have a lovely home. Thank you so much for letting us stay.”

“Hello, I’m glad to see you arrived safety,” Minerva said. “And it’s no trouble, it stands empty whilst I am at the school, it might as well be put to some use. How was your journey?”

“Brief,” John answered with a smile. “Dobby brought us over rather than having to use a portkey.”

Minerva led them back over to the chairs and sofas and they settled back down. Folly appeared bearing a tray of refreshments. As the elf handed them out Minerva turned to Helen and John. “The elves know you are muggles and will help you with anything purely magical such as the lighting. If you do leave the house via the front door you will need one of them to bring you back in. Your elf has the ability to come and go as required, but he cannot bring people over the ward line himself. The wards are old and they unfortunately cannot be adapted easily without damaging their integrity.”

“That’s fine, may we use the floo? We promised the twins that we would visit.” John explained.

“Yes, can you use the floo network?” Minerva asked. “The floo here is only connected to the twins and to my study at Hogwarts.  I admit that apparition is my preferred method of travel. The wards have been adjusted to allow both Harry and Hermione to come and go.”

“Thank you that is very kind of you.”

“Not at all.” Minerva said waving off their thanks. “Are you unpacked and settled? Is there anything you need?”

“Dobby took care of everything. We aren’t sure which room had been set aside to brew in though.” Helen answered.

“Come with me,” Minerva said standing. “I might as well give you the tour, I can’t stay long unfortunately I’ve got patrols tonight.”

Taking their glasses with them they followed Minerva out of the sitting room. “This is the library,” she said as they passed a door, pushing it open. The lights immediately sprang to life illuminating the room. “I presume that you might find at least something to keep yourselves occupied in there.” She smiled knowingly at Hermione.

Hermione blushed. "Yes, I suppose I might."

Minerva led them onwards. "This is the dining room which you no doubt are now familiar with. My study, to which the floo is connected is through that door there, and the Orangery is through there." She pointed at two doors facing each other across the hall. "The garden is small but its pleasant to sit in. This, " Minerva turned the handle on a door tucked away at the end of the hall past all the other doors. "This has been set aside for you to brew in." She pushed the door open to a  medium sized room. "It was a ladies parlour at one time but I rarely use it when I’m here. The elves stripped out the furniture and put in the bench and shelving."

"This is perfect, thank you," Hermione said looking around the room where Dobby had laid out all their equipment.

“Do you plan on doing a lot of brewing whilst you are here?” Minerva asked.

“Some healing potions mainly,” Harry replied. “We’ve got a few things to work on as well that might help. But we thought that buying bulk stocks of healing potions might raise more eyebrows than if we brew them ourselves.”

Minerva led them back to the sitting room where they settled into the chairs around the fire, a necessity in a house that did not benefit from central heating.

“Did you say you had another guest staying? We’ve not seen anyone.” John asked.

“Garrick Ollivander,” Minerva confirmed. “The wand smith. He does know you are here but will sometimes choose to take his meals up in his rooms. I’m unsure if its age or what he went through during his imprisonment.  The twins come to see him about their business and to tell him news. Myself and Severus both visit regularly but he seems fine with his solitude.”

Only able to stay an hour due to her patrols, Minerva returned to the castle leaving her guests to their evening and adjusting to the time zone. They spent the rest of their evening chatting quietly in front of the fire before going up to bed.

Helen and John entered their room cautiously. The lights sprang alive as they had in the library and they readied themselves for sleep. Once they were both sat on their bed they exchanged a confused look.

"How do we get the lights to turn off?" Helen asked John. As she spoke the lights were extinguished and the room plunged into darkness causing Helen to utter a startled squeak.

"I suppose that answers your question" John said smothering a laugh.

"But what if we want to read?" Helen asked. Again as the words came from her mouth a gentle glow came from one of the old fashioned oil lamps on the bedside.

"This could be fun, do you think they would know what a disco is if we asked for one?" John proposed.

"No, don't!" Helen hissed furiously at him. She peered into the top of the oil lamp. "There's nothing in there," she reported. "Just some sort of bright glow."

"We should get Harry and Hermione to set these up in our house," John said. "It would save a fortune on the electric bill."

"Not exactly practical if we need someone to turn them on and off for us though. I don't want to live in assisted living until I'm old enough, thank you very much."

"Oh well, if you're going to be a spoilsport about it," John said good naturedly.

Helen settled herself down into the bed next to him and said firmly. "Lights out please." and the room once again became dark.

Chapter Text

When Fred and George had found out they were coming back and they were going to be staying at Minerva’s they became almost giddy with excitement. They insisted that they be allowed to show Helen and John their shop, and in the face of such excitement refusal seemed churlish so they agreed and the date was set.

It was their second day in the UK, they were adapting to the change in time zone by taking it easy. They had consequently spent the day lazing in Minerva’s library, interrupted only by a brief trip into the bracing Scottish February air to explore Inverness a little bit. They had told Folly that they didn’t expect to be in for dinner and were waiting only on Fred and George to arrive.

The twins came through the floo dead on five o’clock, all pretences of sophistication stripped away by their infectious excitement. Harry and Hermione were swept up into bone crushing hugs while Helen and John were greeted with barely less enthusiasm.

After a moment to sort out how they were to travel to the shop they settled on the floo and they trooped back into Minerva’s study calling out goodbyes to Folly as they left.

Fred went first followed by Hermione who held on to Helen. As they came through the floo, even as Hermione vanished the ash and soot from their travel, Helen staggered over to the sofa and dropped on to it, one hand clutched her stomach the other her head. She was quite sure that the churning in her head was diametrically opposed to the churning happening in her middle.

Hermione dropped to a crouch, concern etched on her face. “Mum? Are you alright?”

Helen unclenched one hand from her head and groped blindly for Hermione. Hermione caught the flapping hand and secured it between her own. “Fred?” Helen herd her say. “Could you get me a glass of water please?”

Helen ignored the sounds of the glass and tap and when the cool glass was pressed into her hand she summoned up a wan smile. The roar of the floo igniting again, spewing forth John and Harry, caused her stomach to clench again in reflex.

“Come on Mum, just take a sip,” Hermione encouraged.

“Helen?” she heard John ask, then she felt the sofa tip as someone sat down beside her, an arm enveloped her shoulders. John. “Not a fan of floo travel then? It wasn’t any worse than that time we hit turbulence over Germany was it?” he said.

Helen cracked an eye open and used it to glare at her husband. The glare was ineffective but Hermione turned to him, her face openly questioning.

John, in a pretence of hushed tone, loud enough for all the occupants in the room to hear, which now included George who had come last through the floo, began to explain. “When your Mum was pregnant with you, we thought a romantic break was just the thing before your Mum couldn’t fly anymore, and we knew that it would be our last holiday for a while once you were born. So we decided on Vienna, it was a lovely holiday, we had a great time. On the way back though the plane hit turbulence. It was only a small plane, it had about 100 seats, so we were all in the same area, I’m not even sure it had a business class it was that small. But anyway, your Mum was still suffering with a bit of pregnancy related sickness and well, she started feeling a bit queasy. There was this one other passenger who didn’t seem to do well in turbulence and started getting really upset. Worried that the plane might fall out of the sky, that sort of thing. It was quite a small plane, and I suppose on a bigger plane it might not have felt so bad, but whatever. So this woman starts shouting nonsense and your Mum starts feeling worse, and then she started retching. Not the quiet ladylike retching either.” John said with a delighted smile. “The sort that sounded like she was trying to regurgitate her entire intestinal tract. The turbulence was getting worse, the plane was dropping and rolling, then it went through some heavy rain. It made the cabin instantly darker, it was lashing down, then of course just to add to it all the lights started flickering on and off. It was amazing, it was like out of a film. Your Mum was heaving and retching, this woman was screaming her head off about how we’re all going to die and the plane was going to crash and burn. The poor flight attendants were really frazzled, they could barely stand up straight with the movement of the plane, and the passengers were gradually losing their heads left right and centre. I really think a couple of them started to cry. It’s still one of the best flights I’ve ever taken, it was just amazing.”

“It was not,” Helen croaked. “It was awful and you laughed like a loon through every minute of it.” Helen sat up, leaning back against the sofa, her face its usual colour once more. “For the record we landed shortly thereafter and everyone was fine, except for your Father who had given himself a stich for laughing so hard. I think, if no one objects, I’ll ask one of the elves to take me home or one of you.” Helen said, looking between the four magical people.

“I’ll take you Mum,” Hermione said squeezing her hand.

“Feeling better love?” John asked hugging her to him slightly.

“Much, thank you. I apologise,” Helen said looking at Fred and George. “I’ve not used the floo before.”

“To be honest, we didn’t know muggles could,” Fred replied. “But if you’re feeling better we can show you the shop.”

Helen got to her feet, her stomach made nary a whimper and she only had to contend with a light rush of blood to her head. “Perfectly fine,” she replied. “Shall we then?”

“Well this is our flat,” George said indicating the room. “Bedrooms and bathroom that way.”

“It’s very you,” Harry said looking at the mismatching walls.

“Thanks!” Fred and George said together, grinning.

“This way.” They led the way to the door and down the stairs into the back of the shop. They pushed the door open to the work room and ushered everyone inside. “This is where we make everything basically,” Fred said. “You’ve pretty much seen this room before through the mirror.”

“Yes,” Helen said walking around with Hermione. “But it’s not quite the same. We’re on the other side of the looking glass now.”

“Mum, that was poor,” Hermione protested.

“True,” Helen admitted. “But the best I could come up with I’m afraid.”

“Book thing,” John clarified for a puzzled Fred and George. “About a girl who travels to another world on the other side of a mirror.”

“Oh,” they said in understanding.

After a thorough inspection of the room which didn’t admittedly take long, the twins once again led the way through to the shop proper. With a wave of their wands they activated the lights and charms that worked on all the products during the day. The result was an explosion of noise and colour and they turned to face their guests to see their reactions.

John and Helen were stood next to each other staring as Harry and Hermione, who had at least visited once before, slipped off deeper into the stacks.

“This is amazing,” Helen said.

“It’s so alive,” John agreed with her. “We’ve seen you make things through the mirror but this is so different. Will you show us around?”

Fred and George delighted with their reactions readily agreed, and led them away to examine the shop.

It was a mere two hours later when everything had been examined and explained in depth. John and Helen asking the how, and why, along with what had caused them to invent it. What they had wanted, and how the results had differed, and how they had adapted. Fred and George had talked and talked, demonstrated, analysed, and theorised like they had never before. Sometime struggling to come up with the answers to the questions they were asked.

Hermione and Harry after their initial tour, had come back and joined the group to listen to Fred and George talk. It wasn’t until a particularly loud growl of someone’s stomach in a pause in the conversation brought a halt to things.

“Is that the time?” Helen said checking her watch. “Have you eaten?” she asked Fred and George

“Not yet,” Fred said.

“Right come on then, we’ll go to dinner, our treat. You don’t mind muggle do you?”

“No,” Fred and George said.

“Great. Hermione, Harry can you side along Fred and George? We’ll go to Ethel’s.”

“OK,” they agreed, stepping up beside to the two wizards.

“Wait, what about you two?” George asked.

Helen winked at him. “Our last secret then. Dobby?”

Dobby appeared with a crack. “How can Dobby serve?”

“Dobby would you mind taking John and I along after Hermione and Harry please?”

Dobby bobbed his head and Hermione took hold of Fred’s arm and twisted him into nothing before he could say anything.

“You’ve got an elf!” George managed to say as Harry took him by the arm. Helen laughed and waved as they span away, then she reached down and took Dobby’s small hand in hers. “Thank you Dobby.” John took his other hand and they vanished after the others.

Dinner was in the small restaurant that John and Helen had been coming to for years. Hermione had come when she was old enough and they had shown it to Harry before they had fled the country.

Their arrival was greeted with profusions of happiness and scolding’s for leaving it so long between visits. George and Fred said nothing but kept looking around in open curiosity. They had transfigured their robes into muggle coats, their jeans and t shirts which they wore underneath would pass. The conversation over their shop and its products continued over dinner. It was, the twins thought later, the most they had ever discussed their shop and their hopes for it, and left them feeling wrung out but with an immense sense of pride in their achievements.

Helen and John had told the tale of how Dobby had come into their family’s service and they had both quickly worked out that he had been responsible for delivering all the presents and parcels they had been sent.

“Does it not make a difference that you aren’t magical?” Fred asked.

“No, I don’t see why it should. Dobby signed a contract with me. It’s not magical but it’s still binding.”

The evening wound up slowly, the proprietor was happy to leave them alone as all the other customers trickled away. He came over once they were all gone to be introduced to Harry as the latest member of the Granger family, and Fred and George.  Stories were told of the Grangers when they had been younger, making Helen and John blush and laugh in turn.

Eventually they separated to return to their respective homes. The twins, Harry and Hermione apparating away while Dobby was asked to send Folly to take them over the ward line. Back at McGonagall Lodge they stopped only a moment to wish each other good night before finding their respective beds. 

 The first week of February had been bright crisp and cold. Despite their initial misgivings Albus appeared to be none the wiser that Minerva had added to her tally of house guests. The Grangers had been in McGonagall Lodge for four days and had settled in well. Minerva had disappeared the night before to spend an evening with them. They had visited the Weasley’s shop the evening previous, and Helen and John had endeavoured to communicate to her how impressed they were with the twin’s ingenuity over copious amounts of John’s whiskey. So copious in fact Minerva’s first task upon returning to the castle in the wee hours was to visit the infirmary and raid Poppy’s supplies.

She had retreated to Severus’ rooms in the evening to avoid the staff room where news of her late night pilfering was been shared, along with speculation of where she had been with her beau.  It had, Minerva thought, been an interminably long day. To avoid the topic of her over indulgence she had told Severus of the room that they had set up to brewing in in the parlour.

“They are brewing in your house? Are you quite sure that’s wise? Potter melted more than one cauldron in my classes.”

“Of course, don’t be silly, they’re fine, and if you are so worried go and supervise.”

“And why should I give up my valuable time to do such a thing? Do you think me so devoid of sense that I would want to spend more time watching ineptitude at brewing the simplest of draughts?”

“Helen and John are helping them.”

“What?”

“Helen and John are helping them,” Minerva repeated slowly, pausing slightly between each word.

“They’re muggles.”

“Yes, with excellent whiskey.”

“They are drinking and brewing?!” His tone shifting from disbelieving to horrified.

“Well, Harry and Hermione aren’t.”

“Woman, are you mad?”

“No, or at least I don’t think so. But then, would I be able to tell?”

He made a slashing motion with his hand and she didn’t hide her smile. “When you go Severus-”

“You assume I will.”

“As I said, when you go. Think about telling him.”

“Telling who, what?”

“Telling Harry, about Lilly.”

“Why in the name of all that is magical would I do that?”

“Because it would be better coming from you, and it would be better if it happened before things went any further.” 

 He’d managed to ignore her words for two whole days. They had been back in the country barely a week. He did not want to talk to Potter about Lilly. He didn’t want to talk to anyone about Lilly.

Helen and John, muggles, were brewing? Damn Minerva for putting the idea in his head.

He came through the floo to be greeted by Folly. She took his outer robe leaving him in his frock coat, he had left his teaching robe at the castle feeling it would make him look foolish to wear it, he rather wished he had the familiar protection of it though.

He left Minerva’s study and turned towards the parlour and the soft sounds of conversation, knives and cauldrons. He stalked into the room on silent feet, as he passed over the threshold however, John turned to pick something up and noticed him.

“Severus, good evening.”

The others turned then, variations of the same greeting issuing forth. He inclined his head in acknowledgment of them. “Minerva informed me you had undertaken brewing potions.”

“Yes, you’re welcome to stay if you like,” Helen offered.

He moved to stand on the other side of the bench where he would be able to view them all at once, looming slightly. Critical eyes watched as ingredients were sliced and cauldrons minded. Helen looked up and watched him, her hands stilling from mincing daisy roots. “We’ve got a spare cauldron.”

The words snapped him back to himself and he raised an enquiring eyebrow.

“For after you’ve finished the intimidation routine.”

He gave her one of his best sneers, it didn’t seem to faze her but make her smile wider. Insufferable of her. She pushed one of the spare chopping boards over to him along with the ingredients for the blood replenisher they were brewing. Long ingrained habit made his fingers twitch and Helen smiled in amusement.

He reached for the board but his hands stilled in the act as he watched Harry bloody Potter crush the dried beetle parts instead of slicing them as the standard text instructed. “Potter!” he snapped, not realising his voice had moved into his pissed off Professor tone.

