September 2014: It’s back to school time for the little Potters and Weasleys. It should be time for their parents to kick back and relax after a hectic summer, but it looks like something might be lurking on the horizon.
From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/4799/
Sixteen years after Harry Potter and the Daoimear de Dán, life is idyllic for the great heroes of the war. They love their jobs, their families and their lives. Sometimes things really are too good to be true.
A Note From The Author: This story was largely conceived and written before Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was written. As it is also the sequel to a pre-OotP fic, I have chosen to disregard some elements of the book. For instance, Narcissa was given specific genealogy in Harry Potter and the Daoimear de Dán and I have thus chosen to ignore the family given to her in Book Five. In the same regard, the Order itself remains as it did in Daoimear de Dán and the `big death' has been totally ignored. There will be a few elements of the book incorporated into the larger Harry Potter universe and these will probably become clear as the story continues. I hope very much that you'll enjoy the story as much as the original, because I've really had a blast writing it.
A Second Note From The Author: I've hardly touched this particular story between OotP and HBP, but ironically HBP has inspired me to revisit it. I've chosen to post here at Portkey because I know you guys often have great insights that I might not have taken into account. As with OotP in terms of the DDDverse, I've chosen to incorporate the wider magical universe but there are some obvious things to be disregarded- Narcissa's genealogy, life and attitude being one of the more obvious, while I think the big deaths in the last two books have been completely ignored in this. That's what I get for leaving this for a very long time. I hope you enjoy it, regardless of what bits of canon it has not acknowledged.
*
Prologue- A Golden Opportunity
Summer 1978, Godric's Hollow.
James Potter's house in Godric's Hollow was the kind of place foreign tourist brochures described as `picturesque' and `quaint' in the kind of little village that looked like it belonged in the pre-Industrial 19th Century or on a chocolate box. Outside Mr Potter's house the only real evidence of the 1970s was the motorcycle parked on the front lawn with a few of its parts strewn around it.
Another clue came in the form of a pretty redheaded woman walking towards the house. That red hair was tied back with a purple tie-dye bandanna and she was wearing slightly flared jeans with a particularly fashionable white silk shirt. She approached the house, walked up the path, dodged the motorcycle with a sigh and went straight into the house.
“James?” Lily Evans called into the seemingly empty cottage. A head poked out from the kitchen. When she saw who it was, she smiled brightly.
“Yes love?” asked James Potter, Lily's fiancé. He came out of the kitchen still clutching a tea towel and brushed a kiss against her lips.
“I have to go away for a few days,” she told him. James frowned slightly.
“Why?”
“Well, it's uh... I can't tell you.”
“Which means those old Irish women want you to go off and do something really dangerous,” he translated. Lily nodded. “Lil! Can't they get someone else?”
“There is no one else. I'm the Heir of Maeve, remember?”
“At least let me come with you.”
“Not on your life,” she scoffed. James's face fell.
“Why not?”
“Because you're not even meant to know that I'm the Heir of Maeve in the first place.”
“We all know. Sirius, Remus, Narcissa...”
“Yes, but that doesn't mean that you're meant to know.”
“Lily...”
“No, James.”
“Lily, we're getting married in less than a month.”
“I know that, silly! I'll be back in time.”
“We shouldn't have secrets from each other!” he yelled.
“I can't help it! I didn't choose to be the heir of anything, it chose me!” she returned at the same loud volume. James sighed, already beaten before he started.
“I know, love,” he admitted.
“I'm sorry James. I wish I could tell you. I wish I could let you come with me, but I can't.”
“I don't want you to get hurt, that's all.”
“I don't want me to get hurt.”
“You'll only be gone a few days?” he asked quietly. She leaned over and stroked his face.
“Yes.”
“Just promise me you'll be careful.”
“Of course,” she promised. Then she scowled slightly. “Now, would you please explain to me why Sirius's sodding motorbike is on the lawn again?”
“Slight mechanical problems.”
“It's knackered?”
“Something like that.”
***
“And you just let her go?” Sirius asked, looking quite baffled. Lily had left that morning and James seemed to be taking it very well. Too well...
“Of course,” James said, concentrating on his cup of tea.
“What? She's gone off to do who knows what and you just let her leave?”
“I'm her fiancé, not her prison warder.”
“What's going on?” Sirius asked suspiciously. James looked at him with a surprised, innocent look.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Last time she did anything for those Guardians, you didn't relax until she got back and you'd done a full medical examination. You're up to something.”
“Maybe,” James said, a little smirk creeping onto his face.
“Well at least count me in on it!” Sirius exclaimed. James laughed.
“Of course.”
***
Alexandria, Egypt. The Next Day.
“James, why are we in Egypt?” asked Sirius. The sun was beating down onto the ancient, dusty city of Alexandria and Sirius looked like he was about to keel over. His pale skin looked ready to burn and peel at any moment. James smiled.
“Remember Lily's birthday?” James asked. Sirius nodded. “I gave her a necklace which has a handy placement charm. She's here in Alexandria.”
“You sneaky old devil! Does she know about the charm?”
“I was going to tell her, but...”
“It slipped your mind?”
“In a manner of speaking. Don't knock it, mate. It's the only lead we've got.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We find Lily. She won't be pleased we're here but she'll let us tag along anyway.”
“You mean we'll protect her?” Sirius asked. James smirked.
“In her head, it will be `tag along'.”
***
“I am going to kill you,” Lily said quite calmly when she saw James and Sirius turn up. She did not look especially surprised to see them. They both smiled winningly at her, but she wasn't to be swayed. She sighed. “You shouldn't be here.”
“Why not? We're just on a little holiday,” said Sirius quickly. “I decided to give James one last week of fun before he got married. It's not my fault that you were already in Alexandria. I mean what are the chances-”
“Don't even try the Abbott and Costello routine on me, Sirius. I know you found me because of the placement charm on my necklace.”
“You knew about that?” asked James in a rather disappointed voice.
“James, hello! You're speaking to Lily, the girl who came top in Charms seven years running! I meant to take the damn thing off but in the rush I forgot. More fool me.”
“What's going on Lily? Why don't you want me here?” he asked in an injured voice.
“Because it's dangerous enough for me. I don't want you to get involved. This mission.... It's so important, James. I can't afford to mess it up.”
Lily looked so solemn that any humour not sapped by the heat was drained from both James and Sirius.
“What are we here for?” Sirius asked her, eyes twinkling with untold mischief and curiosity although he sounded serious enough.
“We're here to hide something,” she said gravely.
“What?” James' curiosity was well and truly piqued.
***
Four and a half hours later, James' curiosity was well and truly trampled down into the ground. He'd been hoping that they would catch a few rays of sun in the hot Alexandrian afternoon but instead he was following his girlfriend down a damp, millennia-old passageway by torchlight. She had a large, heavy looking rucksack with her and although he wanted to take it off her, she insisted that she was doing just fine. Behind him, the cause of most of his distress was Sirius, who was complaining noisily that he should be allowed to transform into his dog form to see better in the dark.
“If I've told you once I've told you a thousand times,” Lily hissed “you cannot transform down here. It's a magical black spot, which is exactly why we're here. If you ask me one more time, I will personally rip out your brains through your nose and use them as a garnish at my next garden party.”
“Hear that, James? Hear that? That's what you're marrying,” Sirius growled, by now only half joking.
“Would both of you shut up?” James asked with a sigh.
“Look, if you two want to bugger off, you're more than welcome,” Lily snapped.
“We're fine,” James replied hurriedly. “Aren't we, Sirius?”
“Yes, terrific.”
“How about we walk in silence?” Lily suggested coldly.
“Suits me,” Sirius retorted. James sighed.
“Fine.”
After another ten minutes or so, the dank passageway opened up into a cavern. Not large as caverns go, Sirius had to duck his head slightly lest he hit it on the ceiling. The floor glittered strangely in the light of their torches. There were several other passageways that led out of the cavern.
“Well,” Lily said rather more brightly than the last time she spoke. “We must be going the right way.”
“How do you know that?” Sirius asked, curiously looking at the ground.
“Well, when this place was constructed some three thousand years ago, the wizards who did so placed clues. That's gold you can see in the floor, tiny nuggets imbedded in the ground. We have to follow the path laid out by the gold to get where we're going,” Lily said in the authoritative air of someone who has read many books.
“Well, where are we going?” James asked. Lily shrugged.
“Not sure. I was just told to unravel and follow the clues.”
“That's great, Lil. Great,” Sirius said, sarcasm firmly back in his voice. Lily ignored him and began looking. The glittering trail led into the passageway in the centre. She went to go down but suddenly stopped. She opened her bag and pulled out the lipstick she carried with her everywhere. With it she made a small mark on the wall of the passageway they'd just come in from.
“I don't want us to get lost on the way back,” she explained to the two young men who looked at her quizzically. She shoved the lipstick back into her bag and headed off down the glittering path.
***
They were still walking half an hour later. The passageway seemed to be perfectly straight, so James was fairly sure they were either under the Mediterranean by now or well on their way to Sudan. Having said that, he had no direction they were headed or if they even were going in a straight line.
“Do you suppose this is where the legend of the Yellow Brick Road comes from?” Sirius asked suddenly. The Wizard of Oz stories were popular tales for magical kids that were known to have their basis in fact.
“Might well be,” Lily said. James thought she sounded tired, but he didn't blame her. His legs felt like lead weights and he'd stopped feeling his feet at all about ten minutes previously.
Suddenly and without any warning, the glittering passageway opened out into a huge room. The floor was no longer just glittering with nuggets of gold but was now inlaid with gold tiles. The walls were covered in intricately painted murals and decorated with gold leaf. Statues made of granite, marble and gold stood in the room, almost perfectly preserved after centuries spent watching over the room. Three former students of Hogwarts stood in the threshold, absolutely stunned by the vision before them.
“Where are we?” Sirius asked, drinking in the sight. Lily and James just stood, mouths agape.
“I think this is it,” Lily said, examining the runes carved into the archway into the room. Gingerly, she stepped into the room. She turned to look sternly at James and Sirius.
“Do not touch anything.”
“OK,” James said, too overawed to do anything but agree.
“We'll be good,” Sirius promised. They stepped into the room and looked around while Lily searched the room.
“What are you looking for, Lil?” James asked. She sighed.
“I'm looking for some runes... Oh my God...” James' head snapped around to look over at her.
“What?” he asked, feeling panicked in this very strange place.
“Oh, it's nothing bad,” she said quickly. “But you should see this!”
Walking carefully across the gold tiles, James and Sirius came over to look at whatever it was she'd reacted so strongly to.
It was a sarcophagus made of red granite- the kind found much further south in Egypt.
“Who's inside it?” James asked curiously. Lily showed him some unfamiliar runes and other writing on the granite.
“Alexander the Great,” she told him.
“Really?” Sirius asked, yet more awed by this fantastical room. She nodded.
“There's a legend that the sarcophagus that held Alexander's body was never occupied by him. He was such a legend that his body was hidden away. If there was never a body, he could seem so much more like the god he wanted to be. The magical legend says that his advisor Ptolemy had a group of the greatest wizards in Babylon and here in Alexandria hide Alexander away for all eternity.”
“Right. Explain to me why, about five thousand years later, we're in the same room as Alexander the Great?” James asked. Lily nodded.
“The legend went on to say that these great wizards-”
“How great are we talking?” Sirius cut in. Lily sighed. She could never just get through a story with these boys.
“Well, it's hard to say, but probably a group of twelve Dumbledores.”
Sirius whistled appreciatively. “So pretty great and powerful, then?”
“Yes, Sirius. If I could continue? The wizards discovered that Alexander's beloved Alexandria was located above one of the only known magical black spots in the world. Over some years, thousands of men were secretly brought in to create the maze of tunnels, caverns and such that we've just battled through. The idea was that no wizard could use his or her magic to get to Alexander and no Muggle would know which way to go even if they did find the tunnels.”
“But we're here.”
“Yes. The instructions to get here have been secretly handed down over the millennia to the descendants of those great wizards. The instructions were secreted away by the original members of the Order of the Phoenix-”
“That Ruairi bloke you were going on about?” James asked. Lily glared at him and he fell silent.
“Yes. They would be brought out again in times of trouble. Which is now. At the time, the Order decreed that any such missions should be carried out by the Heir of Maeve in her capacity as a mystical police officer of sorts.”
“Which is why you're here,” guessed Sirius. Lily nodded. She opened her bag up and pulled out a rusty-looking amulet hanging on a leather strip.
“This is probably the most powerful magical object in the world. For centuries it was hidden away in the place of its origin, which before you cut in again and ask is somewhere in Ireland, I don't know where. It gives the owner the power to bring people back from the dead with no strings attached. It also gives the owner power over certain ancient magic if they know how to get it. If Voldemort got his sticky mitts on this-”
“Game over,” James realised. Lily nodded seriously.
“See why it was so important I came here? He has no knowledge, that I'm aware of, of this place. It's a magical black spot that's incredibly hard to get to. We can hide the amulet here.”
“Why don't you just destroy it?” James asked.
“Because it was made in Ireland by an Egyptian priest using precious Greek metals and Persian gemstones on a Roman day of sacred festival. If it can be destroyed, and I'm not sure it can, it would probably cause all kinds of problems. The old gods are dormant, they're not gone.”
“So we just leave it here?” Sirius asked, beginning to look around the room again.
“There's another tomb somewhere. I'm to leave it in there.”
“Whose tomb is it?”
“An Egyptian wizard priest who watched over Ptolemaic Egypt. He's said to guard this place against those who would do harm,” Lily said.
“What does this say?” Sirius asked, calling Lily over to another much larger sarcophagus, this time sculpted out of bright white marble.
“I told you that you should've taken Ancient Runes at school,” James said.
“Divination was easier,” Sirius said with a grin as Lily began translating the runes. Her mouth dropped open and she turned to them.
“Alexander isn't the only name of note to be secreted away here. Inside here are two people.”
“Who?” James asked, wondering who could inspire the dumbstruck awe he saw now in his fiancée.
“Well, see this?” she asked, tracing her fingers over the first group of hieroglyphs. “Queen Cleopatra... And this...” she traced the second set. “Is Mark Antony.”
Two mouths dropped open. James looked around.
“Are there more here? I mean, could we be standing in the most illustrious tomb in history?”
“Maybe,” Lily said. “Perhaps it became a Ptolemaic tradition to hide their famous dead away here. But we need to find the wizard. As pretty and golden as this place is, I don't really want to spend any more time here than I have to.”
“We don't know what we're looking for,” Sirius pointed out. Lily pulled out an old piece of parchment from her bag.
“According to the legend, he was entombed in a sarcophagus of black granite decorated with lapis lazuli. He must have been very, very powerful and well respected.”
“That's the blue stuff, right?” James cut in, suspecting that they were about to get one of Lily's infamous history lectures. She nodded and the three began their search.
***
James had never felt quite like this. He was in a room made almost entirely of gold, Alexander the Great and Cleopatra were here. The tomb he'd just found might have been Julius Caesar's for all he knew. He remembered then that Caesar was cremated, so it was unlikely, but still...
It was, strangely, tucked away in a corner. Black granite and lapis lazuli.
“Lily!” he called.
“Have you found it?”
“Yes.” He waited patiently for Lily and Sirius to come over.
“This is it,” she agreed as she translated the engravings. She knelt down and began reading further her instructions. Pulling from her bag two candles, she lit them and placed one at the head of the sarcophagus and one at the foot.
“Stand back,” she told them. “I don't think there's any booby-traps, but stand back, OK?”
James looked like he wanted to object, but said nothing and moved away. He and Sirius watched as Lily diligently worked at opening it. She continued through her instructions, doing odd things like walking around it three times. Then she pulled an peculiar shaped stone out of the bag and slid it into a corresponding hollow in the granite lid. She turned it three times to the left and three times to the right.
With a scraping sound, the great slab of granite slid open to reveal the last resting place of one of Egypt's greatest wizards. Inside, the wizard was mummified according to Egyptian ritual. Lily gently placed the amulet in the casket underneath his right hand. She then turned the stone three times to the right and three times to the left. The lid closed again. She went through the odd rituals again, this time in reverse, finally extinguishing the candles. She picked them up and threw them in her bag along with everything else. She turned to James and Sirius. She looked so tired that James wanted to scoop her up into his arms and carry her home himself.
“We should go,” she said. “We've got a long walk back to the surface. We should destroy the stone once we get back. The amulet must not be found. Not by Voldemort, not by anyone.”
Once back in the sunlight, the three did not linger in Alexandria. Whatever the city had to offer, after spending some time in the presence of Alexander, everything else seemed to pale in comparison. They Portkeyed straight back to London and once there paused only long enough for Lily to report to her Guardians before Apparating to Godric's Hollow.
***
The Next Morning. Godric's Hollow.
“Are you all right, love?” James asked, handing Lily a plate of toast and kissing her on the forehead. It was almost midday but she'd barely been awake ten minutes.
“Yes. I slept pretty well.”
“You were exhausted.”
“I know. Is Sirius here?” she asked. James shook his head.
“He went back home.”
“Oh. You know....”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“I can't get the image of that tomb out of my head.”
“What do you mean?”
“Antony and Cleopatra. I mean, history says all these different things as if they're fact. Caesar Augustus paraded her dead body through Rome, all that. Yet we found them in Alexandria. Together.”
“I know. It was a long time ago, though. Who knows what really happened?”
“You know what I think? I think one of her handmaidens killed herself in the same manner as the Queen and the bodies were swapped. The wizards or whoever did such things by that time, secreted her away with Antony's body.”
“Maybe.”
“Isn't that good to know, though?”
“What? That Cleopatra wasn't dragged through the streets of Rome?”
“No, not that. I mean, that she got to stay with Antony forever, just like she wanted to. For all eternity.”
“Yeah, I saw the film as well,” he said, reaching over her for another slice of toast.
“James, I'm serious! I'd... Perhaps it's silly but, wouldn't you want to remain with the one you loved forever? Even in death?”
James thought on this for a moment and nodded. The dark shadow of Lord Voldemort hung awkwardly over their heads for a long, tense moment.
“Yes, I would. But you're right here at the moment, so I'm sorted.” He flashed her a bright smile which she returned.
“You're mad, Potter. Absolutely mad.”
“I know. You love me anyway, right?”
“Right.”
“And everything has been resolved right? Amulet safe, stone destroyed courtesy of Sirius and a sledgehammer?”
“Right,” she repeated with a nod.
“So if it's OK with you, I'd like to relax and get ready for my wedding,” he said. She grinned widely at him and nodded.
“Right you are.”
***
To be continued…Like it? Why not leave a review?
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Sixteen years after Harry Potter and the Daoimear de Dán, life is idyllic for the great heroes of the war. They love their jobs, their families and their lives. Sometimes things really are too good to be true.
A Note From The Author About Canon: This story was largely conceived and written before Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was written. As it is also the sequel to a pre-OotP fic, I have chosen to disregard some elements of the book. For instance, Narcissa was given specific genealogy in Harry Potter and the Daoimear de Dán and I have thus chosen to ignore the family given to her in Book Five. In the same regard, the Order itself remains as it did in Daoimear de Dán and the `big death' has been totally ignored. There will be a few elements of the book incorporated into the larger Harry Potter universe and these will probably become clear as the story continues. I hope very much that you'll enjoy the story as much as the original, because I've really had a blast writing it.
A Second Note From The Author: I've hardly touched this particular story between OotP and HBP, but ironically HBP has inspired me to revisit it. I've chosen to post here at Portkey because I know you guys often have great insights that I might not have taken into account. As with OotP in terms of the DDDverse, I've chosen to incorporate the wider magical universe but there are some obvious things to be disregarded- Narcissa's genealogy, life and attitude being one of the more obvious, while I think the big deaths in the last two books have been completely ignored in this. That's what I get for leaving this for a very long time. I hope you enjoy it, regardless of what bits of canon it has not acknowledged.
Another Author's Note: It shouldn't be necessary for you to have read the many ficlets set between HP DDD and this story in order to understand everything that's going on and who is who.
Inné agus Inniu means `Yesterday and Today' in Irish Gaelic. I'd like to thank Fionnabair for translating it for me.
Thanks also to Dan, Rachel and Raye for their beta skills and advice.
*
Chapter One- Back to School
1st September 2014. Ruairi House, Windermere.
In the Lake District, high in the hills above Lake Windermere, if you know where to look, there is a house nestled amongst the trees. It is a perfectly normal house of three stories that looks like it was probably built in the mid- to late-1800s, nothing particularly special or unique to this part of the country. There's a modern garage just off to the side of the house, inside which live a rather nice green Jaguar and a little red Ford Fiesta, both of which are at least ten years old but look shiny and barely used.
Let us instead concentrate on the house. One particularly strange feature of the house is the cat-flap set into the roof. Not that strange, you say, perhaps the owner has a bird of some sort. Inside the decor is a little... eclectic, to be sure, but perhaps the owner has either travelled widely or just watched too many episodes of Changing Rooms. There's a real fireplace, which is a little unusual in this day and age, but it's an old house, remember. But now look at the mantelpiece. There's a jar of glittering powder at one end. Could be anything, you say, space age pot-pourri… or something. Now take a closer look at the photographs jostling for space on the mantelpiece.
The first is of two little girls, not more than five years old. This would be perfectly normal except that they're sitting on a lion. A real, full-grown lion. What kind of parents would do that, you ask? And hang on just a minute! Are they moving?
This is a perfectly normal household. If you're a wizard, that is. Oh, and if normal means world-renowned war heroes. This is the Potter household just as its owners dreamed it would be nearly twenty years before.
***
“Lilyella!”
The voice tore through the house. The owners of the house, Mr and Mrs Potter, looked concerned as they heard footsteps thundering down the stairs.
“Mum!” shouted fourteen-year-old Kitty Potter as she stormed into the kitchen, green eyes blazing and black hair flopping in her eyes.
“Yes dear?” Hermione asked in a purposely calm voice.
“Ella stole my Quidditch Through The Ages!” irate Kitty shrieked at her parents.
“I DID NOT!” another voice yelled from somewhere above them. Harry and Hermione grinned at each other, but in her ire, Kitty missed it. “WHAT WOULD I WANT WITH HER BOOK?”
“Kitty, you have exactly five minutes before we leave for Kings Cross,” her mother told her. “I assume you're ready?”
Kitty suddenly looked quite panicked, but within a second her poker face was in place.
“Of course I am,” she said before dashing up the stairs. Harry and Hermione lasted a full five seconds before bursting into laughter.
“This happens every year,” he said fondly. “And I'd put money on her book being under a pile of clothes.”
***
Five minutes later, four Potters were ready to leave for London. The fifth Potter, nine-year-old Richard, was already off at Hogsmeade Primary School for the day. Hermione handed out Floo powder rations before then taking Lilyella's trunk and moving into the fire.
“Diagon Alley!” she shouted before disappearing into the Floo Network. Lilyella followed with her owl, and then it was Kitty's turn. She had, in fact, found her Quidditch book under her practice robes. Finally, Harry went last with Kitty's trunk.
They all emerged safely in the Leaky Cauldron where the Minister For Magic met them.
“Hello Percy!” Hermione called to him. Percy smiled and checked his watch.
“Right on time, good, good,” he said briskly but not without warmth. “We've got the cars waiting for you.”
“You really didn't have to, Perce-” Harry began.
“Not at all, Harry,” Percy interrupted. Harry wondered if he was going to get another one of those `you're the Great Harry Potter' speeches. But Percy surprised him. “Did it for the rest of the family, didn't I?”
Harry smiled at Percy, a man who had lightened up quite considerably over the last few years. Percy considered them family, and that meant the entire world to Harry.
***
They got to Kings Cross in record time and once on Platform 9 3/4 the Potters were ambushed by their friends. As always, they fragmented into their usual groups and pairings. Lilyella grabbed her best friend Paul `Son of George' Weasley and they immediately began chattering incessantly as if they had not seen each other in weeks instead of the one day it had actually been. Similarly Kitty and Rain `Daughter of Ron' Weasley latched onto each other, two sets of eyes gleaming mischievously.
“They're up to something,” Harry said with a slightly concerned smile. Ron snorted.
“Harry, of course they're up to something. They're worse than Fred and George.”
“That reminds me,” said Hermione as she came over and hugged Ron warmly. “I must thank your brothers for those new and improved Chocolate Frogs.”
“Jump higher, don't they?” said Ron, glaring darkly the length of the platform towards Fred Weasley.
“Well,” said Hermione stiffly, “I spent the better part of my weekend scraping splattered frogs from ceilings in our house.”
“Hello!” called George cheerfully as he approached. Three sets of eyes: green, brown and blue glared at the professional prankster.
***
Already settled into their usual compartment, two Weasleys and two Potters sat watching the older generation on the platform outside.
“Like kids, the lot of them,” said Rain. Kitty snorted derisively in agreement.
“I know. They're usually staid, boring grown ups. Then they all get together in the same place and they might as well be First years.”
“Leave them alone,” said Lilyella in a firm voice. “Where is it written that grown ups aren't allowed to have fun?”
Kitty stuck her tongue out at her twin.
“Very mature, Kit. Anyone would think that you were a First year.”
“Well come on! You know what they're like! Our mum and dad act like teenagers sometimes. Look!” Kitty pointed out of the window. Harry and Hermione were standing talking to Fred, Angelina, Ron and George. Harry had his arm wrapped around her waist while Hermione rested her head on his shoulder. They watched as Harry planted a kiss on the top of Hermione's head as she talked animatedly with George, probably still chastising him for the new Frogs.
“Leave them alone, Kathleen,” said Lilyella in a low, warning tone. Rain and Paul exchanged a worried look, both hoping that this didn't turn into the latest instalment of the Twin Wars. There was a pause in the proceedings as the train began to pull out of the station and they waved to their parents.
“Well, all I'm saying is that really puts you off your Cornflakes when you come downstairs of a morning and your dad is snogging your mum like it's going out of fashion,” Kitty said, putting her feet up on the opposite seat.
“Actually,” a new voice joined the conversation. “Some of us would love for nothing more.”
Kitty's face visibly fell. In the doorway stood auburn-headed Deirdre Richards, the new Head Girl of Hogwarts and daughter to a long dead father.
“Hi Deirdre,” said Lilyella with a warm smile, pointedly ignoring her sister. “How was your summer?”
“It was pretty good,” Deirdre replied with a bright smile. “Me and my mum went on an archaeological dig in County Sligo with some people her Guardians know.”
“Congratulations, Deirdre,” said Paul, referring to the shiny new Head Girl badge pinned to the older girl's robes.
