Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reviewing the last chapter! Bad-ass!Harry was quite a hit, eh? :) Only four more chapters left to go (three more and an epilogue). They will be long, because I still have a few loose ends to tie up, don't I? But everything will be addressed (I hope). Thanks for sticking with me and please keep reviewing!

Chapter Twenty-Three - This Present Darkness

As the weekend rolled around, Hermione found herself frequently assailed by bouts of anxiety that had her bustling about in a near-panic. Now that they knew what had been happening to Emerson, it was up to them to get to the bottom of this, to find the person who had dared assault their family.

Not since the days of Voldemort had Hermione felt such rage and hatred towards any one person. With Voldemort, it was primarily her love for Harry that had made her loathe the Dark Lord with such a degree of severity. Most people had hated him, for sure, and he was definitely feared by the majority. But Hermione found that her feelings had gone beyond mere hatred, simply because she had lived daily with what Voldemort's existence caused Harry to endure. And she had loved Harry so much, more than she had thought it possible to love someone.

With becoming a mother, however, she'd discovered that there was another type of love, which ran, if not deeper, then purer than the love she had for her husband. There was nothing she wouldn't do for her children, and the thought of any of them hurt or in danger caused her physical pain. She had tried so hard to keep them safe, to ensure that their lives were as normal and carefree as possible.

But she had failed.

And her daughter, although slowly regaining herself, was still prone to fits of tears and surliness. More than once this weekend, she had seen Luke or Davina casting their big sister confused glances, clearly wondering why their Em was acting so differently.

Hermione sighed, reaching up to rub her eyes. It would take time for Emerson to get back to normal. For four months, she had been absorbing the painful lies of the mysterious letter writer... recovery would not occur overnight, not from this.

"Hey, Hermione, where'd you say the marshmallows were?" called a voice from behind her.

She took a deep breath and fastened a smile onto her face before turning around. "On the kitchen counter, beside the plates."

Nina Weasley smiled. "Okay. The junkies are clamoring for their sugar fix."

"As if they need any more sugar," Hermione said derisively as they headed to Ballynore's huge kitchen. "I've already had to order Luke out of the orchard twice. It's too wet and cold in there for them, but do you notice how they would rather go where they're not supposed to?"

Nina laughed. "That's the whole life's mission of kids, didn't you know? To exasperate their parents to no end."

"You don't say. Here you go, then. I'll be right out with the other stuff," she said, handing Nina the bag of fluffy sweets.

The sounds of the children drifted in from outside when Nina opened the sliding doors to the back porch and Hermione caught a glimpse of Emerson laughing with Carolyna Lupin. Lyna had asked to come home for the weekend too, to keep Em company, and had tearfully apologized to Hermione and Harry for keeping the secret for so long, as well as for lying to them by letter.

She and Harry had, of course, reassured Carolyna that they forgave her, that at least they knew the truth now and could all work together to help Em back to normal. This gathering of families was one way to help Em, though the children didn't know that that was what they were here for. They just thought it was a day to have fun at Ballynore with their "ultra-cool" (as Matthew had phrased it) Uncle Harry and Aunt Hermione.

The grown-ups were doing their part as well. Hermione's father had passed along the name of a Muggle psychologist whom he felt was excellent and could be trusted. Apparently, this doctor had years of experience working with traumatized children and had known Mr. Granger for years. Conveniently enough, this doctor was married to a wizard, so the news of letters being delivered by owl, for instance, wouldn't come across as abnormal. She had already expressed interest in perhaps counseling Emerson; Harry and Hermione had a meeting scheduled with her for the beginning of the next week.

All the adults in their immediate circle of friends had now been informed of what had happened to Em, and the support had been instantaneous and unanimous. Ginny Malfoy, in particular, who had had a slightly similar poison-quill experience in her first year at Hogwarts, had been especially furious.

"When you find the scum, be sure to let me know where you've buried him, Hermione, so I can dig him up and murder him slowly and painfully all over again," the red-haired woman had said vociferously, her brown eyes flashing.