Harry flinched at it and looked up. “Yes, sir?” he replied in automatic response.

“What have you just done?”

Harry looked down at his board in confusion. “Crushed the beetles, sir,”

“Does the instruction not call for sliced beetles, Potter?”

“Umm,” Harry glanced about him quickly, eyes seeking help. “Yes? And well, no.”

“Potter,” Severus snapped again.

“I, uh well, yes, the standard Hogwarts text does,” he said quickly. “As does the text we used in school in America, but umm, the other book doesn’t and the results are better so we use that method. We did test it!” he said in a rush. “We brewed them in all the ways the books said and this one was better so…” he trailed off.

“What book?” Severus demanded, a horrible sinking feeling growing inside him.

Harry dropped the knife and span to the small shelf they had set up with the few texts they had brought with them. They didn’t need the book for brewing, the recipe and method long since committed to memory. He pulled it off the shelf, the cover tattered and worn, and handed it over reluctantly. He hovered protectively as Severus took it from him, hands half reaching to take it back.

Severus flipped the book to the back and his suspicions which hadn’t really been suspicions coalesced into a hard ball. “Where did you get this?” he asked.

“Umm, Professor Slughorn gave it to me to borrow. I didn’t think I could take potions you see but then I could, and I didn’t have the book so he leant me this one. I gave him a new one in replacement,” Harry said defensively.

“You’ve been using this book to brew?”

“Yes, the instructions, they’re better.”

Severus closed his eyes the irony of it too much. “Have you used any of the spells in it?”

“What?  I, we, yes we have, but how do you know about them?”

Severus looked at Harry, confusion was written large across his face. Hermione was biting her lip, a sure sign of guilt in the young woman she’d never realised, or bothered to correct. Helen and John were watching the exchange with interest.

“Go back to your station,” Severus said.

Harry retreated, the reflexes of obeying a teacher still ingrained. Severus braced himself on the bench with both arms, bracing more than his physical self. “Did you ever ask yourself who this Half Blood Prince was and why this book was so heavily annotated?”

“Yes, but we didn’t find any information about him in the library. And then we left and started school elsewhere and it was only through idle curiosity we compared the books. Then we were too far away and couldn’t find out.” Harry said picking his stirring rod back up.

“Do you have anything to add, Miss Granger?”

“No sir,” she replied risking a quick glance at him. He caught her eyes and saw clearly that she knew the truth, he turned back to Harry.

“I am the Half Blood Prince,” he said. “This is my text book. My mother’s maiden name was Prince.”

Potters reaction was gratifying, his eyes grew impossibly wide and his jaw dropped open. He froze and whatever he had meant to respond with came out a garbled mess of noise.

“You?” he managed once his brain and mouth started cooperating.

Severus sighed. “Yes, Potter, me. Which spells have you used?”

Harry shot a glance at Hermione who gave him a lopsided look and twitched her head in Severus’ direction. “Umm well, Muffliato, Levicorpus and Liberacorpus,” Harry winced as he said that, he now knew the origins of the spell he had seen in Snape’s memories. “And Sectumsempra.”

Snape’s eyes flashed and he growled. “On whom?”

“No one! I was testing the shields I made for Helen and John on mannequins, and I remembered it said ’for enemies’ and so I used it. It was pretty early days for the shields and it blew them out and sliced into the mannequins really heavily. We haven’t used any more from the book not even on the mannequins.”

Severus closed his eyes for a long moment and clenched his fist, relief washed over him that Potter hadn’t used it on a person. “I would ask you to never use it again.”

“Err no I wasn’t going to. So this is your book, you made all the notes?”

“I do have a small talent for potions.”

“Yeah, yeah I guess.”

Severus pulled the board towards him and picked up the knife needing the familiar to settle his nerves.

“Sir, Professor, my Mum was good at potions, wasn’t she?”

The question was asked in a small voice and it pierced him through. He tightened his grip on the knife and swallowed. The choice was laid out before him, a choice he had hoped selfishly to avoid. “She should have been. I taught her.”

There was a long beat of silence broken only by the comforting, familiar sounds of potions brewing and the movements of the Grangers as they continued with their tasks. He wasn’t fooled, he knew every ear in the room had latched onto the words he had just spoken.

“You taught her?” Harry asked.

“We were friends.” The words came unbidden and he squeezed tighter on the handle of the knife, knowing that Pandora’s box had just been thrown open, for better or worse.

“You were?”

He kept his eyes firmly on his hands as they moved through the motions of chopping and mincing the daisy roots. He felt rather than saw Helen move around and push the tubs of plants at him he would need to work through to complete the potion.

“We grew up in the same town.  We met before Hogwarts, I told her she was a witch, about magic, about getting her letter and going to Hogwarts.”

“You have a muggle parent, that’s why you called yourself a Half blood?”

“I am a half blood Potter. My father, he was a union man, the mill closed. With the strikes and rising unemployment he might have been forgiven for struggling to find work.”  His smile was hard and flinty. “He was frightened of my Mother and I so he taught us to fear him instead. Lilly was the bright spot in a miserable existence. We went to Hogwarts together, sorted as we were it was harder to stay friends but we did. She was bright, popular. I was not. When the Marauders took it too far she’d stand up to them. It made it worse not better. Potter-, James, wanted her, couldn’t bear the thought of her standing up for a snake. The house rivalry that exists now started long ago and Potter and his band were the darlings of the school.”

“What happened?”

“You know what happened, you trespassed on my privacy and saw it.”

Harry swallowed. “My Dad.”

“Yes, he humiliated me in front of half my year mates and I lashed out at the only person who tried to defend me.”

“What happened?”

“I called her a mudblood.” The word was whispered, his shame dragged from the depths of his soul, laid bare to his audience.

“Then what?”

His head jerked up to stare at Harry. “Then what?” he sneered angrily. “I called her the worst epitaph I could have done. What happened? I broke our friendship and despite trying to apologise she couldn’t forgive me.”

Harry looked at him quizzically, his head tilted as if he couldn’t quite follow something. “But why?”

“Why what?” he snapped wishing he’d never started this conversation. That he was anywhere but here telling the son of Lilly how he had destroyed everything good in his life.

“Why didn’t she forgive you? I mean it was bad and she should have been mad, but you were friends?”

Severus gaped at him. “Potter I called her a mudblood!”

Harry glanced at Hermione who squeezed his arm in either understanding or encouragement. “But, its bad, I get that but-”

“We were friends Potter, you are not meant to go around calling your friends racial slurs.”

“I know! But that’s just it, you were friends. It’s just a name, a bad one, but she should have forgiven you.”

“Potter,” Severus sighed confused as to why he of all people was being defended in this scenario. “She didn’t, I tried and she didn’t want to. The Dark Lord was escalating, people were being hurt, it was different. Politics were encroaching on everything. She saw it as me picking sides and it wasn’t the same one she was on.”

“Did she ever forgive you? Later? After you all left school?” Hermione asked in a quiet voice, obviously trying to find some way to sooth Potter's upset that his mother might have had flaws.

“We never spoke again after she told me she wouldn’t forgive me and I should stop trying to apologise,” he said shortly. “They joined the Order, I took the Dark Mark. Potter, there’s something you should know. The prophecy.” Severus swallowed, this was probably going to go horribly. But in for a penny, in for a pound, if he was going to unburden his soul Potter deserved the truth, and he wasn’t going to get it from anywhere else.

“What about it?”

“I was the one that overheard it, or half of it. I gave it to the Dark Lord.”

“Did you know it was about the Potters?” Helen asked into the stunned silence. She had a good guess at the answer but it needed voicing for Harry’s sake.

“No,” Severus replied. “It was just information, a titbit of something and nothing to give to the Dark Lord.  We hadn’t spoken since school. I only found out she was pregnant from an announcement in the paper. By then it was too late. I asked the Dark Lord to spare her. Then I went to Dumbledore and asked him to protect her, keep her safe.”

There was a horrible silence as his full role in the death of James and Lilly Potter came to light. His hands were still in front of him, his head hanging down, his hair shielding his face from them.

“That’s why you became a spy?”  Helen's voice softly asked. “That was the price of protecting her.”

He nodded once, nothing he could say could stop the storm he knew was coming. He heard a hiccupping noise and braced himself.

“T-tom,” Harry stuttered. “He told her to stand aside.”

Severus felt a shudder run through him, he hadn’t known that. “How would you know that?” his voice was hoarse, he didn’t lift his gaze from the chopping board. He couldn’t bear to see Lilly’s eyes looking at him. His hands reached for his knife again to give him something familiar to hold on to in the free fall that the evening was turning into.

“The dementors,” Harry answered. “That’s what I hear when they are around. I hear him killing them.”

Severus heard a strangled noise and soft footsteps left the room. Silence fell, only the scrape of a stirring rod in a shaky uneven hand broke it. There was a whispered conversation and a glass came into view held by a large strong hand.

“Drink this,” John said gently. “You look like you need it.” He put the glass down and moved back to the other side of the bench giving the other man space.

Severus reached out and knocked the drink back without meeting anyone’s eyes. He glanced around and noted the missing persons.

“Helen is with him,” John provided. “Hermione needs to tend these as I can’t.”

Severus flicked a glance at the witch stood staring down into the cauldron. Her hand was shaking but her motion was controlled if not totally smooth. The tears tracked down her face belied the calm façade she was trying to present.

Severus glanced at the other cauldron which was starting to bubble and boil. Without thinking he moved around the bench,  grasped the stirring rod and added a pinch of powdered witch-hazel from the pot on the desk, stirring in an anti-clockwise direction, bringing it back from the brink of ruin.

John nodded his thanks and continued working through the ingredients quietly. They had planned on brewing for a few hours and there was a lot to do. 

Helen led a shaking Harry out of the room and down the hall into the sitting room, which was the furthest away they could be. Once the door was closed and they had moved to the other side of the room she wrapped both arms around him and held on tight. His frame was shivering and shaking and she didn’t know if it was distress or rage. Neither would have been useful in the parlour though. Severus had bared his soul and she was pretty sure she knew why.

“Harry,” she said softly. “Harry.”

He made a shrugging motion against her and she hugged him a bit harder. He took a large shuddering breath and brought his head up from her shoulder. He was a bit too tall to stand like that comfortably but she’d needed to hold on to him.

“I’m OK.”

“No, you’re not,” she replied. “No one would be.”

He looked at her, his green eyes lost. “He gave the prophecy to Tom.”

“Yes,” she said not denying it. “But he didn’t know it was them, he tried to save her.”

Harry let go of Helen’s waist and wriggled a bit. She released him but stayed close. “Peter Pettigrew told him about the fidelius charm. Gave him the location to find them.” he said quietly.

“Yes.”

“Dumbledore hid them?”

“Yes.”

“Because Snape asked?”

“I don’t know, but its seems that if Severus was prepared to spy, then Dumbledore would need to show he was following through with his side of the bargain.”

“Why has he told me?”

“Because you should know, because you have the right to know as much as you can about the people involved in what happened to you.” Helen retook his hand and moved around in front of him to meet his eyes. “Because he doesn’t think he’s going to live through this. If he didn’t tell you who would? Dumbledore?”

Harry clenched his free hand and brought it to his head thumping it against his skull. “I don’t know what to think.”

Helen nodded. “That’s OK. You can be sad, and angry, anything you need to be.”

“I can’t go back in there.”

“No, John and Hermione will manage, we’ll stay here.”

It was an untold amount of time later when the silence was broken. Harry had sunk down to sit on the floor his back against the wall. Helen sat beside him holding his hand, offering comfort through that one connection.

“He loved her.”

“Yes.”

“My Mum.”

“Yes.”

“He tried to save her.”

“Yes,” Helen said again.

“Snape gave Tom the prophecy, Pettigrew betrayed their secret. Which is worse?”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

Harry shrugged.

“I think that divination is a load of crap, I also think I’m probably not the only one. Severus gave Tom the prophecy not knowing who it meant, or if it was a real prophecy, or even what the whole thing said, he only heard half of it after all. When he found out it might be them, he then tried to correct it by asking Tom and Dumbledore to protect her. Peter gave Tom the secret to protect himself knowing what it would mean, what would happen. I’m not saying Severus has balanced out his original action but I do know he’s tried. Peter on the other hand didn’t make a mistake or regret his action. If I had to pick between them I’d pick Peter to be angry at.”

“That makes it sound simple.”

“I know, it isn’t though.”

“Dumbledore, that’s what he uses to keep Snape spying, even though they died. His guilt?”

“Yes, probably, almost certainly.”

“Do you think he’s still here?”

“I don’t know. Do you want to speak to him?”

“No! No. Not yet, later maybe. He didn’t try to save me or my Dad.”

“No. Would you ask to save the man who bullied you throughout school and married the woman you love? I wouldn’t.”

Harry turned to look at her in shock. The room had gotten gloomy in the oncoming evening and he could only just make out her face.

“I wouldn’t,” she repeated turning to look at him. “I’m not that noble or selfless. John probably would. He’s a better person than me though. I’m the vindictive selfish one, he’s the noble one.”

“You think he thought they might get back together?” Harry asked appalled.

“No,” Helen said. “No, but alive and grieving is better than dead.”

“Would you think so, if it had been Hermione and John?”

Helen tilted her head to rest it on Harry’s shoulder. “I think that I would have spent a long time grieving. That I would struggle with understanding why I had been spared, and they hadn’t. And if I found out it was because someone asked for me to be saved I would feel guilty about it. But I also think I would have found a way forward. Your Mum would have still had Sirius and Remus. Maybe your friend Neville might have benefited from an adult younger than his grandmother. His mother and yours were in the order together weren’t they? They would likely have bonded over being pregnant at the same time, women do that. I can’t see how your Mum would have ignored his situation. It wouldn’t ever have replaced what she lost, but it gives you a reason to get up in the morning.”

Harry sighed thunking his head back against the wall. “I want to be angry at him.”

“You can be; it would be OK. He’s strong enough to deal with it I think. I think he hates himself much more than you could ever hate him.”

“He was horrible to me at school.”

“Yes. I imagine looking like your Dad as you do stirs up quite a lot of bad memories. Almost like James survived when Lilly didn’t. Then there’s the guilt, he thinks she’s dead because of him.”

“They are.”

“Mmm, I would say they are dead because Tom killed them.”

“Why are you defending him? He was horrible to Hermione as well.”

“Because you need to know all of it. You need to see it from as many angles as you can, so you understand the motivations behind the actions. Let’s play pretend. You’re somewhere at the Burrow, facing Tom, and he just so happens to bring up your parents. Happens to mention that Severus, the spy that the Order trusted is the one that told him the prophecy. What do you do? Do you shove it to one side to deal with later because Tom is in front of you and he needs all your concentration? Or do you let it distract you and in that distraction do you give him an opening? An opening he will take and use to kill you? What if this plan goes south and doesn’t happen and we have to get involved with Dumbledore again? As a way to manipulate you, and bring you back to being a loyal follower he has to regretfully tell you the truth he was saving you from. What would you do?”

“You think they would use it against me?”

“I think powerful men like their power. They want to keep it and are not afraid of lines that might need crossing to do so. For the greater good.”

Harry brought his knees up and rested his head on them. “How are you able to understand and explain all this?”

“Well it’s not actually happening to me for starters. It hurts hearing it, but not as much as it’s hurting you. For seconds, we had a lot of information to work with for quite a long time before we got to meet you properly. We know how much Dumbledore seems to have manipulated what happened to you. It doesn’t seem too much of a stretch to think he might be doing similar things to other people. Severus is a marked Death Eater, to bring one into a school to teach children Dumbledore had to know beyond reasonable doubt that Severus wasn’t a threat. There had to be a handle somewhere. Also, you can judge people by their friends and whatever you want to say about Severus, Minerva is his friend. She’s standing by Severus not Dumbledore. She taught your parents who were the darlings of the school, I would put money on her knowing, or having a really good idea of what happened.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“Nothing,” she replied honestly. “Let the dust settle, talk it through with Hermione when you are ready. You didn’t really have a relationship with Severus, so you aren’t losing one if you can’t deal with him anymore. There’s less information out there that might be used to hurt you when you are vulnerable, which as painful as it is now, is a good thing in the long run. There’s really nothing you need to do.”

They lapsed into silence again letting the dark steal over the room and them. 

 “How long have you known?” Severus asked as he tended the cauldron Harry had left. The room had stayed quiet for some time while everyone recovered from the revelations. He’d considered leaving, but hadn’t known if Potter was going to come back with more questions, or screaming accusations. Giving him the opportunity seemed like the best he could do in a bad situation.