“Thanks. I should probably head off to the Prefect carriage. Just wanted to say hello. Mum said to say hello too. She wanted to come today but she's in Australia.” Deirdre smiled at them and then went off down the corridor. Kitty only paused for a second before tearing after her.
“I'm sorry,” she said. Deirdre smiled sweetly at her. “I didn't mean to upset you.”
“I know you are, and you didn't upset me. Not really,” Deirdre smiled at her to prove this and pushed her unruly auburn hair out of her brown eyes. Kit looked down at the floor.
“I'm still sorry.”
“It's not me you need to be sorry to, Kit. You should count yourself bloody lucky that you have parents that still talk to each other, let alone love each other so much.”
“I know. I don't even mind most of the time. But I suppose.... They're embarrassing!”
Deirdre laughed rather loudly.
“Oh Kitty, all parents are embarrassing. It's a requirement.”
“Your mum isn't embarrassing.”
“Oh no? I suppose you've forgotten the time she visited school to talk about the Second Voldemort War in History of Magic and ended up challenging the new History teacher to a duel? And she won?”
“That was cool. Not embarrassing.”
“Not for me,” said Deirdre with a wry smile. “It's a fact of life, kid. Our parents embarrass us. It's probably payback for all the nights we kept them up as babies or something.”
Kitty smiled and nodded.
“I know.”
“Go on, get back to your carriage. It's against the rules to loiter in the corridors when the train is moving. Don't make me take points off you already,” Deirdre smiled and watched Kit bound back into her carriage.
***
Harry and Hermione returned to an empty house. Such things didn't happen often during school holidays and they cherished such moments in term-time.
“How long until Richard is home from school?” Harry asked before she even had the front door shut. Hermione giggled.
“Hours, dear. He only left an hour and a half ago.”
Harry promptly did a lap of honour around the living room before scooping Hermione into his arms.
“Put me down!” she squealed. He smirked at her and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Not on your life,” he replied. And even though he was carrying his wife, he still took the stairs two at a time.
***
Ron Weasley was the sort of man who woke up every day and thanked his lucky stars. He genuinely loved his life. He had a beautiful wife, beautiful children and he had a job that paid galleons for only a little work and in the last decade or so, and the Chudley Cannons had started winning again. He had the life he'd always dreamed of when he was just one of those poverty-stricken Weasleys so many years before.
The Weasleys were not by any stretch of the imagination poor anymore. Aside from Ron's own lucrative career as a shaman for hire and sometime celebrity Quidditch commentator, his brothers Fred and George had branches of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in Britain, Europe and America. His sister Ginny ran a chain of clothing stores with his wife Deanna. Bill was still raiding tombs for Gringotts' across the world and loving it, while Charlie and his wife now owned the dragon sanctuary in Croatia where they met. Not to mention Percy, who had just entered his seventh year as the Minister of Magic. The Weasleys were no longer poor and they were now, almost without exception, celebrities to one degree or another.
More than that, Ron was eternally grateful that his family had made it out of the Second Voldemort War intact. He had been so utterly terrified that people he loved would be killed, not least because each and every one of them had had prominent roles in the war. Instead, and Ron thanked a vague deity again, they had all survived and become heroes.
“Ron! Stop bloody daydreaming!” Deanna Weasley's normally dulcet tones ripped unceremoniously into his deep thoughts and he looked up from his lunch. She was standing in the kitchen doorway wrestling her rather unruly dark hair into some sort of style.
“I wasn't daydreaming,” he said. She rolled her eyes and grinned.
“Yeah right, Ronnie. I'm off in a minute.”
“Will you be gone all day?”
“Probably. Ginny said that there's an American buyer coming to meet us today so I won't be able to skive off. And lest we forget, she gave me the morning off so we could take Rain to the train.”
“I didn't say skive off,” he said. “I just thought you might come home to work.”
“Ron, when have I ever got work done at home?” she asked, pausing in her hair-styling to lean over to her three-year old son and wipe milk from his chin.
“Well, there was... No, I don't suppose you do.”
“There's always something. Either it's your mother visiting or Romeo or washing or bills or-”
“Your husband wanting to give you a good ravishing?” he cut in with an over-exaggerated smile. She raised an eyebrow.
“Well, you think I'd remember something like that. Don't forget that Romeo has an appointment with the healer this afternoon.”
“He does?” Ron looked blank.
“Yes dear,” she said rather patiently. “I booked it for two thirty, which should leave you plenty of time after your last appointment.”
“I've only got two clients today. Shouldn't take long.”
“I know.” Deanna finished her hair and leaned over the table to kiss him briefly. “See you later.”
“Have a nice day,” he said through a mouthful of food. He watched her kiss Romeo and ruffle his hair before going into the living room to Floo to the Dee & Gin shop in Hogsmeade. “Looks like it's just us now, kid,” he told Romeo. From his seat beside him, Romeo giggled and flicked a little bit of his lunch at his dad.
***
“Harry! Dinner's ready!” Hermione shouted up the stairs as she put three plates of spaghetti on the kitchen table. Richard was already sitting there waiting eagerly for his favourite food. Harry bounded down the stairs and jumped into the chair opposite Hermione.
“Isn't it lovely and quiet without the bickering twins around?” he asked his son with amusement.
“Can I watch whatever I want on telly before going to Jamie's house?” Richard asked eagerly. Harry smiled and nodded. Richard beamed- when the girls were home he always had a battle to see the Martin Miggs' television programme.
“Have a nice day back at school, Ritchie?” Hermione asked.
“Yes! Me and Jamie made a model of a Quidditch stadium. Madam Shacklebolt said ours was the best in the whole class.” Richard beamed proudly as Harry leaned over and ruffled his hair.
“Jamie and I, dear,” Hermione said. Richard looked at his mother and rolled his eyes.
“Has she always been this bad?” he asked his father. Harry snorted with laughter and nodded eagerly.
“Oh, much, much worse.”
“Really?” Ritchie asked with wide eyes. Harry laughed again.
“She got better. Uncle Ron and I saw to that.”
Hermione thwapped him with the oven glove.
“Don't listen to him, sweetheart. He's doing the washing up now he said that.”
“Hey!” Harry said, pouting at her. She just smirked.
“That'll teach you,” she said. Richard laughed. Harry and Hermione both smiled contentedly, knowing that this was the life they had always wanted.
***
Maura Richards threw her bag down and kicked the back door shut with a slam. The weather on the Galway coast had already turned from summer to autumn without bothering with an Indian summer, it seemed and she'd received a soaking just walking home from the nearest village for a bottle of milk and The Irish Times. She wasn't overly fond of the first day of September and this year was no different. Her favourite time of year was summer, when the sun shone for once and everyone was home from school. She lived for warm days by the sea with her daughter and her friends. If she closed her eyes, she could see the last time in her mind: Draco Malfoy having no luck with a Weasley Wheeze or two, Kit and Rain getting up to some mischief, Harry and Hermione laughing and joking with Ron or Sirius or anyone- even her.
She had turned thirty-six this year. When she was young, she'd never even imagined being thirty-six. When she was young, she couldn't even comprehend what it meant to be thirty-six. When she was eighteen, she'd never thought she'd make it to twenty, never mind thirty-six. She had expected an early, violent death while battling evil. Instead she'd spent fifteen years in relative serenity. There had been fights to win but they'd hardly been hardly life threatening. Every now and then she felt restless, like she needed to be fighting something, someone, but the years had helped curb her need for violence. She felt, in fact, like her destiny had already been fulfilled and her life was now hers and hers alone. She still didn't know how to take that.
***
The Sorting Ceremony was old hat for such lofty Fourth years as Kitty and Rain, and they paid only a little attention to it- just enough to know when to start clapping and when to stop clapping. Lilyella and Paul chose similar tactics in order to discuss some of his dad's new merchandise. Slightly up the table from them, Deirdre and the Seventh year Gryffindors were deep in conversation about the heavy workload they had to deal with this year.
“Welcome back to a new year at Hogwarts!” Professor McGonagall called out. Most of the students jumped at the sound of her voice, having not noticed the Sorting end.
“I hope this will be yet another successful and happy year for all of us, especially our newest students. I would like to remind you all that the forest is still forbidden to all students and there are no exceptions to this rule. I would also like to welcome Deirdre Richards and Ashley Crawford as our new Head Girl and Head Boy- I'm sure they'll do a grand job. I can see that you're all hungry, so get stuck in!”
Plates and bowls filled with food and the hall erupted with noise.
“Sucks for you Deirdre,” said Daisy Fortescue in a bright voice, shovelling salad onto her plate. “You'll probably have to spend ages with the abominable Ashley.”
“I know,” Deirdre replied in an uncharacteristically cold voice. “But what doesn't kill me only makes me stronger.”
“What's so wrong with Ashley Crawford?” cut in Lilyella curiously. Deirdre and Daisy shared an amused, knowing look.
“The easier question would be what's right with Ashley Crawford,” said Daisy, looking over at tall, blond and blue-eyed Ashley where he was sat at the Slytherin table.
“He's a snotty, spoiled, conceited, chauvinistic, mean, odious, black-hearted... knob,” said Deirdre.
“He's nice to me,” Lilyella sniffed. Daisy giggled.
“Oh Ella, of course he is! You're Harry Potter's daughter, not to mention sweet, pretty and one of the teachers' favourite students. But the fact remains that he is a total berk.”
“It's because he grew up with his uncle,” Jackson Shacklebolt, a quiet, deeply intelligent young man in Deirdre's year.
“What's that got to do with anything?” Ella asked.
“Because,” Jackson explained patiently “His parents were killed in the war. Before the war, actually, and he was brought up by his uncle. His parents were the well-liked Crawfords, but his uncle is Theodoric Lestrange.”
Lilyella didn't need to be told who Theodoric Lestrange was- everyone knew that the Lestranges were Dark Magic people- most notably Rodolphus and Bellatrix, who were two of the infamous Azkaban Six. Her parents had fought a war against those people. She shuddered involuntarily at the mere thought.
“But that doesn't mean he's mean,” she said rather feebly.
“Take it from someone who knows,” said Deirdre “he's an arrogant git.”
“How do you know?” Ella asked, her curiosity well and truly piqued. Deirdre's cheeks flushed slightly.
“Just trust me, all right?”
“No, tell me!” Ella's eyes gleamed with mischief.
“Leave it Kit,” said Deirdre “he's nasty and so is that vicious bitch Eustacia Thompson.”
At the rare venom in Deirdre's voice, Ella shut up and took the opportunity to look over at Ashley. He was really the most handsome boy in school- what did Deirdre know? She watched him flick a piece of bread at Flynn Malfoy. Her smile disappeared as she looked at the unpleasant girl sat beside him. Although Deirdre had special dislike for her, Eustacia Thompson was undoubtedly an objectionable character. She liked to think she was particularly attractive but her features were too sharp, too pinched and her demeanour too nasty for her to be considered beautiful.
“Well...” said Ella, groping for a change of subject. “Who is the new Quidditch captain?”
“For who?” asked Daisy. “Us? Mark of course.”
“I know that,” Ella said, bristling slightly at being talked to like she was a First year. “I meant Slytherin.”
“Marianna Bulstrode-Turner!” Mark `New Gryffindor Captain' Johnson called from a few seats up the table. A collective groan rose up.
“She's a twenty four carat bint,” growled Daisy.
“My mum once got into a fight with her mum when they were here,” said Ella.
“Well, your mum's always been really, really clever,” Danita cut in. “It's bad enough we have to play against Pug-Face, but she's their Captain now too? Life is too unfair.”
“You should all invest in extra padding or life insurance,” advised Jackson.
“Too right,” said Kit, now chiming in. “Buckle up and get ready for plenty of blatching, flacking, stooging and all the worst bits of Quidditch Through The Ages.”
A deflated feeling descended upon the Gryffindors as they fell silent to consider the coming Quidditch season. Only the new First years, relieved after getting through the Sorting unscathed, chattered on loudly, stuffing food into their mouths like there was no tomorrow.
***
There was a tradition of sorts in the Weasley family that all the grown-ups would go to the Burrow on the evening of the first day of September. It was more of a habit than a tradition really, because it had only been going a few years. It had started slowly when Percy Weasley, Jr. had started secondary school, then Robert and Danita Weasley the next year, then four years previously when a whole raft of the Weasley and Potter children went off to Hogwarts. Their parents were thrown into the throes of “are we really old enough to be sending our children off to Hogwarts?” worries and all converged upon Molly and Arthur's house to prove to themselves and each other how immature they still were. On this night babysitters were found for the children not yet old enough for Hogwarts and it was a chance for everyone to behave like children.
Most of them privately (and sometimes not so privately) felt that the war had robbed them of the last precious years of their adolescence. Almost everyone had got married within a couple of years of the end of school and the war. They all now wondered, happy as they might be now, if they were right to have rushed so quickly into adulthood.
The first day of September each year was a way for them to regain a little of what they felt they had lost. When they were all together at the Burrow, it was just like they were themselves again, back at school with no worries save for Snape's homework. Tonight, as an added bonus, they would also be going to see a Cannons night game.
“Good evening Molly!” Hermione greeted her hostess brightly, kissing her on the cheek.
“Anyone else here yet, or are we running as early as Harry thinks I am?”
“Only Draco and Ginny so far, dear. I know Ron had a late last-minute appointment.”
It was not surprising to Hermione that when she went into the living room both Draco and Ginny were working. Although they had been married less than a month earlier, they were both dedicated to their businesses.
“Evening,” Draco mumbled at Harry and Hermione when he saw them enter. He went back to whatever report he was reading.
Malfoy Magical Enterprises was one of the magical business success stories of the 21st Century. It had been Draco Malfoy, of all people, who adapted television for magical uses and introduced it to the magical world. That had been in 2003. By 2007 there were six channels, all offering the best magical technology (Malvision was the innovation that placed the audience in the thick of whatever they were watching: sight, sound, smell, although his science wizards hadn't managed to get touch right yet). By 2010 it was thought that 95% of all British magical households had at least one MME television. MME also owned the three most popular channels and he was working on buying a controlling chare in the Wizarding Wireless Network to, as he said himself: “consolidate my position as the greatest media baron the magical world has ever seen.” He was only half joking. In addition there was MalFolio, his top-class publishing company that specialised in fiction. Draco Malfoy basically had a finger in every magical business pie worth knowing about.
Ginny, on the other hand, was the business side of the other great success story of the century: Dee & Gin's, the chain of boutiques with branches in Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley and New York. Ginny flashed Harry & Hermione a bright smile and went back to her calculations to see if a Paris branch was viable yet.
“Looks like the honeymoon is definitely over,” teased Harry. Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.
“Tea, Harry? Hermione?” Molly asked, coming in with a tray of butterfly cakes (complete with working wings)
“Yes please,” they answered together. Molly smiled, Ginny laughed and Draco rolled his eyes.
“Typical,” he muttered, earning a smack from Ginny.
“HELLO!” Ron's voice boomed through the room as he and Deanna came through the kitchen door. Greetings were exchanged and then Ron grabbed Ginny's paperwork from her hands.
“Ron!” she screeched, trying to grab her papers back. “I was in the middle of something!”
“Don't care,” he said blithely. “All day I've had to put up with this stuff from Dee and I won't stand for it now. Take a break, sis.”
Ginny looked very much like she wanted to wallop him, but said nothing and sat back down. Deanna sat down beside her.
“He just doesn't understand, Gin. Ignore him. It's what I do all the time.” They giggled conspiratorially and launched into an in-depth conversation about the Paris plans.
“Where's Richard tonight?” Ron asked Harry.
“Staying at Jamie's.”
“Are Sirius and Narcissa not coming, then?” Molly asked, serving up cups of tea.
“Sirius should be meeting us at the stadium. Narcissa's not feeling too well.”
“Well enough to keep an eye on Richard and Jamie, though,” said Hermione. “They've been put on their best behaviour for her.”
“What about Maura?” Ron asked. “She wasn't at the station earlier. Is she coming?”
“It's a shame she missed seeing Deirdre off on the train for the last time,” Ginny commented.
“I know,” replied a new voice. They all turned to see Maura herself leaning against the doorframe. “I was in Australia.”
“What were you doing in Australia?” Draco asked curiously.
“Oh, I remember!” Hermione cut in. “You were guest speaker at their Ministry gala. How did it go?”
“Not too bad. I didn't give what you'd call a rousing speech, but I bloody well hate public speaking. Don't know why people keep asking me to do it. I wasn't even their first choice. Harry was.”
“I said no when they told me the date,” he replied.
“Well Deirdre accepted on my behalf,” Maura said. “Before thinking to ask when it was.”
“Well, she definitely got on the train,” Ron told her. “Saw her with my own two eyes.”
“She didn't run off to Bali?” Maura asked. “Shame. I never get postcards.”
“Hey!” Ginny protested. “We sent you one from New York!”
Maura snickered. “In which you neglected to mention that you'd got married.”
“Only a minor detail we didn't think you'd be interested in,” Draco replied.
“Well,” Molly cut in. “We were.”
Ginny smiled reassuringly at her mother, knowing how much her elopement to New York had hurt Molly. Before anyone could say anything, a loud explosion in the garden made them all jump a foot in the air.
“Hello? Anyone here?” Fred's voice said with a cough through a thick cloud of smoke.
“Fred Weasley!” Molly shouted angrily. “I thought I'd seen the last of your ridiculous experiments and explosions when you left home!”
Fred emerged from the smoke and whirled his mother around. He pecked her cheek.
“Evening Mum!”
“Where is that brother of yours? I spent ages trying to clean New Improved Chocolate Frogs from my ceiling-”
“I know, I know!” Fred said with a frustrated sigh. “I've already been informed that the new prototype jumps too high!”
Ron, Deanna, Hermione and Harry all nodded solemnly. A moment later, George emerged from the smoke with his wife Jade.
“Hello all! Having a good time?”
“Smashing, George, old man!” Fred replied effusively before turning to his mother. “When are we heading over to the stadium?”
“Not yet, dear,” Molly said. “Plenty of time yet. Your father isn't back from work yet.”
“At this hour?” George asked with a genuine frown. “He works too hard.”
“Some silly fool charmed an underground train on the Northern Line so that it didn't stop at the Barbican station. Arthur's having to do all sorts of paperwork. Honestly, the things people think to do these days!” Molly did not sound impressed.
“I've got twenty galleons riding on the Cannons,” Ron told them confidently. Molly sighed.
“I don't think it's right you should gamble with so much money, Ron.”
“It's not like I don't have the money, Mum,” he said. She sighed again and the gap between Molly and her children when it came to money widened a little more.
“I don't understand how you can be so frivolous sometimes,” she said. Ron smiled charmingly at her and hugged her.
“Mum, you don't have to worry about money anymore. None of us do. Let's enjoy it while we can.”
“It's not a question of enjoying it, it's a question of wasting it.”
***
The blonde woman pulled her bag out of the overhead compartment, ignoring the rather annoyed stares of other passengers behind her waiting to get off the plane. She sashayed down the aisle, pausing only to glibly thank the flight attendants as she stepped off the aircraft, through Heathrow Airport and onto British soil for the first time in over ten years.
She was unassuming in appearance. Of average height and weight, she had neither striking good looks nor a magnetic personality. As she passed through the throng of people milling around in the airport either coming or going, she struck nobody's attention. Had she done so, she would not have noticed, being far too concerned about her destination. She fought her way towards the underground station, jumped on a train and sat down as it clattered its way towards London.
Six hours away up the M6, Harry Potter awoke with a start after one of the worst nightmares he'd had in years. A moment later, his alarm clock went off.
“Harry?” Hermione asked with a yawn. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”
“I... Yes,” he said decisively, shaking vague images from his head. “What are you doing today?”
“I have a-” yawn “meeting with my editor at Obscurus then I said I'd meet Maura for lunch. Then I have another meeting with my editor at MalFolio.”
“Maura's coming to England?” he asked.
“Yes, she does do that, Harry.”
“I know that. It just seems unusually sociable for Maura to go anywhere for lunch.”
“Well you know what she's like in the first few weeks of term. She hates being in that big house all on her own.”
“True. So you're part of the Keep Maura Sane committee?”
“The chairperson,” she said with a smile and another yawn. She rolled onto her side and looked out of the window at the bright September morning. “Harry...”
“Yup?”
“When do you have to get to the bar?”
“Not for a while.”
“That's good. That's very good.”
***
“Sorry I'm late, Maura!” apologised Hermione as she slid into a chair at Madam Sinta's Coffee Bean Emporium- the very best place on Diagon Alley for coffee and lunch. “I was kept late with my editor.”
“S'all right. Was late too.”
“Have you ordered?”
“Not yet. Waited for you.”
“OK.” Hermione waved over to a waiter for a menu. She nodded for him to wait.
“Why do you want a menu Hermione?” asked Maura. “You always get the same thing.”
“Oh, I'm going to get something different today.”
“Oh yeah?” Maura raised an eyebrow sceptically.
“Yeah,” Hermione replied with a grin. “I'll have... the... turkey salad. But not the salad cream.”
“Yes, Mrs Potter. And to drink?” the waiter asked.
“Pumpkin juice, thanks.”
“Miss Richards?”
“Burger with bacon, extra onion, extra tomato, extra sauce and chips,” she said without a pause.
“To drink?”
“You guys got any Coke in?”
“I'm afraid not.”
“OK. I'll have that Turkish coffee I had the other day.”
“Right. We'll have that ready for you in a moment.” The waiter headed away to the kitchen.
“You eat like a student, Maura.”
“And?”
“You eat... well, crap. How you don't weigh twenty stone I don't know.”
“Luck, innit? At least I like what I eat.”
“I like what I eat,” Hermione said, taking umbrage at what Maura was hinting at.
“You don't like turkey salad. You wanted a large bowl of spaghetti with Sinta's Secret Sauce. But you've decided you need to lose weight today so you'll eat rabbit food instead.”
“That's not true,” Hermione argued, not really sounding convinced herself.
“Yeah right.”
“Let's talk about something else.”
“You're not fat, Hermione.”
“I know.”
“In fact, you look positively scrawny-”
“Maura.”
“Fine, fine. How's Harry. Was he late to work as well?”
“I wasn't-”
“You were!” You'd only get held late by your editor if you turned up late to begin with. You can't lie to me, I'm far too cynical and I know you too well.”
“Yes, well,” Hermione turned slightly red, finding it odd that she had been married for many years, had three children and still found it embarrassing to talk to one of her best friends about sex. Fortunately, her salad turned up and she had a new excuse to stay quiet. It was nice enough, but not quite as wonderful as Madam Sinta's famous pasta sauce. Maura was right- she was feeling a little fat today. Not that she felt hugely overweight, but last night surrounded by beautiful women like athletic Angelina, graceful Jade and stylish Deanna, she had felt a little... old. Something inside wasn't really as bothered about feeling fat as feeling old. Perhaps it was that she hadn't had a really good adventure for some time. She'd become so accustomed to having some life-threatening adventure once a year at school that the sixteen years since sometimes seemed very dull indeed.
Such thoughts briefly left her mind as she felt a pair of eyes seemingly burning into the back of her head. She whipped around in her seat, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“Something wrong?” asked Maura. Hermione shook her head.
“Just thought I saw something, that's all. How's your burger?”
***
The blonde woman looked up from her plate of steaming pasta when she was sure that Hermione Potter had turned back to face Maura. She began eating, keeping a close eye on Maura and Hermione at all times. Surveillance was the key to her plan and she couldn't jeopardise that for anything. She watched Maura and Hermione continue their lunch. When they got up to leave, she followed at a discreet distance before they went into the pub and Flooed away from her.
Her watch beeped. She had another appointment to keep.
***
To be continued…
As September turns to October, life goes on as normal for the Potters and their friends. Mind you, it`s not normal when their children are being photographed during Quidditch and suspicious looking blonde women are sloping around Diagon Alley buying books.
A Note From The Author About Canon: This story was largely conceived and written before Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was written. As it is also the sequel to a pre-OotP fic, I have chosen to disregard some elements of the book. For instance, Narcissa was given specific genealogy in Harry Potter and the Daoimear de Dán and I have thus chosen to ignore the family given to her in Book Five. In the same regard, the Order itself remains as it did in Daoimear de Dán and the `big death' has been totally ignored. There will be a few elements of the book incorporated into the larger Harry Potter universe and these will probably become clear as the story continues. I hope very much that you'll enjoy the story as much as the original, because I've really had a blast writing it.
A Second Note From The Author: I've hardly touched this particular story between OotP and HBP, but ironically HBP has inspired me to revisit it. I've chosen to post here at Portkey because I know you guys often have great insights that I might not have taken into account. As with OotP in terms of the DDDverse, I've chosen to incorporate the wider magical universe but there are some obvious things to be disregarded- Narcissa's genealogy, life and attitude being one of the more obvious, while I think the big deaths in the last two books have been completely ignored in this. That's what I get for leaving this for a very long time. I hope you enjoy it, regardless of what bits of canon it has not acknowledged.
Another Author's Note: It shouldn't be necessary for you to have read the many ficlets set between HP DDD and this story in order to understand everything that's going on and who is who.
Inné agus Inniu means `Yesterday and Today' in Irish Gaelic. I'd like to thank Fionnabair for translating it for me.
Thanks also to Dan, Rachel and Raye for their beta skills and advice.
*
Chapter Two- Of Potions and Paparazzi
Somewhere in North London, England.
"This is your flat," the rather overweight landlord told the blonde woman. "No pets, no smoking. You'll get your deposit back when you move out provided everything is in good nick."
"Right. Thank you."
"Lived in London before, have you?" the landlord asked conversationally. The blonde woman nodded.
"I grew up here," she said shortly.
"Been away, have you?"
"Yes," she said curtly, silencing the landlord. He handed her the keys with a slightly uncertain look on his face.
"Any repairs need doing, you just let me know. I live in the ground floor flat, Miss..."
"Just call me Katerina," she told him with a purposely-bright smile. He nodded, now a little reassured that he was renting the flat out to a suitable sort of person.
"Anything you need," he told her.
"Thank you so much."
She watched the landlord go back down the stairs before locking the door behind her The flat was a plain, small sort of place without any distinguishing features, although it was clean and newly-decorated in shades of magnolia. She cast a discerning eye over the flat as she wandered through the living room into the bedroom.
She lifted up one of her suitcases and put it on the bed. Opening it, she disregarded the clothes inside, throwing them carelessly onto the bed. Instead she took out some framed photographs and began arranging them on the mantelpiece. The largest was of George Richards.