"That is assuming there's anything left of him to bury," Angelina murmured, her features twisted in outrage.

Luna nodded, her arms folded almost protectively across her pregnant belly. "That's true. Cause wouldn't Harry incinerate him with a single glance?"

The women had fallen silent at that, because all of them had witnessed Harry Potter in a towering, murderous rage once before. And needless to say, the sparse remnants of his opponent had now been pushing up dandelions for more than two decades.

The fact that Dark magic was involved made the situation that much more volatile, because the very trajectory of Harry's life had been altered by the darkness of the human nature. All the pain and heartache that the Dark had caused him had made him violently abhorrent of anything to do with it, and now it had somehow accessed one of his children?

Her heart thumping almost painfully within her, Hermione looked across the wide porch at her husband, who was deep in conversation with Ron and Malfoy. His anger last night had been almost frightening to behold. In fact, unless she was mistaken, his emotions had inadvertently caused the paperweight on his desk to explode.

And it wasn't often or easily that Harry Potter lost control like that.

'It's funny, though, how everybody is referring to the letter writer as him', Hermione mused to herself. Because she was almost certain they were dealing with a woman. The tone of the letters had an unmistakable feminine aura, and the jibes and grievances being aired came across as rather schoolgirlish - all that railing against Julia Thomas, a woman who had been dead for a dozen years now.

The very first thing Hermione had done yesterday, the morning after Emerson's breakdown, had been to write letters to America, to Julia's parents and Merry Reynolds. She had detailed what had been happening to Em and had included snippets of the letters, to give them a feel of the type of person they were up against. She had sent Fleet, her trusty stealth owl, and even though he'd been gone only a day, Hermione was expecting him back any minute. He was honestly that efficient, and this was definitely one time when he needed to be performing at the peak of his capability.

Besides, of course the Thomases and Merry wouldn't hesitate to respond as soon as humanly possible. Hermione knew they adored Emerson as much as she did and the faster things got underway, the better.

Suppressing another sigh of anxiety, she turned her attention onto the children running and shouting on the wide lawn covered with a light sprinkling of soft grayish snow. All of them were rosy-cheeked from the cold, but none of them seemed to mind. Here and there, the adults had conjured little multi-colored fires for the kids to roast their marshmallows. This brand of marshmallows always toasted just right, depending on the toaster's preferences and unbreakable Anti-burn charms had been placed around each fire for the children's safety.

His unruly hair hidden under a knitted Puddlemere United cap, Ben was holding a stick over a vivid blue flame while elbowing Andy Wood, who said something that made Ben laugh. Luke was huddled a short distance away with Tristan Malfoy, as well as Ron and Luna's flame-haired Alex. Probably up to nothing remotely resembling good, so Hermione watched them for a few minutes. Luke had a monkey-like tendency to scramble up trees and she didn't like for him to do it at all, let alone when everything was so icy and frozen.

But would he listen? Twice now she'd already ordered him away from the orchard, and Hermione kept a beady eye on him in case he got any more ideas. When it appeared that they were just hanging around squabbling over their marshmallows, however, she allowed her gaze to wander back to Emerson.

The young girl was holding Davina on her lap and listening, with a delighted expression, to a red-faced Carolyna. Em beamed at her friend then, as if sensing her mother's gaze, looked up and smiled over at her. Hermione smiled back, feeling tears prickling at her eyelids. Em was so beautiful when she smiled and oh Merlin, let them find this woman who had somehow managed to dim the light in those lovely eyes, so like those of the man she loved. Let them find her, and may God have mercy on-

A sudden sickening crack rent the cold afternoon air, followed almost immediately by an anguished scream. Every head whipped around in the direction of the grove of trees that waved naked branches to the overcast sky. Her eyes rapidly scanning the grounds, Hermione quickly realized that Luke, Tristan and Alex were no longer on the lawn.

Oh, no.

Harry, his wand in hand, was already bounding down the steps and sprinting through the snow, Malfoy and Ron following closely behind him. Her heart in her throat, Hermione ran forward too, but she had barely reached the edge of the porch than they were coming back, their faces white with fear. Harry was carrying a screaming Luke while Ron and Malfoy each had a horrified-looking son by the arm.