“About the book? Since we compared the recipes and brewing techniques. Your handwriting. It hasn’t changed much and I checked it against my essays.”

Severus nodded. “He didn’t work it out?”

“I don’t think Harry ever read whatever comments you wrote on his essays, and there’s not much to be gleaned from a single letter.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

“I didn’t see the need. The instructions were reliable and when Harry told me about the Sectumsempra curse we decided not to try any of the other spells you’d written in there.”

“Why don’t you teach those things?” she asked after a pause. “Things like crushing instead of slicing, wouldn’t it result in better potions?”

“Yes,” Severus said. “What have I told you from day one?”

“I’m an insufferable know it all?”

Severus huffed, a small breath of a laugh forced from him. “That, but that you have to stop parroting text. If I told the students how to get the best results then they wouldn’t strive to find them themselves. Potioneers, good ones, have to want to strive to do better. To find something that no one else has.”

She considered that while she tended the cauldron, her head tilted slightly in thought.

“The rings you sent Fred and George Weasley. What drove you to make them? It’s not something that you would have learnt in Hogwarts. Or those that you use to disguise yourselves?”

“The glamour ones came first,” she said. “I needed them. I needed a way to hide myself in case we couldn’t get away, or someone came looking. A glamor charm can be cancelled if someone throws a finite against it. You are stopping the flow of magic into the spell that you’ve applied to something. The rings contain magic and the spell wrapped up together, there’s no physical way of separating the two.”

“Why did you think you could?”

“Because, because the spells weren’t complicated, and well look at what Fred and George have invented.  If they could do everything they wanted to, then it stood to reason I could.”

“So you experimented with a known spell. Examined its parts, the incantation, the wand movements. Potions are the same. Why this ingredient not that one? Why prepared this way not that? Why stirred this way not the other? You helped Fred and George with their work.”

“How did you know?”

“They told me obviously.”

“Oh.”

“You helped them with their work, suggested alternatives when they asked.”

“I – yes. I happen to be an insufferable know it all and the theory of what they were doing was interesting. I hadn’t thought about it before.”

“An insufferable know it all who had not shown in any of my lessons that you could do what you have clearly been doing all along. Transcribing a book is not impressive, writing three feet over the required amount is not impressive. Telling me that crushing a beetle instead of slicing it gets you better results and why, is impressive.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, quite.”

“Do you enjoy teaching?”

Severus paused, a retort on his tongue held in by his teeth. He had already bared his soul, honesty at this point probably wouldn’t kill him. “Teaching was thrust upon me after everything that happened. Albus saw it as a way of getting an over qualified Potions Master on the staff to supply the infirmary, thus saving the school budget. I had nowhere else to go. Hogwarts was familiar, not all of the memories were happy ones but it was familiar. Behind the castle walls I need not concern myself with what was happening outside in the world. By the time the students get to NEWT level those who want it, stay. Those are the ones that can be taught the subtleties that are wasted on those who are there because they have to be. Occasionally you get a student who has a flair for the topic and that makes up for the drudgery.”

“Oh,”

Severus looked at her as she minded the cauldron. “You, Miss Granger are a competent brewer but you have yet to show flair for the topic. In Charms however, you seem to have found and taken a step in the right direction.”

“Ah,” she said a grin forming on her face. She checked the cauldron but she couldn’t stop stirring so instead she flicked her hand out, wandlessly and wordlessly summoning a small jar from the shelf. Once it was in her hand she held it out to him.

“Wandless and wordless summoning is not flair.” He pointed out testily.

“Not that,” she said waggling the jar. “This.”

He took the jar from her looking at her questioningly. “This is?”

“My attempt at flair,” she replied cheekily.

He simply raised an eyebrow at her and her smile widened. John coughed into his hand, unconvincingly trying to hide a laugh. He did however step between them, they were both stirring cauldrons one handed and unable to stop so he took it upon himself to demonstrate. He took the jar from Severus and unscrewed the lid. “Allow me.” He picked up a clean knife from the table and turned his hand over palm up. With the knife he made a large deep cut across the base of his thumb, blood welled from the wound immediately. John hissed in pain and put the knife down carefully. Then with his uninjured hand he scooped a fingertip full of the cream up from the jar and smeared it on the bleeding cut.

“Just what is that meant to demonstrate other than a potential mental imbalance?” Severus asked nonplussed.

John took the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it over the smeared cream, his hand was whole, the cut healed and the skin as good as new. He smiled at them both, stepped away, back to his original position and continued to grind the herbs in his mortar, showing no ill effects.

Severus looked at him, then at Hermione who was smiling broadly. “Explain.”

“It’s a healing cream. A magical one.”

“That your non-magical father has just demonstrated.”

“Yes, you did specify flair did you not?” she said basking in the look on his face. “I did something I wasn’t proud of with my magic. That is how I sought to redress the balance. Harry suggested curing cancer but I think I might have to go to medical school for that.” Her smile wobbled a bit but she rallied herself. “The Muggle born are at somewhat of a disadvantage in magical society. At school they may use magic, they can learn healing spells, they can heal cuts and bruises, have broken bones mended overnight. Then they go home and their magic is locked away from them. When they fall over and hurt themselves they have antiseptic and plasters. When a half blood or pureblood that lives in a magical household falls over they have healing spells. It’s simply unfair don’t you think?”

“So you’ve address the balance?”

“I’ve started. That is easy and cheap to make, it needs a fair bit of concentration but it’s not difficult. It doesn’t matter who uses it, muggle, muggle born, half-blood, pureblood it works just the same.”

“You brewed it?”

“Yes”

“And it is different to other cures how?”

She looked at him and understood that it was a serious question. “Dittany would do what this does. But it’s expensive and hard to come by, near impossible to make yourself unless you are really good at potions and has a brewing time that makes it impossible for students.”

“I believe you brewed up a potion for a month in a toilet. Surely nothing so difficult as that?”

“Well actually yes, as you well know. Polyjuice potion can be left alone. Dittany needs more supervision. So I broke down Dittany then looked at Fred and George’s bruise salve. They wouldn’t give me the recipe but they did tell me what was in it and I made some guesses from there. I had to come up with something that could be brewed easily by students. Or could be manufactured easily and cheaply to keep costs low, to make it viable for a business like Fred and George’s to sell.”

The potions they were both brewing came to a point where they could be left to cool and they both fell silent whilst they were dealt with and the next batch was readied.

“A worthy goal. Have you submitted it for medical trials yet?”

“No. if I did it would leave a paper trail.”

“I suggest as soon as you are able, you do so.” 

They brewed three more batches of blood replenisher before Severus decided that if Potter was going to come and shout and scream at him he would have done so by now. Once his cauldron was ready to be left to cool he withdrew his stirring rod and placed it on the rest, meaning to gather up all the implements he had used in order to clean them. It was then that he noticed that the bench was clean and tidy, only his cauldron and the one that Hermione was minding were out. The others had been decanted into the waiting vials and were now stacked presumably cleaned ready to be used again. The same was true of all the implements. John who was leaning against the table casually, joining in their conversation where he could, whiskey glass in hand, met his confused look with a smile.

“I cleaned up while you two brewed.” He tilted his head towards the corner of the room where a wide sink stood. “It was about the time you were discussing properties of native moonstones or something. I wasn’t really following.”

“My apologies, that was rude to exclude you.” Severus said.

John waved him off. “Honestly this is better than the alternative. And I could always thrill you with the details of root canal surgery one day. Now you’ve finished do you want a drink for the road?”

Severus glanced about him. “I hadn’t meant to stay this long,” he admitted. “I thought perhaps Pot-Harry might have more questions, or want more information.”

John tilted his head regarding him. “Or to scream obscenities for your role in his parent’s death?”

“Or that,” Severus said stiffly.

“Well he hasn’t, and you’ve at least earnt a drink. Come on.” John turned and walked from the room leaving a slightly troubled Severus behind him

“You might as well go,” Hermione said quietly. “I’ll finish up in here. I wouldn’t have been able to do half as much without your help. Thank you.”

Severus looked at her searchingly for a moment before nodding slightly and following John out of the room. He was waiting in the hall and wordlessly led him to the library where the fire was roaring and the lights were dim.

Severus sat in one of the arm chairs facing the fire and accepted the drink handed to him. The whiskey flooded his mouth and seeped up through his sinuses, burning a trail as he swallowed only to pool in his stomach sending out tendrils of warmth. He closed his eyes in pure appreciation for a moment. Minerva was right. The whiskey was excellent.

John put the bottle down between them on a small card table. “I distinctly remember that being fuller before we got here,” he said with happy resignation.

“You have been drinking with Minerva,” Severus said lifting his glass again and letting the warmth fill him.

“That woman is a marvel,” John said with a smile. “And she seems to think quite highly of you.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Whatever she may have said I assure you I fully deserve the censure I receive.”

“I doubt it,” John said off hand. “But I won’t argue with you. I would however like to thank you.”

“For what altruistic feat am I to be thanked for? For insulting my only friend? For joining a terrorist group? For telling the Dark Lord the prophecy which led to the death of Harry’s parents before he could know them? For agreeing to go along with Albus’ plan to endanger your daughter?”

“For keeping them safe while they were at that school of yours actually. You do recall that Hermione told us everything? You’d have to be pretty stupid to not realise that you came up so much because you were always there. You were there after the troll, you brewed the potion to revive her from being petrified. You put yourself between her and a werewolf and an escaped murderer. I might not get chance to say it again, so thank you, and if there is any way we can repay you then you only need ask.”

“I don’t deserve thanks; they were students I am a Professor of Hogwarts and charged with their welfare.”

“Funny how it wasn’t any of the other staff then.” John paused to drink then continued. “Then of course you’ve kept our secrets. Four horcruxes have been dealt with, and we lived happily in America with no one any the wiser when you had the opportunity to inform either of your masters. It would be churlish and rude to argue the point instead of accepting the thanks, however undeserved you think it.  Don’t you agree?”

Severus looked at the man who sat calmly in a chair facing him, apparently unconcerned of the bombshells Severus had delivered that evening, of the way Harry or Helen had never returned to the room. He lifted one shoulder in defeated concession.

John smiled and topped both their glasses up. “I’ve just remembered you’re a wizard and thus don’t have to drive. That means you can have another.”

Chapter Text

Severus only realised time had passed when Hermione had come in to wish her father good night. She'd given him a hesitant smile before vanishing through the door on quiet feet. He'd started making his excuses to leave only to have Helen walk into the room. Somehow the look she'd given him complete with raised eyebrow had his teeth clicking together, and he'd sunk back into his chair waiting for the wrath of Potter's adoptive family to come raining down upon him. She curled up on the end of the sofa and gratefully accepted the whisky John had poured her.

"Harry's gone up to bed," she said. "Thank you for telling him before it got any further."

"How is he?" John asked.

"So, so," she reported. "Upset that it's been dragged up again, angry that he's been forced to be adult about it, but he's sorting it into something he can deal with. I passed Hermione on the stairs, they'll sort it between them."

"Does he," Severus said, then stopped to clear his throat. "Does he have any questions?"

"I imagine he has more than a few," Helen replied. "As to if he's going to ask you?" she sighed. "I think he probably will eventually, maybe not immediately but he's short on reliable sources of who they were. It's always been that he's the saviour of the world, not that he lost his parents and his survival likely had a lot less to do with him and more to do with whatever his mother did. They were the darlings of the school; he looks like James but has his mother's eyes. She was a bright muggle born witch, he was a prankster and part of a group called the Marauders. It's not a lot to build on."

"Hasn't he spoken to Black and Lupin?"

Helen cocked her head at him. "You seem to be under some sort of false assumption of how much use a man who spent over a decade in prison can be in answering the types of questions he has. He's barely spent time with Sirius that wasn't heavily supervised, and he could hardly be expected to ask when surrounded by the Weasley's. That avenue is now closed to him, and as for Mr Lupin, he appeared briefly when he was thirteen, nearly killed him then vanished again until Harry visited Sirius' house. Then he was, as I understand it, a visitor in between missions for the Order much as he is now."

Severus blinked, he hadn't realised he might be one of the few people left in Potter's life that might have known his parents for the people they were, rather than the footnotes in his survival they had been reduced to. He swallowed again. "If he wishes to ask, I will make myself available."

"That would be kind of you, I'll let him know. Would written correspondence be easier?" Helen asked.

"Not if Potter's handwriting hasn't improved," Severus replied.

The barb made both the Grangers chuckle and the blade of tension he had between his shoulders lessened. He nodded to Helen. "If he wishes to write I will correspond."

The tension broke and they began to talk about other things and the evening wended its way through to the early hours of the morning.

He returned to the castle and stumbled his way to his rooms. He was drunker than he had any right to be even on a Saturday night but lighter of heart and soul.

Two days later Severus returned to McGonagall Lodge with misgiving. He was no longer worried that Helen or John or even Hermione might have a problem with him over his revelations. However, he hadn't seen Potter since, and despite what Helen seemed to think he wasn't going to assume anything.

Folly greeted him as he came through the floo. "Mistress is waiting in the dining room," she reported before taking his cloak and vanishing. He made his way to the dining room and found Minerva stood looking out of the window and moved to join her.

"No one else is here?" he asked as he came to stand by her.

"Hello Severus, Helen and John will be a minute they are just getting some documents, and I'm waiting for Kingsley to contact me so I can bring him through the wards."

They stood together quietly waiting and when Minerva's mirror trilled out she shot him a quick smile. "Back in a moment," she said then vanished.

He moved from the window to walk back to the table and pull out a chair. As he did, Helen and John came into the room, their arms were laden. They set their things down on the table and sat on the chairs facing him.

"Hello Severus, how has your day been?" Helen asked politely.

"Tolerable," he allowed.

"Are you staying for dinner? Or do you have to return to the school?" she asked in a bright voice.

Severus tried to keep his surprise from his face.

"Minerva is staying," Helen added slyly.

"It is her house," he pointed out.

"That's true, and she's been an absolute gem about letting us take over."

"Who has been a gem?" Minerva asked as she reappeared with Kingsley on her arm

"You have," Helen said cheerfully. "For letting us take over your house. I was just inviting Severus for dinner."

"Oh, good," Minerva said. "You'll stay, Severus? and you Kingsley?"

"I have a previous engagement," Kingsley said with a regretful smile. "But thank you for the offer, another time perhaps." Kingsley regarded Helen and Minerva as they turned back to Severus, expectant looks on their faces.

"The kids are going to the cinema with Fred and George tonight," John said from his place next to Helen. "I'm sure they'll be sorry to have missed you, but they did promise the twins."

Severus inclined his head ever so slightly towards John then turned to Helen. "I see no reason to refuse you both and never hear the end of it."

John stood from his seat and approached Kingsley, Helen beside him. "We've not been introduced I'm John Granger, and this is my wife, Helen." He held out his hand which Kingsley shook followed by Helen's.

"Hermione's parents?" Kingsley asked.

"Yes."

"It's splendid to meet you," Kingsley said. They moved back to their chairs and Kinsley pulled one out on the other side of Minerva who had sat next to Severus. Just as they settled the door opened again, and Fred and George came through.

"Sorry! We've not missed anything have we? Only the shop took forever tonight."

"No, no," Minerva answered. "We're just about to start. Take a seat." The twins slid into chairs either side of John and Helen, exchanging nods of greeting with Kingsley and Severus. "Now we're all here," Minerva said. "Shall we get down to brass tacks and work out exactly what our plan is?"

"Where are they, Harry and Hermione?" Kingsley asked.

"Gringotts, Harry needed to go and see the Goblins to get everything explained to him; his accounts, investments, that sort of thing. They weren't sure how long it would take, but we need not wait for them."

John unfolded the piece of paper in his hand and spread it out on the table. "This is the A to Z map of the area and the Burrow, now-"

"Map? How did you get a map of the Burrow?" Minerva asked

"I went into a shop and bought it," John replied. "It's a Muggle map; they use images from the satellites in space which are verified by people. Muggles use them to get around areas they don't know. You can get them for pretty much everywhere. I know the wards the Weasley's use will dissuade muggles from approaching, but I don't suppose they stop satellites taking pictures. Or planes, come to mention it I could find out if any of the aerial photographers have been over recently if that would be any use?"

"The map should suffice," Severus said.

"OK then. This area here is where the Burrow is, there's a house marked, see? This represents a body of water and the trees. The pond and the orchard within their property from Harry and Hermione's description."

Fred and George leant forward interestedly examining the map and the detail it showed. "So, this is the village?" Fred pointed at the cluster of grey squares. "What are these different coloured lines?"