***
A picture identical to the one in the blonde woman's flat sat on the bedside table in Maura's bedroom. Next to her alarm clock, it was the first thing besides the glowing red LED display that she saw on waking up the next morning. It was eleven thirty in the morning, and this was quite early for her.
"Morning George," she mumbled at it as she awoke. She sat up in bed, her messy red hair sticking up in several directions. She had no specific appointments to keep today, and the complete silence in the house reminded her that Deirdre was back at school and so the house was hers alone.
Not that she didn't have things to do. Deirdre's garden needed tending to- she was very particular about her flowers and always worried that her mother would completely forget and they'd all die. She could do with giving the grass in the garden one last cut before winter too, but she might just wait until one of her magical mates came over and did it for her in minutes instead of mucking around with the ancient, rickety old mower.
She tumbled out of bed and wandered barefoot through the house to the kitchen. She pulled out a bottle of milk from the fridge and drank straight from it, enjoying the freedom of not having Deirdre moan that she should use a glass. She grabbed the owl post she'd received from where the owls had left them on the mat. She took a packet of prawn cocktail crisps from the cupboard and sat down to eat and read.
"Meet me for coffee at the Alley at one, love Narcissa," Maura read aloud. That cheered her up a bit, even though she knew Narcissa had purposely scheduled this meeting to keep an eye on her. She knew they all worried about her being on her own and was touched, in her own way, that they cared. She grabbed the next bit of post.
"We demand you have dinner at our house on Thursday. We won't accept 'no' or 'can't be bothered' for an answer, Ron & Dee," she read. "Well, I'm going to be a busy little bee, aren't I? Right little social butterfly."
She continued to read the rest of the letters. They were the usual sort of thing- requests to do this, that or the other, letters from magical schoolchildren in the middle of doing some sort of work about the war, letters from fans or the sort of magical people who didn't like how a Muggle was so much a part of their world. She always replied to the schoolchildren, she replied to fans when she had time (which she usually did) and used the other sorts of letters to start her fire.
Another owl arrived and she recognised this one as a Hogwarts owl. She grabbed at the letter greedily, tossing some crisps at the owl. She tore open the letter and read, as usual, out loud.
"Dear Mum, having lots of fun at school already, although Ashley Crawford has been made Head Boy. If he gives me any trouble I'll be sure to take your advice about kneecaps. I hope you're looking after yourself and not eating crisps for breakfast. Please, please, please remember to water the flowers every day while it's still dry there. I miss you lots already Mum, love Deirdre."
Maura sniffed and folded the letter carefully.
"She's a sweet kid, but I'll eat what I bloody like for breakfast."
She went to put the letter back inside its envelope and noticed another, smaller note in there.
"Dear Auntie Maura," she read out. "Having lots of fun back at school, although Flynn is still as annoying as always. I really don't know why you put up with him. Anyway, just a quick note because Deirdre's staring at me to finish and I'll be late to Potions. Just wanted to say that I miss you lots and I can't wait until you come and give us some more self-defence lessons because they're lots of fun. Ella and Rain and Paul say hello but Ella wants to know when I'm going to use punctuation. Eat lots of crisps for breakfast if you want, love your favourite goddaughter Kitty."
She laughed and folded the note up and put it with Deirdre's letter. She shoved the last of her crisps into her mouth, threw the packet in the rough direction of the bin and went into the living room. She put the letters behind the clock as she always did with Deirdre's letters. On looking at the clock she turned around.
"Better get ready. Don't want Narcissa thinking I can't look after meself or I'm going loopy. Talking to myself notwithstanding, of course."
***
"Maura, over here!" Narcissa Richards Black waved from a seat at Madam Sinta's. Maura grinned and bounced over.
"I'm spending so much time here Sinta's going to think I fancy her," Maura told Narcissa with a laugh as she pulled off her coat and sat down. "How's life?"
"I can't complain. Jamie's doing very well at school, Sirius is working hard. I took some photographs for the 100th anniversary edition of Witch Weekly. Just another day in paradise," replied Narcissa, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against the tabletop. "I ordered you an Enervating Hot Chocolate."
"Thanks. It's pretty early in the morning for me."
"I know it is," Narcissa replied with a chuckle. "Have you heard from Deirdre yet?"
"Just this morning." Maura looked around the coffee shop curiously.
"Something wrong?"
"No... I just... I've got a weird feeling, that's all." She looked around again, but saw nothing odd or out of the ordinary. "Just... I had a weird feeling."
The waitress came over with their order and the weird feeling was forgotten.
***
September always seemed to go by quickly as children adjusted to being back at school and their parents adjusted to not having them around all day. And so the ninth month morphed into the tenth with ease as life continued, as life is wont to do.
"What are you reading about?" Harry asked his wife. As he had expected, he came home from his bar to find her in her study at the top of the house. Or rather, he found a desk piled high with books and assumed she was somewhere behind them.
"Hello!" she said with a bright smile as she stood up behind the desk. She held up her quill and tapped one pile of books. "That's research for the Witch Weekly column next week."
She tapped another pile and said: "That's for the Daily Prophet piece about antiquated and obsolete charms. And this," she held up the book she was reading, "is a book about ancient magical talismans."
"What's it for?" he asked. She looked surprised at the question.
"Fun."
Harry smiled and leaned gingerly over the books to kiss her on the cheek.
"You're a geek, Hermione."
"But you love me just the same."
"Yes I do," he said. He took another look at all her books. "I take it I'm cooking dinner tonight then?"
"Aren't you a darling?"
"Yes, I suppose I am."
"Do you have to go back to the bar tonight?"
"Have to show my face occasionally. I do own it, after all."
"All right."
"I can have dinner ready in an hour," he said. "And then I'll go over there. The sooner I turn up, the sooner I can come home to my beautiful girl."
"You're a real charmer Harry, but no amount of sweet talk is getting me away from these books until I'm finished."
Harry sighed dramatically as he turned to go.
"Fine. That's fine."
***
Harry Potter had established Harry's Bar on the shores of Lake Windermere some years before. Harry had opened the bar not long after the twins had started primary school. His choice of career had taken many by surprise, but all in all people knew that a bar-restaurant run by the Boy Who Lived was going to be a success. When the Daily Prophet ran a naming poll and out of 'The Firebolt', 'The Golden Snitch' and simply 'Harry's Bar', the latter was the overwhelming victor.
Although Harry's childish shyness had mostly been replaced with the confidence of a successful and happy grown-up, it did not apply to his fame. He was still not comfortable in a large crowd of people all calling his name and much preferred the comfort and security of his own relatively small sphere of existence. He had his family, his friends and his bar. Even when it came to the bar, Harry was a rather reticent host. Like Rick Blaine, he did not drink with customers and was often missing in action (or skulking in the stockroom or kitchens) on busy nights.
And yet, he enjoyed running the place more than he had thought he ever would. He enjoyed seeing people having a good time because of him, enjoyed the praise he and the head chef Rodrigo got for their food. The small element of extroversion in Harry Potter, which had been ground down by years living with the Dursleys, fed upon his role of host.
Tonight though, he just wanted to be at home. As yet another happy patron came over to offer him a drink, he thought of Hermione up in her study and Richard sat doing homework. He rejected every offer of a drink- it was his strict policy never to drink with people at the bar and he'd never broken it yet.
"Hey Harry!" He looked up to see Deanna Weasley bounding over to him.
"Hello Dee. What brings you here?"
"Ron and I are having a Romeo-free evening for a change," she said with a grin. "Or we will be when he turns up."
"Have a bottle of champagne on the house," he said, waving a waitress over, who took the order and bounced away.
"Thanks Harry. No Hermione tonight?"
"No. She's got a hectic old schedule."
"Had any owls from the twins yet?" Dee asked.
"Two lengthy owls from Ella, one hastily scribbled, almost illegible note from Kitty that I think mentioned the Quidditch timetable," he replied with a laugh.
Deanna returned laughed. They talked about unimportant things for a few more minutes before someone else joined the conversation.
"Harry Potter, does your wife know you're flirting with a beautiful woman?"
Harry looked up to see Ron walking over, grinning from ear to ear.
"Evening Ron," he replied. Ron slapped him on the back, kissed his wife and sat down.
"You're late," Dee said without anger, but a little frustration.
"My mother likes the sound of her own voice."
The waitress came over with Ron and Deanna's bottle of champagne.
"Thank you Saffy," Harry said with a charming smile as she opened the bottle and poured two glasses out. While Deanna took one glass, Harry left the other for Ron- he did not drink with patrons, not even when they were his closest friends.
"Sterling told me to tell you there's a small stockroom problem, Mr P," she replied quietly. He nodded and rose from his chair.
"I'll be back in a minute," Harry told his friends. "Thanks Saffy. Oh Ron, there's something I wanted to show you."
"All right then," said Ron jovially. They got up from the table and headed through a door marked 'Private'.
Twenty minutes later, Deanna was still sat alone, the bottle almost halfway empty and her glass drained. At Ruairi House, Hermione Potter was wondering what was taking Harry so long- she'd finished reading some time ago.
***
The Potter girls were not fond of Potions. Although Snape had mellowed a little with age (so they were told), the twins still found him to be the meanest teacher in the whole school.
For Kit Potter, it also held the added irritation of being a class with Flynn Malfoy. The two were famous for their long-held mutual hatred. Because Draco had become part of the large extended family, so had Flynn and so Kit had been forced to spend time with Flynn since they were babies. An incident when they were children involving a broken Kid Quidditch broom had damaged the relationship beyond repair and now they barely tolerated each other except for the purposes of winding each other up.
On this particular morning, Flynn was sat at his usual desk at the back of the class fiddling with a card. Snape was not there yet, and Kit decided to take advantage.
"What's that?" Kit asked, curiosity getting the better of her as she slid onto a chair behind another desk at the back.
"Nothing," he snapped. She went to grab it away from him and although he yanked it away, she was too fast. She moved out of his reach to read it.
"Happy birthday?" she asked, reading the front of the card. "But your birthday was in August."
"Give it back," he demanded in an imperious manner his grandfather Lucius would have been proud of had he not been vaporised trying to escape from Azkaban after the war.
"No," she said with a rather wicked snicker and opened the card to read it. "Fleur? Your mum signed your late birthday card 'Fleur'? What, 'mum' too good for the snotty cow?"
"Shut up!" he yelled, getting the attention of the entire room. His face went unusually red. "Give it back!"
Kit looked at him and realised that at some point (snatching the card, she realised a little too late) she had crossed the line. She handed it back without a word. He smoothed his hair back and sat down, shoving the card into his textbook.
"I bet Ginny gave you a much nicer card," Kit muttered. Flynn glared at her.
"Ginny got me a really nice card and a really nice present. Not that it's any of your business."
"There's no need to get snippy, Malfoy."
"There was no need for you to pry into my private business!" he shouted. The entire class turned around to look at them, all wearing 'not this again' looks on their faces.
"Don't shout at me," she screeched, hackles rising just in time for Professor Snape to walk in.
"Malfoy, Potter, headmistress now," he said, not having the patience with the pair to even bother finding out what had happened. His tone was not angry so much as it was resigned, and had the air of having been said many, many times before. Kit and Flynn both got up with the air of having been sent to see the head many, many times before.
***
"Professor Snape just owled," Harry said, popping his head into Hermione's study, where she was writing furiously.
"About what?" she asked with concern. "Order business?"
"Guess again," he said sombre-faced. Hermione threw her quill down.
"Not Kitty and Flynn again! Honestly Harry, I have tried with that girl, but she just doesn't listen when it comes to that boy. He hardly ever does anything to wind her up and still-"
"I don't think he's ever entirely innocent," Harry said reasonably. "Anyway, Snape just owled to keep us informed of the on-going saga. He sent them to McGonagall. I imagine we'll get an owl from her soon."
"Then I really wouldn't want to be in Kitty's shoes right now."
***
Kitty squirmed in her seat as Professor McGonagall fixed her with a steely glare. As the glare was turned onto Flynn, she tried to feel triumphant that he was in trouble too, but this had happened before and any novelty had worn off. This had happened many times before and she found it impossible to find any novelty in this experience.
"Would you care to explain why Professor Snape felt compelled to send you to me within minutes of your Potions class beginning?"
"It wasn't anything," said Flynn. Kitty looked over. In all their time as mortal enemies, he had never done anything that might bail her out her out of trouble. The card must've been more important to him than she thought.
"Wasn't anything?" McGonagall asked, not believing him. A wave of honesty washed over Kitty, as it always did when stared down by the Professor.
"I was being mean to him about a birthday card," she said.
"A birthday card?"
"Yes." Kitty looked the headmistress directly in the eye. McGonagall looked as if she might inquire further, but instead held out a tin to them.
"Have a biscuit each. I'll have to write to your parents again and tell them that you were sent to me again. Honestly, the term isn't even into its second month yet. I won't punish you this time, but rest assured that next time- if you are foolish enough to allow it- punishment will be swift and unmerciless. Go back to class and apologise to Professor Snape."
"Thank you Professor," said Kitty in her meekest voice, followed quickly by Flynn. They each grabbed a biscuit and left. Professor McGonagall sighed heavily and reached for some parchment.
***
"Oh bloody hell!"
Ginny Malfoy looked up from her account ledgers when the angry voice echoed off the walls of her home office. A second or two later the door was flung open and Draco was stood there, eyes flashing angrily, right hand gripping a note so tightly that it was almost entirely crumpled in his fist.
"Something wrong?" she asked with a smirk. She found him entirely too amusing when angry to take him very seriously. He did not return the smirk and she realised that this was not I'm-angry-because-I-spilled-tea-down-my-favourite-robe angry but I'm-genuinely-narked angry. There were only two things that could cause this reaction in him: his work and his son. Work had been fine today, so that left Flynn.
"What's up?" she asked, putting her quill down.
"Bloody Flynn!" said Draco, now pacing up and down the thick blue carpet.
"Draco, stop pacing, I like this carpet. Now, tell me what Flynn did."
"I'll give you three guesses, but you only need the first one."
"Let me guess," she said whimsically, trying to inject some humour into the conversation. "You've been sent an owl from Hogwarts... Flynn is in some kind of trouble... Hmm..."
"Ginny!" he snapped.
"I know!" she said with a bright smile, snapping her fingers "He got sent to see Professor McGonagall again for bickering with Kitty again."
"How do you do it, Marple?" he sneered.
"Hey! Don't take it out on me," she shot back. "It's not my fault. And you have to stop watching old detective programmes on The Muggle Channel."
Draco stopped pacing and sank down into the chair by the window.
"I just... They're so bloody immature."
"Yes Draco, they're children."
"No, they're fourteen. They should know better by now."
"What were you like at fourteen?" she asked, a glint in her eye. He sighed.
"Well... At least I was clever enough to sell information to Rita Skeeter."
"You sold her all the stuff she put in the paper?"
"I certainly didn't do it out of the kindness of my heart," he said haughtily. Then, he cracked the slightest of smiles. "I was still Daddy's boy at the time."
Knowing that his anger and frustration was now melting away, she got up and went over to him, perching herself on his knee. His arms went around her waist and he laid his head on her shoulder.
"Honestly Gin, kids are more trouble than they're worth," he muttered.
"You really think so?" she asked, tensing up in his arms.
"What's the matter?" he asked suspiciously. "What did I say wrong?"
"You... Um... Draco..." she stammered, thrown off by his sudden declaration.
"What?" he asked, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"You don't really think that, do you?" she asked again.
"I don't know."
"Well," she said. "I'm awfully sorry to disappoint you, but-"
"Ginny," he asked, light beginning to dawn. "Didn't you go to the healer today?"
"Yes."
"Are you trying to tell me that you're pregnant?" he asked. She nodded.
"I imagined telling you differently, but then you said that you thought-" Ginny was cut off abruptly by Draco placing a firm kiss on her lips.
"I'm a stupid, stupid man and you should pay me no heed," he told her. Then he smiled, a wide and open smile only Ginny and Flynn ever really saw. She returned it fully and breathed a sigh of relief.
"When?" he asked. "I mean, when is it... he... she... you know, due?"
"The healer estimated April or May," she said, waiting patiently as he did some sums in his head.
"But that means-"
"That you knocked me up before you married me?" she asked, eyebrow quirked to its fullest extent. "Yes. Well, it's most likely."
"Your brothers are going to tear me limb from limb. They will kill me. They will kill me slowly using ingenious devices from Arthur's shed..."
"Don't be silly, Draco," she said dismissively. "I don't plan on telling them just yet. And I don't intend telling them any specifics."
Draco smirked and said, "Under that red mane lurks a Machiavellian genius."
"Yes, and lucky for you," she said with a wink. He laughed and kissed her again.
"You know what?" he said. "I'm going to owl my miscreant son and tell him to stop winding up Kitty Potter... and to not get wound up by her. And then, we are going to sample the delights of the food at Harry's Bar to celebrate."
"I thought you said that the food there was only mediocre?" she reminded him. He grinned rakishly.
"I had to say that to Potter... to Harry, didn't I? I do still have something of a reputation to uphold," he told her in an uncanny impression of his father.
The sound of Ginny's laughter followed him out of the room.
***
Once Katerina was settled into her new flat, she wasted no time in getting down to business. She set up a shrine, complete with icons of pagan gods of all origins and kinds, and began the long, careful, rather boring process of finding the things she needed. From her living room she was able to start tracking down information to find the amulet she'd read so much about. She acquainted herself with every occult bookshop in Greater London- including one in the Seven Dials which was run by a man she suspected might be a real, live wizard. Although she'd been reading up on magic and wizards for years, she still felt a thrill of excitement at interacting with wizard-kind.
Except that for the past hour now, she'd been lurking in the backyard at the Leaky Cauldron, waiting for someone to pass through to Diagon Alley so she could sneak in. Did nobody need to shop at half past ten on a Thursday morning? She'd been to Diagon Alley before, when she was watching Maura at lunch, and she'd had no trouble following someone in then.
She heard female voices floating outside from the pub and she rushed to lurk in a shadowy corner of the yard. Two women, a brunette and a redhead came striding out.
"I'll do it," said the redhead, pulling her wand from a pocket in a blue cape. She tapped some of the bricks, and Katerina tried to memorise the sequence as she did it. The wall split open, reminding Katerina of a long-ago Charlton Heston movie for reasons she couldn't recall. The women passed through and she hurried after them.
She had been so caught up in following Maura last time that she hadn't really taken anything of the place into her consciousness. Diagon Alley was like nothing else she'd ever seen. It was not like the huge, expansive malls she'd been to in America, nor was it like a high street to be found in Britain. It was a tumultuous mass of curious looking buildings and it was much busier than she had expected. Witches and wizards passed by, clothed in all shades of the spectrum. None of them paid her any attention and after a minute or two lurking by the entrance to the alley, she began exploring.
"Need some dragon fangs, dear?" asked a withered old woman who fulfilled every witch cliché, shoving a jar under Katerina's nose.
"No thank you," she replied, deciding to make a beeline for the bookshop. She went inside Flourish and Blotts and found herself completely awed by the sheer number of books inside. She wandered amongst them for a few minutes and realised that all her questions might be easily answered in books here.
"Can I help you?" Katerina turned to find the manager stood there looking rather curiously at her.
"Yes, I hope so," she said, deciding that it might be a good idea to use the American accent she'd cultivated over the last twelve years. She pulled a list from her pocket and handed it to the manager. "I'm looking for these."
"Some of these are quite... obscure," said the manager, now looking suspicious. "What do you want them for, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I surely don't," Katerina said, flashing the manager a smile. "I'm an American researcher... I'm doing some work on amulets."
The manager nodded and waved a wand around. Books began flying off shelves and piling themselves onto the counter. Katerina smiled. The bit about amulets wasn't even a lie.
She had been chasing the amulet ever since reading about it quite by accident in a library book just like any other library book. She hadn't been in Salem, Massachusetts for much more than a couple of weeks when she found it. She'd been taking advantage of the witch-related tourist trade to research when she stumbled upon the answer to all her problems and prayers in a tiny passage, no more than five hundred words long about an ancient amulet so powerful that it didn't even need a name. The book only told her that this amulet was practically all-powerful. That was twelve years ago.
Twelve long years that she spent quietly researching everything she could get her hands on. She limited her search to the USA where nobody had heard of Maura or George and there would be no questions asked. After the first year her money ran out and she was forced to waitress by night to fund her work. After five years she realised that even if she finally located the amulet, it would be even more complicated than she'd ever anticipated. All the while she smouldered, wishing she knew what Maura was doing, if she was miserable (Katerina hoped so) and what the girl Deirdre was like.
"The bill, miss!" the manager called sharply, waving a bit of parchment at her. Katerina was suddenly faced with the realisation that she had no magical money.
"I..."
"I'll keep them here while you go down to Gringotts and exchange your money," the manager told her. "Just don't take all day."
Katerina nodded, smiled again and headed out into the alley. Gringotts. She remembered seeing it last time she was here. She passed by an annoyed looking goblin as she went inside the white marble building and looked around.
It looked so like a real bank and yet so unlike one. She wandered through the foyer for a moment trying to ascertain where she should go. A sign above one desk announced 'EXCHANGE' and at the desk was sat a bored looking goblin, who didn't seem to get much work.
"Hello, I'd like to change some-"
"Are you looking to exchange international wizard currency or Muggle currency?" he asked, not looking up from the newspaper he was reading.
"Muggle, please." He sat up and looked at her curiously. Finding nothing amiss, he pulled out some parchment and inked his quill.
"How much?"
"Well... Do you take MasterCard?" she asked, waving a small rectangle of plastic at him.
The goblin rolled his eyes in a manner she recognised. It was that "Americans!" eye roll that she saw many times when she used her fake accent here in Britain.
"Yes we do."
"Then... fifteen hundred pounds, please," she said, handing over her little plastic card. He attached a normal looking charge machine to an odd looking magical device and swiped the card.
"Sign here, here, here and here," he said, pointing to several bits of parchment that seemed to Katerina to have filled themselves in. By the time she was done, the goblin had a pile of money waiting for her.
"Three hundred galleons. 200 in galleons, the other hundred in sickles and knuts."
"Thank you very much," she said, scooping them all into her bag. She smiled nervously at him and went back to the bookshop.
***
Shopping in Diagon Alley seemed to be exhausting work and it didn't help that she was carrying some of her books. The bookshop had arranged to send them to her address, but she'd wanted to keep a couple with her and they were heavier than she'd expected.
She slumped into a chair at the same table she'd had last time at Madam Sinta's Coffee Bean Emporium. When a waitress came over she asked for the same thing as before- simple, straight up coffee.
"Ginny, I'm telling you, Maura won't appreciate new robes, no matter what colour they are. She doesn't like fancy clothes!"
Katerina's head whipped up as she looked around to identify the voice. It was the pair who had allowed her entry to the alley earlier. She opened up one of her books and pretended to read as she listened in on their conversation.
"Well she'll just have to learn to like them," the redhead called Ginny said firmly. "I mean, Percy got an owl from the Australian Minister for Magic the other day. She said that it was very nice of Mrs Richards to go all that way to speak at the dinner, but couldn't she have dressed a bit smarter?"
"Ginny-"
"Oh come on Dee! You're a designer, don't tell me it doesn't drive you batty to see her in the same old clothes all the time."
"I know, but-"
"We'll talk to her when we see her at Narcissa's later!" Ginny said eagerly. Dee sighed and Katerina's brow furrowed.
It had not occurred to her that quite a few people would know Maura- she didn't know the moody girl had it in her to be sociable. This required more research before anything could be done. She jumped up from her chair, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, and walked briskly out of the coffeehouse.
***
"I do NOT believe it!" Hermione shrieked. Harry came bounding down the stairs, wondering what could possibly induce such a reaction in his wife. He found her sat in the living room, two halves of a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hands.
"What's the matter, love?" he asked. She looked up at him with fury in her eyes.
"Read this!" she said, throwing the ripped paper at him. He picked it up and within a second, the same expression of raw anger appeared on his face.
"I'll kill them," he growled. "Get that editor on the fire right now."
"You don't have to tell me twice," she hissed. He threw the newspaper down on the coffee table. The headline was "POTTER GIRL SCORES BIG AT THE BIG GAME" and underneath was a picture of Kitty Potter with the Snitch during the Gryffindor-Slytherin game the day before. She was smirking triumphantly, with a forlorn looking Flynn Malfoy in the background.
***
"Pretty Kitty caught the Snitch in an admirable thirty two minutes yesterday. She was playing in Hogwarts' biggest game of the year between Gryffindor and Slytherin," Ron read out aloud from the paper. "Well, that's a lie for a start. It was a friendly between the two. The big grudge match isn't for months."
"Yeah Ron, that's the important point here," Ginny said dryly. She took the paper from him and turned to the rest of the story on page five. There was a large picture of a group of Gryffindor students jumping around in celebration, including Deirdre, the twins and several Weasleys. "That's an interesting picture."
"Did you talk to Professor McG?" Maura asked, skimming over the article.
From what the Potters could tell, a parent had taken the pictures during the game and then sold them on to the Prophet. Now they were congregated at Harry's Bar with their friends as they debated what to do about it.
"My children were not put on this earth for those people to sell newspapers!" Harry shouted, pacing up and down, knocking a couple of chairs out of the way as he did.
"Harry, you need to calm down," said Sirius reasonably, although he looked almost as angry.
"We had an agreement with the press, didn't we?" asked Hermione in a low, controlled voice. "They would lay off the children. All of them. The twins, Ritchie, Deirdre, Rain, Flynn, Jamie... all of them."
"They said that the children of the Diamond and their friends would be left alone for the duration of their education," said Narcissa. "I was there when the editor said so."
"Well... the Prophet has a new editor," said Hermione. "After Benvolio resigned last week. I met her a couple of days ago. She must be behind their questionable policy change."
"Does she have a name?" asked Maura. "Address? Allergies? Weak points?"
"No violence," Hermione told her rather reluctantly. Maura slumped in her chair.
"Spoilsport," she grumbled.
"Well," Sirius said with a wicked smile. "There are more damaging things to do to the paper than kick the editor's head in."
"Like what?" Ron asked. Sirius smiled angelically. Hermione nodded, having cottoned on quickly.
"Which column in the Prophet has the highest popularity?" Sirius asked them. "Which column gives the Prophet a 25% circulation boost on the days it runs?"
"The Modern Witch, by one Hermione Granger," replied Ginny with an understanding smirk.
"Hand me a sheet of parchment," Hermione said firmly. "She leaves our children alone or she loses revenue. When it comes to them, it's as simple as that."