"Oh my God, what happened?" Hermione cried, running out to meet them. "Luke!"

"He fell," Harry said grimly, over their son's anguished yells. "He climbed a tree in the orchard but the branch was frozen and brittle and it broke."

How many times had she told Luke not to climb the trees? How many times today had she told him to stay out- why had she looked away from him? Why hadn't she been watching-

Now was not the time for self-recrimination. Luke's left arm hung at an impossible angle and his face was white and tinged with green. "Hold him still so I can numb his arm," she said shakily, fighting not to burst into tears at the obvious pain that her little boy was in.

The charm seemed to help because slowly color returned to Luke's face and his screams lost that agonizing quality. He curled into his father's chest, sobbing, and Harry seemed not too far from breaking down himself.

In spite of the chill, Hermione was sweating, blood and adrenaline pounding in her ears. The whole thing had transpired in the matter of a scant few minutes, yet she felt suddenly fatigued. As if from a great distance, she heard Davina crying and turning towards her daughter, felt her blood run cold. But not because of Vina.

It was Emerson. The young girl was as still as a statue, her face frozen, her green eyes wide with terror. She was still holding Davina, but it was as if she'd forgotten about her sister, even though the toddler was screaming right into her face.

Without even thinking about it, Hermione had crossed over to her and touched her cheek, peering urgently into her eyes. "It's okay, Em. He's fine."

"Smiley," Emerson muttered in a terrified whisper, her body rigid. "Smiley hurt him- it's my fault-"

Oh, God. Hermione tried very hard not to weep as she reached up and held Emerson's face in both hands. "No, it's not Smiley. He climbed a tree and he fell, that's all. Okay? It's not you."

Emerson took a deep, sobbing breath and began to hyperventilate, her eyes squeezed shut. Davina, as if somehow sensing her sister's need, suddenly stopped crying and wrapped her little arms around Em's neck. At that, Em's eyes flew open and she shuddered. "He climbed a tree and he fell," she parroted woodenly, as if scarcely daring to believe it.

"Yes," Hermione managed and watched her daughter's arms tighten around Davina in relief.

"Go to him, Mum. He needs you," Emerson said softly, tears shining in her eyes. "I'll take care of Vina for you."

Nodding through her own tears, Hermione hugged her two girls, then turned to go, nearly colliding with Ben, who was coming over anxiously. After briefly crushing her eldest son to her, she hurried back to Harry and took Luke from him. "I'll take him upstairs."

Harry nodded, his features twisted with pain, and she knew there was more than one source. The other children were all subdued, obviously confused by what had just so rapidly transpired and as Hermione headed inside, tenderly cradling her son, she heard Nina, in a determinedly jovial voice, calling them all towards her for "s'mores lessons!"

Angelina, who had trained as a nurse during the Second War, helped Hermione settle the still-sniffling Luke on his bed. They quickly deduced that he had broken his arm in two places, as well as sustained a hairline fracture of his wrist. Each wound was healed with a gentle tap from her wand, but they knew he would still be sore for at least a few days. After helping Luke sip from a cup of mild Sleeping Draught laced with pain reliever, they watched him lay back, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Thanks, Angelina," Hermione said softly, glancing up at the other woman, who nodded once.

"No thanks needed. We're all family here." She stood up. "I'm going to go back downstairs, okay? Holler if you need me."

The door closed quietly behind her and Hermione stared at her green-eyed son, who looked up at her and drowsily smiled Harry's smile. "Hi, Mum."

She reached out and smoothed his hair back from his cool forehead, sighing with relief and weariness. "Lukas James, how many times have I told you not to climb those trees?"

"I'm sorry. But Tristan dared me, Mum," Budget mumbled sleepily, his eyelids drooping heavily. "And- and you can't back down from a dare, you know, cuz-"

But why she couldn't back down from a dare Hermione never discovered, because Luke's eyes slid shut and he sighed. Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head slowly. This child would be the death of her.