"They show where the roads are and the category of road. That tells you things such as the likely speed limit the possible condition, width, and busy-ness of the road."

"Cool," Fred commented.

Kingsley looked at the map. "So we're proposing the Burrow?"

"Yes," Severus said. "On the suggestion that the current headquarters is about to become less secure, Albus has agreed to gather the Order to the Burrow to propose strengthening the wards and using it as a base. He's expecting me to kill him while he is there with the Order as witnesses."

"It wouldn't work," Kingsley said shaking his head. "As a plan in general. Assume it went the way Albus wants it to, and you kill him with the Order as a witness. How does he expect you to survive the retaliation of the entire Order? Your good, Severus but you aren't good enough to go up against all of us at once, and that's what it would be."

Severus grimaced. "After I settled the location with Albus I pointed out the same concerns. He has granted me an audience. A portion of the evening where we will leave the meeting in the Burrow and go for a pleasant moonlight stroll. This would give me ample time to do the deed and to escape before anyone came after us. He insists that I then go into hiding for a few days, so the news of his tragic demise can reach Potter and allow him the time to hunt me down."

"But where would you go?"

"The headquarters," Severus said. "Albus believes that the Order would think that I had betrayed the secret to the Death Eaters. Once he is dead everyone who knows its location becomes its secret keeper thus giving me a place to hide which the Dark Lord cannot reach me, and the Order believe it compromised."

"That's not entirely stupid," Helen said. "The chances are that Harry on returning to England would go there as it's his property, and he would think it still safe. Thus, you'd be the first person he met meaning the handing over of the wand would be done near on immediately."

"What's to stop you leaving, though?" Fred said.

"Where else would I go with the Death Eaters and the Order hunting me?" Severus asked. "The headquarters would, in fact, be the safest place."

"So," John said. "Disregarding the parts of the plan we are not going to follow; I think we should keep to the bare bones of it as much as we can to stop Dumbledore becoming suspicious. When you go for your stroll, we need you to get away from the house. As soon as you've left, we'll start gathering everyone at the Burrow except those people we've deployed early. This copse of trees here, is it off your property?" John asked looking at the twins. He put his finger on a green patch on the mark south of the Burrow.

"Yes," George answered. "The boundary line is just the other side of the orchard here." He traced his finger over the map indicating the area.

Kingsley looked at the map. "How thick are the trees?"

Fred paused thinking. "You can move between them it's more a small wood than a copse."

"Right," Kingsley said nodding. "If we could get the Death Eaters to arrive there, undercover as it were, we could keep them corralled within the trees. That gives our side cover, and their numbers shouldn't be too much of an advantage." Kingsley looked over at Severus. "Is that doable?"

"Perhaps, the Dark Lord is coming to kill Albus. If I take him to this field here," Severus said pointing to an area west of the Burrow and north of the small wood. "Then we'll be far enough away for the Dark Lord to be confident I've followed orders. I don't know how many Death Eaters he'll bring initially and since he can call them instantly to him, it might not make a lot of difference."

"Can you suggest a raid on the Burrow then?" Kingsley proposed. "Tell him the senior Order members are going to be there then he'll bring enough to the wood. Once he's downed Albus, he can lead the charge or let his lieutenants have a go at the Order. Thus, killing off all the resistance at once. That way we can deal with his stronger members within the trees where we can separate them then when he does call for reinforcements we might have damaged their numbers sufficiently to make a fight of it."

"That might work, but we'll be operating on short notice, a day at most, probably less if I'm to be believed." Severus cautioned.

"You might also end up fighting on two fronts," Helen advised. "If you get tied up with the group in the woods and Tom calls more to him in the field, do you have people enough to cover both?"

Kingsley exchanged a dismayed look with Severus and Minerva. "No, we'll need the most powerful members to contain the contingent in the woods. If we're right and the ones he calls afterwards are less able, then some of the less experienced members can take those."

Fred looked at George who nodded. "Do they have to be Order members?" Fred asked.

Kingsley Severus and Minerva instantly fixed upon the twins who to their credit only quailed slightly.

"Your cadre of students is not welcome," Severus said.

"No, not them, the DA that has graduated. Those that Harry taught and have since left, and those that didn't join the DA but are willing to volunteer." Fred clarified.

George picked up the thread. "You've said it yourself, those Tom calls to him, they are going to be less powerful, so if we can get the numbers then we stand a chance, don't we? Do we even have any other options?"

Kingsley sat in thought for a moment before looking up at Fred and George. "There's a security risk in letting people know too early. There are spies everywhere."

"Then take their oaths," George offered. "They want to help; they want to end this as much as anyone. Why should we turn them away?"

"We can't take oaths; we don't have time to set it up and your assuming they would be willing to swear. It's a different thing taking an oath than turning up to a wand fight. Welching on a fight isn't going to affect your magic for the rest of your life. How will you contact them?" Kingsley asked.

George pulled a galleon out of his pocket and slapped it down on the table. "They come into the shop, no one looks twice at people coming in to buy trick wands. We hand these out and let them know when and where. They bring anyone they can."

"We're talking a little over a week if we are lucky, is it enough time to get in touch with everyone?"

"Yeah," Fred said. "Katie, Angelina and Lee graduated last year and they are in contact with some others."

"What about those who aren't on your side any longer?" Helen asked.

"Well if we're calling ours at the same time Tom is calling his, they'll end up in the right place, won't they?" Fred said jutting his chin out.

"Contact them, get the word out, be as careful as you can. I'm not going to turn away wands." Kingsley shook his head. "I really didn't want it to come to letting kids fight."

"What about the school?" Minerva asked suddenly.

"What about it?" Kingsley replied.

"Neither Albus, Severus, or I will be there."

"The gates will hold, won't they?" Kingsley said.

"The gates perhaps," Severus said. "Although there's more than one way to get through them. The secret passages on the other hand?"

"Secret passages?" Kingsley asked. "What secret passages?"

"Those leading in and out of the school," Fred said cheerfully. "There's only the ones leading to Honeydukes and the Shrieking Shack that are passable."

"Do the Death Eaters know about them?" Kingsley asked curiously. "I'm not sure even I knew about them."

"Err yeah," George said. "That's the thing, they are on the Map."

"The map?" Kingsley asked confused, glancing at the map spread out on the table.

"The Marauder's Map," Fred said. "It was made by a group of students, and it shows the castle, its hidden passages and secret tunnels."

"I see and who has this map?"

"Ron does," George supplied.

"Then I'm not sure I see the problem," Kingsley admitted.

"Peter Pettigrew was a Marauder," John explained. "He knows the passages and what's more his animagus form means that the Whomping Willow can be overcome. He could, in fact, lead a team of Death Eaters into the school while it was missing its senior staff and Headmaster."

Kingsley paled and ran his hands over his face. "That-, we don't have the manpower for this."

"You need not station an army to defend the castle," Severus said. "Bill Weasley has something I think you'll find useful. He's developed a ward barrier that stops those bearing the Mark passing through it. Have him apply it to the tunnels to stop them getting through."

"This is the first I've heard of it," Kingsley said. "Does it work?"

"Distressingly well," Severus admitted. "He approached me, I presume at your behest?" he threw a look at Fred and George who sent crooked smiles of guilt back at him. "To ask if I would help him test it."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow inviting Severus to elaborate.

"Suffice to say that it will keep them out of the passages, but only those bearing the mark."

"Fine," Kingsley said. "Can I contact him? Or-" He looked between Minerva and Severus.

"We'll do it," Fred said. "He knows we are involved in something not quite signed off by Dumbledore already, he'll ask fewer questions this way."

Kingsley nodded. "Fine, we'll cover the castle that way and post a small group, two or three just to keep an eye on things. Anyone got anything else to add?"

"Can I suggest you post Mr Lupin there," Helen said. "With whomever else you choose."

"Any reason?" Kingsley asked. "He's a competent fighter and might be more use elsewhere."

"Because if they expect to get in through the Shack, they will send Peter to get them through the tree. Does the barrier stop marked animagus getting through? Remus knows Peter, knows his form, and he has enough history with Peter I believe to stop him at all costs." Helen explained.

Kingsley grimaced. "I'd rather not lose a competent fighter. I'll see if I can work something out."

"Your healer's station," John said. "Where are you putting it?"

"Healers station?" Minerva asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," John said patiently. "Where are you sending those injured in the fight to get patched up and either sent on to better care or back out into the fight."

"We can't do that," Kingsley said. "If we did, the Death Eaters would just target it."

"If you don't," John rebutted. "You are going to lose more people."

"It's not the same as for muggles," Kingsley said. "The things that stop muggles can be fixed instantly by magic, anyone can cast healing spells."

Helen looked at Kingsley with a frown. "No, they can't, and you know they can't. You think that when they're up against people trying to kill them, the injured are just going to be able to call a halt to things and get themselves fixed up? Or have the energy to fix themselves or the capability? If you don't give them somewhere to go to get healed, they'll leave, and their friends and loved ones will go with them to help. You've already said you are short on numbers. Why reduce that further when you are being offered an alternative?"

"What alternative?" he demanded, annoyed at the accusation in her voice.

"Give us your healers, we'll set up triage, at the Burrow say, we'll tell everyone going out that if they get hurt, they are to come back to the Burrow. We'll heal them or try, and then they can rejoin the fight if they are capable or be sent on to better help."

"You're muggles, you can't use magic, and we've maybe got three qualified healers altogether," Kingsley protested.

"Three is enough, and I can't see how being a muggle stops you using bandages or handing out potions," Helen responded sharply.

"We don't have the volume of potions necessary. You'd give everyone false information, then what? They die in the back yard of the Burrow instead of trying to reach proper care?"

"We have the potions," Helen said dismissively. "We've brewed every night since we got here and we've been preparing for this since last September. That's four months of preparation. I think we've already demonstrated what a couple of muggles can do with four months prep time." She crossed her arms and glared at Kingsley.

Kingsley looked at them both and felt his mouth drop open slightly. He turned to Severus. "You'd trust their brewing? I assume it was Harry and Hermione that has done it."

"Helen and John have helped," Severus said with a nod at the pair. "But yes, I've seen the standard they are working to, they might not be as good as a commercial source, but they'll work just the same."

Kingsley turned to Minerva for support.

"Do it, Kingsley, if we can save lives then don't ask questions just get it done," Minerva said, not even looking up from the notes she was making.

Kingsley eyed Helen and John again who sat patiently waiting for him. "You can do this? Manage a field hospital."

"We're healers, muggle ones perhaps, but we've had all our first aid qualifications renewed, gone on all the courses," Helen reassured him.

"Fine," Kingsley sighed defeated. "I'll contact the healers I know to get them to coordinate with you. You'll be on your own, though, I can't spare any more people to guard you."

"If you're doing your part, you won't need to," Helen said tartly.

The door to the dining room opened, and Harry and Hermione came in. Harry was pale and looking a little wild around the eyes. Hermione was flushed pink and had hold of Harry's hand in a tight grip which she didn't relinquish. "Sorry," Hermione said. "It took longer than expected to go through things. Have we missed everything?"

"Mostly, I think," John said watching the pair closely. "Come sit down."

They came up to the table and sat in the chairs next to Fred.

"We've just agreed to a triage station at the Burrow," Helen said leaning forward to see the two newcomers.

"Oh right, OK, there's enough healers in the Order?" Hermione asked.

"Two or three," Kingsley said. "Your parents will be helping out. Which brings me to you two."

"We'll be in the field," Hermione said firmly. "We've no way of knowing if this ridiculous prophecy is real or not but if it comes down to it and Harry's got to be the one to defeat him, I'll be with him."

"You'll need to stay out of the way as much as you can," Severus cautioned. "The Dark Lord has declared you are his to be killed, but if they see you, they may not hold to it. Now we know you've lost your Get Out of Death Free card caution should be employed."

"I wasn't going to go out waving a flag," Harry said shortly, coming back to himself. Hermione squeezed his hand, and he gave her a reassuring nod. He turned back to the group around the table. "What is the plan so far?"

"Severus takes Albus to a location away from the Burrow and stakes Albus out as bait. Tom? Is it Tom you call him?" Kingsley asked pulling the map over to him so he could indicate their plans.

"Yes, it's his name," Helen said.

"Ah right," Kingsley looked nonplussed. "Well, hopefully, Tom takes the bait and appears there. We're gambling on Albus' holding his attention. The Order in the meantime will be moving against the senior Death Eaters in this coppice here. Hopefully, we'll reduce their numbers there and when Tom calls his reinforcements, the second wave will be made up of the less proficient."

"We've still got the snake to kill," Hermione said. "Is that going to happen beforehand?"

"I would like to think so," Minerva said. "But I believe that we'll need to assume that we won't, and she'll have to be dealt with before Tom is."

"The sword?" Harry asked. "I've pulled it from the hat once before, could I do it again do you think?"

"Too big a gamble," Kingsley said. "Can we not just take it?"

"Not if it decides the conditions haven't been met for it to be wielded," Minerva said her lips pursed with displeasure. "Though why a sword should have such a notion I couldn't tell you."

"Basilisk venom then? Do you have any left?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but how to get it to her?" Minerva replied.

"Coat blades with it and throw them at her?" John said half joking.

Kingsley, Minerva, and Severus looked at John as if he had suggested something ridiculous.

"Oh come on," he protested. "It wasn't that terrible a plan, she's quite large yes? You don't presumably have to stab her in the head. Just if you happen to trip over a bit of her while you're running around getting shot at."

Minerva looked at John. "That, I am saddened to say, isn't a terrible plan. We've still got some fangs. I'll see to getting them distributed with appropriate warnings and instructions."

"Does she have to die first?" Kingsley asked. "Say if Tom is killed first, does he get to come back straight away because she's got a bit of him inside her? Or does he do spirit living for a while? And what if we kill her straight afterwards, without a soul piece, can the Vapour Lord actually come back to himself?"

They paused a moment while everyone thought through Kingsley's questions. One by one everyone around the table met everyone else's eyes, and it was Minerva who formed the collective thought into words.

"The snake dies first."

After that, there seemed little more to go over. Kingsley would contact the Order; Fred and George would contact those who hadn't joined the Order but could be relied upon to turn up, and they would wait until they got the word it was happening.

Kingsley refused the offer of tea once they had wound up. "I really do have an appointment I need to keep. I'll be in touch. Stay safe." He nodded his goodbyes and Minerva escorted him to the front door.

Helen turned to the four younger people at the table. "If you lot want to make your dinner reservation and the film showing time, you'll need to get a wiggle on."

They rose from the table and filed towards the door.

"Hermione," Helen called before she followed the other three. Hermione turned back to her mother an expectant look on her face.

"Is everything alright love? Only you seemed a bit out of sorts," Helen asked.

"The vault," Hermione explained. "We went to look for a ring. They had a portrait painted, it was in the main vault." She shook her head and lifted one shoulder in a 'what can you do' gesture. "We didn't stick around after that, just came back here. I best catch up with them." She cast a small smile at the room then vanished through the door.

"Portraits?" Helen said bemusedly.

"You are aware magical pictures can move?" Severus' voice was quiet and soft, and Helen saw to her surprise, his face had gone pale.

"Yes, the portraits can too, Hermione mentioned Sirius' mother was unpleasant."

"A small piece of the subject's magic is contained within the painting; it gives them the same characteristics as the living person," Severus agreed.

"So the portrait of his parents. Dear God." Helen covered her mouth with her hand as the reason for the wide-eyed look on Harry's face became apparent.

Minerva came into the room and glanced about at the three solemn faces. "What have I just missed?" she asked.

"Harry's parents had a portrait painted and stored in their vault," John said when neither Helen or Severus volunteered. The smile on Minerva's face died. Before she could say anything, however, Harry walked back into the room his eyes fixed on the two boxes in his hands. They were four inches square and perhaps only an inch deep, covered in moss green velvet. He visibly set his shoulders then looked up and caught everyone staring at him.

"Umm hi, I wanted to give you both these. Sir, Minerva," he clarified. He placed the boxes on the table and glanced over his shoulder. "If you don't want them that's fine, I'd stay and explain, but we're running a bit late and well." He shrugged clearly not comfortable. "I wanted you to have them." He nodded, turned abruptly and walked out of the room, the door closing behind him. No one moved or made a noise until the roar of the floo activating had died away signifying that the four had left.

Minerva moved to sit back beside Severus and called Folly. "Drinks please Folly."

"Folly needs to start dinner," the elf said looking pointedly at the things left on the dining room table from the planning meeting.

"Of course Folly," Minerva said collecting them up. "We'll take the drinks in the library."