***
Kitty noticed the extra attention she was getting the moment she walked into breakfast on Sunday morning. Almost everyone at the four house tables was staring at her, while the teachers at the head table were looking at her with concern. Searching her brain, she couldn't remember doing anything wrong, stupid or plain insane, so dismissed it and sat down at the Gryffindor table.
"You're in the paper, Kit!"
Kitty turned to see who had called to her. Kiki Bathurst, Danita Weasley's best friend, was waving something at her.
"What's that?" she asked, grabbing the chocolate syrup for her toast.
"The newspaper," Paul chimed in. "You're front page news."
"You what?" she blurted out dumbly. "You're having a giraffe!"
"Giraffe?" Paul asked, brow furrowed with confusion.
"Giraffe, laugh?" she said. "Never mind. Why am I in the newspaper?"
"Someone took pictures of the Quidditch game yesterday," said Ella. "Apparently Mum and Dad have gone totally loopy over it."
"Well, it was a good game," Kit bragged.
"That's not why," Ella replied sternly. "You know they had an agreement to leave us all alone while we're still in school."
"Not to mention," Robert Weasley suddenly cut in "that studies have shown that the children of famous people are much more likely to be kidnapped or abducted if they have a high profile themselves."
Kitty sighed loudly and rather dramatically and said, "You both always look to the very worst case scenario. Aside from the fact that nobody could get to us here, who would want to kidnap me?"
Everyone at the table seemed to share an amused look before Paul said, "She makes a good point. I mean, who'd want to put up with Kitty?"
***
"Interesting," mumbled Katerina to herself on another visit to Diagon Alley. She'd bought that day's Daily Prophet: "POTTERS: PROPHET SAYS SORRY" and managed to track down the previous day's 'Kitty Edition' by the dustbins in the Leaky Cauldron's backyard. It would, she decided, be filed away with her small-but-growing archive of information about Maura and her circle of friends. You never knew what would come in handy. After all, a random moment in a Salem library had changed her plans and her life completely.
Her extensive research into magic had garnered her a fair amount of stolen magical power, mostly taken from ancient sources quite easily tapped if one knows how. During the day she travelled on a broomstick stolen from the Leaky Cauldron's backyard, using that stolen power to help her fly and navigate. She spent almost every hour of every day trying to watch Maura and the Diamond, as well as their friends and family. Katerina was a detail-driven perfectionist by nature and this new scheme suited her down to the ground.
She watched journalist/writer Hermione Potter go nearly every day to Diagon Alley and visit Obscurus Books, the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly at 18a, b and c Diagon Alley respectively, to hand in various parchments to her editors. She then usually shopped briefly at Dee & Gin's and much longer at Flourish & Blotts. Hermione almost always ate lunch on the Alley with Harry/Ron/Ginny/Deanna/Maura/her editor. Katerina watched as Hermione spent hours cloistered away in her study writing, breaking occasionally to cook dinner, talk to her husband or help her son with his homework. Hermione, she discovered, was not the most active of subjects, but provided Katerina with plenty of information for her archive.
Under the pretence of being an ornithologist bird watching on the banks of Lake Windermere, she watched Harry at his bar. He had a very specific routine on arriving at work. First: unlock the doors. Second: turn on the lights. Third: open the few windows in the bar. Fourth: a brief check to make sure that there was enough stock at the bar for the lunchtime trade. After all this, he would disappear into the stockroom, she presumed to stock-take and do paperwork. He did this until the chef Rodrigo arrived to start preparing food and the bar staff arrived. Harry always then came back into the bar and discuss with the staff his plans for the day as far as his presence there was concerned. They'd then usually talk about any functions at the bar that day before moving onto personal and family news. From what Katerina could deduce, the head barman Sterling had just become engaged and Lilyella Potter was doing very well in her Arithmancy classes, while Kitty hadn't lost a Quidditch game yet.
She discovered that Ron rarely got out of bed before nine am, and only then if his son needed his attention or his wife woke him up. He usually dropped Romeo off at his mother's house if he had clients, before returning home to meditate for at least an hour every morning. Only after his meditation did he tackle any shaman work he had. Once his work was done, he'd retrieve Romeo (often, Katerina noted, staying to have lunch with his ever-attentive mother) and come home. Ron's life was so easy because shamanism paid well: especially when said shaman was also a famous war hero. He could easily get several hundred galleons for one trance and even had a few regular clients. Katerina noted that he charged corporate clients considerably more than small private clients. He was so sickeningly good, she thought nastily. She hoped to eventually pose as a client, but was concerned a trance might reveal her plans, and that wouldn't do at all.
She had a much greater challenge spying on the children of the Diamond. Hogwarts had left most of its wartime protection magic in place and she had no desire to reveal herself this early. Luck was on her side, however, as a Hogsmeade weekend came along and she was able to watch the children all day without anyone noticing. She was disappointed that they split up part of the way through the day- even with all her borrowed and stolen magic she couldn't be in two places at once.
She was left with some first impressions that anyone could come up with. Deirdre Richards looked a lot like her mother but seemed more like her father in demeanour. Kathleen Potter was the spitting image of her father and seemed like a more boisterous version of him. Lilyella Potter looked and seemed like her mother. Rain Weasley was more like her twin uncles (of whom Katerina knew only a little) than either of her parents.
However, Katerina knew that it couldn't possibly be this simple and that she needed to do much more work and research. She had found an obscure branch of Legilmency that a Muggle such as herself could probably manage that involved getting inside people's dreams. She would try that on the children first and if it was successful she'd move onto the Diamond itself.
She wasn't really too concerned with the Potters or the many Weasleys, although her perfectionism led her to study them in detail. The person she was concerned with was Hogwarts' adored and respected Head Girl Deirdre Marie Richards. She was the walking, talking, smiling, spell-making embodiment of all that was wrong with the world. In the proper world (had Maura not interfered) Katerina would be her mother. She would not be called Deirdre Marie but Bette Catherine Richards. She would be blond, not auburn-haired, and she would be much lovelier than the spawn of Maura Kennealy could ever hope to be. Yes, she thought darkly, Bette would have been quite wonderful. If it weren't for Maura. Life itself would have been quite wonderful if it weren't for Maura.
Katerina spent the bulk of her time watching Maura. The grand stately pile Maura had inherited from the heirs of her whorish queen ancestor had very little in the way of security that Katerina could see. It would be typically arrogant of Maura to think that she didn't need any security beyond her most excellent self. She could not though, believe the changes that time had wrought upon Maura. She still looked almost exactly the same as she had eighteen years ago (Katerina didn't get close enough to look for wrinkles or grey hairs) but this was not the Maura she remembered. Last time Katerina had seen Maura she had been cold, distant and cruel. The Maura she remembered had once hit a schoolteacher for suggesting she not wear trainers to school.
This Maura... This Maura smiled! This Maura had friends and family! Katerina had been watching her long enough to have seen the woman called Narcissa drop in several times. A cursory study showed that Narcissa Black was a cousin of George. Maura was family with George's family. This made Katerina angrier than anything else possibly could. Narcissa Black should've been visiting her for coffee and stories of George. She should be the one to receive handsome, well-dressed blond men with an odd name that sounded like dragon. She might need to investigate him some more.
Maura had friends. She had people that really cared about her. Katerina had never imagined that the Diamond was ever anything more than a technicality. Maura had friends. She had family. How could she have all of that after destroying Katerina's life? How could Maura possibly be happy? It was not fair that Maura should have everything and she, Katerina, should have nothing at all.
It was now not enough to put her amulet plan into action and then kill Maura. First, she had to destroy the bitch's life. She headed straight for her books.
***
After sixteen hours reading without any pause, Katerina found something that would suit all her plans. A simple potion found in one of the textbooks she'd stolen from Diagon Alley that would destroy Maura's life and get that famous Diamond out of her way while she carried out her other plans. Perfect.
***
To be continued...
Author's Notes: Thanks to Rachel for the beta and many apologies to the rest of the world who still care for the appalling time between updates. Now that I've got a little more time and have got past this bit, I might be able to update more often- a great deal of the story that comes after this has been written for about two or three years. As ever, I'd like to know what you think, good or bad.
*
Chapter Three - Drinking and Dreaming
Katerina had to go to almost ludicrous lengths to procure the ingredients for her potion and still avoid detection. She got the train down to Devon to visit a herbalist who specialised in rare remedies from rare local plants. She went to Edinburgh to find a rare thistle. She went to Jersey during a full moon to get hair from the manes of a particular family of Mooncalves. She bought basic ingredients from Diagon Alley after sneaking back in there again. Finally, she was able to start brewing.
The potion she'd settled on took three days to boil and ferment. It made such a stink on the first day that her landlord came up to complain and warn her about her deposit. On the second day it smelled like lavender, and on the third day it was odourless. She now needed to leave it to sit for one more day before she could- finally!- begin administering it. This would take a great deal of cunning on her part to ensure that only the right people received it and in small, regular doses to make the potion work in a nice, subtle manner. Then all she needed to do was sit back and wait for the fireworks to begin and she could work without real risk of detection or interruption- if the Diamond was fighting itself, it could not fight her as well.
She found things that they- and only they- ate or drank. For Ron Weasley it was Fizzing Whizzbees. His wife refused to eat them because they contained dried Billywig stings and nobody else seemed to particularly care for them.
Harry Potter drank Sprite, which Katerina found easy to procure from Muggle supermarkets across the country and get to him as part of his usual delivery. She discovered that Hermione thought it to be too sugary to drink herself and also wouldn't let her son drink it, leaving Harry the only person in the household who did (against Hermione's wishes, it seemed).
Hermione drank a particular brand of mint hot chocolate she bought from Madam Sinta's Coffee Bean Emporium. It had all the warmth and taste of normal hot chocolate but also contained an energising potion- important for those eighteen hour writing marathons.
Finally Maura, predictable as the tides in some aspects, ate the same Walkers' Prawn Cocktail flavour crisps she'd been eating as a snack and occasionally as breakfast, lunch and dinner since she was seven years old.
Now all she had to do was make sure that they received and consumed their doctored goodies.
***
"Harry, have you read this?" Hermione asked through a mouthful of cornflakes.
Breakfast was late for her this morning because she'd been up all night researching, and Richard had already gone to school. Although he'd already eaten, Harry was sat at the kitchen table with her, reading something that was either a Quidditch magazine or a report from the Order of the Phoenix, depending on whether you were included in the obscuring charm or not.
"What is it?" he asked, not looking up from the report.
"Today's Prophet."
"Do I ever have the chance to read the paper before you do?"
"No."
"So is it likely I've already read it?"
"No," she replied tartly. Harry grinned at her and sipped his tea.
"What does it say?" he asked.
"Susan Bones was mugged last night."
"Mugged? When does that ever happen?" he asked, cogs in his head turning already.
"Rarely if ever. She had her purse stolen. And..." Hermione paused either to read more or for dramatic effect. "And, oh Harry! Whoever it was stole her wand!"
"That really isn't normal," he said with a frown. "Wonder why it's not been brought to the Order's attention yet?"
"Because it's well within the capabilities of Ministry aurors?" she asked, eyebrow quirked. He stuck his tongue out at her.
"I should owl Sirius and Kingsley," he said, mind kicking into overdrive. "I think it merits investigation."
***
Katerina had 'borrowed' some magic when she was in Salem. Some centuries earlier, a witch had wished to prove how similar witches and Muggles were, and in this vein had created some power-stealing incantations. Of course, this witch was burned before she could put her plans into action, but a few years' searching through the libraries and historical archives in Salem and the region had unearthed enough references to the witch's work to piece it all together. Katerina had spent a very cold night in the woods to get some of this magic for herself. It was enough for potion-making and broom riding, but there were still so many things she couldn't do- like get into Diagon Alley (she had to sneak in behind a real wizard or witch) or charms and the like. The more she became immersed in this world, the more she felt like she needed the same abilities as they had. This had quite naturally led to the idea of stealing someone's wand. They could always buy a new one, but she couldn't just wander into a wand shop and ask for one.
Once she was safely back at her flat, she pulled the wand she'd stolen earlier out of her bag. Funny, she thought, that such a little thing could harness such power. Flicking through the Standard Book of Spells 1, she found a simple enough sort of spell. Wingardium Leviosa. She could do that, surely? She pointed the wand at a sheet of paper and with a flourish, said:
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Nothing happened. The paper did not even stir from its place on the table. She tried the spell a few more times, trying different pronunciations, but nothing happened. With an annoyed sort of sigh, she flicked through one of the harder to procure books she'd acquired, Magic Made Easy For Muggles (But Don't Say I Told You).
"Magical persons can only use their own wand with any great success," she read aloud from the book. "Muggles will find any witch or wizard's wand absolutely useless without the aid of several highly illegal spells. These can be found in Appendix C, p 232."
Accordingly, she turned to the appendix in question. There were only two spells there. One bound the caster to the wand and allowed them to access the power to it, the other was less permanent but needed to be cast once a week. Katerina was a cautious sort of person, so chose the second spell without much hesitation.
It was more complicated and required several drops of her blood, but she did not want to risk binding herself to this thing and so would go for the second, more complex spell for the sake of safety . She took a knife and sliced open the tip of her middle finger. Quickly reciting the spell written in the book, she allowed some of her blood to fall onto the tip of the wand.
When she picked it up, she felt the magic and power contained within it that was now available to her. She knew that wands were mostly just a conductor for a witch's own magic, and it was now conducting the magic she'd stolen in Salem and magnifying the magic in the wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" she repeated. Now the sheet of paper floated into the air. Katerina whooped with joy. Time to step up her plans.
***
"Ron, have you got the special fried rice?" Deanna flicked open the cartons of Chinese takeaway on the dining room table with her wand, counting how many there were. "There's an entire tray missing!"
"Me? No, of course not!" he shouted back from the kitchen. He did not sound convincing.
"Ron!"
He opened the kitchen door. A tell-tale smudge of sweet and sour sauce on his chin was all the evidence she needed. Dee sighed.
"Put the remnants of that carton on the table now."
"Dee-"
"Ron," she said sharply. "This is for your friends."
"If they're really my friends, they'll understand," he said, still chewing.
"Ron."
"Fine." He took his fork out of the carton and put it down on the table with the rest of the food. His wife smiled at him and wiped his chin.
"There. You almost look civilised now," she told him. His arm snaked around her waist. His lips were millimetres away from hers when the doorbell rang. He growled slightly, but detached himself from Dee and opened the door.
"Harry, Hermione! You're early."
"Sorry Ron," Harry said with a grin. "Hermione demanded it."
"I wanted to get Richard to Sirius and Narcissa's in time for tea. He's having a cook-out or barbecue or something with Jamie in the garden," Hermione told them.
"Well come in, come in!" Ron said, rushing them in.
"What's up with him?" Harry asked Deanna. She smirked.
"Acute hunger."
"Ah."
"It feels like I haven't seen you both for ages," Ron said to Hermione in a mournful sort of voice.
"Well that's because you haven't," she replied. "We've all been very busy lately. I'm just glad we made it tonight, frankly."
"I should add here," said Harry, "That Hermione is the busy one. I just have a bar to run."
"And an Order," added Ron. Harry just nodded sharply.
***
"Maura is awfully late," said Dee, as she nibbled at a black bean. "I mean, I know this is Maura we're talking about, but still."
"I'll try her on the fire," said Hermione authoritatively before she disappeared into the living room."
"How late is she now?" asked Ron.
"An hour and a half," replied Harry. "Frankly, I'm amazed that Hermione lasted this long."
Hermione returned, looking concerned.
"I didn't get any response, but I'm sure I can hear her."
"Should we go over?" asked Dee.
"Yes," replied Harry and Ron together. The four of them Apparated to the gates of Connaught Manor and walked up the driveway.
"I can definitely hear her," said Harry. "What is that?"
"Oh God!" said Hermione. "I haven't heard that since my Great Uncle Luke died."
"What is it?" demanded Ron. "It sounds like she's garrotting an Augurey. Really slowly."
"Kevin Barry," Hermione replied in a depressed tone that suggested to her companions that she'd rather drink Snape-flavoured polyjuice potion than get any closer to the horrendous noise.
"Ah, Tim Finnegan lived in Walken Street!" they heard Maura caterwaul.
"That's Finnegan's Wake. I think she's doing some sort of medley of depressing Irish dirges," Hermione told them as they walked around the house to find Maura sat bolt upright on the grass near the kitchen door.
"Hello!" she said brightly- much too brightly for Maura's standards. She cleared her throat and began to sing again.
"And that Auld Triangle, can go jingle jangle... all along the banks of the Royal-"
"Maura!" Hermione shouted sharply. "What is going on here?"
"We're singing," replied Maura, waving a hand vaguely. "My name is O'Hanlon...."
"No," said Deanna. "You're singing, we're unwilling listeners."
"Been drinking?" asked Harry. Maura nodded. It was more of an attempt at a nod that became a sort of head-roll in the rendition.
"Not much."
"Why?" asked Ron, tripping over an empty bottle.
"Because I felt like it, idiot."
"But er, Maura, you don't drink," said Hermione. Ron pointed through the open back door to quite a few bottles scattered on the kitchen table. Not one of them had a drop left in them.
Maura went to start singing again, but Hermione had her wand out in a flash.
"If you sing one more note, I will hex your mouth off for a month."
Maura closed her mouth, but a distinct humming began to the tune (roughly) of Whiskey in the Jar.
"I should've known giving her those bloody records was a mistake," hissed Hermione. "Will you get her off that wet grass and inside the house?"
It took both Harry and Ron- with magic- the better part of ten minutes to get drunken Maura inside and settled down in a chair by the fire.
"How much have you actually drunk?" asked Dee. Maura shrugged.
"What's in the kitchen."
"All of that?" Hermione demanded. "What are you, an ox?"
"What?"
"Why, Maura?" asked Ron. Maura's ebullient-drunk mood disappeared to be replaced by a morose-drunk mood.
"It's the same day as I met George," she told them.
"Oh," all four replied at the same time.
"I'll sober you up," Harry told her, reaching into his wand pocket.
"No!" she shrieked. "I don't want to be sober, you stupid twonk!"
"Let her sleep it off, Harry," Hermione suggested gently.
"Yeah!" Maura retorted, sliding a little off her chair.
"If you sing, I'll let him do it," Hermione warned her. Maura yawned and her mood switched again.
"Hermione," she replied in a monotone. "I really don't care. Do what ever the bleedin' hell you like."
After a worried glance between the four sober adults, Harry moved first, and he bent down to help her up.
"Er Maura, why don't I give you a hand getting upstairs?" he asked. She rejected the offer of a hand by swatting said hand away with a badly timed slap. Instead of hitting him on the hand, she misjudged and ended up smacking him in the groin. His eyes watered.
"It's like one of those afternoon comedy films on the telly," Ron muttered to Dee, who stifled a laugh.
"Right," Harry said authoritatively, water trickling from his left eye. "That's it. Get up."
Maura stumbled to her feet and allowed Harry to yank her towards the stairs.
"You're a silly, silly girl," he told her, as he dragged her along the corridor towards her room. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because you'd make me talk about feelings, and I don't have feelings."
"I know as well as you do that that isn't true."
"Whatever," she slurred. He pulled her into her room- which was a mess- and helped her onto the bed. He dutifully removed her boots as she slumped back onto the bed, almost asleep. When he was done- why couldn't she just wear shoes like everyone else- he helped her into bed.
"Now, go to sleep. We'll come and see you tomorrow," he told her quietly. She yawned and nodded.
"All right. Thank you."
"You're welcome Maura. We love you, you know."
"Yeah." She leaned up and made a drunkenly clumsy attempt to kiss him on the cheek. Harry could see it coming but was unable to do anything about it as Maura's lips came crashing down onto his for a long moment.
"Love you guys an' all," she replied. Then she slumped down onto her pillows and quickly fell asleep. Harry quickly made his way back downstairs.
"Is she all right?" Hermione asked him, brow creased up with concern. Harry nodded, hoping that he didn't still retain his childhood ability to go very, very red.
"She's asleep."
"Are you all right?" she asked him, looking at him curiously.
"Yeah, yeah. It's... She's heavier than she looks."
"That is a terrible thing to say about a woman, Harry!" Hermione told him in a shocked voice.
"I don't want to be the selfish member of this group, but can we go and finish dinner?" asked Ron. "I'm really hungry."
"That is really selfish, yes Ron," Hermione snapped, glaring at both him and Harry. Harry for his part, looked back with confusion.
"What did I do wrong?"
"Oh... Never mind!" Hermione fumed as they walked back down the driveway.
"What's the matter, love?" Ron asked in an overly-saccharine manner. Deanna smacked him in the arm as Harry hit the other arm. "Ow!"
"Don't you ever think of anything but food?" Hermione asked him.
"Yes... Not often, but yes."
"How easy your life must be." Sarcasm oozed from every syllable as Hermione snarled it out.
"What's got into you?" Harry asked. He'd intended to sound suitably calming, but it had come out rather more like annoyance. This did not help.
"Nothing!" Hermione snapped. "I'm going home."
"But there's still food-" Ron knew this was the wrong thing to say.
"I'm not hungry!" she shouted. As soon as she was at the gates, Hermione Apparated away.
"Nice one Ron," Harry growled. "I'll have to live with that now!"
It was now Harry's turn to Apparate away in a huff. Deanna didn't speak to Ron for the rest of the evening and he was left wondering what he'd said wrong.
***
It was raining the next morning when Maura Richards' eyes finally cracked open. Raining so hard that the skies were grey and dark and a lot like night time. In fact, she had to check her clock twice before believing that it was morning and the day before was finally over.
She didn't know why that particular day held such sway over her. She didn't feel the need to block it all out on the anniversary of George's death, or on his birthday. Nor even on Deirdre's birthday- a day he was never present for. It was always on the day that had just passed once more that she felt the ever-present pain become unbearable.
It was on that day that she missed her first friend too. She was never as close to Kat as she was to her current friends, but Kat had been the first person to ever give her a chance. To refuse to accept her as she was and force her to be kinder. To give her a chance. On that day she celebrated the start of one life, but the death of another. As soon as Kat fell in love with George, it was only a matter of time before Maura fell out with her first friend.
From the moment George turned up, with his long dark hair, dark eyes, charming grin and swashbuckling ways, Maura's friendship with Kat was in danger of being destroyed. When George chose Maura over Kat, it was shattered beyond any possible repair.
Maura usually felt nothing but disgust for Kat, but on this day, she always felt sad. On this day, the anniversary of the day after she met George, she always hoped that wherever she was, Kat had found some measure of happiness.
***
The basin looked like a Pensieve but Katerina was not using it to look at memories. Made of silver, the basin was covered in writing that Katerina had identified as ancient Greek and had found a translation for in one of her stolen books. A dark, murky liquid swirled inside it as Katerina prepared whatever it was she was trying.
That time just before dawn is said to be the darkest time of the night, a time even insomniacs find sleep. Katerina, on the other hand was wide awake and ready to work. The basin that looked so much like a Pensieve would allow Katerina to enter the dreams of anyone she chose as long as their mind was open enough. It would not take a mastermind to realise that she intended to invade the subconscious minds of the Diamond. What was yet more dastardly, she intended to encroach upon their children's dreams as well, just for practice.
From what she knew of them so all so far after her preliminary investigations, Kathleen Potter would be the best start. She was loud, brash and didn't seem to hold anything back- she would be a good first try. Katerina stood over the basin and flipped through a book, Very Darke Magics For Non Magic Folke. It looked to be at least five hundred years old and was probably the only surviving copy of the book. She flicked through to page 361- 'Dreams And Their Uses' and carefully followed the instructions for the silver basin which she privately called the Dream Bowl although she knew it had the proper Greek name engraved onto it. She threw in some herbs- nothing too unusual and easily found in Tesco- and said in a clear, sharp voice,
"Kathleen Potter!" She thrust her hands into the basin.
***
Katerina felt herself become sucked into the dream. It was not as clear as she had hoped or expected it to be. Vague colours swirled around, mostly in various shades of red. After what seemed like half an hour of waiting for something to happen, Katerina saw a blurry vision of Kathleen herself flying on her broom, arms stretched out wide and a free, joyous look on her face. Katerina frowned, for Kathleen's love of flying was not exactly a secret. Indistinct shapes seemed to form in the colour before fading back to nothing.
Quite suddenly, so abruptly that Katerina jumped, a face leapt out of the vagueness, which had turned a deep crimson colour. He was incredibly handsome, blond and blue-eyed but some years older than Kathleen. Katerina didn't recognise him but had the oddest feeling that he was famous. Before she could think on it more, the smiling face disappeared and the colour changed almost imperceptibly to a red more scarlet than crimson. A new face appeared. It was also male, also blond but younger than the first- this young man seemed more around Kathleen's age. He looked less familiar but Katerina felt that Kathleen knew him well.
***
She pulled her hands from the murky depths of the basin feeling rather disappointed. She had not expected to find such resistance from the Potter girl, but she'd at least seen two faces. Perhaps she could use them- as soon as she found out who they were. She repeated the whole thing again, this time with Lilyella Potter, but came up against the same resistance. She had not expected this at all. She did not realise that Harry and Hermione Potter had been teaching their children to clear their minds before sleep since they were very small and it was now second nature to them. She did not realise that the Potters had feared such things since for their children since birth and most likely before that. She did not know that Harry's own dreams had been interfered with as a young boy and he was scrupulous in his protection of his children's dreams. She did know now that it was not going to be as easy as she had at first thought.
She would just have to try again. She would find out who those faces in Kathleen's dream were. She found dream invasion to be quite tiring and so she reluctantly headed to bed herself.
Kit and Ella both woke up at school several hours later both suffering mild headaches and both vaguely aware of having dreamt that night. Several hundred miles away in London, Katerina slept on, waiting for night to fall again so she could try again. Perhaps, she thought with a spiteful smile, she would try Maura tonight. If Maura was still Maura (and Katerina was sure that women like Maura don't really change), Katerina knew that she would not be in bed until around one in the morning. So, she didn't bother starting until two when she hoped Maura would be in a nice, deep sleep. She went through the required steps before plunging her hands into the basin.
***
Maura was surprisingly unguarded in her sleep. Maybe it was because she was a Muggle, or perhaps it was that she was so cagey during waking hours that she couldn't keep up all her defences while she slept. Whatever the reasons, Katerina stepped into a perfect Technicolor, breathtaking Cinemascope and Stereophonic-sound dream. She was hardly surprised at what she saw: Maura was dreaming of a fight. Katerina walked through the dream as if she were invisible. She barely recognised the location but realised that this must be Maura's recap of the last battle against the Old Enemy with George. Katerina had not been on the battlefield herself, she recalled bitterly: Maura and George had both insisted she stay behind out of harm's way. Now she thought with a snarl, Maura had just been trying to get her out of the way.