She had known he would keep them on their toes from the very beginning. The first twelve weeks of her pregnancy with Luke had been characterized by such violent morning sickness that Hermione had had to practically take up residence in the loo. That had given way to an extremely active baby, who sometimes kicked her so hard she would involuntarily yelp out loud.

Hermione had gone into the delivery room mentally unprepared. Ben had had a fever the night before and a part of her was still at Ballynore with him, worrying about whether he'd gotten enough sleep, enough fluids. And had the Fever-Reducing Potion worked? Was his temperature down?

The news that the baby had twisted around at the last minute and was now in a rare kneeling breech position did not help matters at all. By the last quarter of her labor, Hermione was hysterical enough with anxiety to scream at the Healers that she didn't care what they did, to "just get this bloody kid out of me!"

The Healers had managed to delicately move Luke around into the proper position, no mean feat considering they were working in a such confined space. After administering her some medication, they'd checked her again and informed her and Harry that it would be at least another half hour before she could push.

Barely five minutes later, Harry was yelling for the Healers, who got there just in time to catch the furious infant.

The Senior Healer had turned to his partner in bewilderment. "Didn't we just examine her? How did this kid get out so quickly?"

"I dunno," the other man replied, his eyes wide but amused. "Maybe he heard you say 'another half hour' and went 'Oh, hell no!'"

Neither their exchange nor the subsequent chuckles were noticed by the young parents, who were too busy sobbing happily over the tiny, ruddy-faced boy. Hermione and Harry had taken home the temporarily blond infant, where he was quickly assigned the apt nickname of "The Fuss Budget". He demanded to be fed every two hours on the hour and would only go to sleep if rocked in a certain way. And sometimes he would scream seemingly just for the heck of it, because nothing at all that she did would help, and Hermione would hold him and cry right along with him out of utter helplessness.

Strangely, when he got like that, one of the only things that could calm him was a seven-year-old Emerson's lisping rendition of "Morning Has Broken", of all things.

But once his needs had been met to the most accurate of extents, Luke was a wonderful baby. He showered his parents and siblings with laughter and coos, babbling in response whenever they spoke to him, as if agreeing that yes, he did know that he was the cutest kid in the history of civilization.

Thankfully, the "fuss" part of his personality reduced dramatically by the time he turned four and for their perseverance, they were awarded the astute and rambunctious daredevil who had now managed to break his arm in two places.

Hermione sat beside Luke's bed for a long time, watching him slumber peacefully. Other than a bit of soreness over the next few days, he would be perfectly fine again, and in time would probably not even recall what had happened today.

"If only that were true for Emerson as well," she whispered sadly, recalling the look of terror on her daughter's face. Hermione shook her head suddenly and stood up. There was no need to be wondering anymore, not now that they knew which way was up. It was time to get to work, to get busy, to get revenge.

Upon dropping a kiss on Luke's smooth brow, she left the room and headed back downstairs, determined to roll up her sleeves and get this ball going once and for all. Her daughter was counting on her, on them all.

"So come on home, Fleet. Come on back."

********

Emerson woke up the next morning feeling strangely bewildered. She had had the most bizarre dream that Julia's old friend, Merry Reynolds, had been in her room and had been hugging her as she slept, weeping into her tangled ebony hair.

Of course Merry hadn't really been in her room, Em knew, but it had just felt so real. The human brain was definitely a weird mechanism, she decided as she got ready for her day. Carolyna had already gone downstairs, and Em's stomach rumbled as the aroma of bangers and mash drifted up to her room.

"Morning," Lyna said with a smile when Em entered the kitchen.

Emerson smiled back. "Hey." She walked over to the table and sat down across from her best friend. "Man, that looks good!"

"It is good," Lyna managed, her cheeks bulging, and conversation quickly perished as the girls broke their nightly fast.

Finally, Em put down her knife and fork and sighed contentedly. "Ah, that's the ticket." She looked around the otherwise deserted kitchen for what was probably the first time since she'd entered it and frowned. "Where's everybody?"