John scooped up the two boxes and followed his hostess out of the room, Helen and Severus following. Once they were settled John cracked the boxes open slightly checking the contents then handed one to Severus and Minerva.

"They are for you," he said waving a hand at them. "We'll answer your questions in Harry's stead."

They opened the boxes and stared down at the contents. They exchanged a puzzled glance and checked each other's box for confirmation they had received the same thing.

"Why has Harry given us jewellery?" Minerva asked. "There's a custom about taking jewellery from a wizard to signify your acceptance of his suit, but I can't say I think that is what he means by it."

"It isn't," John said humour colouring his voice. "Although they are arguably a token of his regard for both of you. They are, simply put, portable shielding charms buried into warrior-esque armbands."

Minerva glanced up at John. "I'm sorry, I don't follow."

John and Helen explained. The explanation continued when Folly called them for dinner and halted only when appreciation for the food required their full attention.

Afterwards in the library once more Minerva asked the thing that had been nagging at her.

"If they could make more?" she looked at the two Grangers trying to judge their reaction.

"They are doing, not to the level those two are," Helen admitted. "But in between the brewing they are making as many as they can. They won't have the kinetic recharge on them, but they can absorb the magic hitting them and use it to strengthen the shield. They aren't able to make them very quickly, however. I don't think it's difficult so much as fiddly?"

"They are pushing as hard as we'll let them," John said. "That's why they are out with the twins tonight. They need to relax; they know what's coming and they know how much they could be doing to help save people from being hurt, but they need to be able to fight when it comes to it. They can't do that if they are trying to make enough of these for every man and his dog."

"I'm not complaining," Minerva said. "Far from it I'm amazed, and touched, really I am."

"Will you wear them then?" Harry said from the doorway. "They are queuing for popcorn," he said by way of explanation. "We've ten minutes before the trailers start and I was annoying Hermione, so she sent me to ask." He came further into the room. "Will you wear them?"

"Yes, Harry, we will."

Harry's eyes went wide in surprise when he realised that the answer had not come from Minerva as he thought it would but from Snape. He met Snape's eyes briefly and nodded in acknowledgement. "The reservoir will need filling with your own magic, so the shield will accept it passing through it. Put them on and cast something, it doesn't matter what as long as it's a projected spell. They syphon slowly from your magic and only if you're not moving, or they aren't being hit, it's the last place it will draw from, just in case. They won't stop someone throwing something physical at you." Harry explained quickly then said. "I've got to get back." He nodded once more then left the room, the crack of his apparition sounding from in the hall.

The four left in the room exchanged a look then by seemingly silent agreement changed the topic. The two boxes were slipped into pockets for later.

The night after the full moon, three days after the meeting at McGonagall Lodge Harry and Hermione stood inside the Shrieking Shack waiting. When the mirror in Harry's pocket chimed, he activated it to see Fred's face.

"OK," Fred said. "Dumbledore's just got here. George is contacting Ginny. We'll let you know when the meetings finished, OK? Good luck." The mirror went blank, and Hermione seemed to shimmer before resolving into her animagus form. Tail raised she led the way to the entrance of the tunnel. They travelled quickly, Hermione moved easily while Harry muttered and grumbled about the tunnel and how small it was. When they got to the end, she slipped up before him to press her paw against the knot on the tree before letting out a loud mrrowl.

Harry came out of the tunnel and threw his cloak over his shoulders vanishing into the evening twilight. "Come on then," he said and the set off across the grounds to the door.

The front door opened under his touch, something neither of them had expected. But then Sirius had gotten in as well.

They made their way up to the seventh-floor corridor staying off the main corridors using the secret passages where possible. A door was already standing formed across from the tapestry. Footsteps on stone caused them both to freeze, shuffling back into the shadows. Luna came into view, her school robes undone over her own clothes. She stopped before she reached them, her large eyes fixing on the shadows they were hiding in.

"Hello Hermione," she said cocking her head slightly. Hermione still as her cat form approached and butted her head into Luna's leg in a friendly manner. The other girl crouched down and petted her. "You can come out now if you want to Harry, there's nobody following me."

Harry pulled off the cloak stuffing it into the satchel he carried. "Hi, Luna how did you know it was us?"

Luna stood up. "Hermione wasn't hiding."

Harry smiled at the girl. "Well, she was, sort of."

Hermione reverted and reached out to hug Luna. "It's good to see you," she said.

"And you. Shall we go in? I think the others are waiting," Luna said breezily.

They trooped through the door to find a small cluster of sofas surrounding a blazing fire. The room was cosy and warm, as they entered Ginny turned to greet Luna, on seeing Hermione and Harry following Luna she jumped to her feet and rushed over.

"You're here! How?" She hugged Hermione then moved to embrace Harry. Neville joined them hugging Hermione and shaking Harry's hand. They walked towards the sofas where someone had already asked the house elves for snacks and drinks.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked.

"Not here yet," Ginny huffed. "He was told but getting him away from Lav-Lav is like trying to separate snails from their slime. They at least did us a favour and moved it out of the Common room."

"But he's a Prefect!" Hermione protested. "He's supposed to set an example."

"If you mean by an example the number of ways you -" Ginny started to say.

"Ginny," Neville interrupted. "No one really wants to hear it." Ginny's smiled in wicked amusement. "Some of us didn't want to see it in the first place," Neville added in a low mutter.

"So what else is new?" Harry asked hoping to move the conversation on.

"Well, the DA was restarted, the Twins sent us stuff to teach everyone, and it's been going really well, we meet on Saturdays in here," Neville replied before Ginny could bring up Lav-Lav again.

"You've had students from all houses?" Harry asked interestedly.

"Yeah, even Slytherin. We don't wear school robes, so it's harder to tell who is from which house. It cuts down a lot of the problems. There's no upper year Slytherins, but we've got some firsties and second years and maybe one or two third years. It's not like last time though when it was because of Umbridge, this is more about what's going on out there," Neville explained.

"Has no one said anything?" Harry asked impressed at how they had managed to make it work.

"No, it's been alright, there were a couple of small fights early on. Stupid stuff but it settled down when we didn't take sides." Ginny replied. "Luna is magnificent at defusing people." The three students shared a smile at that.

"School unity?" Hermione asked in a dubious tone. "You've managed it?"

"I wouldn't go that far. The Slytherins of our year aren't exactly embracing the muggle born just yet. I think it helps that it's not just a Gryffindor thing though and while we're all technically purebloods Ginny's a blood traitor, my Gran is no one to mess with and its hard to find a reason to stay mad at Luna," Neville said shooting an apologetic look at Hermione.

"Never mind about us and our boring, nothing has changed lives," Ginny interrupted. "What about you two? What have you been up to?"

"I hate to disappoint you Ginny, but we've been at school too," Harry said.

"How long can you stay?" Luna asked.

"Until the Order meeting is over. We can't be on the grounds when Dumbledore returns," Hermione said.

"Why not?" Neville asked.

"He doesn't know were here, back in the UK, never mind back at Hogwarts," Harry answered.

Ginny narrowed her eyes at them both. "There's more to it than that isn't there? Mum said that Dumbledore told them all he was in touch with you!"

"Yeah, well, maybe that's what he said," Harry allowed.

"You mean he isn't?" Ginny said shocked.

"No."

"Then what?" Ginny demanded.

"… Maybe we should wait until Ron gets here." Harry hedged, backing away from the irate redhead. He had no intention of ending up on the wrong end of her wand.

In an example of brilliant timing the door opened behind them, and Ron came into the room cutting off whatever Ginny was about to say. His robes were askew, his tie hanging loose, Hermione's eyes narrowed taking in his dress. Harry noticed and squeezed her hand in warning.

"Ron," he said standing up.

Ron stopped in his tracks noticing finally the two extra people sat in the group. "Harry? Bloody hell mate what are you doing here?" They hugged, slapping each other on the back before breaking apart grinning. Hermione stepped up beside them.

"Hello Ron,"

"Hermione, hi," he said and gave her a welcoming hug.

Once they had sat back down Ron turned to Harry. "I didn't know you were going to be here. Ginny just said the Twins had asked us to meet up."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, we had to wait till Dumbledore had left, and they are at the Order meeting. They'll let us know once it's finished so we can get away."

"So," Ginny broke in. "Ron's here, now explain why you're dodging Dumbledore."

"Well, he doesn't know were back, whatever he's told the Order it's not right. I haven't spoken to him since before we left."

"Mum said that Dumbledore told the Order you were in touch and ready to come back," Ron said confused.

Harry shrugged. "It's not true. We're back, but we don't want him to know. If you could maybe keep this quiet?"

"Why?" Ron asked. "I mean, if you're back, then you can come back to Hogwarts, we can join the Order together like we planned."

Harry shook his head.

"Why not?" Ron demanded.

"Because of the end game, the final fight, whatever you want to call it. It's closer than that."

"How can you know that? You've not even been here! You said you've not even spoken to Dumbledore!"

"Because we do," Harry said frustration creeping into his voice. Ron sat back on the sofa and crossed his arms, glowering at Harry.

"Look, Ron, mate. We'll tell you as much as we can, but it's not much." Harry held up a placating hand at the scowling faces of the two Weasleys. "Not because we don't want to, or don't trust you, but because yet again, we don't know everything." He swallowed the guilt from the lie. He wasn't going to risk everything they had worked for to make his friends feel better. "The Order meeting tonight, it's to arrange a new safe house. Currently, the Order don't have very many, so they are going to look at using the Burrow for meetings. As long as your Mum and Dad agree they are going to come back to increase the wards at the Burrow. It's during that meeting at the Burrow that they are expecting Tom to make his move. He wants to take Dumbledore out, he's one of the few wizards that might be able to stop him, and certainly one of the few that know who he once was. Once Dumbledore is out of the way, the Order would need to appoint a new leader, but Tom is planning on attacking the Order before they can do so. Probably at the same time he gets rid of Dumbledore."

"So why are they going ahead?" Ginny asked.

"Because the Order is planning on being there and they are going to fight."

"So by duelling Dumbledore, Tom will either be weakened or defeated, then he can be finished off?" Neville clarified.

"Yeah, that's the plan. I'll be there because of the prophecy, Hermione will be too."

"What about us?" Ron demanded angrily.

"That's why we're here, we wanted to tell you, and if you want to come, then we've got some things we can give you," Hermione said.

"What about the DA?" Luna asked watching both Harry and Hermione carefully.

"You can't tell them," Ron said immediately.

"What! Why not?" Ginny exclaimed as she rounded on Ron.

"Because you let Snakes in! They'll just tell their parents, and then the Death Eaters will know our plans!"

"Eleven-year-olds are not Death Eaters Ron!" Ginny snapped.

Neville looked tiredly between the two of them then looked at Harry. Harry got the impression that this was a conversation they had had more than once.

Harry raised his voice to be heard over the two squabbling siblings. "No one who isn't of age should be there. The plan is sound, but risking kids, as trained as they have been, well, I couldn't tell you to do that. Nor should you want to."

"They have the right to defend themselves!" Ginny said a stubborn tilt to her chin.

"They do," Hermione agreed. "But not in this fight."

"Why?"

"Because we're going to have to smuggle you out of the castle. Anyone who comes needs to be of age. Then they are technically an adult and allowed to make those decisions. Anyone who isn't, we'd be guilty of child endangerment."

"No one would -" Ginny denied.

"They would. But also, this isn't a fight for kids. They shouldn't have to so we're not going to ask them to," Hermione said gently but firmly.

"So what's the plan?" Neville asked.

"Once everyone starts gathering and we can hide some volunteers in with the others we'll bring you to the Burrow," Harry said.

"How?" Ginny asked.

"We'll need you to gather everyone that is coming in here, then we'll send elves or an elf. It depends on how many we can find. They can move through the wards you see. The tunnels and passages are going to be blocked to stop Death Eaters coming into the castle, so we can't use them to leave."

Harry pulled a pouch from his satchel and handed it to Neville. "There are two bags of rings in there, everyone who comes wears one of each. The gold ring is a glamour, one that can't be broken until the ring is taken off. The silver one is a shield spell, It will go up around you like a permanent Protego spell. It will absorb any magic that hits it. They aren't impenetrable, they can be broken, but they will hold up to a fair amount of damage. Also, there's a bag of muggle pennies in there. Each one is a pre-set portkey, feed them a small amount of magic to activate them. Everyone gets one of those as well, they will get you back to Hogwarts. If you get into trouble or it goes pear shaped, you use them and get back here. That applies to everyone. No heroics."

"We're to leave that to you are we?" Ron asked bitterly.

"I can't ask anyone to go and not offer them all the protection I can Ron. I dragged you all through the Ministry and look how that turned out. This time I'll do better, I have to do better."

"Harry," Luna said. "You didn't hurt us, there was little you could have done differently except not go."

Harry smiled at the blonde. She seemed more grounded than he remembered her. He wasn't sure if it was because he'd been gone so long or that her role in the DA had brought her back from the other world she had inhabited.

"There were a lot of things I could have done, but it doesn't matter. I've hopefully learnt my lesson now."

Ginny had pulled the bag out of Neville's hand and stuck one of the gold rings on her finger.

"Wow," Neville said as Ginny changed in front of them. "Where did you get these? They aren't like anything I've ever seen before."

"I made them," Hermione said. "In case I couldn't get away, or if someone came looking."

Ginny jumped up and walked over to a full-length mirror the room had provided, examining her reflection.

"About that," Ron said.

Something in his tone made all eyes move to him, and Neville and Luna exchanged a glance with Ginny before getting up and moving over to her, trying on their own rings in front of the mirror.

Ginny mouthed an exaggerated 'Sorry' at them both before turning back to the mirror.

Harry and Hermione moved a little closer together and faced Ron.

"You were supposed to come back once the deadline was passed. You were meant to get married in France or whatever then come back." Ron said his face flushing.

"We're not married Ron," Hermione admitted.

"Then what was the point? Why did you go? Don't tell me Hermione's that good a shag not unless she's read a book on it." Ron demanded loudly, glaring at Harry.

"Because I love her, of course, I was going to go! And no it wasn't for the reasons you are suggesting Ron!" Harry retorted defensively.

"Then why!"

"Because I couldn't stay without her! Why do you think they went after her in the first place? Without Hermione, I wouldn't have made Christmas!"

"So what am I then? We were supposed to be mates, you didn't even tell me you were going!" Ron leant forward his voice angry, focusing only on Harry and ignoring Hermione.

"I didn't know until just before term ended!" Harry replied his own voice rising to match Ron's.

"So, you knew then!" Ron crowed nastily.

"Ron, you would have had to leave your family behind, maybe for good. We didn't know that we would ever be able to come back. We were planning to be gone for at least five years!" Harry tried to explain lowering his voice to try and defuse the situation slightly.

"So? So because I have a family and you don't, that makes you special?" Ron snapped at him.

"Were we supposed to kidnap you?" Harry scoffed.

Ron got to his feet. "She kidnapped you!" he pointed at Hermione without looking at her. "Don't tell me you asked your Aunt and Uncle if you could go!"

"They would have come after us to get you back." Harry got to his feet moving slightly in front of Hermione as if to protect her.

Hermione sat silently, knowing that if she tried to say anything Ron would see it as two against one, as her siding with Harry against him. It would drive his temper further than if he and Harry fought it out among themselves. She bit her lip wanting to defend their decisions, wanting to explain how they hadn't wanted to leave anyone behind.

"They went after you anyway! Do you think the Order just sat around and said 'oh well never mind Harry's done a runner, it was nice knowing him?' You didn't think Mum and Dad weren't upset that you'd gone? That since they see you as family that they wouldn't worry?" Ron yelled at Harry his face and the tips of his ears bright red.

"It wasn't a perfect plan we knew it would upset some people, but our choices were limited," Harry explained.

"Not that limited," Ron scoffed angrily.

"Ron! What do you think we've been doing? We've been going to school, we spent three weeks over Christmas, not in school. That is one week longer than you, then we went to school. We haven't been gallivanting around having fun! We live in a muggle house in a muggle neighbourhood. Helen and John wanted us to complete our education. We've had lessons and homework just like you! If we'd have told you they would have insisted, you told them where we were. Dumbledore would have used Legilimency or Snape would have." Harry said dropping his voice to a reasonable level.