She watched as Maura fought a strange, semi-corporeal figure, her shield barely managing to block the rain of magic and violent blows against her. She watched as Maura grew more and more tired as the battle went on and as more soldiers around her fell. She watched like a spectator at a football match as George and Maura united to finish off the Old Enemy once and for all. Katerina watched as George threw himself in front of Maura, saving her from a blast of icy light from the strange figure she'd been fighting. Katerina's heart sank and her legs went weak as she saw George crumple onto the ground, Maura not far behind him. She didn't want to watch anymore, for she knew the rest.
As if Maura had heard her, the dream changed. She realised dimly that Maura's subconscious couldn't deal with George's death any better than Katerina could and had changed the subject. This new dream was utterly unreal to Katerina, however. It seemed far back in time, further back than either Katerina or Maura knew. A pretty red-headed woman, no more than nineteen was walking down Knightsbridge with a tall handsome young man. Katerina blinked- what was Harry Potter doing in Maura's dreams? Who was the red-headed woman? She rushed down dream-Knightsbridge after them, needing to pay no heed to the crowds. She caught up with them as they headed into Harrods.
"I know you don't see the point," she heard the woman say above the din "but you know what my sister is like. I'd rather get her something boring and Muggle-like than make her even more angry at me than she is. So be quiet and follow me round like a good boyfriend."
Katerina's ears perked up. Did Harry Potter have a girlfriend she didn't know about? She hurried after them and was finally able to get a good look at them when they paused in the toy department. It wasn't Harry Potter. This young man looked almost identical to him, she was sure of that. This man had hazel eyes, not green, and there was no scar on his forehead. The darkness etched imperceptibly into Harry Potter's face and eyes was nowhere to be found here. Information began to slot together in Katerina's brain as she watched this young man flick idly at a Monopoly board in an attempt to make the pieces move on their own. This must be Harry's father and so the woman must be his mother... the previous Heir of Maeve. Maura had dreams of other heirs' lives, including Harry Potter's mother. This was very interesting news indeed. Very interesting indeed.
The dream changed suddenly, and she found herself on a cliff amidst rain and wind. She recognised it as part of Maura's gardens at Connaught Manor. She turned around, searching for Maura. She found her, stood by the edge of the cliff, looking down at the sea below. She was wearing a long coat that flapped angrily in the wind and her hair was dripping wet. At first, Katerina hoped she might see Maura leap off the cliff, but she realised that the look on Maura's face was not one of despair but of calm. She seemed entirely at one with the weather, as if the howling winds and stinging rain complemented her mood and even her personality.
***
Katerina jerked back from the basin quite suddenly, as if Maura had woken up and kicked Katerina out of her head. She wasn't unduly worried. She could come back again and even if she never did, she had some fascinating information she could use to her advantage. How would Harry Potter feel if he knew his good friend Maura had dreams of his parents? She wondered how Harry would treat Maura after discovering this titbit of information.
Deciding it was still early enough to continue, she tried Ron Weasley. Like all the Potters, his dreams were too vague to be useful. She continued down the list and found that Rain Weasley's dream was open but pointless- her dream was the old 'suddenly being naked in a public place and being mortified' chestnut. Increasingly dissatisfied with this plan, she went to the last name on her list.
Katerina had been looking forward to this dream with more malicious glee than any other- even Maura's. She had tried to invade the Potters' minds for research, but this was merely for her own amusement. She plunged her hands into the Dream Bowl and shouted:
"Deirdre Richards!"
***
She was on the same windswept cliff she'd seen in Maura's dream and in reality. The cliffs of Connaught Manor were not damp and dreary but forty shades of lustrous green, while the sky was an almost painfully beautiful shade of blue. The sun was shining much too brightly to be realistic, but this was not even close to reality. Katerina turned to see Deirdre kick a football. She was only about seven years in this dream and her red hair was much, much shorter than it was now. She looked happy- very happy- as she booted the ball towards a laughing man.
Katerina wanted nothing more than to physically invade the dream and break it up. Seven-year-old Deirdre was playing football with her father. George was seven years older than he had been when he died, although the years had not made much mark on him. His brown hair had been allowed to grow even longer than it had been when he was twenty (then, she remembered, it had brushed against his shoulders) and was tied back very neatly in a ponytail. He was laughing with his daughter, gently kicking the ball back to her so she could reach it.
"Come on, darling!" he called to the girl. "Pretend you're Michael Owen!"
"My daughter is not a Liverpool fan, no matter how much you try to indoctrinate her."
Katerina spun around. She had not noticed Maura sat behind her on the grass reading. Reading! When had Maura ever read anything before? Katerina, more stunned by this than George's presence in the dream, moved closer in order to see what the book was.
"Mummy! Come and play!" Deirdre demanded.
"In a minute, Red."
"Hermione won't mind if you don't finish reading it today," said George. As Maura yawned and flipped the book shut, Katerina caught sight of the title: Warriors In Love: The Battling Richardses by Hermione Granger. Her blood began to boil.
"No she won't, git-face, but her editor wants to send it for printing tomorrow and I want to know what she's said about us before everyone else does."
"Even the good stuff?" George teased.
"Especially the good stuff, git-face."
"That's not like you."
"She hasn't written anything bad," Maura informed him. "You're her bestest buddy in the whole wide world."
"No I'm not," said George, still kicking the ball back and forth with Deirdre.
"You are an' all. Ever since the Great George saved her life."
"Shut up," he begged. She laughed.
"You're her heeeeeee-ro! If she weren't so potty for Potter, I'd be jealous."
"Of Hermione?" George asked, stopping the ball with his left foot. "You've got nothing to worry about. I'd much prefer a sarky, violent girl who calls me names to a sweet-natured, kind-hearted, hard-working girl like Hermione."
"Humph."
"Maura, you've the only girl who can kick my arse and that's something I respect." George leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of her head. "And I love you for it too."
"You have issues, dear boy."
"Daddy!" Deirdre shouted. "I want to play!"
"Join us, Maz," he asked her. She stood up and glared.
"Call me Maz again and I will kick your arse."
George just laughed and, as Maura went to move towards Deirdre, he rather mischievously slapped her backside. Before he knew what had happened, he was flat on his back, Maura pinning him to the ground, her hand around his neck. Her eyes gleamed triumphantly and she wore a satisfied smirk. Behind them, Deirdre giggled.
"Mummy! If you beat Daddy up we won't be able to play football!"
"For you, my Red, I will leave him alone," she told her daughter, loosening her grip on George. Quick as a flash, she was lying flat on her back, George pinning her down.
"You know," he murmured, "This is the second time today I've had you on your back, Maura." He flashed her a devilish grin as she attempted to wriggle out from under him. They just stared at each other for a long moment, neither willing to look away first.
"Daddy!" Deirdre's now impatient voice broke into their staring contest. "I want to play football now!"
"All right, princess." He got up and held a hand out to Maura.
"Liverpool versus Tottenham?" he asked.
"Bring it on, soldier."
As the Liverpool (George and Deirdre) versus Tottenham (Maura and Deirdre, who insisted on playing on both teams so they were even) began, Katerina left the dream. She had seen more than enough. Much, much more than enough.
***
When she arrived back in reality, Katerina had a great urge to vomit. She hoped, rather viciously, that Deirdre remembered such dreams as this and was tortured by what could have been. She pushed the bowl away so hard that the contents spilled out over the table and onto the carpet. She ignored the growing stain and stormed away to sleep.
***
"My head hurts," grumbled Maura. She rubbed her tired eyes and yawned. Hermione looked at her. Maura was scruffier than usual and the smudges of darkness under her eyes were pronounced. Maura didn't even manage a smile for the waitress who brought ice cream to her.
"You don't look well," Hermione remarked. "Something wrong?"
"I didn't sleep well, that's all. Woke up randomly in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to sleep."
"Did you even try?" Hermione asked. Maura nodded.
"Couldn't."
"So you went downstairs and stared at the television for the rest of the night?"
"Something like that. Listen," Maura said quietly, looking around at the patrons of Florean Fortescue's suspiciously. "I remembered this dream I had last night."
"Dream?" Hermione was immediately on guard. "What sort of dream."
"Bog-standard reliving of the time George died, then it changed. Hermione, I was dreaming of Lily Evans."
Hermione tried valiantly not to choke on her hot chocolate, but failed.
"Lily Evans?"
"Yes."
"Lily 'Harry's Mum' Evans?"
"Yeah. Lily 'Harry's Mum, Heir of Maeve, Killed by Voldemort' Evans," Maura said in a tone so flippant Hermione knew it was troubling her. "And his dad, actually. They were in Harrods doing some shopping."
"Was it a dream or a memory?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Felt like it could've been either, to be honest."
"Hmm. You were born before Lily died, so it's not as simple as reincarnation theory," mused Hermione, mentally flicking through an encyclopaedia in her mind.
"It was a bit freaky. First I thought I was dreaming of Harry."
"Yes," said Hermione dryly. "That is freaky."
"For me it is."
"True."
"Listen, don't tell him about this."
"Oh Maura, I don't-"
"How do you think he'll feel when he finds out I've been dreaming or remembering stuff from his mum's life? That his mum and dad were in my dream?"
"I think he'd rather know."
"No, I'm telling you... This wasn't the first time I've dreamt of her, I'm sure I have. You know that feeling you get when you're dreaming? The one where you know you've been there before but it couldn't possibly be in real life? That you've been here in a dream before? That's how it felt."
"Oh."
"I... At least help me find out what the bloody hell it's about before we torture one of my best mates with the fact that I get his dead parents piped into my brain at bedtime."
"All right. And I must say, your turn of phrase is quite touching."
"Thanks."
"Just to change the subject, did you hear about poor Susan Bones?"
"Nope."
"Didn't you read the newspaper this morning?"
"I fell asleep in front of Spartacus for half an hour then came straight here."
"Oh. Well, she's a witch. Was in my year at school actually. Anyway, she was mugged here in the Alley last night. Had her purse and wand stolen."
"Yeah? Muggings are hardly uncommon."
"In the outside world perhaps, but not here," Hermione waved a hand around vaguely. "Not even amongst wizardkind. And especially not stealing someone's wand. Depriving them of it during a duel or some such thing, possibly... but stealing someone's wand is... I don't know how to describe it. Just not done."
"So is the Order suspicious?"
"That's why Harry isn't with us right now."
"Oh. Think it's a Muggle?"
"No witch or wizard would need to steal someone else's wand to actually use it."
"Can a Muggle even use a wand?" Maura asked, possibly with a little envy. Hermione shrugged.
"I'm not sure, to be honest. There's not much documentation or research on the subject. I suppose... Well, I don't think anyone's tried."
"Do you think it could be done?"
"I don't know. Perhaps if the Muggle could back it up with some other source of magic. But I can't think of any such source that isn't dark."
"I'll have a word with my Guardians," Maura told her. "They're more in tune with the Muggle world than either of us."
"I sometimes forget you're not a witch."
"I don't. Mind you, I wouldn't trust me with a wand as far as I can lob me." Maura laughed heartily. "I'll go see them after lunch."
"They'll see you just like that?" Hermione asked curiously. Maura smirked.
"I am the Heir of Maeve, the Warrior Queen of Connaught, Commander of the Armies of the West, Mother and Guardian of the Heir of Ulster and Regent Commander of the Armies of the North. I don't have to make an appointment."
This time, the raucous laughter was shared between them.
***
Maura's Guardians lived in an unassuming little house in West London. It was decorated in a style typical of women their age and generation: all chintz and doilies. A closer inspection, however, revealed books on all manner of unusual subjects ranging from ancient weaponry to the myths of Ancient Persia.
"We haven't seen you in a while, dear," said Clara kindly. Maura was not the sort for small talk at the best of times, so she cut immediately to the chase.
"Someone's nicked a wand. The magical sorts think it's probably a Muggle and they wonder if you've heard anything on the guardianship grapevine."
"It's been quiet lately. Haven't you noticed?"
"I have," Maura said, the old desire for a decent barney resurfacing again. "Well, it was worth asking, I suppose."
"It was. We'll tell you if we hear anything out of the ordinary."
"You want to be careful you know. Sometimes, it's the ordinary that turns out to be most dangerous."
"That's awfully philosophical for you, Maura," Clara said with a slight and affection smile.
"It's not mine. See you around, Clara."
"Stay safe."
Maura closed the front door behind her, heart sinking. Even after all these years, she found it hard to deal with when her Guardians didn't have all the answers.
***
"Harry? Is that you?" Hermione put her quill down and looked at the clock. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning, her hot chocolate was cold in the mug and he hadn't come home yet. She drained her mug with a grimace and headed downstairs.
She expected to find Harry sat at the kitchen table yawning, but instead found Ron stood there looking uncomfortable. He shifted from one foot to the other.
"Ron? Whatever are you doing here? It's so late!"
He yawned loudly and she pulled out a chair for him.
"Harry asked me to stop by on my way home."
"Where has he gone off to this time?"
"Monaco."
"Monaco? What could possibly be important in Monaco at this time of night?"
"I'm not sure," Ron rested his head on his hands. "Gambling and champagne, perhaps."
"Don't be silly," she said briskly. "It's too late. Dee must be waiting up for you."
"Yeah." He didn't move.
"Are you tired?"
"What do you think?"
"I'll make you some Enervating Hot Chocolate. I don't want you apparating if you're half-asleep."
"You don't have to."
"I'm making it for myself anyway."
"All right then."
Hermione bustled around and listened to Ron chat idly as she made them their drinks. Then the idle chatter continued as they drank.
"I'd better get home," Ron said after he'd finished. She nodded.
"Good night, Ron."
"No Hermione, good morning."
Impulsively, Ron kissed her on the cheek and bounded outside. A 'pop' later and she knew he'd gone. She went back up to her study to continue working until Harry got back home.
***
Harry shuffled tiredly through the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters on arriving back from Monaco. He wanted nothing more than to be fast asleep in his own bed with his arms wrapped around his own wife, but instead he was searching for Maura Richards. The wand theft had been disturbing for the Order and they had all gone all out to check out the usual suspects. He had chased one such suspect all the way to Monte Carlo.
Instead of finding Susan Bones' stolen wand, he found thousands of galleons' worth of extremely dodgy magical contraband. This had kept him tied up for hours, but he couldn't rest until he'd heard Maura's report from her Guardians. He found her, as expected, in the little room she used as an office when acting for the Diamond. She treated it more like a storeroom-cum-rubbish dump than an office, and when he opened the door, she was curled up on the only nearly-clear surface: her desk. She was also fast asleep and he felt rather guilty for having made her wait for him. He moved to wake her up so she could go home.
"Naff off James," she mumbled suddenly. Something about the tone made Harry freeze. As far as he knew, she didn't know anyone called James, did she? He certainly couldn't think of anyone off the top of his head. Then, she spoke again: "Petunia will go barmy, idiot!"
His blood ran cold for a moment, then ran hot with jealousy. He shook her awake.
"What was that?" he demanded. Harry Potter was particularly bad tempered when tired, and he was frustrated by his lack of success too, so he was perhaps overly harsh with her.
Maura slid off the desk in surprise at being awoken in such a fashion.
"What the-" she cut herself off to allow the fog of sleep and dreams time to clear. "I dreamed... oh Harry…"
"You were dreaming," he said harshly. "You were dreaming that you were my mother."
"Don't take it to heart," she said with a yawn. "I dream of a lot of the heirs. Last week I dreamed I was some scullery maid in Swansea eighty years ago."
"How long?" Harry demanded. She shrugged, and he found her nonchalance even more irritating. "A long time, I take it. You didn't think to tell me?"
"I didn't know how to tell you. It's not something that comes up in ordinary conversation. It doesn't happen very often, although I've remembered more lately. Harry..." Maura paused to yawn again. "I just didn't know what to say. I figured that what you didn't know couldn't hurt me."
Harry managed to crack a smile as she once more mangled a cliche.
"Tell me about them. The dreams I mean. Do you see my father? Sirius? Remus?"
Maura, confident that his temper had subsided, sat back down on her desk and began to tell him the dreams of Lily Evans.
By the time they'd finished, the sun was already risen and at Ruairi House, Hermione Potter was asleep at her desk.
***
Author’s Note: I hope you like the latest chapter, although I do warn you it’s pretty much a transition of a chapter. Like I’ve said before, this was all devised and largely written before OotP, let alone HBP, so the universe involved is really different to the canon we know and mostly-love.
I hope you like it and review down at the bottom.
*
Chapter Four - Presents and the Press
“The Magical, Mystical, Marvellous Diamond!” The Daily Prophet, 30th June 1998.
by Eleonorina Snodgrass.
Since the end of the war and the final defeat of Voldemort, plenty of stories have been coming out about the way it was done. Of course, we all knew that Britain’s own Harry Potter was behind the triumphant destruction of the demon who has done so much to us over the years.
The Daily Prophet can now bring you EXCLUSIVE news that Harry Potter was not alone in his battle with the Dark Lord and that he and some other Hogwarts students tapped into deep and ancient magic to do it.
The Daily Prophet has uncovered documents that prove that Harry Potter and his two friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, also recently of Gryffindor House and neither strangers to the gossip pages of this newspaper, were involved in a conspiracy to take ancient magic and use it to defeat Lord Voldemort. The Prophet also has proof that another friend, a Muggle no less, was also involved in the fighting.
While this newspaper takes the view that the evil had to be quashed, this newspaper also demands an explanation as to why three children and a Muggle were allowed to take the defeat of Voldemort into their young and vulnerable hands.
In the deepest depths of the Daily Prophet archives just off Diagon Alley, Katerina sipped at her coffee, and flicked to the next article.
“Dumbledore Speaks!”, The Daily Prophet, 2nd July 1998
Albus Dumbledore, interview by Peggory Greck.
In another Daily Prophet EXCLUSIVE, we can bring you the official word from Hogwarts’ headmaster on the many rumours and claims flying around Magical Britain in the last few days.
Albus Dumbledore is the sort of fellow that commands respect, even to a cynical old hack like me. I think it’s the eyes peering over the glasses, eyes that have seen things in one hundred and fifty years that youngsters of seventy-six such as myself can hardly even imagine. The normally genial headmaster is hardly in the best of moods thanks to the nonsensical rumours of conspiracy theories, murder/suicide pacts and claims that children were used as wand fodder for the Death Eaters.
PG: Might as well ask it outright, Albus: Did you use children to fight the Death Eaters?
AD: Ministry law states that wizards and witches reach majority at seventeen. However, Ministry law also states in Section 1, sub-section 232, paragraph 133.2, entitled “Special Permissions During Attacks On Magical British Educational Establishments 1721, revised 1822” states that anyone over the age of fourteen may, if they give written permission, defend their school from attack by anyone. We were fortunate to need only a small number of our Fourth and Fifth year students in very minor roles. Nobody was forced or coerced into doing anything in my school.
PG: What about Harry Potter and his friends? Rumours are swirling around about the ancient and mysterious Order of Phoenix and-
AD: I shall stop you there, my old friend. The Order of the Phoenix is certainly ancient, although how much it is mysterious is in the eye of the beholder.
PG: That doesn’t answer my question.
AD: No, it does not. I have consulted with the people involved, and I am able to tell you that Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Maura Richards were instrumental, entirely instrumental, in the final defeat of Voldemort. They formed something called the Diamond, which like many of the rumours have said, channelled old and powerful magic. Ancient magic. Through their shared bond they were able to destroy our old enemy once and, thankfully, for all.
PG: I’m surprised you told us this.
AD: The point of a deterrent is that it deters people, and so we must make it known. So now I announce that these fine young men and women borrowed the most ancient of magic and by giving it back freely, earned the right to use it again. They will have no doubts about uniting to fight evil again. The Diamond are, in my opinion, a great beacon of hope and protection for the world. Something we did not have last time until the very end. I try to learn from our mistakes.
PG: What say you to the arguments that Harry Potter and his friends were too young to shoulder such responsibility?
AD: Harry himself said it to me: he’s been facing mortal peril at least once a year since he was a child of eleven. Such things force a boy to grow up. The same thing happened to his friends, I am so very sad to say. They were more than capable. Harry Potter was destined to face Voldemort and he did so with bravery and dignity. Most of all, he did the job he intended to do.
PG: How do you feel now that the war is over?
AD: I intend to retire within the next two years. Professor McGonagall will take over from me. Now that Voldemort is gone, my time at Hogwarts is winding up. I shall retire to a nice quiet little cottage with a spinning wheel and a loom.
PG: Why a spinning wheel and a loom?
AD: I find a person can never have too many socks.
Katerina noted the name Dumbledore- it had come up a number of times before in her research. Then, with a yawn and another sip of her coffee, she flicked to another article.
“How Not To Have It All”, The Daily Prophet, 22nd November 2003
by Hermione Granger.
I’ve often wondered how women who ‘have it all’ do it all. Even for witches there are only twenty-four hours in a day (Time Turners? Been there, done that, got the headache.) and we still have to ‘do it all’. I found myself a few days ago looking into a mirror at the age of *cough* twenty-four, mother-of-two, columnist for not one but two publications, published fact and fiction author, wife of a living legend and owner of a little red car.
I am inordinately proud of my car. It’s my link to the Muggle world and it’s still the best way of transporting two incredibly fussy children to the shops when they just won’t Floo. Which of course, they just never will. On Friday, it broke down. I know nothing about cars, Harry knows even less and a close friend’s advice extended so far as “kick it and see what happens.”
So I had to find the phone number of a mechanic willing to drive up to our house, but not being fully connected to the Muggle world these days, it’s easier said than done. When he got there, the mechanic took one look at me, the t-shirt I was wearing that had bits of children’s breakfast on it, the two screeching children and mentally put his prices up fifty percent. Had Harry been there, all manly and appearing like he might know what the mechanic was talking about, I might not have had to fork over so much money for something probably quite minor.
I didn’t even have much sterling in the house- I even tried my friend Maura, who living in Ireland, only has the Euro these days. Typical. So there I was, two screeching children, mucky t-shirt, broken car, being stiffed by a mechanic and still no milk in the house.
I should also mention that at this point (10:15, Friday Morning), I had a full six thousand words of articles and columns to write and the hero of the western world was fifteen minutes late for taking the girls so I could get those six thousand words written.
It was at this point that I made a stunningly obvious observation: I can ‘have it all’, but my own sanity will be the victim. Still, worse things happen at sea.
Katerina snickered and sipped her coffee again.
***
Hermione woke up with a sore neck, as she did when Harry didn’t disturb her from where she’d fallen asleep in her study. At some point, he’d come in and put a blanket over her and turned off the light, but that didn’t stop the pain in her neck. She’d been up late and couldn’t imagine when he’d actually got home.
A cursory glace at the clock told her it was well past breakfast time, and so she went downstairs to make sure Harry and Richard had left in good time and good order. The kitchen looked like a flour bomb had hit it- bowls with sludgy stuff in them were dotted around the room, spoons and forks and bits of eggshell cluttered the surfaces and the cold tap had been left dripping.
In the midst of all this mess was a note: “Richard wanted to make breakfast. Didn’t have time to clean up. Sorry. See you later. H.”
With a barely controlled growl, Hermione turned on the hot tap and reached for the first bits of washing up. She would have some Enervating Hot Chocolate soon- but she had to clean up to get to it.
***
Katerina had been reading through the archives for Diamond-related articles for twelve hours. She had paused only for the occasional break and was now almost up-to-date with current news. In twelve hours, she had read through fifteen years’ worth of life played out in public.
She realised that these magical people were heartened every time something nice happened to the Diamond- Harry and Hermione’s perfect marriage tied up one half of the Diamond, Ron was kept happy by his shaman work and his pretty children and Maura... nobody knew much about her, but they supposed she was content to be a part of the Diamond. Every time something nice happened, the world sighed a little sigh of relief, knowing that the Diamond was safe and so therefore, were they.
***
In that case, the magical world might have furrowed a collective brow at the tense situation the Diamond found themselves in one evening. A week after his trip to Monaco and back, Harry Potter was late for dinner with his wife and his friends. So too, was Maura.
“He’s probably had to fill in paperwork for the ministry,” Ron told Hermione. “You know even better than I do the kind of nonsense bureaucracy they deal in.”
“It’s their stock in trade, yes, Ron. However, he is two hours late for something he arranged. I have articles to write, you know, a son to try and raise, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera-”
“I know that.”
“I’ve got to send the latest patterns to New York,” Deanna added. “The summer collection doesn’t sew itself.”
Hermione looked most grumpy, although not at Deanna in particular. She ran a hand through her hair, yanking hard at the tangles she found. After a growl of a sigh, she spoke again:
“Oh Deanna, go. I’m sure you’ll be finished before he’s even back. You mustn’t put yourself out on Harry’s account.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” Deanna smiled gratefully and apologetically at Hermione before making a swift exit. Ron, having got himself a glass of Butterbeer, slouched down in the chair opposite his friend.
“Cheer up, Hermione,” he poked her foot with his. “Could be worse.”
“Yes it could, he could be out all night drinking.”
Ron coughed uneasily at memories that lurked just under the surface. Memories of a ‘lost weekend’ spent acting like the foolish boy he’d once been.
“Hermione-”
“Don’t Hermione me, Ron. I don’t mind him being late, I do mind him not sending some form of communication through to me. I know he can from almost anywhere, because he has in the past. Don’t stand up for him. Don’t do it. You’re my best friend as well, remember.”
“I know. I wasn’t going to stick up for him, anyway.”
“Good.”
They sat together in uneasy silence and allowed the clock to just tick-tock the evening away.
***
Katerina was about to call it a night and go home when, as she was putting the many parchments back, a small article hidden on page four of one caught her eye. She had missed it before, but now the black print leapt at her off the page.
“Hero Harry’s All-Night Party!”, The Daily Prophet, 4th December 1999.
by Salacia Slye.
The Boy Who Lived grew up to be the Boy Who Partied last night thanks to the four hundred and seventy-sixth Annual Wizards’ Boat Race. Handsome Harry, 19, was part of the victorious Hogwarts Old Boys team, who beat the Salem Alumni team by a hair’s breadth. Both teams followed Harry and best friend Ron Weasley to The Leaky Cauldron for a celebratory jar or six before moving onto, rumour has it, a Muggle nightclub called Chinawhite. Harry was finally seen shuffling towards the Cauldron’s fireplace at a mind-boggling quarter past nine the next morning. New wife Hermione, who he married in August, is rumoured to be staying at a friend’s house in retaliation for Harry’s wild behaviour of late. Sort it out, Harry!