"Oh, Uncle Ron came and took your brothers and sister over to his house," Lyna said carefully.

Em's frown deepened. "Why?"

"Well, your Mum and Dad said that when we're done eating, we're to go to your Mum's office," her friend answered, looking slightly anxious. "Your Mum's owl came back last night."

Emerson's heart was suddenly pounding and her mouth went dry. She knew that Mum had sent Fleet to Papi and Maman, as well as Merry, looking for answers about Smiley. Maybe that was why she'd had that weird dream? Maybe they'd gotten some answers?

Only one way to find out. Em forced herself to smile as she pushed her chair back. "Well, I guess we should go now, then?"

Lyna nodded and the two girls left the kitchen and climbed the gleaming marble stairs to Hermione's office. Taking a deep breath, Em knocked and a few seconds later, the door was opened. It was her Dad and he smiled when he saw her.

"Hey," he said, pulling her into a hug, and for once, Em didn't mind and hugged him back.

"Hi, Dad."

Her father hugged Carolyna as well and they went into the office, where Mum was sitting behind her desk, which was covered in papers and parchments. Mum hugged the both of them too and then they all sat. Em's palms were sweating at the prospect of finally having a name, maybe even a face, to put to the person who had been tormenting her for so many weeks.

She opened her mouth to ask but what came out was: "How's Budget?"

Her mother smiled. "He's perfectly fine. You know how he is. By this time tomorrow, he'll be trying to sneak back into the orchard to scramble up the trees again." Mum's smile faded after a few seconds, though, and she sighed. "But I'm guessing you want to know if we know anything new?"

Not trusting her voice not to betray her jumble of emotions, Em simply nodded. It was her Dad who spoke, his voice held carefully level. "Smiley is a woman. Her name is Cristella Montgomery."

Cristella Montgomery. Cristella Montgomery. The name echoed in Emerson's head like a clanging gong and she resisted the impulse to shudder. So this was who had been terrorizing her? This was who hated her so much? But- "I don't think I've ever heard of her. Who is she?"

Her parents exchanged a glance. "Actually, you have. In fact, you met her last summer in Dallas, were introduced and everything."

"I was?" Em asked numbly, her eyes wide before turning to her friend. "Do you remember her, Lyna?"

Carolyna was frowning, her forehead creased in concentration as she thought hard and then her eyes widened. "Yeah, I do! Remember, Em, the day we went to that Muggle mall and got your ears pierced? That woman who was talking to Merry when we came back from the loo?"

Emerson blinked, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, trying to conjure up an image. And then, she remembered.

She and Lyna had spent the night at Merry's house, having a kind of girls' night in. Though as Merry pointed out, it wasn't a pure girls' night since there was a male present, her six-month-old son, Blake. But since Blake was fast asleep and Merry's husband, Dave, was out with his friends, it'd been essentially just the three of them.

Emerson, Lyna and Merry turned and strode away, and although she didn't look back to verify it, somehow Em knew that the brunette's haughty blue eyes followed them all the way out of sight.

Em and Lyna had asked Merry about the woman, but all Merry had said was that Stella had been a schoolmate of hers and Julia's and lookie here, cinnamon raisin pretzels! She'd wondered a few times, but the memory of the tall, dark-haired woman with the cold blue eyes had quickly been driven completely from Emerson's mind for the rest of her visit.

And never had she dreamed that this woman could be Smiley.

But it still didn't make any sense! They'd spoken to each other for a minuscule five minutes, if that. How could this woman have gotten so much from that conversation to decide to terrorize Em so much? What could she possibly have said to make this woman hate her to such an extent?

Her confusion must have shown on her face, because her Mum reached over the desk and took her hand. "It wasn't anything you did or said, Em. This woman, Cristella, apparently she had it in for Julia when they were at school and somehow, in her twisted mind, she can't let go of that enmity even though Julia is gone."