"So, I didn't get told for my protection? You know what, they did ask. Everyone in the Order; Moody, Kingsley, Dumbledore, Mum and Dad. That's all they ever asked because they couldn't believe you wouldn't tell me. And at first, I could see that you were right, that by not telling me it didn't matter what they asked because I couldn't tell them. But it went on and on, and they didn't believe that you wouldn't have told me." Ron had stopped shouting but was still on his feet his hands gesturing wildly. " 'Why would he not have told you Ron?' 'Your friends aren't you Ron?' 'Best friends? best friends tell each other things like this,' " he mimicked savagely. "And you know what they were right! Best friends do tell each other stuff they don't just up and disappear!"

"I didn't know! I didn't have any idea where we were going OK? Hermione only told me vaguely what the plan was. I didn't know until we got there." Harry said. He sat down again hoping Ron would copy him and he would calm down enough so that they could work this out.

Ron rounded on Hermione. "So what? I'm not good enough now you've got the Chosen One?"

"It was never that Ron. I thought it would be for the best," Hermione said reaching for him.

"Yeah? Well, maybe you should have tried ASKING before you decided what was best for me." He snapped moving away from her.

She flinched, and Harry moved to intervene. "Did you get the Christmas presents, though? Fred and George said you did. We hadn't forgotten you."

"Fred and George? You've seen the Twins?" Ron said, his voice suddenly calm with a note of suspicion in it.

"Yes, they told us when Dumbledore had left the castle so we could sneak in," Harry said puzzled.

"How long have you been back?"

"Since the 1st," Harry said still unsure about Ron's sudden seeming calm.

"And you're just coming now? But you've seen the Twins? You know what Harry, forget it. Apparently, I'm not important as a friend to you." He got up and started towards the door.

"Ron that's rubbish you are!" Harry protested twisting in place to keep facing Ron as he walked away.

Ron whirled hands clutching at his hair. "You were supposed to come back not stay with the muggles! You're a wizard, not a muggle. You're not meant to pick muggles over normal magical people. You're supposed to be a wizard and marry a witch and live in the magical world! Why would you even want to live with muggles?"

"Oh, I don't know because I was brought up with them? Because my Mum was muggle born," Harry said, angry all over again.

"You hate your Aunt and Uncle! You hate them, and you always have. You never stop complaining about having to go back there!"

"Because they are horrible people! Not because they are Muggles! Because they locked me in the cupboard under the stairs and put bars on my windows and starved me. Not because they don't have magic. Christ Ron!" Harry was back on his feet again, and Hermione stood with him slightly behind him. The three at the mirror had long since given up any pretence of not watching the explosion that was happening.

"So, what about all those times you came to the Burrow? What was that then? My family took you in! You're one of us, and you turned your back on us." Ron accused.

"No, we didn't! The Burrow that was fantastic and your family were really generous to let me stay but-"

"But what? Magical families not good enough for you anymore?" Ron sneered.

"Ron, you're missing the point!" Harry said.

"Am I? Am I really? I don't think I am, you didn't have to leave, the Order would have sorted Hermione out."

"They wanted her to marry Snape!" Harry exclaimed loudly. "How is that 'sorting it out'?"

"Or did you just leave with Hermione to get a few more column inches? A couple more headlines? No one would have cared if she'd left on her own. But you had to grab the limelight a bit longer, didn't you. Let everyone know that the great Harry Potter was saving the muggle born. That we're all clearly useless because we didn't all pick a muggle born to run off with," Ron continued as if Harry hadn't spoken.

"Is that what you think?" Harry asked the hurt plain on his face.

"Yes! it's always about you!" Ron nearly shouted.

"It's not Ron, it's really not. I love Hermione, I was never ever going to leave her or let her marry Malfoy or Snape, not for all the magic in the world."

"But you'll abandon your friends, walk away from the war. Leave us all to manage on our own," Ron spat.

Harry's hands buried themselves in his hair. "It isn't just my fight Ron. It isn't just going to be me out there facing Tom, it's going to be everyone. I didn't leave you to manage on your own, and you know what, so what if I did? It's been a year Ron. One year in the last six, one year I've not had to face him, not have to watch people get hurt. One year I've actually had a normal fucking life."

"Bill got hurt," Ron said. "Did you maybe not know that he was attacked coming home from work? He was in the hospital for a month, or maybe that doesn't matter to you while you were busy enjoying your normal life." Ron, his face and ears bright red glared at Harry. His gaze shifted to Hermione, his expression remaining the same livid rictus. "You've come back and think you can just pick up where you left off? Well, no, you can't." He spun on one foot and marched over to the door.

"Ron!" Hermione called, but he didn't turn back. Ron didn't so much as glance over his shoulder as he opened the door, then slammed it closed behind him. The boom of the door echoed in the stunned silence in his wake.

Ginny, Neville, and Luna carefully made their way back over to their two friends who had dropped back down on to the sofa holding each other.

"Don't take it too hard," Ginny offered. "He's a prat and honestly, he's missed you both."

Hermione sniffed and wiped away the tears. "We couldn't have asked him to go," she said, her face pleading for understanding.

"I know," Ginny said sitting down next to her and hugging the witch. "He does too really, but you know what Ron is like. You've come back, you know the plan, and you've got all this cool magic. You aren't the same as you were when you left, either of you. And I don't know if you saw the papers after you went but it was everywhere. At first, he seemed to like the attention you know with everyone so sure he would know where you were. But after when you didn't come back, I think he was a bit, lost?"

"He told me about the letter," Neville said, "He wasn't meant to, but I think he just needed to tell someone. He understood, he said he couldn't have left his family, and he was glad he hadn't had to choose. Then he got together with Lavender, and he went back to being, well himself."

"When Fred and George asked me to start up the DA, we asked him you know to help out, but he wasn't that interested. He comes to the meetings and helps the younger ones. Not the Slytherins or those he knows are Slytherins at any rate. I think he just needed to say it, get it off his chest. He'll come around." Ginny encouraged.

"I hope so," Harry said.

"Honestly mate he will. How many times have you three had a blow-up and fallen out for ages only to be mates again overnight." Neville said knocking Harry on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Neville," Harry said gratefully. He took a deep calming breath and picked up a glass of pumpkin juice off the table. That triggered everyone else to remember the food and drinks, and they spent a few minutes helping themselves and letting the remains of the tension bleed from the air.

"We should probably go, before the meeting finishes," Hermione suggested. Harry shot her a look but nodded and put his glass down.

They all stood up and moved towards the door.

"How did you get here anyway?" Ginny asked curiously. Hermione gave her a mischievous smirk and transformed.

"Hermione!" Ginny squealed. "Oh wow, look at you!" She dropped to her knees and reached out to pet her. Neville looked impressed and then looked expectantly at Harry.

"Oh no," Harry said with a laugh. "I can't, I didn't even know she was studying how to. I came the old-fashioned way." He pulled the invisibility cloak out of his satchel and swung it around him. "Take care of them both Neville," Harry said holding out his hand. "And if you can, tell Ron I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it Harry," Neville said. "It will work out." They shook hands and stood apart. Luna stepped up to Harry, reaching out to hug him and leave a kiss on his cheek. "It was fun to see you both,"

Ginny stood and hugged him too then reached down to pet Hermione one more time. "Go on then," she said looking sad. "Keep in touch, though, won't you? Ron's not the only one whose missed you both."

"We will Ginny, and thanks."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Go on, get lost."

Harry opened the door, and he and Hermione slipped through it making their way back out of the castle and out onto the grounds.

Chapter Text

Minerva was patrolling the halls in her animagus form. When Albus had asked her not to attend tonight's meeting she'd been willing to agree. Suspicious as to why he wanted her to stay behind but willing. She knew both his plan and theirs after all, and listening to everyone cast their opinion in a large shouting rabble was more than she could deal with tonight. It had been a bad day. One of her fourth year Ravenclaws instead of transforming his inkwell into a kettle had decided to transfigure his classmate. It had been nothing short of miraculous permanent damage hadn't been done. Then the Slytherin, Gryffindor 7th year class had descended into snarling again. She'd lost her cool a bit there and slapped the whole lot of them into detention. The wide-eyed shock from both sides of the room had given her a petty flash of triumph and instantly silenced them all, but now she had nearly thirty detentions to oversee. Well less since she was sending her lions to scrub whatever Argus could think of. As for the Slytherins, she’d come up with something for the ambitious little twits to do. Subtle, pah, they were as subtle as an African bush viper on a chalkboard.

A clattering of racing feet on stairs drew her attention, and she trotted forward to the end of the corridor to the staircase that led up to the sixth and seventh floors. Ron Weasley, red-faced and dishevelled was making his way angrily down the stairs stomping heavily on each one as if it had personally insulted him. Minerva wondered if she was going to find some equally angered Slytherin student somewhere, or worse, Severus would and she'd have to endure another rant about how her lions were nothing more than bullying ingrates. The rants she could deal with, she was hardly innocent of them herself, but the sulking afterwards wore on her. Severus had bigger things to worry about than what the students did to each other in the corridors, but it was always those things he overreacted about.

She transformed and stayed in the shadow of the hallway. Mr Weasley continued to make his way towards her, and just as he was about to descend onto the staircase to the fourth floor she called out to him

“Mr Weasley, a word, if you please.”

His reaction was comic. He stopped dead, foot hovering in mid-air, angry muttering instantly silenced. He lowered the foot and turned slowly to face the direction her voice had come from. She stepped from the corridor on to the landing.

“Yes, Professor?” he asked.

“Is there a particular reason you are impersonating a Troll in both manner and dress?  You do recall that you are a Prefect, and thus expected to set an example to the student body, including in the ways one comport oneself around the castle?”

Interestingly Mr Weasley's face darkened with anger for a moment before he jerked his robes straight. He ignored his tie but met her eyes with a blaze of defiance she had come to recognise as a Weasley temper on full boil.

“Sorry Professor,” he said, his tone bordering on hostile.

Her curiosity was piqued. Normally she’d let him go with a warning for future behaviour, but, perhaps on this occasion that wasn’t the best solution. Maybe student problems would be easier to solve than her own.

“Come with me Mr Weasley.” She turned and started back to her office. It was only a pause of half a beat before she heard the resigned feet of her student start-up behind her. She led him to the office and called for an elf which she dispatched to bring refreshments. The elf brought tea and butterbeer, Minerva raised an eyebrow at the choice but selected the tea waving the overly sweet drink at the student sat opposite her. Mr Weasley responded with happy surprise at being offered the drink and accepted it readily.

“So Mr Weasley, the reason for your impressive troll impersonation.”

Ron stared down into the drink, and she watched the emotions chase across his face. Merlin, she was glad her teenage years were behind her, they looked exhausting.

“I had an argument,” Ron said finally.

“I surmised as much Mr Weasley. I am a little more than familiar with the temper that runs through your Prewett ancestry.”

Ron looked up from his drink. “Prewett? You mean Mum?”

She nodded. “Arthur is by no means lacking a temper, but his is one that takes longer to rouse. The Twins, Bill and Charlie got his temperament. Yourself, Miss Weasley and your brother Percy were blessed with your Mother's.”

“Blessed?” Ron said looking at her askance.  Minerva shrugged indicating he could take it as he liked.

“I never thought I'd have anything in common with Percy.”

Minerva bit her tongue, the Weasley children were all so alike it was uncanny. Loyal, magically strong and unbelievably hard headed when set on a course of action.

Ron considered his drink again before tasting it. Then he let out an explosive sigh. “Professor,” he said. “You're in the Order, aren't you? And as my Head of House, you hold confidences? Don't tell people what you get told by the students in private, I mean.”

Minerva allowed a small smile to escape. “Indeed, Mr Weasley.”

“Right, so this is private then?”

“Yes Mr Weasley, nothing you say to me within these walls goes any further unless you need me to do something for you. That is the role of the Heads of Houses.”

“Right, right,” Ron nodded. “I didn't hex anyone,” he said suddenly. “I didn't get into a fight in the corridors with another student.”

“That is good to hear Mr Weasley,” Minerva said, mentally scratching searching for the injured party from her to do list.

“But I did get into an argument. I, uh well, I sort of told someone I disagreed with them over a choice they made. Only I didn't really, I was just, I dunno, angry, I guess, that they'd made it.”

Minerva looked at him steadily, it was perhaps reasoning that made sense only to the young man sat across from her.

“Professor, how safe are people going to be? You know, normal people, the ones that haven’t joined the Order.”

“I’m not sure I follow Mr Weasley.”

“Harry’s got this prophecy and my family are all in the Order, and I’ll join too,” he made to reassure her. “But the others, not everyone wants to join the Order, but without the Order protecting them how safe are they going to be?”

Minerva regarded the young man across from her and the concerns he raised and wondered if she might understand. “You’ve spoken to Miss Brown of the Order?”

“No! Not directly, not telling her about it or anything like that.” He put his drink down and scrubbed his hands over his face then gathered himself. “I asked her if she would fight, not face to face. Not like Harry’s going to have to, or my family does, but you know, in some other way. Auxiliary support or something, I dunno. And she, she acted like it wasn’t her problem, like it was going on but wasn’t going to involve her.” He looked up at her puzzled and worried. “It’s Lavender’s choice to make if she’s going to fight or not but, how safe will she be?”

Minerva found herself wishing Mr Weasley had just hexed another student in the halls. “The answer is not simple Mr Weasley. Safety is after all, relative. If Miss Brown’s family are politically neutral and can stay that way and refrain from drawing undue attention to themselves then it is likely that by continuing to do so, they will, as it were, remain unscathed. If their political beliefs lean one way or the other, depending on the outcome of whatever action happens between the Order and You Know Who they will then have to defend their positions in a potentially hostile environment. That may not be arduous to their health as much as their social standing and livelihood. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “I guess.” He picked up his drink and took a healthy swig before asking. “If Harry hadn’t gone with Hermione, would it have made a difference? Would we have ended it already do you think?”

Minerva didn’t bother to conceal her surprise. “Mr Potter likely ensured his survival for another year. It is highly unlikely, that had Mr Potter stayed behind we would be in a better position than we are currently. By leaving he threw the establish balance of power into disarray. While both sides scrambled to discover his whereabouts a halt was brought to the hostilities perpetrated by You-Know-Who, to lure him away from the Light while he was out from under the protection of the Order.”

“Harry wouldn’t have done that.”

“No Mr Weasley, he wouldn’t, but it gave the rest of us a precious period of time in which to arrange our defences better. I thought your parents would have spoken to you of it.”

Ron shook his head. “Dad might have mentioned something, but Mum’s been worried they were going to end up dead. It didn’t seem likely, but Mum doesn’t want us talking about the Order at home, she thinks it will stop us joining or something.”

He seemed to think about something for a while, and Minerva waited for him to speak again.

“Can I go, Professor?”

“Yes Mr Weasley, if there is nothing else. Might I suggest that you apologise promptly to Miss Brown? The student body would be grateful if the histrionics could be kept to a minimum in the Great Hall.”

Ron stood and moved towards the door but turned back before opening it. “Oh, er, it wasn’t Lavender I had a fight with Professor. I talked to her earlier, though I guess what she said probably didn’t help. It was pretty much the same thing, though, you know, other people’s decisions.” He shook his head. “I might take you up on the apology advice.” He gave her a half smile then left pulling the door gently shut behind him.

Minerva put everything back on to the tea tray for the elves to remove then with a sigh she left her office to continue her rounds. Perhaps she would stumble upon whomever Mr Weasley had fought with.

 Early on Saturday morning, Ron made his way to the Owlery. He had stewed on what had happened, what Lavender had said to him, what he had said to Harry and Hermione and what Professor McGonagall had told him when she'd caught him leaving the meeting. He’d come to the conclusion that he might have been a total prat. An opinion Ginny had been happy to agree with repeatedly. She’d been held back from outright hexing him by Neville who had also looked somewhat disappointed with him. It had been sadly redolent of all those times he, Harry and Hermione had come to cross words and had made him feel worse. Of all the things he had imagined would happen when they returned, Thursday night had been about as far from it as it could have been. So he was going to try and make amends if he could. He coaxed Pig down from the rafters and tied the letter on to his leg.

“Take it to Fred and George for me Pig,” he told the bird before letting the ball of fluff fly out into the morning sun. If Harry and Hermione had seen the Twins, then it was likely that the letter he’d enclosed inside the note to the twins asking them to pass it along would get to them. 

19th February 1998

George and Fred hammered on the door. Desperate and urgent, hoping they hadn’t left it too late. Wishing they could have come earlier. The door opened to reveal an irate Percy scowling. The scowl got deeper when he realised who had been attempting to break down his door.

“What on earth-” he started to say, but his brothers pushed him none too gently backwards into the hall, pushing the door shut behind them. The scowl melted off Percy’s face to be replaced by a look of pinched concern.