Katerina grinned and made a very careful note of what she’d read.
***
The sound of the back door slamming shut woke Hermione up. For a moment she blinked, trying to get her bearings, when she realised that she had fallen asleep on the sofa and the weight on her shoulder was Ron’s head.
“Harry, is that you?” she called out, moving off the sofa. She found Harry leaning heavily against the fridge drinking straight out of a milk carton. “Whatever have you been doing all this time?”
He mumbled something incomprehensible through the milk.
“I’m so tired, Hermione,” he said, and his expression and posture certainly confirmed this.
“You were supposed to have dinner with Ron, Dee and Maura, remember?”
“Oh. Yeah. Well, Maura had a lead about Katerina. Someone’s been buying some dodgy books in Covent Garden.”
“Dodgy books?”
“So dodgy that the owner contacted the Ministry. He was worried he’d sold someone the wrong stuff.”
“And?”
“And it was nothing. Sod all. Less than that. Turned out that the bloke’s wife owned the shop and he was trying to get back at her for some argument or another. Hours we wasted on it.”
Hermione put her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it away.
“I’m sorry I ruined your evening,” he said in such a way that sounded like he wasn’t sorry at all.”
“Ron is still here. He fell asleep. You can be the one to wake him up and point him in the direction of the fire.”
Harry shrugged and put the carton back before he shuffled into the front room. Immediately, Hermione took the empty carton out of the fridge and threw it in the bin. With a last yawn, she went to bed.
***
It was harder than getting access to the Daily Prophet archive, but after a few days’ discreet negotiation, Katerina was granted access to the Witch Weekly archive. The story she’d given was research on make-up charms and their side effects. The real reason was her usual reason.
“Potterlets Go To School!” Witch Weekly, 25th August 2011.
In one week’s time, the eldest of Harry and Hermione Potter’s children will be heading off to Hogwarts for the very first time. Only time will tell what house Lilyella and Kit, 11, will end up in, but I think people have a pretty good idea! Homesickness shouldn’t be a problem for the pretty Potter girls: their friends Paul and Rain Weasley and Flynn Malfoy will be joining them in their first year, while family friends are already at the school.
It’s thought that both Harry and Hermione and Ron Weasley will accompany the girls to Kings Cross on 1st September to see them off on the Hogwarts Express. Maura Richards will also be in attendance- she’ll be seeing off her daughter Deirdre for her fourth year in Gryffindor.
Katerina made a few notes about the pictures of the girls- they looked as she thought- Kit, the one who looked like Harry and Lilyella, the one who looked more like Hermione. Then, she put the magazine back and changed tack: She would investigate Hogwarts. Then, to dreams.
***
“Kit!” Rain called as Kit slouched into the Great Hall five minutes before the end of breakfast one rainy morning. “You’re so late!”
“There’s some post for you as well,” said Paul between mouthfuls of food.
“I couldn’t get to sleep all last night,” Kit grumbled, rubbing her forehead.
“Why?” asked Rain between bites of bacon.
“No idea. I just felt... weird, I don’t know. What is this?” Kit’s attention was now drawn to the little box on the table.
“That came for you in the mail,” Ella told her.
“I’ve got one as well,” Deirdre chipping from where she was sat with the other Seventh years. “I haven’t opened it yet.”
“Well, we don’t have time now,” Ella said firmly. “Time for class.”
“Oh,” snapped Kit irritably. “Snape can wait thirty naffing seconds for me to open it.” She ripped the wrapping from the box and threw it carelessly onto the table.
“A Gramo-gram?” she asked, reading the label. “Who’d send me a Gramo-gram?”
“It’s not me,” her sister told her, echoed quickly by Rain, Paul and Deirdre, who had discovered that her box also contained a Gramo-gram.
“I bet it’s some prank by Flynn,” growled Kit, looking over at the Slytherin table. She opened the box and a miniature gramophone horn popped out of the top. Normally such gags had recordings of music or jokes made by the sender. This voice was not of a fourteen-year-old Malfoy.
“Watch your back, Baby Potter,” the harsh, female voice said, crackling slightly. “You and your precious sister should look out for the things that go bump in the night. You have been warned.”
Kit dropped the Gramo-gram like a hot potato and it fell onto the table with a clatter. She looked up at her friends.
“Not from Flynn then,” she said, all the blood draining from her face as she spoke. She felt terribly light-headed and was worried she might actually faint.
“What’s on yours, Deirdre?” asked Lilyella, ever-sensible as always, but clearly petrified by this new development.
“Here,” Deirdre opened her box and an identical gramophone popped out.
“Your time is coming, little Deirdre,” the same voice cooed most menacingly. “You’re not even meant to exist, but don’t you worry that pretty little red head of yours, I’m going to sort it all out for you and your darling mama. I’m going to put everything right. You’ll see.”
“Why aren’t you all going to lessons?” The shadow of Professor Snape fell over the scared little foursome as his sneering, displeased voice brought them back to the reality of Hogwarts. “You should be in my classroom right now. With the exception of you, Miss Richards. You should be setting an example for the younger students of punctuality.”
“Yes sir,” she mumbled quietly.
“Oh, Professor Snape?” Kit asked. He sighed, probably expecting one of her famous excuses. He swore Sirius was teaching them to her.
“Yes, Potter?” he asked. She said nothing, but instead started up her Gramo-gram again. The rarely ruffled deputy head-teacher looked extremely unnerved when the message finished.
“When did this arrive?” he demanded, picking it up and examining it closely.
“This morning, sir,” Lilyella said. “Deirdre got one too.”
“You two, follow me,” he instructed curtly, before stalking out of the Great Hall, black robes billowing behind him.
***
The Headmistress was most concerned by this turn of events, most concerned indeed. The two Gramo-grams were sat on her desk, while Deirdre and Kit sat in the chairs Kit was more used to sitting in to be chastised for bickering with Flynn Malfoy. Professor Snape had barely taken the time to explain the situation to Professor McGonagall before rushing off somewhere. Now Professor McGonagall handed the two girls biscuits in an attempt to set them more at ease.
“We’ve contacted your parents and the relevant people,” she told the still ashen-faced Kit and Deirdre. “You’re sure you don’t recognise the owls who brought the boxes?”
“I didn’t,” replied Deirdre.
“I was late to breakfast, Professor. It was waiting for me when I got there,” admitted Kit. Professor McGonagall nodded gravely, quietly noting Kit’s tired face.
“Do you recognise the voice?” she asked. Both girls shook their heads.
“Perhaps the Order will be able to solve this mystery,” McGonagall mused.
“The Order?” Deirdre asked immediately. She received nothing but an enigmatic smile in return. A moment later, Harry Potter appeared in the fireplace, a Harry’s Bar glass and tea towel in his hand. He’d clearly come as immediately as he could.
“What’s going on?” he demanded, brushing soot from his cloak. Before Professor McGonagall could begin, Maura Richards stepped out of the fire, absolutely covered in mud.
“What’s going on?” she demanded, unwittingly echoing Harry. McGonagall quickly recounted the girls’ story. Harry and Maura shared a look of great concern.
“Sounds like Order business,” Harry said. Kit and Deirdre were dying to know what they were talking about, but said nothing.
“I want to hear it,” Maura said. Kit grabbed her Gramo-gram and started it up.
When the Gramo-gram had finished, Kit looked up. Maura looked like she’d heard a ghost. In fact, nobody in the room had ever seen her react as she did now. She had a death grip on the mantelpiece above the fire as if her life depended on it, and her breath came quickly, shallowly.
“Mum?” Deirdre asked, more terrified by her mother’s reaction than the Gramo-gram. Harry got out of his seat and moved over to Maura. She opened her eyes and stared wild-eyed at her daughter.
“Play yours. You said you got one. Play it,” she said harshly. Deirdre, a little scared, did so. When it was done, Maura’s shock was replaced with burning anger.
“I’ll kill her. I will rip her fingers off one by one, tear her arms and legs off, pluck her eyelashes out and then I’ll kill her,” Maura growled in a rather barmy-sounding voice.
“Do you know whose voice that is?” Harry asked her, now guiding her into a chair. As he sat her down, Maura’s cold blue eyes met his warm green eyes.
“It’s Katerina. My best friend.”
There fell a shocked, uneasy silence. Harry attempted to find a reason for Maura’s old friend to have reappeared in their lives, and the other three wondered who this Katerina could possibly be.
“Maura... you should get yourself cleaned up,” Harry said, firmly in hero-mode. “I don’t even want to know what you’ve been doing.”
Maura looked down at her mud-caked clothes and smiled slightly. “I’ve been trying to look after Deirdre’s flowers. Hasn’t really worked out.”
“Well, take Deirdre home and clean up. We’ll meet you at HQ.”
“Are you going to get Hermione?” Maura asked. Harry sighed at this new cog in his rapidly forming plan.
“I should do, yeah. Meet you there, all right?”
“Will do. Come on Red, things to do, people to maim.”
Deirdre obediently followed her mother into Professor McGonagall’s fire and together they Flooed away to Connaught Manor.
“Minerva,” Harry said. “I want to take Kit and Ella to the HQ. I think they need to be brought up to speed.”
“Very well,” she said with a nod. She summoned Dobby and asked him to fetch Lilyella Potter. After a few moments of Harry Potter-worship by the elf, he was off.
“Daddy,” Kit asked in a small voice. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you soon, sweetheart,” he said, putting the two Gramo-grams into his cloak pocket. He turned back to the Headmistress, “I’ll talk to the rest of the Diamond, and we’ll discuss where to go from here.”
“All right,” she replied. “Kit, I will inform your teachers that you’re excused from lessons for the rest of the day.”
“No Potions? Result!”
“Kitty!” Harry tried to sound displeased, but the memory of his own Potions lessons were still a little too fresh to sound convincing. A moment later Lilyella burst into the office.
“What’s going on? Dad, what are you doing here? Is this about Kit’s Gramo-gram? Where did Deirdre go?”
“I’ll explain everything,” Harry told her. “For now, we’ll Floo to the bar, all right?”
“The bar?” asked Kit. “Why are we going there?”
“All will become clear in due course. Minerva, I’ll try to have them back in time for dinner. If not, I’ll owl you.”
Professor McGonagall nodded and watched with a worried expression as Harry and his daughters Flooed away. It was only after they’d gone that she discovered her floor was spattered with mud and she’d just acquired a Harry’s Bar glass and tea towel.
***
Kit and Ella had never been downstairs at their father’s bar before. They were aware of the stone spiral staircase at the back of the stockroom, but something- magic perhaps- had made them keep their distance. Even as small children playing games while Harry worked, they had never gone down the stairs. Something tacit and vague had stopped them. So to now be taken down those same steps after a strange morning was odd to the extreme.
Now she was old enough to understand the references, Lilyella thought Harry’s to be a lot like Rick’s in Casablanca. The same kind of odd, wildly disparate clientele, the same enigmatic host. As they went down with Harry, the twins wondered what awaited them. Portraits lined the walls of the stairwell, mostly of members of their extended family, including one of six-year-old Lilyella sat watching as Dung Fletcher swung Kit around by her ankles, and another of Tonks cradling a baby Jamie Black. The steps came to an end in such a small room (Lilyella thought it was more like an ante-chamber, but Kit thought of it as a room) that Kit had to remain on the stairs while her father inserted his wand into the lock of a steel door set into the wall. The twins heard him mumble something, although it was not loud enough to be distinct. The lock slid open loudly, Harry removed his wand and held the door open for the twins.
It reminded them of a set in the James Bond films Harry was so fond of. A vast array of sneakoscopes, foe glasses and other equipment were in action on one side of the room while the other side of the room was taken up by a bank of computers working under both electrical and magical power. A few people moved here and there, clearly involved in some sort of administrative activity.
“Girls,” Harry said “this is the everyday headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.”
Both girls’ mouths dropped open. The HQ of an order so secret and yet so famous that it was considered a fantastic myth was in the cellar of their father’s bar?
“Hello girls!” Their mother had arrived and looked as concerned as Harry had when he arrived at Hogwarts. “Take a seat, don’t be shy.”
The twins found a couple of space-age looking chairs and sat down.
“For a long time, I wondered what I was meant to do with my life,” Harry explained, dropping into a seat opposite them. “When you were born, I decided to put a career on hold and take care of you. Hermione was able to work on her writing that way. Then when you were five and went off to school, I was approached by the rest of the Order as to becoming an Auror. It was something I’d wanted to do, but I was so recognisable that I’d never be any good at undercover operations. That is unless nobody thought I was an Auror.”
“You’re an Auror?” Ella asked.
“Not exactly. The Order is affiliated with the Ministry, but we don’t answer to them. In the last ten years we’ve become a kind of independent, international magical law-enforcement agency. We employ all kinds of people, mostly doing surveillance work to keep an eye on known and suspected magical criminals. We arrest them when we need to as well. We don’t want to give another Voldemort the chance to rise up.”
“So all the times you were all doing something for the bar?” asked Ella. Her father beamed at her.
“Almost always a show. We work with Ministry Aurors to bring in lawbreakers. About half the British Aurors are Order members or employees.”
“Hang on a minute!” Kit demanded suddenly. “Are you saying that you’re in the Order of the Phoenix?”
Harry smiled at her. So easily impressed, he thought.
“Yes. So is your mother. We have been since we were at school, but it was a very different sort of thing back then.”
Kit and Ella could not have been more surprised or filled with more respect and admiration for their parents. They knew of their work during the war with Ron and Maura and that they were supposedly some sort of cosmic team, but this- this was momentous!
Before Harry or Hermione could answer any of the twins’ many questions, Maura and Deirdre came in, the latter looking as overwhelmed as the twins.
“Sorry we’re late,” said Maura. “What did we miss?”
“The obligatory jaw-dropping,” Harry said with a grin. Hermione coughed.
“If we could continue? I believe our daughters received death threats this morning?”
“Well, she didn’t actually say-” Kit started, only to be silenced by a stern look from her mother.
“It was Katerina,” Maura said. “I... I never kept much of an eye on her. Didn’t think a Muggle like her could really pose a risk.”
“If she’s a Muggle, how did she get hold of a Weasley Wheeze?” Deirdre asked.
“A good question,” Hermione said. “Any ideas, anybody?”
“Not right away,” Harry said, “Hermione, get hold of the Intelligence offices in America, maybe they’ve heard something. If that doesn’t yield much, we can move on to Intelligence elsewhere.”
“Any idea where in America?” Hermione asked Maura as she scribbled furiously on a roll of oddly-coloured parchment. Maura shook her head.
“I’ll get hold of the Guardians,” she replied, going for another sheet of parchment. “Maybe they know.”
“We should owl Carmen in Boston to give her some warning,” Harry said. “I’ll get hold of Tonks and Kingsley.”
“Find Sirius as well,” Hermione said rather coldly. “I want to know why we didn’t know she was back until she’s sending my children presents.”
“Fine, fine. I think he’s in Paris with Narcissa,” said Harry with a sigh. “He’ll be annoyed, but I’ll track him down.”
Deirdre, Kit and Ella sat in shocked silence as their parents- people they knew really only as figures demanding tidy rooms and early bedtimes- kicked into action.
“Harry, ask Kingsley to put someone on the entrance to Diagon Alley! She can only be getting in that way,” Hermione called to him, the quietly confident voice she used to help with homework now assigned to this.
“Will do. Maura, when can you see your Guardians?”
“When do you want?”
“Now would be nice.”
“Right.” Maura scrunched up the sheet of parchment she’d been scrawling on and tossed it behind her.
“And send out the call to the Inner Circle. I don’t care what they’re doing, get them here,” Harry added in the sort of commanding voice the girls had never really heard before. “And if Draco Malfoy complains about us cutting into his precious schedule, tell him to put his complaint in writing.”
Maura, Hermione and the Order employees that had begun to gather on seeing their leaders there working hard all laughed. Deirdre, Kit and Ella shared a sort of amused look. Draco Malfoy was in the famous Order of the Phoenix?
After about five minutes, the three girls were noticed again by Maura. She muttered to Harry for a moment. He looked hard at the girls, then nodded. Maura went over to them.
“I’ll take you back to the castle before going to Kilburn,” she told them. “And when you get there, don’t even think about going for a nice evening stroll or a wander down to Hogsmeade.”
The three, a little stunned by Maura’s seriousness, just nodded and followed her mutely out of the HQ and back up the stone stairs.
***
Once Sirius returned from Paris, all the members of the Inner Circle of the Order of the Phoenix assembled as they always did when the magical world, the Diamond especially, was in danger.
“What can you tell us about Katerina, Maura?” Sirius asked. She shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of these powerful magicians. She had been made an honorary member of the Inner Circle after the war, but being a Muggle, she felt rather inferior to these people and always worried that they looked down on her. Not, of course, that she ever let it show.
“She’s the skeleton in my closet, the gristle in my teeth, the fly in my soup, the stray hair in my sandwich. She’s.... She’s my past sins.”
“We really meant details to help fight her,” said Snape curtly. She sighed.
“You need to understand what happened to her to understand why we’re in this position,” Hermione cut in. Maura shot her a grateful smile.
“It’s OK, Hermione,” Maura replied. “Katerina could’ve forgiven me for falling in love with George, she could’ve possibly forgiven me marrying him and bearing him a child. What she couldn’t forgive was me killing him.”
“You didn’t kill him,” Harry interrupted.
“Tell her that,” Maura shot back. “Hell, if I were her, I’d have come for my revenge years ago.”
“Yeah, but we all know you’ve got no patience,” joked Ron in an attempt to lighten the proceedings. Maura laughed harshly.
“That’s true. She’s good at patience. If I remember right, and I do, she’s a perfectionist with an eye for every conceivable detail and the patience to find those details.”
“You think she’ll be a challenge?” asked Tonks. Most of the people around the table looked like they thought a Muggle would be an easy opponent.
“I know her. I knew her,” Maura corrected herself. “She can be so single-minded she’ll think of nothing else until she gets what she wants, what she’s after. A good ally to have, but a bloody awful enemy.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Harry. “It’s been a while since we had a really good villain to fight. Do us good.”
She didn’t return his smile.
“She was my friend once. My only friend. What am I meant to do?”
“Fight her like anyone else who threatens your daughter,” Hermione said immediately.
Maura smiled grimly, “Good answer.”
“What did your Guardians say?” asked McGonagall, efficient as ever, and possibly eager to get back to the school.
“Practically nitto. They stopped keeping a close eye on her a few years ago. They did say she’d been in Salem, but that was all they knew. As far as they knew she was living a quiet, obscure life as a waitress.”
“In reality, she was probably plotting,” added Harry. The members of the Inner Circle just nodded.
“The odd things that have been happening here and there might be related to Katerina. Susan Bones’ wand for one thing,” Ron cut in. “Harry’s been concentrating on those wizards in Monte Carlo, but what if it’s closer to home?”
Soft mutterings punctuated the air as the Inner Circle contemplated the possibilities of a Muggle using a magic wand.
“It would certainly explain how she got into Diagon Alley undetected,” added Fred Weasley.
“We’ve been checking our orders,” George continued, “although we’ve sold thousands of Gramo-grams in the last few months. Could’ve been anyone.”
“Right,” said Sirius, trying to pull the meeting back into control. “Draco, get your team to get details of every unsolved crime in the last six months. Some of the unusual stuff too. Kingsley, Tonks, get our people out on the Alley. Nobody goes in or goes out without us knowing about it. Least fuss, obviously. Maura, write up something on Katerina, a sort of crib sheet for the rest of us. Severus, make sure the school is secure-”
“Black, Hogwarts is always secure,” Snape interrupted. Everyone but Snape and Sirius rolled their eyes.
“Just the same. This Katerina character has brought children into it, and I don’t think any of us want to risk their security. Do we?”
Snape admitted not.
“Right, Remus, you can do that as well- the students will get suspicious if you’re both absent from the school too long.”
“It would also be nice to track her down. She must be staying somewhere,” said Harry. Sirius nodded.
“Kingsley, have the Muggle intelligence team investigate. Start in London and work outwards.”
“Could take awhile,” Kingsley pointed out.
“So it takes awhile,” Sirius said with a shrug. “Now, lastly... it’s Dumbledore’s birthday soon and he’s under the weather. Who wants to bake the cake?”
***
Harry Potter and Maura Richards had not imagined spending their Friday night wandering the dark streets of west London, but there they found themselves.
“I know it’s around here somewhere,” she said, squinting up at a street sign.
“I can’t believe you got us lost,” he snorted with laughter. “How long did you live around here?”
“Seventeen or so years. A long time ago. Let’s take a tour of Little Snoreing next, shall we, and see how you do?”
“Little Whinging.”
“Whatever.”
“Is this it?” Harry pointed his lit wand up at a streetname on the side of the end house. Maura nodded and squared her shoulders.
“This is it. Number twenty six is Katerina’s mother’s house. Number nineteen is Casa Kennealy.”
Harry grabbed her hand impulsively and gave it a squeeze.
“There might not be anyone in,” he told her. She shrugged and tugged him along the street.
Number twenty six proved to be a waste of time.
“It’s been split into flats,” she said, examining the set of doorbells. “And none of the names match. Katerina’s family must’ve moved.”
“These things do happen, but it was worth a look.”
Maura nodded. “We’ll have to find some other way of finding her.”
“Kingsley’s lot are on it. Shouldn’t take that long.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Come on, let’s go home,” Harry suggested. They continued walking down the street until they came to number twenty. The opposite house drew Harry’s attention, for he was interested in seeing something of Maura’s young life- the place that had made her that sharp, cold creature of old. Maura stayed on the even-numbered side of the road, but he went over. The curtains were open and he could see right into the house. An elderly couple were sat watching television while two little toddlers played contentedly with some toys on the floor. After a few moments, Maura’s curiosity got the better of her.
“That’s my parents,” she whispered. “The children must be-”
She stopped as a tall man entered the living room with a tea tray.
“That’s my brother Gene. He got tall. They must be his children.”
At that moment, Gene saw the people stood outside. He put the tray down and rushed to the front door. By the time he got there, Maura and Harry were gone. He forgot about the mysterious people outside the house.
***
Harry had Apparated back to HQ with Maura. It was a risky thing to Apparate with someone, but he’d been all right.
“Are you OK?” he asked her. She sat down sullenly and did not answer.
“Looked happy, didn’t they?” she mumbled after a moment.
“They looked like they could’ve been anyone at all.”
“I always hoped that the family missed me when I just buggered off... but they didn’t. They were glad to be shot of me, I reckon.”
“I bet that’s not true.”
“I bet it is. I was horrible to them. They were horrible to me.”
“Things worked out as they were meant to. You found us, remember?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ll find Katerina, we’ll sort her out and we can all go back to our happy, quiet lives.”
“I don’t like the quiet,” she said, cracking the slightest of smiles. He grinned back.
“I know you don’t,” With a glance at the clock, he held his hand out to her. “It’s late. I’ll sort a Portkey out for you. When you get home, actually go to sleep, will you? Don’t sit up watching Malvision Three.”
“OK.”
Impulsively, Maura kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a good mate, Harry.”
“So are you.”
She took the offered Portkey and went home to bed.
***
Katerina eagerly opened her post that day, for a sought after parcel had arrived containing an enchanted mirror. It allowed her to use any other mirror as a kind of surveillance system. She could go out and use her new mirror to look through the other at what was going on. It was an essential tool, she thought, for the plan she’d devised. In the meantime, she was going to speed up her main plan, having grown tired of waiting for things to unfold.
She had not used her Dream Bowl for some time, but now returned to it with a few added ingredients. She was tired of waiting for her potion to garner her results and hoped to speed things up by directly interfering with a few dreams instead of just observing them. She sprinkled her ingredients into the bowl and waited.
***
The battlefield was stained with the blood of hundreds, but Maura had survived, just about. She trudged back towards the tents that made up her base, dragging her shield. Exhausted, she barely registered the voice behind her.
“Maura!”
“What’s up, George?” she asked, turning around to see her husband of a day standing behind her. He looked battered, bloodied and exhausted.
“I just wanted to make sure I got to say goodbye to you.”
“Goodbye?” she asked uncertainly, tugging at her blood-tangled hair. He nodded at her without emotion.
“Yes. No point in staying here, is there? I’m going home. Not before time, either.”
“But-”
“What?”
“I thought...” she trailed off. Her heart sank like a stone in a pond.
“You thought... Oh Maura, you didn’t think that.. that our marriage was anything but a formality did you?”
“No. Well. I don’t know.”
“I don’t want to be married to you!” he exclaimed with a slight chuckle. “I only did it because we had to. So did you, surely?”
“Oh.”
“I think it’s best if we go our separate ways, don’t you? I mean, we’re not really friends, are we?”
“S’pose not, no,” she said, reverting back entirely to her stony demeanour. Of course it was only a formality. Of course it was.
“George, there you are!”
Maura whirled around to see Katerina, still clean and tidy from staying away from the battle, running towards them. Or rather, towards George.
“Hello Kat. What do you want?”
“Are you all right? I was awfully worried about you!”
Maura didn’t miss the point that Katerina was ignoring her. She rolled her eyes, but her sinking heart tightened painfully.
“I’m fine. Off home now, in fact,” she heard George tell Kat.
“Already?”
“Sure. What else is there to do? We killed the evil thing, now I get to go home.”
His casual, uncaring tone made Maura’s soul hurt. She hadn’t realised she had a soul, let alone one that could feel hurt like this.
“Oh,” replied Katerina in a disappointed tone.
“Stay lucky, Kat,” he said, flashing her a blinding smile. He merely nodded at Maura as a farewell before walking off into the distance.
“It’s all your fault!” Katerina suddenly turned on Maura, face contorted with rage. She poked at her friend viciously.
“How is what my fault?”
“If you weren’t so mean to everyone, he might have stayed around! I mean, it’s bad enough you had to marry him, but you pushed him away so that I didn’t get a chance either!”
“You wouldn’t want him, Kat. I mean, he just went off barely bothering with the formalities of a goodbye,” she said coldly, viciously, only vaguely aware that she was taking her anger out on the wrong person.
“You’re just a jealous bitch!” Katerina screeched. “I hate you!”
Before Maura could respond to that, Katerina had run off in the same direction George had taken. Somehow in the space of five minutes, she’d managed to lose a husband she suspected she was really in love with and her best friend. The happiness at defeating the Old Enemy vanished and she was stood alone in the middle of a blood-soaked field.
***
Although she was beyond tired after a day searching for clues and for Katerina, Maura sat up in bed, eyes wide, heart thudding, blood racing. That hadn’t really happened, she assured herself over and over again. It had not happened.