"I don't understand," Em said, frowning, her head beginning to ache as she tried to recall, to dredge up some reason, any reason for what she'd been forced to endure. "I'm not Julia. She knows that, right? How could this possibly-"

"She's not right in the head," Dad said softly. "But it doesn't excuse or justify what she's done to you-"

But Em was shaking her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "She was trying to mock me in Dallas. Remember, Lyna? Asking me if I missed my mother. I remember thinking that that was a very weird question. Why would she bring up my mother, of all things? Of course I thought she was talking about you, Mum." She sniffled, then looked up wildly. "B-But maybe Julia did something to her, something that she can't let go of? Maybe I-I did the same thing? Maybe-"

"Stop it, Emerson," Mum said sharply, her dark eyes flashing with love, anger and fervor. "You did absolutely nothing wrong. Do you understand me? This is not your fault and Cristella knows that! That's why she's tried so hard to convince you in those letters that you are somehow to blame for her actions, because she is unable and unwilling to take responsibility for herself! She is a grown woman, and mental illness or not, she is without excuse in what she has done and she will pay for this."

Em bit her lip hard, trying to halt her sobs as the words warred inside her head- This is not your fault... But your transgressions merit it... You did absolutely nothing wrong... But you are not like them, they are pure...

"Don't let her win, Em," Lyna said softly from beside her, grasping Em's hands tightly as if that would help stave off the bad thoughts. "Don't let her."

... Kiddo, you aren't anything special, so it would-

"We love you, Emerson, no matter what," Mum said, wrapping her arms around her and Em burst into tears and clung to her mother, recalling the multitudes of times that she'd been told that, those sweet words spoken like a melody, like a deliciously quivering note of phoenix song, fortifying, cocooning, uplifting... Budget's voice.. I'm really glad you're home, Em. I missed you... Ben... You'd have done the same thing if it was your friend... Vina squealing "Emma!" and running to fetch Ol' Bob for her to hug and kiss... Love you so much...

Dad calling her "Moppet"...

"I won't let her win!" Em sobbed suddenly, looking up and into her best friend's honey eyes. "I won't let her win, Lyna. I promise."

Lyna was crying too; actually, all of them were and for a few minutes, they let the cathartic tears flow, washing away some of the pain, the fear, the self-doubt. Only some, sure, but it was a start.

Finally, Em wiped her eyes and glanced up at her parents. "It's no wonder I'm losing my mind. This woman-" she paused and forced herself to say the name- "Cristella fu-, I'm sorry, messing with my head, so now I'm thinking people were here who are actually thousands of miles away. She obviously wants me to be as deranged as she is."

"Who did you think was here?" Dad asked, squinting at her as he cleaned his glasses on his shirt, his eyes red.

"Merry," she replied. "I dreamed that she was crying over me while I slept, but for a few minutes there, I thought it was real."

Mum smiled. "That's because it was real. Merry really did cry over you last night."

Em goggled. "She was here?"

"Yes. She was so upset when she found out what had been happening to you, because Cristella had done almost the same thing to Julia at school. Merry was kind of blaming herself for not knowing that something would happen, after you all met Cristella in Dallas. She said she should have at least been on her guard, because of the way Cristella had reacted when she first saw you."

"She couldn't have known what Cristella would do," Em said sadly.

Dad nodded. "That's what we tried to tell her. But she kept saying that she could have helped, that you'd written to her asking about Cristella, although you didn't know that was who you were asking about. And she'd just dismissed it, telling you not to worry about people like that."

"She wanted to stay until you woke up and tell you in person, but Blake is teething," Mum continued, looking weary all of a sudden. "She'll be back this weekend, and your grandparents are coming over too. But anyway, Merry went to kiss you good-bye and just lost it. You must have woken up a little bit."

Emerson sighed, as she fingered one of her diamond studs. She would've loved to have seen Merry. "I guess."

They were all quiet for a few minutes before Hermione spoke again. "Merry did leave us with a wealth of information, though, seeing as how she knew Cristella personally. So we don't foresee this taking very long. We're quite certain that she is the culprit and we know a lot about her, where she lives, works, everything. We'll find her, Em."