“Percy,” Fred said. “Percy you’ve got to come with us.” They herded him back into the living room coats and shoes still on. Percy frowned down at their feet, but they ignored him. “Percy please, now is not the time we’ll clean the damn carpets later. You’ve got to come now, pack a bag.”

Audrey came into the room, a glass of wine in each hand, a puzzled frown on her face. “Fred, George. Why does Percy have to leave?” She came and stood next to Percy, and his arm went around her.

“Audrey, love,” George said, the warmth of the greeting and the smile on his lips not managing to replace the pinched worry of his eyes. “It’s great to see you, in fact, you’ve saved us a trip.”

“What?” Percy said. “What do you mean?” He pulled Audrey closer to him as if to shield her from whatever the twins were saying.

“Percy, mate, you’ve got to come, Audrey too. We’ve got somewhere, a safe house for you to go. It’s got excellent wards.”

“Wards that Bill would give his eye teeth for ten minutes with.”

“They won’t find you, either of you.”

“But,” Percy said his frown deepening.

“Percy, it's tomorrow. You can’t go back to the Ministry, and they know where you live. You do not want to be here.” George said pleadingly.

George glanced at Audrey to see how she was taking it. To his surprise she was stood listening quietly, seemingly following the conversation. “Err Percy?” George said looking at his brother. “Does Audrey…?”

“Does Audrey know about magic and the apparent existence of an entirely separate world running parallel to the one she lives in?” Audrey’s voice was tart but amused. “Why yes, she does. Does she also happen to know that you two are also wizards? Why yes, she does. Does she understand totally what that means and why you two are so desperate for us to leave? No, no she does not.”

Percy closed his eyes, hiding from his brothers questioning glances. “I told her, not everything obviously, but enough.”

“Umm, Percy, the law?”

Percy took the wine glass out of Audrey's left hand and held it up so the twins could see.

“Right,” George said. “Doesn’t quite cover you but we’re not in a position to complain about bending the rules. Welcome to the family Audrey! We’re delighted! Now, how do you feel about a weekend or maybe longer away in Scotland?”

“We are not going to the castle!” Percy said instantly.

“No, we weren’t suggesting that. I think we used the term ‘safe house’ not ‘safe castle’.”

Fred dropped a kiss on Audrey’s cheek. “Congratulations,” he said. “We really are pleased.” He slipped around her, heading for the bedroom. He opened the door and pulled out his wand, at his gesture Percy’s things flew from the chest of drawers and the wardrobe, folding neatly in a pile on the foot of the impeccably made bed. Fred stepped back and turned to head to the bathroom only to be brought up short. Audrey was stood behind him staring at the neatly folded pile of clothes.

“I’ve not seen much magic,” she said. “Percy doesn’t use it around me. I think he doesn’t want to frighten me.”

Fred waved his wand at the bathroom, and Percy’s toiletries came whizzing past them both.

“How much danger are we in?” Audrey asked as she watched Fred summon a bag and direct everything to jump in it. The bag he then shrank and shoved into his pocket, Audrey’s eyes widened as the large bag disappeared.

“Shrinking charm, extension charm and wizard tailoring,” Fred explained briefly walking back to her. He took her arm guiding her back to where Percy was being obstinate with George. “And enough that we’d like to move you elsewhere. It might not come to anything; it might be bad.”

“But, I don’t understand,” she said.

George turned to her and in a calm tone, not wanting to frighten her, explained. “Percy works for the Ministry, the Government, a separate system to the one that governs you, but your Prime Minister is aware of what happens in our world. Percy’s boss, he's not a good man, and he’s mixed up in some shady deals and with bad people. The people he made those deals with put him in power and are directing him but they are about to make a move to remove one of the few individuals who can rally support against them, a coup if you will. They are a bit like a mob family crossed with a terrorist group.”

“Percy’s family work openly against them. We do too, only it’s slightly more convoluted where it comes to us. We know the coup is going to happen tomorrow, so we want to get you and Percy away.” Fred added.

Audrey took the wine glass Percy had taken from her back putting it and the other one she was holding down on the coffee table. Then she turned back to him and took both his hands in hers looking up at him earnestly. “Do you trust them?”

“Yes,” he said looking at her his face a mixture of fear and worry.

“Then let’s go. If it’s just a couple of days, I can tell my boss you proposed and whisked me away for a long weekend, it's only one Friday. I don’t suppose you’ll need to tell your boss anything.” She looked at Fred and George. “Have we time to swing by my place and collect some things?”

“No,” Fred said. “But we’ll send someone to get them.”

She nodded and with one last squeeze of Percy’s hands moved away, walking calmly to the hall to put her coat and shoes on, bringing Percy’s back to him. He was still stood frozen in the middle of the room, he accepted them, and it seemed to snap him out of his stupor.

“How are we getting there?” he asked as he sat down to pull his shoes on.

“We’ll take you to the flat, and you can go through the floo,” George answered.

Percy shrugged on his coat, and George took Audrey’s arm. “You’ll need to come with me. Percy, Fred will take you in, we closed the wards.”

Percy nodded, and Fred grasped his arm and vanished. Audrey stared at the spot they had stood in then looked up at George for an explanation.

“It’s called apparition. I’m going to take you in what’s called a side along. It’s mostly horribly uncomfortable, and you might be sick when we land. Don’t worry its normal.”

“I’m not looking forward to this,” she muttered but nodded her permission. George grasped her firmly and twisted them away. Audrey dropped to her knees as they landed. Her stomach heaved, but she didn’t throw up. Percy was instantly by her side.

“Are you ok? You’re not splinched?”

“Splinched?” she asked. Percy stopped and bit his lip realising that the explanation might not be all that reassuring.

“We’ll explain when we’re there,” Fred said stepping in. “Now, this time you can travel with Percy if you like.”

“Travel how?” She asked staggering to her feet. Fred threw a pinch of floo powder into the fire, and the flames flared green. “You have got to be kidding me,” Audrey said looking between all three men. “Through the fireplace?”

“Well more through the flames actually,” George said.

“Do you have any normal methods of travel?” she asked hopefully.

“Flying brooms and a magic bus,” George said smiling ruefully. “But brooms would take hours to get to Scotland, and it’s a cold, uncomfortable way to go that much distance. The bus is well, it’s all kinds of awful, to be frank, and it’s public.”

“Right,” Audrey said shaking her head. “Well then, by all means, lead on.”

Fred stepped forward to the hearth. “I’ll go first; they do know we’re coming, but better safe than sorry.” He stepped into the flames and called for McGonagall Lodge.

Percy’s eyes widened at hearing the address.

“Percy, you’ve got questions, Audrey’s got questions, and we’ll answer as many as we can. But not here.” George pointed at the fireplace. “Please, Percy.”

Percy nodded and took a pinch of floo powder, drawing Audrey close to him he called out the address and was gone. George waved his wand, closing the wards over the shop and flat completely and followed his brothers into the flames.

Fred had called for Folly as soon as he had stepped from the fire.  The elf appeared and snapped her fingers to rid him of the soot and ash.

“Folly you’re a love, Percy and his fiancée are right behind me. She’s a muggle, can you find Helen and John? I think we’ll need them.”

Folly nodded and vanished. Fred stepped away from the fireplace waiting for the flames to turn green again. They did, and Percy and Audrey stepped out onto the hearth. Fred vanished the soot and ash before they could move. Folly wouldn’t appreciate them walking it on the carpets.

“Well that was marginally better than apparition,” Audrey said as she staggered only slightly. Fred pointed to a chair, and she walked on wobbly feet over to it. George came out of the fireplace next, and Folly reappeared to vanish the soot from him as well.

“They are on their way down. I have a room made up for your guests,” Folly informed Fred, then she vanished again.

“Where are we?” Percy asked abruptly.

“Minerva McGonagall’s family home. It’s been in her family for generations. Its’ as safe as we’re going to get. No one knows where it is and yes, we have permission to be here. The wards will keep you safe.”

“What are wards?” Audrey asked from her chair. “You keep mentioning them.”

“Err,” George said. “I’m not sure of the muggle comparison but I know someone who will, and they are going to be here any second.”

Percy whirled as the door to the study opened, and a blonde woman came into the room. She looked vaguely familiar to him.

“Percy! How lovely to meet you properly at last, and you must be Audrey. I’m Helen Granger.” Helen held out her hand to Percy who shook it automatically.

“Granger?” Percy said. “As in Hermione Granger?”

“The one and the same, I’m her mother.” Helen let go of Percy’s hand and moved to greet Audrey offering her hand to the woman.

Percy drew himself up and glared at his brothers. “I think there are some explanations due.”

“Yes,” Helen said. “There probably are.” She smiled warmly at Audrey. “Don’t worry, we’re muggles too, Dentists if you can believe. When we found out Hermione was magical, it was a bit of a shock, but you adapt quite quickly.”

The door opened again, this time admitting a tall man with unmistakable curly brown hair followed by Hermione herself with Harry bringing up the rear.

“You’ve been here? All this time you’ve been hiding in Professor McGonagall’s house and no one knew?” Percy spluttered at the sight of them.

“Hello Percy, Audrey. And no, we haven’t been here all the time, we got here a few weeks ago.” Hermione said in an amused voice. Harry smiled and waved standing next to her.

“Hello Percy, Audrey,” he said genially.

John walked up to Percy and held out his hand. “I’m John, Hermione’s father. Pleased to meet you.” Percy shook the hand reflexively and looked around him bewildered. “I, I don’t think I understand.”

“No, that’s fair. Come through to the library. Have you eaten? Folly will bring some food if you’re hungry. We can explain and answer your questions there. I’m sure Audrey has more than one or two.” Helen said.

“Closer to four or five,” Audrey replied coming to stand by Percy, feeling more like herself after her first experiences of wizarding travel.

Helen shepherded them all out of the room, as they moved, Audrey turned her head back over her shoulder. “Have you done the apparition thing? Or the fire travel? Is it always terrible?”

Helen smiled. “We don’t travel by floo very often, that’s what they call the travelling by fire and as for the apparition? No, it doesn’t get any better, you simply get used to it. Although we’ve found that elf apparition is less awful. Though only by degrees. You don’t feel like you’re going to lose the contents of your stomach when you land at least.”

Audrey looked thoughtful for a moment. “That isn’t that encouraging,” she said.

Helen smiled. “No I suppose not, but our flying carpet is lovely, though not very practical for long distances.”

“You’ve got a flying carpet? They are real?” Audrey stopped in shock, dragging Percy to a halt beside her. “Can I see it?”

“Yes, they are real. Of course, you can see it, and if we can find a space big enough you can have a go if you like. It’s simple enough to drive.”

“But you’re muggle, aren’t you? Like me? I thought we couldn’t use magic?” Audrey said confused as she started walking again.

“You can’t,” Percy said, looking at Helen with puzzled curiosity.

“That’s true, we can’t use wands to channel magic through ourselves. But there are such things as squibs, non-magical people born into magical families. Not all countries treat squibs as poorly as England. Our carpet is useable by squibs, and as a consequence useable by muggles, us.”

“I think my number of questions just jumped to double figures,” Audrey said ruefully. Helen patted her arm comfortingly. “We have time, and anything John and I can’t answer, Fred and George, or Hermione and Harry probably can. Anything they can’t answer Minerva probably can, and anything she can’t answer, Severus probably has a cutting remark about.”

They arrived into the sitting room as she was speaking and when she finished a smooth baritone drawled. “Madam, if you so insist on disparaging me, why would you expect civility?”

“Oh, Severus, I didn’t know you were here.” Helen arranged her face into feigned shock that an intelligent five-year-old wouldn’t believe.

“I find that highly doubtful,” he replied glancing up from his book. Helen grinned wickedly at him. His face stayed in its blank mask, but the corners of his eyes crinkled upwards.

He stood and moved over towards Percy and Audrey who had remained standing by Helen. Severus held out his hand to Percy. “Mr Weasley, it is good to see you have come to no harm for your endeavours.”

Percy shook the hand. “Thank you, Professor Snape, sir,” he paused briefly and remembered his manners. “Allow me to introduce my fiancée Audrey Stone. Audrey, this is Professor Snape, my former Potions Master.”

Severus took her hand gently and bowed over it. “Miss Stone, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you,” she murmured back politely.

“Minerva will be joining us after dinner at the school. Kingsley may or may not drop in. Can I suggest that your business associate is made aware if he intends to join us downstairs?”

George nodded and vanished through the door.

“Business associate?” Percy asked

“Garrett Ollivander,” Fred supplied.

“The wands smith?” Percy asked. 

“Yes,” Fred said.

“But he’s dead!”

“Evidently not,” Severus murmured as he returned to his chair, picking up his book and for all intents and purposes ignoring everyone in the room.

“Well you see this is where it gets convoluted,” Fred said.

“And involved breaking any number of laws” Severus added helpfully from his seat, his eyes never leaving his book. Percy turned to look at his brother, a silence falling around the group. Fred shot Severus a dirty look and tried to think of a way to explain.

George re-entered the room during the pause. “He’s going to stay upstairs; crowds are a bit much still.” Noticing the silence, he looked around. “What did I miss?”

“Is he alright?” Audrey asked. “I mean it’s not because of us, is it?”

“No, no, he’s a bit of an odd duck, and what happened to him hasn’t helped. He likes company but in small doses. He is happiest when he can sit and make wands.” George said. Audrey smiled at him, but it was small and uncertain.

“I think there’s quite a bit to explain. Shall we sit and we can give you the Cliff Notes version?” Helen said leading the group over to a grouping of sofas and chairs. They were set a little away from Severus to allow him to pretend he wasn’t part of them, while being able to see, and hear, and remark on everything. She’d noticed he always positioned himself as such and had made the conscious decision to enable it rather than force their company upon him. It also enabled the uneasy truce between him and Harry, which in turn reduced the amount of storming around either of them did. They settled Percy and Audrey on the small sofa, and everyone else spread out around them.

“So,” Helen said taking control. “Is there anything, in particular, you want to know or questions you would like answering?”

“Well,” Audrey said. “I’m not very clear on who you all are, and how you all know each other. Could we start there?”

Helen nodded. “Hermione is our daughter, when she turned eleven we were told all the odd things that happened to her were due to her being magical. Since she had turned eleven, she would be allowed to go to Hogwarts to study magic and learn how to control her own. Percy, Fred and George are brothers which you obviously know, they have one younger brother called Ron. He, Harry and Hermione started Hogwarts at the same time. Hogwarts is the magical boarding school that most magical English children go to, all the Weasley children went. Severus is the Potions Master there and has for the last two years taught Defence Against the Dark Arts. Which is sort of like how to defend yourself against creatures and magic that might harm you. This house belongs to Minerva McGonagall who is the Deputy Headmistress of the school. She teaches Transfiguration, which is basically turning one thing into another.”

“I’m sure she’ll be delighted to know you have boiled down years of rigorous study and training into five simple words” Severus drawled.

“You haven’t heard me describe potions yet,” Helen shot back.

“Please do,” he said still not looking up. “I’m sure I would find it utterly fascinating to hear.”

Helen turned back to Audrey. “Basically, Potions is the art of chucking a load of improbable, random things, that you would never think would do anything at all, together into a cauldron of hot water and giving it a stir.”

The former students of Severus Snape snorted with laughter. The man himself slowly raised his head from his book to stare at Helen. “It is a wonder, Madam, that your child turned out as well as she did. Truly the art of brewing potions is a science, full of subtly and exactness. Not just any blithering idiot can achieve the correct results and fewer still can excel in the field.”

Helen cocked her head smiling a small smile of triumph, he narrowed his eyes at her grudgingly acknowledging her victory and returned to his book.

“So you all went to school together?” Audrey said.

“Yes,” Helen nodded.

“But Percy said you were in hiding?”

“This is where it gets a little more complicated,” Helen said slowly.

“Is this to do with Percy’s boss?” Audrey asked.