“Because George died,” she mumbled. “before he had a chance to break your heart.”
She looked blankly around her dark room trying to make sense of the dream. It had been so very real, like the ones she occasionally had of other heirs’ lives that she felt sure it had to mean something.
“It means that George did not love me,” she said out loud to the empty room. “It means that the only reason he married me was because he had no choice. He did not love me after all.”
She sank back onto her pillows and for once in her life did not try to force her tears back.
***
Katerina stumbled away from the Dream Bowl a little deflated. A rather empty victory, she decided- the dream had been horrible for Maura, but it had been equally bad for herself, for watching George treat her so dismissively had not been a picnic. Still, one had to make sacrifices. It would all work out just right in the end.
***
“Maura isn’t here?” Ron asked. He had just arrived at Ruairi House where the Diamond had intended to meet to discuss the Katerina Problem.
“No,” said Hermione. “As you can see by the lack of Maura and presence of biscuits.”
Ron laughed, looking down at the plateful of biscuits on the table.
“Oh well, more for me then!” he said chirpily, reaching for a HobNob.
“Am I late?” Maura stumbled- fell, more than anything- out of the fire. None of her friends really thought she could look scruffier than she usually did, but somehow she’d managed it.
“Are you all right?” asked Harry.
“You don’t look well,” added Hermione.
“When was the last time your hair saw a brush?” finished Ron. Maura yawned.
“Bloody awful dreams,” she told them. Although Harry and Ron looked quite confused, Hermione understood.
“More Heir things?” she asked without thinking. Maura shot her a nasty look, and Harry now turned his confused expression on his wife.”
“Heir things? What sort of Heir things?”
“Nothing,” grumbled Maura, reaching for two biscuits at a time. “I’m just tired, I had a crap dream I could do without remembering, so why don’t we get back on track?”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence that the time Katerina comes back is the time you start getting these dreams?” Hermione demanded.
“I didn’t start getting them. I started remembering them,” Maura amended. Harry now became increasingly agitated.
“What’s going on?” he asked. Hermione looked at him, then at Maura, then back at him.
“Well, if you must know, Maura’s been having dreams, or memories, of past Heirs.”
“Again? More than once?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he turned on Maura. “You said it only happened occasionally!”
“I didn’t tell you precisely because I didn’t want you to feel bad.”
Harry snorted.
“You thought I’d feel bad knowing you have dreams of my mother? And my father, presumably, if they’re memories?”
“Yeah. And I did think you’d feel bad that I was getting them and you’re not. It’d be like if you started dreaming of snippets of George’s life.”
“Do you dream of him too?” Harry sniped. Maura went pale at the fresh memory of the past night’s dream.
“Yeah, but I don’t always consider them a bonus.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me the truth!”
“Well you know now.”
“Do you really think that’s a good enough answer?”
“Enough!” shouted Ron. “We do have more important things to worry about right now than Maura’s subconscious.”
“Yes, quite,” added Hermione in her best businesslike voice. “To the matters at hand, if we could?”
Harry glared at Maura, but sat down and turned his attention to Hermione. Maura sat down, but some of her attention lingered on her dreams. As Hermione began to talk, Maura felt increasingly agitated. After barely a few minutes, she leapt up from her chair and stumbled out of the house.
***
“Maura? Maura? Are you out here?” Harry strode through the garden in search of his friend. He had behaved rather badly with her, he now realised. She wasn’t asking for dreams of his mother and she had told him about them before. More than that, he realised that it was affecting her quite badly.
“I’m here,” she replied quietly, and he found her lying in the grass, staring up at the sky. He joined her without asking first.
“I’m sorry about what I said,” he told her. “I’m really sorry.”
“So am I. I didn’t ask for these dreams, you know.”
“I know that. I reacted pretty badly.”
“Yes, you did. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to upset you.”
“I know that too,” he said quietly. “Will you... please tell me about them? You haven’t told me about them much.”
“The dreams?”
“Yes.”
“Well... all right.”
“We can extract them and use them in a Pensieve, if you like,” he told her. “But I think... I think I’d rather you just told me about them for now.”
“All right. I don’t remember much. There was one, though, very funny. Lily, your mother... heavily pregnant with you... got these cravings for really odd things. At one point she was desperate for some KP dry roasted peanuts and your poor dad had to go out into Muggle London in search of dry roasted peanuts! Bloke looked absolutely harassed when he came back with this massive bag of peanuts.”
“Sounds good.”
“We can put them in one of those Pensieves later and you can see.”
“There’s nothing... I mean I know what dreams can be like... nothing a bit...
“No, I have not dreamed of your parents doing anything you would need therapy about.”
“Good.”
Still lying on the ground, Harry rolled over to hug Maura. She returned the hug after a moment.
“If I could let you see them instead of me, I’d do it,” she mumbled.
“Harry? Maura? Are you out here?”
Hermione’s head appeared over the rose bushes.
“There you are!” she said, her tone light but odd. “Coming in for coffee?”
“Yeah,” said Maura, untangling from Harry’s hug and sitting up. “Come on, Potter.”
They hurried into the house in pursuit of fleet-footed Hermione.
***
“What’s bothering you, Hermione?”
“Nothing.”
“I’ve known you much too long to believe that,” Ron told her, handing her a cup of tea. It was almost lunchtime and Hermione had joined Ron at his house so she could keep an eye on Romeo while Ron worked.
“It’s really nothing,” she assured him, sipping at her tea. “I’m fairly sure it’s all in my mind.”
“Ah, but if something is all in your mind, it can’t be nothing.”
“Your powers of reasoning astound me.”
“Talk to me, Hermione.”
“It’s... Harry.”
“It’s always Harry.”
“True. It’s just... Ron, do you sometimes feel like Harry and Maura have something between them? Something we don’t have?”
“Well... I...”
“I’ll take the stammering and pink ears as a yes.”
“They... They were together when he killed Voldemort. I guess that gives them a special bond.”
“I’m not talking about that.”
“Ah.”
“I just... they both do Order things I’m not a part of. They like the same things on the television. They... understand each other.”
“Nobody understands him better than you do,” Ron said, scooting around the table to sit beside her. “Nobody. Not even me.”
“Ron, I just... It’s really nothing,” she said briskly, sitting up straight.
“It’s clearly not nothing,” he told her, tugging a lock of her hair affectionately.
“It’s all in my head. I know he loves me. More even than that, I know how much Maura still loves George. But... well, I’m not stupid. I know how the world can sometimes work.”
Ron now hugged Hermione, stroking her hair as he did. She leaned into him tiredly.
“You don’t have to worry,” he assured her.
“But I do.”
“Yeah, I know.” He leaned away to look her in the eye. “Cheer up! You’ve still got me.”
She laughed and rubbed at her eyes.
“Yes, I do.”
“You always will, too.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
The doorbell rang, shattering the quiet peace. Upstairs, little Romeo called out for his father.
“That’ll be your next job. I’ll sort Romeo out,” Hermione said quietly, before she ran upstairs.
***
Author's Note: This story was begun before OotP was written, and although I've incorporated characters and details from the fifth (and possibly sixth and seventh) books, this is an essentially pre-OotP canon story. I hope that this isn't too confusing, especially given the nearly two-year gap between this and the last chapter. Thanks for sticking with it!
Chapter Five - Following In Their Footsteps
For all her facade of being thoroughly not bothered, Katerina's false dream had made itself at home in Maura's subconscious and was festering in her brain like an open and infected wound. Maura didn't change (Katerina was right about that), and so when faced with a recurring dream that her beloved, adored George hadn't loved her after all, the once and future Mrs Richard battened down the hatches and prepared to withdraw from the world entirely.
For all that they cared about her, Maura's friends were too distracted by searching for Katerina and otherwise continuing life to notice immediately that something was wrong with her. She had always been prone to silence every now and then, so it was hardly unusual for her to sit at dinner and not say a word.
Every day, Maura woke up just before lunchtime, got dressed, she ate. She hunted down her old friend without success. She ate, she got undressed, she went to sleep. She dreamed of George and of Lily Potter. She dreamed of love and death and sadness. It should have been business as usual, but with this new dream, there was nothing usual or tolerable about it. Only the thought of finding Katerina and the things she'd do to her kept her from staying in bed. A week after the Gramo-grams had arrived, an owl knocked on her window while she was still fast asleep. She woke slowly and angrily, but the contents of the letter had her out of bed like a shot.
***
One week after they had started looking for Katerina, a tapping on the window roused Harry from his sleep. Given that he was meant to be up in half an hour anyway, he sat up and rubbed the bits from his eyes. Beside him Hermione slept on, exhausted from a day cooped up reading. As quietly as he could, he slid out of bed and went over to the window, tripping over one of his boots as he did. He opened the window and a tiny owl flew in, dropped a note in his hand and flew right out again. He closed the window and headed across the room, tripping over the boot again.
Hermione shifted slightly in her sleep. Harry opened the note, read it and allowed himself an eyebrow quirk at the contents. He knew that Hermione would probably want to be woken up for this, but she looked so tired... Harry couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he grabbed some clothes, put his shoes on and left the house as quickly as he could.
***
Harry arrived at the bar within five minutes of receiving the owl, but found Maura already there, in a chair leaned up against one of the weapons cabinets.
“What do we have?” he asked, slumping into a chair. Maura shrugged and yawned widely. She'd put on an un-ironed t-shirt and her jeans had coffee stains down them. Although Harry noticed her utterly dishevelled state, she didn't seem to be in the mood to care about it.
“I just got a note to say that there's some information come to light and that I should come here,” she told him in a rough, tired bark of a voice.
“Same here.” Harry sat down in the chair next to her. “I wonder what it is?”
“No idea, but I'm sure it's something to do with the ex-best friend from hell.”
“Mr Potter?”
“Yes?” Harry turned around and found one of the Order's intelligence people stood there looking a little nervous. “You're Dung Fletcher's cousin, aren't you?”
“Yes, sir. Rodney, sir.”
“That's right,” Harry said, flashing him a reassuring smile. “What do you have?”
“Well sir, we thought to look through some information about landlords in London... That's where we think she is, after all. Records we have are sketchy, things change so quickly, but-”
“What did you find?”
“Well Mr Potter, er, sir, we've got an address for her.”
“You do? Why aren't we there right now?” Maura demanded. She jumped up and began shoving various weapons from the cabinet into her pockets.
“We're trying to verify it right now.”
“Verify my arse,” she said with a scowl. “We can verify it by going there, finding her there and kicking her in the head a few times.”
“Oh, we're sure it's the right Katerina,” said Rodney. “We're just verifying that you won't die should you decide to drop in to pay a visit.”
“Booby traps and other such nasty things,” Harry understood. Maura just continued to scowl at them.
“Hurry up then,” She did not stop stocking up on weaponry, but did slow down and take it a little easier.
“We thought it was something you'd want to know,” Rodney tried to explain why they'd been dragged from their beds. “We'll owl you both when we're confident about it.”
“Right. I'm going back home to get some breakfast,” Harry said. “Want some, Maura?”
“Never let it be said I ever refused free food.”
***
“You could have woken me up,” Hermione said rather sharply, on Harry's return home. “I wouldn't have minded.”
“You were sound asleep. I didn't want to wake you up. Is that bacon frying?”
“Yes it is. Morning Maura,” Hermione sighed and put some more rashers in the frying pan.
“Morning, Daddy!” Richard shouted loudly as he came flying down the stairs, already in his school robes. “Hello, Auntie Maura!”
“Hey kid, how's it going?” Maura managed a smile for the kid, but she didn't mean it.
“We have Quidditch today at school,” Richard told her excitedly, clambering up onto a chair at the kitchen table. “Can I walk to school on my own today?”
Harry looked over at Hermione and shook his head.
“Not today sweetheart,” she replied. “Perhaps tomorrow.”
“All right.” The boy sounded rather disappointed but had learned already not to object.
“Well, I'll take Ritchie to school,” said Hermione. “And when I get back we can talk about what's going on.”
Harry nodded, feeling that his wife was put out at being left out. He'd only done it so she hadn't had to get up early! He sighed. Nothing ever satisfied that woman, he thought with frustration.
“More tomatoes, Maura?” Hermione asked.
“Won't say no,” her friend replied, scoffing down her breakfast eagerly.
“Don't you eat at home?” Hermione asked with a wry smile. Maura shook her head.
“Nope.”
They had barely finished breakfast when two owls arrived, one for Harry and one for Maura. She opened hers and read it before Harry had even broken the seal on his.
“We can go in,” she announced, clutching a Portkey that would take her to the address. Harry grabbed his coat.
“I have to take Richard to school,” Hermione pointed out rather curtly.
“Well...” Harry paused. “We'll go down there and... meet you back at HQ.”
“All right,” she replied, somewhat uncertainly. Before she could say anything else, Harry had Apparated away and Maura's Portkey had spirited her away. Only Hermione and Richard remained there in the Potters' kitchen.
“Ready for school, Ritchie? Time to go.” asked Hermione. Her son smiled and ran to get his bag.
***
As she watched, Katerina rather thought that this latest dastardly plan was working well. Her new enchanted mirror was set up to view her living room courtesy of a large, grotesque faux-Art Nouveau mirror she'd put up on the wall. Katerina herself watched in a little mirror linked to it, and she allowed herself a smirk as Harry and Maura burst into her flat and began to look around.
“Don't break anything,” she muttered at the mirror although they couldn't hear her. She stuffed the mirror into her bag and with a shove of the heavy metal gates, headed up the driveway to Connaught Manor.
***
The sun was well and truly risen when Harry and Maura managed to break Katerina's front door open, and it cast an eerie glow across the dark, poky flat.
The flat was spotlessly clean and tidy- obsessively so. A worn blue sofa was pushed against one wall, opposite which was a large bookcase stuffed with all manner of books. The third wall was taken up with a large, gaudy shrine. Said shrine was the only clue that this was no ordinary threadbare flat.
Harry and Maura went inside a little cautiously, not knowing quite what they would find. After a moment, they realised that the flat was devoid of life and so began to look around. Maura flicked the lights on and headed over to the bookcase.
“She always was a bit of a reader. Not in Hermione's league, but still...” She ran her hand over some of the spines. Muggle mythology books and magical books sat side by side on the shelves. Some of the titles were notoriously outlawed in Magical Britain.
“How did she get hold of these?” Maura wondered out loud. Harry shrugged, distracted by his own investigations.
“I don't like to think,” he replied, reaching the shrine. “Take a look at this,” he told her. Maura came over and sighed heavily.
“I know that one's Seth... that's Loki, I think? This old girl here, she's the Morrigan.”
Maura identified a few of them with her surprisingly wide knowledge of myths and legends.
“All dark gods, right?” Harry remarked. Maura nodded.
“Pretty much. I don't recognise a few of them.”
“Suffice to say that Katerina is something of a polytheist,” he said, picking up a bronze icon of a three-headed woman.
“Suffice to say that she's taken many avenues to get some power behind her,” Maura snarled. “Let's get some pictures so we can get Hermione to check it all out.”
Harry pulled out his camera from his bag and began taking pictures of the shrine. Then he began taking pictures of the books stuffed onto the shelves.
“Do any of these look very rare or important to you?” she asked. He shrugged.
“I wouldn't know. Hermione would.”
“Any of these stand out?” she asked. Harry looked again at the books. He grabbed at an incredibly old looking book at the end of one shelf and looked at it.
“This might be.”
“Take it then. Can't risk losing it, really.” Maura paused long enough for Harry to take the book and slide it into his bag.
“All done?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Maura grabbed the standing lamp and pulled it, ignoring the sparks that flew when it was pulled from the electrical socket. She held it aloft and slammed it into the bookcase with an almighty crash. Books went flying across the room. She slammed the lamp into it again, this time knocking the entire unit over. She neatly hopped out of the way as it collided with the floor. She then smashed the large, tasteless gilt-framed mirror.
“Are you finished?” he asked calmly. She put the lamp back down.
“Yeah.”
“Not going to destroy that as well?” he asked, pointing to the shrine. She shook her head.
“I've got enough bad luck without pissing off some gods, you know?”
“Fair enough.” Harry held the door open for her.
“I mean, I don't want to go overboard now, do I?” she asked with a grin, slamming the front door behind her.
***
The lock broke with ease, allowing Katerina entry into Maura's house. Were she not there for a specific purpose she might've lingered, looking through the place Maura called home. However, she did have a specific purpose and nothing would get in the way of that. Through all her surveillance she hadn't managed to find out exactly where Maura kept what she was looking for, but knew that it was likely to be somewhere in her bedroom.
She headed through the kitchen and the rest of the ground floor without paying attention to the house at all. As she headed up the stairs she noted with disgust the `family' photographs covering the walls. She had a good idea where Maura's bedroom was from her external spying, and walked down the hallway towards the master bedroom. She opened the door, a little unsure as to what she would find in the room of an infamous slob.
Katerina was not unduly surprised to find that Maura's room was a total mess. Clothes were thrown here and there, coffee cups and glasses were dotted around the room while papers and books covered the desk and some of the floor. A dirty pair of boots had been thrown and had landed under the window. The bed had not been remade that morning and the pillows were scattered across the bed as if Maura had thrown them around in her sleep. Maura had not disappointed her on the messy room front.
“Where do you keep it, Kennealy?” she muttered impatiently.
She rummaged through the wardrobe, searching but not finding. Maura wouldn't keep it anywhere else in the house, so where could it be? She looked through the chest of drawers, under the desk, even under the papers on the desk. She couldn't see anything useful at all and sat down on the bed feeling rather dejected. The bed was quite high and Katerina's short legs swung a little off the floor. She felt her foot swing back but not come into contact with the bed frame. She leapt off the bed and pushed the duvet away, and looked underneath.
It was surprisingly tidy under Maura's bed. A couple of boxes of clothes and exactly what Katerina had been looking for.
The Sword of Ulster was lying on the floor under Maura's bed as if it had been carelessly thrown there. Katerina reached under the bed and grabbed at it, noting how clean and polished Maura kept the sword and its scabbard. She put the bed back as it had been and left the room swiftly.
She ran down the stairs and out of the house, closing the kitchen door behind her, hoping Maura wouldn't notice the lock for some time. As she walked briskly down the driveway, she pulled the mirror out of her bag to see if Maura was still at her flat.
As she'd expected, Maura had done a real number on the place- even the mirror, so Katerina could see only a little of the room through what fragments were left in place.
Assuming that Maura and Harry had left, she continued rapidly down the driveway until off Maura's property- Katerina knew enough to know that using magic on the land would alert Harry Potter and his friends- and once off Maura's property used her newfound teleporting skills to get far, far away.
***
Back at Order headquarters, Harry and Maura were briefing everyone else as to what they had found. As they were winding up and Hermione was examining the book, One of Sirius' deputies, a witch called Rachael, burst in.
“Someone was on the Connaught Manor site earlier today,” she said without bothering with any kind of preamble.
“What?” Maura asked, back on edge after managing to relax a little. She moved towards the weapons cabinet.
“Someone passed through the wards, but before we picked up on it they'd gone,” Rachael explained. Sirius did not look pleased.
“How was the alarm not raised earlier?” he demanded. She looked rather embarrassed.
“We don't think it was a magical person, sir.”
“Could it have been someone from the village?” asked Hermione. “Wasn't there a problem when the wards first went up with the locals walking along the cliffs and they inadvertently brought the entire order to Galway?”
“That is why the wards were changed there,” Harry added.
“Well, Mr Potter,” Rachael said a little nervously. “The little information we have at the moment indicates that whoever it was entered the house. The house wards were tripped as well... we think.”
“It was a distraction,” Ron said suddenly. All eyes turned on him. “Don't you think it's a little strange that we found her address on the same day that someone breaks into Maura's house?”
“It's possible,” said Sirius, “but why?”
“No idea,” Maura replied. “Well, I mean she hates me, but I can't think of anything more specific.”
“We should check it out,” Harry said. “If she's taken anything, we need to know about it.”
“Let's go and see what she's done,” growled Maura. “If she's trashed my house, well, we won't be able to tell the difference. I'll Floo from upstairs and meet you all there.”
***
“I can't see anything out of place,” she said once they were all congregated in her front room. For everyone else, it was difficult to see how Maura could tell- it was as messy as the rest of the house.
“Ron, check all the locks on all the doors and windows, would you?” asked Harry. Ron nodded and disappeared out of the room.
“Is there anything she might have wanted in particular?” Hermione asked her.
“What, aside from everything that might possibly have something to do with George? Nothing at all,” Maura said in a very dry voice.
“What kind of things do you mean?” Sirius asked. She paused and thought for a moment.
“There's not much, really. I mean, there's a few photos, but Deirdre's got most of them at school. There's his old Liverpool footie shirt, the sword of-” she stopped abruptly. “If that silly blonde tart has nicked my sword, I'll kill her.”
“I thought you were going to kill her anyway?” Harry said in a joking voice, trying to lighten Maura's sudden darker mood. It did not work. Her eyes seemed to darken.
“I'll kill her more.”
“She broke the lock on the kitchen door,” Ron announced as he came back in. Maura did not reply because she was already bounding up the stairs. They heard her feet pound against the floor, stop and then there came an enraged yell. It sounded like a bear being garrotted.
“I think,” said Hermione. “Katerina has stolen her sword.”
Maura reappeared a few moments later, her face red with anger.
“I'll kill her more, I'll kill her more,” she muttered over and over. “She's nicked it. She's nicked my bloody sword, I will kill her more.”
“What could she possibly want with it?” Sirius asked her. The question brought Maura back to the world a little.
“No idea. Probably part of her insane scheme to get back at me and destroy my life and those of the people I care about. And she probably wants to run me through with it.”
“We'll find her,” Harry told her in his most reassuring tone. Although it was effective enough to calm Ministry workers, old ladies and journalists, it didn't work on stone-cold Maura.
“No we won't. I bet we fell for some intricately constructed plan of hers. I've got a fiver that says we go to her flat and find that she's scarpered.”
“Maura-” Sirius began, but she cut him off.
“No. Come on, let's go. Someone conjure a Portkey for me and I'll meet you there.”
She glared at her concerned friends until Harry relented and used a mug to conjure a Portkey for her.
“There you go,” he said. Maura felt the tug behind her bellybutton and closed her eyes.
***
The other three, with their Apparating skills, were already outside Katerina's door when Maura arrived, Martin Miggs mug in hand.
“The door is open,” Ron told her. Maura pushed it open with her boot.
“I win,” she said coldly. The room looked much as it had when she and Harry left it less than two hours before, with one important difference.
“The icons are gone,” Harry realised. The shrine had been dismantled and now all that remained was the table.
“Some of the books too,” Maura added. Hermione began reading titles and only removed one book.
“It looks to me like she's taken anything rare or really useful,” she said solemnly. “Except the one you took earlier.”
“Told you,” Maura said with grim triumph. And now we've got no idea where she is. It's just like yesterday, only now she's got my bloody sword.”
“Come on, let's head back to HQ,” said Hermione. “Nothing more to see here.”
“We'll send a team down here to check through everything thoroughly,” Sirius told them. “We might yet find some clues.”
“No,” said Maura sadly. “You won't.”
***
Maura was still sulking at home a few hours later. Most of it was anger at Katerina for having stolen the sword, but she was also fuming at herself for falling into the trap. She put some music on to try and calm her frayed nerves, but although she had a fondness for traditional Irish music at the moment, the tin whistles, pipes and mandolins were only making it worse. She threw one of her boots at the player, which had the desired effect of making it stop. Somewhere in her mind she vaguely realised that there were better ways of turning the music off, but she didn't much care.
For a long time the only sound in the house was of the grandfather clock in the hallway ticking. Maura curled up on the sofa and just existed. She did not speak or move, and the only sign of life was the steady rise and fall of her chest as she continued to breathe. The ticking and her breathing found a common rhythm and she felt herself transcending into a sort of meditation as she ceased to think at all.
The phone was ringing. Shattering the silence, the sound made Maura's blood run cold. Nobody tried to contact her on the phone unless it was an emergency from one of the few Muggles she still knew. The last time that phone had rung was around Christmas eight years ago when George's sister Anne Marie was involved in a car crash. It even took Maura a moment to locate the phone under a pile of clothes. She picked it up with uncharacteristically shaky hands.
“Hello?”
“Kennealy...” Katerina's voice was viciously sing-song.
“Katerina,” she growled. “Give me one reason why I shouldn't put the phone down on you right about now?”
“There isn't one, but I know you won't.”
“What do you want?”
“Where should I begin?”
“Wherever you bloody well like. What do you want?”
“We can't all have what we want.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Ah, are you lonely?” Katerina purred down the phone in a curious babyish voice that made Maura want to stab something.
“Nope, not really. Plenty of pals nowadays, you know. It's not like the old days when I used to have to slum it with you.”
Maura's lips curled up in a slightly cruel smile as she heard Katerina snarl angrily.
“And while you're on the phone, I want my bloody sword back,” she added.
“You stole one of my books. Tit for tat.”
“I'll swap you.”
“I don't think so.”
“Look, I'm bored of this pointless, witless bantering, so if we could please proverbially cut to the proverbial chase. Proverbially speaking, of course.”
“I want you to suffer,” Katerina said shortly. “I want to make you suffer like I did. I want to rip your heart out while it's still beating.”
“Yeah?” Maura drawled. “I want it to stop raining, I want to know what happened to Shergar and the Amber Room and I want Led Zeppelin to get back together. We can't have everything we want. After all, life's a bitch and so am I.”
Maura slammed the phone down and ripped the cord out of the socket, which came away from the wall in a burst of breaking plaster. Trembling as she worked to rein in her rage, she reached for a sheet of paper to send Harry an owl.
***
“She mentioned something about that book we took from her flat,” Maura recounted to Harry and the Order at HQ only a short time after the phone call.
“It must be quite important to her,” Tonks made a note of it.
“We've got our people checking it out right now,” said Kingsley. “Once they're satisfied it's safe, we'll get Hermione and the other brains to try and ascertain its importance.”
“In the meantime, we'll carry on as we have been,” said Sirius. “Surveillance in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. If she shows her face there, we'll see her.”
Hermione came running in from the Reading Room.
“I think this might be more serious than we thought,” she said, out of breath from running.
“How so?” Sirius asked. They were all concerned by Hermione's panicked expression. She slumped into a chair and opened the book.
“These pages were marked. Judging by spine damage, it's been held open at these pages for some time.”
“But what does that mean?” Harry demanded. She shot him a dirty look.