Em nodded, then blurted, "When you find her, what'll you do?"

Her parents exchanged a look that sent a sliver of terror-tinged awe down her spine and upon glancing at her best friend, Em knew that Lyna had felt it too. And although she hadn't ever really thought about what might happen to Smiley- no, Cristella, -- when she was located, Emerson knew that it would be no less than the woman deserved.

She didn't need to worry anymore; her parents would take care of it, just as they had been capable of doing all along. She could lay down at last, secure in the arms of her family and those who loved her - and she knew they did; she believed they did - and rest in the eye of the storm.

********

Harry couldn't understand why things weren't happening faster in their quest to locate Cristella Montgomery. They knew most everything there was to know about this woman. They knew where she was born, where she was raised, where she went to school. They knew where she lived, where she worked, although she apparently didn't have to, what with herself appearing to be the sole heir to an old wizarding fortune.

He and Hermione had a team of four Aurors working on this although, granted, it was in an unofficial capacity. He didn't want word getting out to the media about what had been happening to Em and luckily for them, Kingsley Shacklebolt was a family friend as well as Head Auror. So it hadn't been hard to get approval for Malfoy, Remus and Tonks, and Kingsley himself, to work on the matter while feeling secure that the news wouldn't leak out. And of course it went without saying that they were among the elite of the elite.

Well, it had now been fourteen days since they'd discovered Smiley's identity, so why didn't they have her in hand?

With that question nagging at him as usual, Harry dropped his briefcase on his desk and managed, with difficulty, not to slam the door of his office. He was so frustrated! How was this hag managing to elude them? This should have been over by now. They had the best of wizarding law enforcement on the case, as well as himself and Hermione, not to mention assorted civilian Weasleys. They were the same people who had greased Voldemort and his Death Eaters; one rich bitch with issues should be a walk in the park, right?

Instead, after a promising and rapid beginning, the investigation seemed to have stalled while they ran around in circles like rats chasing their tails.

The London firm that Cristella worked at had been one of their first stops. There, they had discovered that she'd abruptly resigned the day after Emerson had broken down and confessed. And the person who perhaps knew her best, and could offer them some insights as to where to find her, was currently an inch from death in a London hospital. Not even Hermione had been able to figure out exactly what was wrong with him, but she was almost certain that his illness was magical in nature.

"So she's not above resorting to murder," Harry muttered, flipping through his notes for the thousandth time. "What did her boss know that she didn't want found out? Especially as she hasn't bothered to hide very much about herself."

Only the knowledge of where to find her, obviously. They had all this information on this woman, just not a fucking clue as to her current physical location. Where could she possibly be? They'd visited every single one of her flats, all over the continent, but in not one had she left a single hint as to her whereabouts.

Meanwhile, the letters came every three days, addressed to them now rather than Emerson, taunting them, mocking their increasingly desperate efforts to find this dangerous and unbalanced woman who was yet somehow capable of Dark magic that not even Hermione Potter could decode:

My, my, I'm in great demand, aren't I? I must say it's quite amusing to imagine you all running around like those visually-challenged rodents of legend, trying to locate yours truly.

...see how they run
They all run after the farmer's wife
Who cut off their tails with carving knife...

Hmm, a carving knife. Now that's an idea. See, I'm still debating what to do to Little Miss Potter, who dared disobey my instructions. I told her to keep her mouth shut, that something bad would happen if she didn't. But you know kids, they don't listen and, alas. It's too bad my letters don't have a chance of reaching her hands or eyes anymore. But then again, neither do you all of reaching me, ha!

Every time a letter arrived, Harry would shut himself up and read it alone, hands trembling with rage. And the effects were lingering. Lately, he'd found himself snapping at Hermione, skipping dinner, staying late at work, obsessing. He was taking this very personally, this failure. He had failed to protect his daughter and now he was failing to bring about her final redemption, to locate this monster, to halt the spread of this present darkness.

There was a little knock on his door and suppressing a twinge of irritation, he looked up. "Come in."

The door creaked open and his youngest son scampered into the room. "Daddy, look what I made!"