“Yes and no,” Helen said. “There isn’t an easy way to explain, and it’s a long story. But you should probably be told what’s going on since you are here. Twenty years or so ago a wizard called Tom Riddle decided that he wanted power. In the way it usually goes, he wasn’t too bothered how he got it as long as he did and he could keep it. To finance his rise to power he played on the fears of those with the money and standing to give him what he wanted. These people were from old families. Those that had long lineages of only magical people. These people feared that those born to non-magical parents would dilute the bloodlines and thus reduce the magical community over time. The magical community is about a hundred years or so behind the muggle one. Not just in their technology and science but in their social attitude. Women are still possessions, children are to be seen and not heard, that sort of thing. It’s not everyone,” Helen reassured a horrified looking Audrey. “Some families are more accepting. The muggle-born however were being born and raised for the first eleven years of their lives in the muggle world where the attitudes are significantly different. Respect to the landed gentry was wiped out generations ago, but it is how the magical society still operates. No muggle born would know about the customs of the magical world because they weren’t raised in it, they were probably causing offence left and right and wouldn’t know any better.  Those coming in weren’t showing, I presume, the expected amount of deference to those in power. Tom used this, used this fear of diluting bloodlines, of social superiority, and he set them against each other, and while they were distracted fighting each other, rose above them all. There were some that fought back that didn’t believe what he was peddling. Harry’s parents were part of that resistance group called the Order of the Phoenix. Tom, however, decided that Harry was a threat to his plans through some information he gained, so he killed Harry’s parents and tried to kill Harry. But, because Harry’s mother put herself between Tom and Harry when he killed her and then tried to kill Harry something happened. Nobody knows what, nobody understands how Harry survived the killing curse only that his mother’s sacrifice was something to do with it.”

“That’s awful, so this Tom is dead?” Audrey asked her eyes as round as marbles, glancing between Harry, Helen and Percy.

“No,” Helen said. “Before he died he had made sure that he had away to come back, to live again. It took him fourteen years, but he managed it. He came back to life, called his followers and picked up from where he left off.”

“So you’ve been hiding from him?” Audrey said.

Helen's smile was sad. “No, we’ve been hiding from the Ministry of Magic. Tom has infiltrated them, and because Harry is lauded as having defeated him, and prophesied to be the only person that can, he’s still trying to kill Harry. As an attempt to get to Harry, Tom’s followers pushed through a law. The law required all muggle born witches to marry into pureblood or half-blood families. Hermione is a year older than Harry, she came of age before him. Fred and George both offered for her, but the proposals were blocked at the Ministry. They wanted her married off to one of Tom’s followers so she could be used against Harry.”

“That’s, that’s appalling!” Audrey cried. “How could that even happen?”

“There is a social stigma for being muggle-born,” Helen said gently. “They are just… less. Half-blood is acceptable, but muggle born to many, are inferior, no ancestry, no lineage. Upstarts I suppose.”

“Nearly half the Ministry is under his control. It only affected the muggle born witches so relatively few people. The individuals in power thought that being able to control the women who would bear the children that would dilute the bloodlines, would be the best way to manage the problem they perceived. I’m not proud of everything this government has done Audrey, but there was nothing I could have done, nothing any of us could have done.” Percy looked down at his lap slightly ashamed unable to meet Audrey’s eyes.

“Last time it was bad, people were afraid, they were being attacked, people were dying. The government had been rendered impotent.” Helen explained.

“It was like a sickness, a malaise that swept through and settled on everyone. Nobody smiled, nobody laughed. Mum and Dad, they used to hide the paper. Bill and Charlie would find it, of course, I think because it had been hidden. I’d have to put it back later so they wouldn’t be found out. Mum and Dad, they tried, they did, but you could see it, the fear. The smiles that fell away. They told me to be good, to look after the twins, to stay out of trouble. So I did, I thought that if I did as they said they’d come back, they’d stay safe, they’d be happy.” He closed his eyes as the pain and confusion of his younger self washed over his face, his  eyes were dry though and his tone expressionless,

“You were good,” Audrey said clutching hard at him reassuring him. “You kept them safe, Percy you did.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her, raw desperate emotion in his face. Everyone else looked away giving them as much privacy as they could in the small space they had gathered in. Helen risked a look at Fred and George who had at some point moved closer to each other a horrible understanding showing on their faces. It seemed that they had just gotten an insight into their brother they’d not had before.

Percy stiffened his shoulders again pulling a crisp, clean handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Audrey. Wordlessly she took it and wiped her tears, getting herself back under control.

“So you went into hiding?” Audrey said.

“We sold up, the house, the practice, everything and left. Hermione asked Harry if he wanted to come and he said yes.”

“But your family?” Audrey said turning to Harry. “Didn’t they protest?”

“My Aunt and Uncle are probably euphoric never to see me again. They didn’t like me, I was a freak to them and, well, it wasn’t a happy home.” Harry said keeping his tone flat.

“So why are you back then?”

“The things that Tom was using to stay alive have all but been destroyed. We have an opportunity to move against him to destroy the last of his horcruxes and stop him. So that’s what we are going to do.” Helen said firmly.

“Just you?” Audrey asked looking around the small group. “But there’s nine of you! And you and John are muggles, what can you do?”

“There’s a few more than nine,” Helen said. “But yes it’s a small number. As for what we’re going to do were going to do what it takes. This man, if you can call him that, has to be stopped. Until he is no one is safe. He won’t stop with Britain; he’ll solidify his power and move to the next country until he can’t be stopped.”

“My God,” Audrey said. “Percy only told me magic was a, a thing, a week ago. Now you’re saying that there is a war on?”

“I’m sorry,” Percy murmured. “For dragging you into this.”

“Don’t be daft,” Audrey snapped back. “It’s a lot, but I’m hardly some fainting damsel. I just need a minute, or maybe five.” She shook her hair out of her face and straightened her shoulders and spine. “OK, Magical war, Corrupt government, anything else I need to know?”

“Dragons and Unicorns are real,” Harry offered with a smile from his place by Hermione. “Wizards don’t know what the metric system is, so their currency makes no sense what so ever and you’ll quickly develop an appreciation for biros.”

Audrey looked at him unsure if he was pulling her leg.

“Oh no,” Hermione said catching the look. “He’s right about the biros. Quills!” she said throwing her hands up. “I mean honestly, just why?”

“I’m wounded Granger that you would besmirch the fine institution of propery calligraphy. It’s a subtle art, perhaps some could call it a science. Not just any blithering fool can pick up a quill and create a masterpiece of lettering.” George said casting his gaze dramatically to the ceiling in mock despair.

“While of course, the unicorn and dragon are available in your average Forbidden Forest. For the escaping lovers, there is nothing better than a winged Pegasus.” Fred joined in.

“But romantic moonlight flights across lakes should only be done on the back of a noble hippogriff,” Harry added winking at Hermione. She rolled her eyes at him and nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

“So all those things are real?” Audrey asked.

“Yes,” Percy said. “Although I’m fairly sure there’s a story behind everything they just mentioned.”

“Do you have zoos or something?” she asked him then glanced around the room at everyone else.

“Actually, that’s a good question,” Helen said. “Do you?”

“No,” Percy replied. “We don’t, not like you do. There are the dragon reserves of course and some enclaves of the larger magical species where those interested go and study, but not in the way that you do.”

“Mum,” Hermione said. “Did we bring the encyclopaedia?”

“Oh, I’m not sure,” Helen said frowning slightly as she tried to remember.

“Encyclopaedia?” Audrey asked.

Hermione nodded. “You must be eleven on the first of September to attend Hogwarts. I had to wait a year so we bought an encyclopaedia about magic so we could learn about it in the meantime. If you like, you can have a look through it.”

“That would be quite helpful,” Audrey said. “Why are they sniggering?” she asked pointing at George and Fred.

“Because,” Hermione said with a sniff and a toss of her hair and a smile. “I happen to like reading books and studying, and those two think that the only way you can learn anything is by making it explode.”

“Hermione, saying you like reading books is possibly the understatement of the year. It’s like saying Tom is slightly interested in my life ambitions,” Harry said.

“How are you so calm about it?” Audrey asked.

Harry shrugged. “You get used to it. Since I was eleven, I’ve had some crazy adventure every year until the last one when we were in hiding. Honestly, you have to let it go, or it drives you insane. Also, I’m young and stupid enough to secretly think it’s a bit exciting.” Harry and the twins burst out laughing at the different expressions of horror that appeared on the faces of the others at Harry's pronouncement. “I’m joking!” Harry said holding his hands up, trying to get his face into some sort of serious expression. “It’s terrible, awful, very dangerous. I’m completely focused.”

“Right,” Audrey said. “Even I’m not convinced by that, and I’ve not known you very long.”

“Well you’re with Percy, so presumably you're quite smart,” Harry replied with a shrug.

“Stop it,” Hermione said to Harry when Audrey looked at him warily. “She’ll think we’re all mad.”

“I thought all the best people were,” Audrey replied with a smile at Hermione.

 Hermione laughed. “Yes, that’s true.”

“So now what?” Audrey said. “What do we do?”

“The hardest part I’m afraid,” Helen admitted. “We wait. Our plans are laid, the people who need to be informed are informed, and until tomorrow there's nothing we can do. So, I propose dinner?”

Chapter Text

“Gate duty?”

To his credit, Kingsley kept his expression blank. “Yes Remus, gate duty. You are one of the few people who knows how to sneak out of the castle and thus how to sneak in. You are a competent fighter in case there is any trouble, and I’ll be honest, I like Tonks. I like her a lot, she’s a good Auror, so yes for her I found somewhere you could be that would keep you out of the worst of it.”

Remus growled. “I could be of more use to you with the Order, with Harry.”

“It’s not your call,” Kingsley said over Remus protests. “The decision has been made.” Kingsley clapped him on the shoulder. “Remus we don’t need heroes, we need survivors. You’re going to be a dad soon, take the post, we’re not expecting much trouble at the school, but you never know. Survive, live another day.”

Remus looked at him. “Who else?”

“Who else what?” Kingsley hedged.

“Who else told you to stick me on the back lines? You wouldn’t do it just for Dora.”

“I would actually, and I have,” Kingsley answered. “It’s the only thing I could do for a heavily pregnant witch who wants her ungrateful husband to come home safe.”

Remus' face grew angry, and Kingsley cut him off. “Remus don’t be an idiot, if you want to yell at her, do it tomorrow. Right now no one has time to deal with the fact you don’t appreciate how much people care about you.” He made to turn away, dismissing Remus saying. “Someone has to guard the exits and entrances to the castle. The Marauders had that knowledge, and Pettigrew is still out there. I can’t force you, but you are the best person I can put out there.”

Remus bit back his response and considered for a moment. “You think Peter would lead the Death Eaters into the castle?”

“I think Albus is going to be away from the castle. I believe that it gives them a window of opportunity that they might decide benefits them in some way. I believe that we won’t leave the known entrances to the castle open and vulnerable when we don’t have to. Bill Weasley has warded the entrances to the castle through the Shrieking Shack and Honeydukes. I'd feel better if someone familiar with Pettigrew’s methods was there.”

“Fine,” Remus acquiesced after considering that for a moment.

“Good man,” Kingsley said. “Grab a pack from the kitchen at Grimmauld Place before you go. It’s got food, water, that sort of thing. Johnson and Spinnet will be joining you.”

“Who?”

Kingsley grimaced. “Two volunteers, not long out of Hogwarts, you probably taught them. They know Fred and George.”

“You’re giving me babysitting duty along with gate duty?” Remus said offended.

Kingsley scowled at the man, his patience wearing thin. “No, I’m giving you two willing volunteers who aren’t idiots and are handy with their wands. We don’t have veterans Remus, we don’t have the luxury of picking from ranks of experienced witches and wizards. We’ve got ranks of volunteers, some of which haven’t been in a wand fight any more serious than the casual hexing inside of Hogwarts. Now if you have stopped your litany of complaints I have got other places to be and other things to deal with. They’re good kids, they won’t give you any trouble, and with a bit of luck they’ll have an uneventful tale of gate duty to tell their children in the future.”

Remus held up his hands in the face of Kingsley's tirade. “OK, OK I’m sorry. I’ll get going. Are they meeting me there?”

“Yes, in Hogsmeade.”

Remus nodded and held out his hand to Kingsley. “Stay safe,” he offered.

The Auror looked back at him. “You too, or Tonks will take it out of my hide.”

They traded grips then Remus left the cramped little room  in the back of the Leaky Cauldron and strode out into the Alley to apparate to the Headquarters then on to Hogsmeade.

The Headquarters was a hive of activity, he landed in the back garden and made his way to the kitchen door. Witches and Wizards of all ages milled around chatting or sitting quietly waiting for the orders to deploy. Remus slipped through the crowd and into the kitchen where Fleur Weasley was holding court packing sandwiches and bottles of water into bags laid out in neat rows on the kitchen table.

“Hello Fleur,” he said as he approached.

“Oh Remus!” she said looking up, stopping what she was doing to enfold him in a hug. “How is Tonks?” she asked leaning back to look him over.

“Fine, fine, mostly annoyed that she can’t move in her current state but I can’t say I’m not glad to have her out of the fighting.”

“You should be at home too,” Fleur chid. “No one would think less of you with a baby on the way.”

Remus smiled and said nothing, indicating to the bags on the table he asked. “What’s with all these?”

“Oh,” Fleur said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Merlin knows; I was just asked to put them together. Those that are going further out are to take them, I can’t quite see how sandwiches will help but,” she shrugged.” I suppose the medicines make sense at least for those whose healing charms might not be up too much.”

“It’s a good idea,” Remus said. “I certainly am not going to turn down food and drink while standing around for hours on end.”

Fleur cocked her head silently asking the question.

“I’ve been assigned rear guard duty. Gate duty at Hogwarts.”

“They are expecting Hogwarts to be attacked?” Fleur said, worry creasing her brow. “But the students, Ron and Ginny. I do not think that Molly and Arthur know?”

“No, no,” Remus soothed. “I don’t think they are. It’s just a precaution, and Dora asked Kingsley to put me there as a favour.”

Fleur smiled at him. “She’s a good woman, you make sure you come back to her.”

“I will do everything in my power.” Remus agreed. “Now I’ve got to meet up with the others in Hogsmeade, which of these can I take?”

“Here,” Fleur said picking up a filled bag. She paused then went to a kitchen cupboard, opening it she drew out a bar of Honeyduke’s chocolate and slipped it into the bag. “Can’t hurt,” she said smiling at him.

“I’m very grateful,” Remus said. He gave her a quick hug and moved out of the kitchen back into the milling crowd.

Hogsmeade was quiet, and he stuck his head into around the door of the Three Broomsticks looking for his charges for the evening. He chid himself for the thought, they weren’t his charges they were volunteers like him. When his saw them sat quietly chatting at a small table he swallowed heavily. They were familiar, which meant he probably had taught them. He approached quietly making enough noise to catch their attention but not draw the attention of the entire pub.

“Professor Lupin!” one of the girls said looking up to see him.

“Hello, it's Remus by the way, and I’m very sorry, but you will have to remind me who is who, it’s been a while since I taught you.”

“I’m Alicia Spinnet, and this is Angelina Johnson,” the girl that had greeted him said.

“Alicia, Angelina, it’s good to see you again if not for the circumstances. Are you ready? We really shouldn’t linger.”

“Yes, sir,” Alicia said, and both girls rose, collecting their cloaks and winding scarves about their necks. He nodded and they exited the pub in a little group making their way through the village.

“Sir?” Angelina asked.

“Please, call me Remus.”

“Uh, yes Sir, Remus, sorry. Umm, do you have a plan? Only this isn’t something Alicia or I have ever done and well,” she shrugged looking at him hopefully.

Remus felt the heavy weight of responsibility fall on his shoulders, they had been his students, they were not much older than Harry. “I do,” he said confidently. “First we’re going to secure one of the ways into the castle from this end. Then we’ll set up a patrol route, and then hopefully we will spend the night in blissful boredom, cold and uncomfortable learning the extent of warming charms and how lacking they are for extended periods of standing around.”

The two girls seemed to brighten at his levity and smiled at him.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Alicia said.

“Tell me that in three hours when your toes are numb and you’d sell a limb for a sit-down and a cup of tea,” Remus replied.

“So we’re going to Honeyduke’s first?” Angelina asked.

“No, we’re not going to worry about Honeyduke’s, the proprietor has recently upgraded his wards, and they aren't going to get through them without a serious amount of effort or knowing how to bring them down, so we're going to concentrate on the Shrieking Shack and the gate itself.”

“What about the forest?” Angelina asked.

“The forest isn't exactly friendly; it's forbidden to students for a good reason. Between the Acromantula, the Centaur, that feral car, and Fluffy, I would be less than willing to try and find my way through to cross the ward lines. The Centaur might not have picked a side, but they are more than willing to defend their territory. As for the rest, I’d rather not meet them thanks.”

“Ah,” Angelina said. She exchanged and uneasy glance with Alicia. “So what are we going to be doing?”

“We are going to be watching the gate. If the Death Eaters want to get in, the Shack and the gate are the easiest options. We're going to block their access to the Shack and force them to use the gate. That way we’re containing their entry point and keeping them where we can see them. We won't have to worry about them wandering off and getting past us.” Remus explained.