Harry managed a small smile as he glanced at the parchment that Luke had covered with a mass of writhing vibrantly colored snakes. "That's great, Budget."

Luke beamed. "Want me to make another one?"

"Sure."

"What color would you like?"

Reaching for the papers on his desk again, Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Blue?"

"Okay. How many snakes? Like a gazillion?"

"Why not."

For a minute, there was only the sound of magic markers scratching on parchment as Luke drew one of his "gazillion" snakes, and Harry frowned as he reread one of the documents they'd received from the London firm, a list of all the company-furnished flats that Cristella had around Europe. They'd definitely been to the Notting Hill one. What about the Inverness flat? Yeah, they had. Sunderland? Yep. Wait, what about Groningen? Had that one been-

"Whoa, Dad, look at this!"

Annoyed at the distraction, Harry looked around. "Budget, go play in the family room. I'm trying to work here."

Luke nodded. "Yeah, but-"

"Now, Lukas," Harry said firmly and tried not to notice the way the smile slid off his son's face.

"Okay."

The door closed softly behind Luke and Harry stared unseeingly for a full minute at the paper he held in his hand, trying not to acknowledge that the feeling spreading darkly throughout his whole being was guilt. It wasn't as if he was trying to be mean; he really did need to work on this.

But upon refocusing on the paper and recalling that they had, indeed, visited Cristella's Groningen apartment, Harry couldn't deny that he really had been apathetic to his son's presence.

And he knew that it wasn't just Luke.

Because with every day that went by, Harry found himself staying later and later at the Puddlemere offices, although rarely was it Quidditch that occupied him. And when he did come home, he would head to his office to pore over his documents even more, emerging only to kiss the kids good night, trying to convince himself that he wasn't avoiding them, that he didn't see Ben's frown of confusion over why he didn't stay to chat for a few minutes like he usually did.

He could tell that Hermione was getting worried; she kept trying to raise the subject. But he always headed her off, just as he did later that night when they went to bed.

"Luke was kind of withdrawn tonight," she said carefully, pulling the covers back and climbing in.

Harry grunted to show that he'd heard as he undressed. "Well, you know how he is."

"Yes, I do. Which is why-"

"Hermione, I'm really tired, all right? And I want to go in early tomorrow to analyze those papers again, so I'd like to get some sleep."

She was frowning slightly. "I was hoping we could do that together? I thought-"

"Look, can we talk about this tomorrow?" he said standoffishly, looking her straight in the eyes.

She arched her eyebrows. "Sure, I was just-"

"Good," Harry interrupted, before rolling over and drawing the covers over himself.

For a moment, neither of them moved and then Harry felt her lay down too. She was barely three inches away from him and yet he felt like a great yawning gulf had suddenly erupted between them. He wanted... oh, how he wanted to touch her! His every muscle and nerve and sinew was screaming at him to roll over again, to take her in his arms and hold her. To kiss her and say he was sorry, to whisper that he loved her. To show her how much.

To confess how scared he was.

But he didn't, and for a long time he lay awake, fighting back the fear and shame and guilt that threatened to overwhelm him as his family lay in the sleeping house, depending on him for protection that it seemed he - the powerful, legendary Harry Potter - couldn't give.

*****

End Notes:

Quite a difference from the ending of the previous chapter, isn't it? What a difference two weeks can make! I know, I know, y'all wanna see some ass-whooping, and I promise it is on its way... but I couldn't have everything be resolved whoosh, just like that, in one fell swoop, could I? Hang in there.

1. Grapevine Mills Mall is a real mall, as is Auntie Anne's Pretzels (as I'm sure most of you know. Yum!)

2. The "dream" that Em had where she thought that Merry was hugging her and crying is based on something that happened to me when I was a little girl. I was eight years old and going away to boarding school for the first time and "Debbie", who was the big sister I never had and likewise was rather fond of me, did the sobbing and hugging thing while I was asleep. When I mentioned it to my mom, she told me that it hadn't been a dream :)

3. And please review?