“I was about to tell you. These pages make brief mention of an ancient and powerful amulet used in ancient times as a vessel for dark and questionable magic. So dark and powerful in fact, that the book won't tell us what. It's an amulet without a name.”
The members of the Order of the Phoenix were experienced enough in the ways of magic to know that nothing kept nameless could be a good thing.
“What would Katerina want with a magical amulet?” Tonks asked.
“How did she even find out about it?” Sirius added.
“I don't know,” Hermione retorted. “It's only two pages of this book. But, the book's frontispiece says it was printed in Massachusetts in 1809. So at least it's quite new, by our standards. If I can find out the source for this book I might be able to find out something more about the amulet. As it is... I only know that we might need to be very worried indeed.”
With that, Hermione grabbed the book back and swept out of the room without a second glance at anyone.
“Harry, go to the Ministry and ask for access to the oldest Archives,” said Sirius. “We may need it.”
“Will do. Coming, Maura?”
“If you like.”
***
Hermione's mug was empty again. To her, it felt like the damn thing was always empty, but after thirty-one hours in the library, it had all begun to swim together into one lump of nonsense in her head.
Around her, books lay used and discarded- the fruits of the Order's centuries-old library increasingly exhausted. At the thirty-second hour, Ron came in.
“Do you want some food, Hermione? Tea's up.”
“Later.”
“You said that yesterday. You need to eat. I can't believe you're still awake.”
“I'm all right.”
“Are you drinking Enervating Hot Chocolate?” he asked, examining her cup.
“One cup an hour.”
“Hermione...” Ron tucked the empty mug under his arm. “You're not supposed to drink more than eight cups a day!”
“Oh come on, Ron,” she scoffed. “I drink ten cups of the stuff on a good day.”
“Well, you're not having any more now. I have spoken.”
“How terrifically forthright of you, Ron.”
“You're going to beat me in the head if I don't give back your mug, right?”
“Right.”
For a moment, he looked like he was about to cave.
“No deal, Hermione. Have some sleep instead.”
“I've got reading to do.”
“No, you don't. There's plenty of other clever people to do reading while you sleep. The world doesn't turn because you say so.”
Ron now pulled her up from the chair.
“Ron!”
“Sleep.”
She bitched and moaned as Ron dragged her out of the library and into one of the rest-rooms. She complained as he pushed her onto the bed and pulled her covers over her, but Hermione was asleep before he'd even left the room.
***
In the deepest depths of the Ministry archives, one light flickered, the only illumination for Harry and Maura as they trawled through document after document in search of whatever might possibly be useful.
“Hey, this is about me!” Maura flipped a sheet of parchment over to Harry. Harry was almost buried under parchments and didn't exactly rush to read it.
“What is it?” he asked, still not looking.
“It's about me.”
“There must be scads of things here about you.”
“This is about me before I turned up at Hogwarts all those years ago.”
“Really?” This was interesting enough for Harry to pick up the parchment. It was a fairly minor Ministry report dated 1997, but it was about Maura and George.
“The defeat of the Old Enemy, who we had been monitoring closely before the return of You-Know-Who, took place in Northern Ireland last week. The prophecies found recently were proved true. The Heir of Maeve (a title previously held by Lily Potter, deceased witch) is a Muggle, but she acquitted herself well. Unfortunately, the Heir of Ulster was killed in battle. The heirs were married the previous day as part of the prophecy. We will continue to monitor the Heir's Guardians for anything that might affect the magical remit.”
“Well,” Harry paused for a moment. “That's new and useful information.”
“Don't be a git, Potter. I didn't know I was being watched by you lot too.”
“Where the Ministry doesn't get, the Order surely will.”
“Yeah. I just... Actually no, I'm pissed off! Why didn't I get some help from you magical people? It might have come in bloody useful! Maybe Geo-”
She didn't finish what she was going to say, and Harry didn't need her to.
“Maura,” his voice was soft and affectionate. “We were in Hell ourselves. You saw for yourself when you arrived at Hogwarts. The Ministry was in such a mess in those days. I wouldn't be surprised if nobody ever even read this report. I'm sorry, really I am, but... please understand.”
“Oh, I understand. Really. I just... Never mind. Keep reading, Potter.”
“I will.”
***
Hermione and the Order's researchers continued working hard, and found themselves trawling through books both magical and not from centuries of the printing press to find the source of Katerina's book.
Harry and Maura continued trying to track her down, but after stealing the sword, Katerina had hidden herself away from the magical world. Other Order members helped where they could, and at one point Remus Lupin made an appearance. He was the only person who didn't say a thing about Katerina.
“Are you coming to do your self-defence lesson this year?” he asked Maura. She looked at him as if the words hadn't made sense in a language she knew. Finally, the babelfish in her ear did its work.
“Oh, I don't think so.”
“Why not?” Harry had looked up from his work. “You should do something to distract you from all this nonsense.”
“I don't feel like it.”
“The students have been asking me for weeks now,” Remus told her. “They can't wait for the opportunity to knock seven bells out of each other.”
“That's not what it's for,” Maura snapped. He smiled patiently.
“I know that. They'll only know that if you come and teach them.”
“Fine. When?”
“How's Friday for you?”
“Only if we've got no leads,” she agreed rather grudgingly. In the back of her mind, her everyday self was glad of it - she looked forward to trying to teach magical children how to defend themselves without magic. “And Harry has to come too.”
Remus now grinned and said, “excellent! See you then.”
*
The air at Hogwarts was charged with excitement as most of the school prepared to meet not one but two heroes of the Second Voldemort War. Somehow the news that Harry Potter would be accompanying his friend Maura Richards had got onto the grapevine and now everyone knew. Even Percy, Robert and Danita were rather excited- they didn't see as much of Harry and Maura as the Potter girls, Rain, Deirdre and Paul did. The latter group had a very different opinion on the event.
“She's going to be just... awful” Deirdre sighed unhappily. “I hope Madam Pomfrey has stocked up on Skele-Gro and bandages.”
“I love your mum,” Daisy told her airily, waving a sliver of toast in the air. “She's funny.”
“She won't get too out of control with Uncle Harry there,” Rain called down the table to Deirdre.
“Don't bank on it, Rainykins,” said Kit. “Mum says he eggs her on.”
“Not where students are concerned,” Ella now cut in, ever sensible.
“And anyway,” added Paul. “Professor Lupin will be there.”
“I tell you what though,” said Daisy with a glint in her eye. “Wouldn't it be fun to see your mum paired up with Marianna Bulstrode-Turner?”
Deirdre said nothing, but her hopeful smirk gave her away.
***
Traditionally, the Seventh years' class with Maura was the last of the day, and Deirdre knew her mother would be bored of teaching half-nelsons to thirteen-year-olds and now wanted to let rip. It was therefore with a great sense of dread that she left Potions and trailed after the rest of her class as they bounded towards the Great Hall.
The tables had been pushed to the side of the room, except the hefty Head Table which remained exactly where it always was. Maura Richards was currently sat on it, legs swinging as if she were a little girl instead of a renowned warrior. She winked at her daughter as she saw her enter, but displayed no other sign that this student was any different to the rest- her egalitarian policy that they were all fair game was already in play.
“Hello Deirdre,” Harry said warmly. She turned around and smiled brightly.
“Hello Uncle Harry! I mean Harry- I mean Professor Potter-”
“Relax. Don't worry.”
“Has she killed anyone yet?” she asked him. He smiled.
“No. She's been very well behaved.”
“All right!” Maura's voice echoed throughout the hall and the Seventh years fell silent immediately, such was this woman's legend. Not least because they'd had a lesson once a year with her for seven years now and had seen her in action closer than they might have liked.
“You may know,” she said, now actually standing on the Head Table. “That I like to give the Seventh years a bit of a free rein, given that you're all meant to know what you're doing by now. I am afraid to tell you that this is absolutely true. Pair up and I'll give you some scenarios and situations to deal with.”
The class began quickly and Deirdre paired up with Jackson. Across the room several Slytherins had stopped their exercises. Deirdre did not want to be around when her mother noticed...
“OI!” Maura's voice ripped through the hall and almost everyone stopped, holding their breath and praying that she wasn't shouting at them. She strode past everyone until she was standing over the Slytherin girls.
“A bit tired are we, ladies? Feeling weary?” she asked them dryly. Everyone else heaved a sigh of relief and went back to what they were doing, all keeping an ear on what Maura was saying.
Marianna muttered something to Eustacia, who snickered delicately. Maura went pale and eyes narrowed.
“Get up,” she ordered them coldly. They didn't move. Maura spun her sword on its point for a moment. “Why have you stopped?”
“We,” said Eustacia haughtily. “Do not need your pointless lessons. We do not need to learn anything from a Muggle.”
While most of the people in the hall reacted to this in an offended manner, Maura did not react at all.
“Up for the Most Cliché Slytherin Award, are we? Quite breathtaking arrogance really, dontcha think, Harry?”
“Yes I do.”
“So, what's your name, kid?” she asked. Eustacia bristled at being called a kid.
“Eustacia Thompson.”
“And you?”
“Marianna Bulstrode-Turner.”
“So the two of you are walking down Hogsmeade High Street. Someone runs up and tries to take your delicate little handbag. What do you do?”
“Stun them of course,” retorted Marianna. Maura smirked.
“Where do you keep your wand?”
“In my-” Marianna stopped. “Bag.”
Eustacia still smirked.
“All right try this,” said Maura. “You're wandering along, minding your own business, listening to the trees and the birds and nature all around. You feel something brush against you but you pay it no mind. Fifteen minutes later your purse and wand are gone and the thief is long gone. Then what?”
Eustacia's smirk disappeared.
“Get up,” Maura said, eyes flashing angrily. “And don't ever think you know it all.”
She stalked away, but they only moved to get up slowly. Harry now turned on them coldly.
“Do as she says. She's a Muggle, but at this precise moment she is also your Professor. Now!”
Even Eustacia did not dare contradict Harry Potter and both girls leapt into action.
The class continued without further incident. Ten minutes before the end, Maura stopped them all.
“You've all done well. You'll all get at least an E. Some of you will get Os.”
“Can we see a real duel?” someone asked. “You and Harry Potter? With swords?”
Murmurs of approval spread through the assembled students. Maura quirked an eyebrow at Harry, who nodded.
“Right. Stand back against the walls,” said Harry. They all moved back and sat on the tables pushed against the walls. Some students went and sat on the Head Table.
“Got a sword, Potter?” Maura asked. He pulled from his bag the sword of Godric Gryffindor, rubies glittering.
“Show off,” she said, twirling her plain practice sword.
“You'll get your sword back,” he promised her.
“Too bloody right I will,” she paused. “Any rules?”
“No killing.”
“That's a good one. Anything else?”
“Nope.”
“Excellent! En guard!”
The duel began. Both were experts and the rapid clatter of clashing swords filled the room as they ranged back and forth.
“Come on Harry, let go a bit,” she said. “I'm not Ron.”
“I don't want to hurt you,” he retorted. She twirled before parrying a shot.
“Now who's the show off?” he asked. Daisy turned to Deirdre.
“Do they always talk?”
“Yeah. Putting the other off is pretty much the only way they can win. This could go on for hours.”
“So how's Hermione?” Maura asked as she retreated back across the hall.
“She's fine.”
“Good. Ritchie?”
“Also fine.”
“You're getting better at avoiding Hermione taunts.”
“You give me plenty of practice.”
“It's for your own good, son.”
“Says you,” he said, twisting quite awkwardly to avoid her sword.
“I do say so.”
“So how are you, Richards?”
“Triffic son, triffic.”
“You sound very cockney today. Getting tired of the Irish?” He dodged her sword as she thrust with force and she staggered forward slightly with the momentum. He tapped her on the back.
“Hit a nerve?” he asked. She shook her head.
“Not even close. You'll have to do better than that.”
“I forgot that you're made of ice.”
“Shouldn't ever forget that, mate.”
“Well, you've been acting pretty fluffy and warm lately.”
“Erroneous information.”
“So why haven't you managed to kick my arse yet?”
“Haven't been trying.”
“Me neither.”
“No holding back?” she asked him. He nodded.
“No holding back,” he agreed. They stepped back and paused for a moment and when the duel resumed, it had cranked up a few notches and had the entire Seventh year transfixed. Even Deirdre, who had seen the two duel many times before, watched open mouthed. Was this a hint of what had defeated Voldemort? She shuddered.
Swords clashed, glinting in the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. Harry and Maura's duel took them the length and breadth of the hall, barely keeping them hemmed in as students dodged out of the way. Maura leapt up onto the Head Table to avoid Harry's sword. Completely disregarding the students sitting on the table, she ran down it, swinging her sword at Harry as he gave chase. In order to get out of her way, Marianna fell backwards of the table and onto the floor. She squealed loudly but in the midst of the duel nobody, not even Eustacia, noticed her plight.
When she reached the end of the table Maura went to dodge Harry's sword and tumbled off in the process. The room went quiet and Harry stood over her.
“Finished?”
“Not yet,” she said, rolling away from the blade. She jumped to her feet and the duel went on.
***
Professor Lupin could hear the clatter of swords as he approached the Great Hall and he sighed. Who had she challenged this time? He checked his watch and realised that it was almost dinner time. He opened the door and went most cautiously inside, not knowing what to expect inside. Pleasantly surprised to see Maura duelling an equal, he watched for a moment. Then finally he called out to them:
“Can we have our Great Hall back now please?”
Harry and Maura's swords froze midair and Harry looked over at Lupin. Both he and Maura were out of breath and beginning to look tired. Harry then turned to her.
“Call it a draw?” he asked. She nodded, lowered her sword and held her hand out. He took her hand and shook it warmly. Applause broke out amongst the Seventh years. Maura grinned and curtsied to them. Marianna now took the opportunity to highlight her injury.
“Professor! Look, Professor! Look what she did to me?”
“Marianna fell off the table, sir,” said Sarah-Louise Forbes, a Hufflepuff friend of Deirdre's. Lupin looked at Marianna, who was holding her wrist most over-dramatically, then at the wide, honest eyes of the Hufflepuff.
“Miss Bulstrode-Turner?” he asked in a bright tone. She said nothing.
“We all saw her fall,” Dagmar Lytton cut in. “It was quite the stunt.”
Murmurs of agreement spread throughout the hall, although truthfully many of them couldn't possibly have seen Marianna fall.
“Can I go to the hospital wing now?” she asked sulkily.
“In a minute,” Lupin said sternly. “I would advise you to think twice about accusing a visitor to this school of causing you injury. A poor show, Miss Bulstrode, a very poor show. I'll have to speak to your Head of House about this. You can go now.”
He watched as she stomped out of the hall before turning to Harry and Maura.
“Can we have the hall back now? It's dinner time and I for one, am starving.”
***
Harry and Maura got back to Harry's Bar after the defence lessons to find Hermione pacing up and down the length of the bar.
“Where have you been?” she shrieked, surprising even herself by it.
“Remus invited us to eat at the school and we thought it would be rude to say no,” Harry snapped back. He was tired and knew he had more work to catch up on after taking most of the day off.
“Well, while you were playing at Robin Hood,” Hermione's manner turned from shrill to sneering, “I found our mystery amulet.”
“Come on then!” Maura took Hermione's arm and began tugging her towards the store room. Hermione allowed herself to be dragged, and then took the lead into one of the smaller offices. The desk was taken up entirely by one book. The pages were made of animal skins, not paper and it had been handwritten by ancient scribes, not printed by machine.
“This passage here tells of a great and terrible talisman. A wizard summoned the great powers from the civilisations of the world and harnessed their darkness within the amulet... the translation's a bit tricky, but I'll go with amulet for now. Anyway, it seems that it was intended to be a positive thing - Pandora's Box in reverse.”
“Shutting the badness away?” Maura asked. Hermione nodded tensely.
“It's not much, but it's a start. There's also, luckily, an illustration.”
“Don't they usually turn out to be complete nonsense?” Harry cut in. She sighed.
“Maybe, but when you have nothing, something is better than nothing.”
“What can the amulet do?” Maura asked.
“That's the thing. According to this, it might be End Of The World stuff.”
“I'll call the Order in,” Harry said. “We must find it before she does.”
*
“Any luck tracking Sirius down? Anybody?” Harry asked. The current Order Circle had been summoned on his instructions, and only one member was missing.
“He went undercover in Salem,” said Kingsley. “To ask a few discreet questions about Katerina. We're still waiting for him to get back to us.”
“Well, until he gets back there's not much we can do about it. What do you know?” asked Remus, sitting down with a strong cup of coffee. He seemed a little relieved to be away from school for awhile, but undoubtedly tired.
“Well, it appears...” Hermione spoke slowly as she continued to read. “That the amulet has the power to bring people back from the dead with no strings attached, no problems. For starters.”
“If someone worked out how to use it in that way, they could bring back all sorts of... bad people!” exclaimed Tonks, hands waving manically.
“Or even an army of bad people,” added Kingsley more solemnly.
Loud debate began as the Order began to discuss exactly what Katerina might choose to do with the amulet.
“She doesn't want to build an army,” said a quiet, stony voice. Silence fell and the whole group turned to look at Maura, sat with her feet up on the table.
“She doesn't want to take over the world,” she continued. “She wants revenge.”
“You really think she's gone to all this trouble just for revenge?” asked Snape. Maura fixed him with her icy blue eyes and nodded slowly.
“She wants revenge. Oh, she might have a go at taking over the world, but first she'll want revenge. She doesn't want an army, she doesn't want any evildoers. She wants George.”
“You really think it's that personal?” asked Lupin. Maura sighed.
“Do you think she'd spend so long spying on our children if she wanted to take over the world?” she replied.
“I don't think so,” Harry agreed. Maura jumped up.
“I think it's time for me to have a word with my bloody Guardians. Again.”
***
Maura had never really got to know Patricia's replacement Guardian. In the decade since Patricia died, Maura hadn't needed to call on her Guardians that often and found herself still referring to them in her mind as `Patricia and Clara' rather than `Clara and Lizzie.” Lizzie was apparently Clara's younger sister and well educated in the ways of being a Guardian.
Not that this mattered at ten past eleven at night when she was slamming her fist against their front door. All the lights were off.
“Oi! Wakey wakey! Rise and naffing shine!”
An upstairs light came on. She continued to bang on the door. The landing light came on, then after a moment the hallway light. Then the sound of the lock. The door opened and Lizzie stood there wrapped in a pink Marks & Spencer dressing gown.
“Is it urgent?” she asked. Maura pushed past her.
“Yes, it is, hence all the banging and shouting.”
“I thought it was just your usual manner of greeting. I'll go and get Clara.”
Lizzie glared at her and disappeared upstairs. Maura went into the living room and made herself comfortable. A moment or two later, Clara followed Lizzie down the stairs.
“Maura? What's going on?” Clara fixed her with a steely glare surely learned from Patricia.
“I want to know why you didn't warn me what Katerina's been up to.”
“Katerina?” Lizzie asked. Clara silenced her with a look, which would've had Maura smirking if she weren't so angry.
“What do you mean?” Clara asked, as if she'd never heard the name before.
“I mean that Katerina seems to have spent the last decade or so plotting her revenge against me and is probably planning to take over the world. She's been spying on me, my friends and our children and I want to know why you, as my apparent Guardians, didn't think to keep an eye on her. When I first asked you, you said you`d stopped watching her about ten years ago. Why didn't you keep watching her?”
“Why didn't you?” Lizzie snapped back so harshly Maura was reminded why she wasn't fond of this particular Guardian.
“When I last saw her, my husband had just died, my best friend had just turned her back on me and I had to deal with the fact that I was an eighteen-year-old pregnant widow. It wasn't exactly my first priority,” she snarled back.
“Stop it, both of you,” said Clara in a firm but tired sounding voice. She sat down opposite Maura and pointed for Lizzie to sit down as well.
“We did keep an eye on her,” Clara admitted. “At first. My grandmother insisted we did after what Katerina said to you after the battles. But... our influence only stretches so far. We know she went to America a couple of years after your formed your Diamond and it seemed to us that she just... went. We don't have eyes and ears across the world, Maura. We... It was Patricia who made me watch Katerina and she didn't seem any sort of threat to me.”
“Well deduced, Holmes,” Maura growled. Lizzie snorted.
“I'm sure you're being dramatic,” she said. Maura fixed her with one of her iciest blue stares. She pulled the picture of the amulet out of the back pocket of her jeans and threw it at Lizzie.
“That is how dramatic I'm being.”
Clara picked up the picture and studied it closely for a minute.
“Grandmother...” she mumbled. “She...”
“What?” Maura demanded. “What did Patricia do or say about that picture?”
“She once told me about a talisman, I think she called it an amulet...” Clara said, now getting up and beginning to rifle through the bookcase. “I remember... I'm sure I remember her telling me about an amulet without a name.”
She continued to go through the shelves for a minute before grabbing a diary.
“What's that?” Maura asked.
“All Guardians keep a diary dealing with the Heirs,” said Lizzie. Clara flicked through.
“Here it is!” she said, flicking through. “My grandmother wrote that... Lily Evans took the nameless amulet for safekeeping in the Hall of the Dead.”
“So...” Maura said, calming down a bit. “We know where it is?”
“Not right now,” Clara said, reading. “There were... instructions...”
“What instructions?” cut in Lizzie. Clara glared at her.
“I'm reading! Give me a minute, would you? There were instructions which were placed in safekeeping in a vault...”
“Not at Gringotts?” asked Maura. Clara nodded.
“How did you know that? I've never heard of it before.”
“Wizard bank. Which vault? Do we have a key?”
“Vault 2503... and the key was given to... the Order of the Phoenix.”
“Really?” Maura asked. “But they don't know anything about the amulet.”
“I would have thought, Maura, that my grandmother asked them to look after the key but didn't tell them what it was for.”
“Well, I'll get back to them and see what it's about.” she asked, pointing to the diary. “And... I should ask, you have been keeping an eye on you-know-what, right?”
“Of course. The Guardians have been watching over it much longer than you or I have walked the earth.”
“Right. Well, good night,” Maura said, shooting a smile at Clara before leaving the house.
***
“That's very lucky,” said Hermione. “We might finally have a head start on Katerina.”
Maura had given her news to the rest of the Diamond, for they were the only ones left at the Order HQ by the time she got back.
“Maybe,” said Ron. “But maybe not.”
“Don't be so pessimistic,” said Harry. “A lead is a lead.”
“Have we got a reply from our owl to Dumbledore?” asked Hermione, still scribbling in a notepad.
“You may have, Miss Granger.”
They all looked up to see the retired headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore walking in. He looked quite frail, but his blue eyes were still twinkling and his smile was warm.
“Hello Professor!” Hermione jumped up and ran over to hug her old teacher. It always warmed her heart to hear him still call her Miss Granger, as if he alone understood what she had given up when she got married so very young.
“You all look well,” he said, taking the chair at the head of the table. “And all doing very well.”
“Thank you sir,” said Ron, a slight colour coming to his ears. Even all these years after leaving school, it made them all proud to hear such words from this man whose respect they wanted. Maura's cheeks went a little pink when Dumbledore smiled kindly at her.
“We need to ask you about a key given to the Order by the Heir of Maeve's Guardians. A key to-” began Harry.
“A Gringotts vault,” Dumbledore finished. “I thought you might when I received the owl about this mysterious amulet.”
“Do you know where the key is?”
“It is being kept safe in the Order chamber at Hogwarts.”
“Oh.”
“Unfortunately, we cannot get into Gringotts until the morning now,” Dumbledore said. “So I would advise you all go home and get some sleep.”
“That's a good idea,” said Ron with a yawn. “My wife will think I've forgotten where I live.”
“Let's meet at Madam Sinta's first thing tomorrow morning,” suggested Hermione. “So we can go straight to the bank.”
“A fine idea,” agreed Dumbledore. “I will call on Professor McGonagall to get the key and meet you there. I'm very partial to Madam Sinta's Enervating Hot Chocolate.”
*
If anyone sipping hot beverages at Madam Sinta's that morning thought that seeing the retired head of Hogwarts and the Diamond sat drinking hot chocolate was odd, nobody said so. The five at the table said very little of consequence until the clock struck nine - Gringotts opening time.
They strode down Diagon Alley and received a cordial if not entirely warm reception at the bank. The Order's vault was one of the deepest, and Dumbledore went in and came out with a tiny velvet pouch.
“Vault 2503, please,” he instructed the goblin, who actually looked surprised - that was a deep, deep vault. The Philosopher's Stone had been in 713, and Harry had thought that was deep enough. The ride to the vault was rough, rapid and unpleasant, but when they got there it turned out to be a tiny vault that only required the key.
The goblin, Lodbrok, smirked.
“Reputation and fear are often security enough,” he told them. Inside the vault was a small leather-bound notebook which Harry took.
“I suppose this is it?” he asked. The others, having no real idea, just nodded. Then, they were off again, back towards the surface and the fresh air.
*
The book turned out to be addressed to Maura, in a manner of speaking:
Dear Heir,
If you're reading this, I suppose someone has found where we hid that bloody amulet. I've written these instructions, although they're really more like clues. I'm sorry I can't be direct but... well, you might not be the heir, might you? Good luck and may the road rise to meet you.
L.E.
Maura shrugged, trying to hide how she felt at seeing Harry's mother's handwriting. The instructions were convoluted in the extreme, and in the end Hermione took the book and holed herself away with the Order's best and brightest code breaker to at least find out what part of the world it was in.
Untold cups of Enervating Hot Chocolate later, Hermione reappeared.
“Where is it?” Harry had been on tenterhooks since he'd seen his mother's handwriting - somehow her having been the heir had only been a vague historical fact until then.
“Alexandria. Egypt.”
“Oh good,” said Ron. “We can visit Bill while we're there.”
“I'll arrange for the necessary Portkeys,” Harry told them. “We'll leave as soon as we can.”
***
Alexandria, Egypt
Hermione wiped the sweat from her brow and turned to her travelling companions. It was the middle of the morning when they arrived and it was already too hot for her.
“Do you have your instructions, Maura?” she asked. The other woman nodded curtly.
“Yep. Can we hurry up and get out of the sun? I've got alabaster skin, I'll have you know.”
“As does Ron,” Harry cracked. “I think he's already got sunburn and we've only been here five minutes.”
“Shut up, Potter.”
“Shut up all of you,” Hermione said, cutting the bickering off immediately. It was far too hot for them to be arguing about anything. “We'll get a taxi to Bill's house first of all. I'm sure he'll be able to help.”
Hermione hailed a cab and they clambered in. Using her fairly limited knowledge of Arabic, she was able to direct the driver to Bill Weasley's home.
Bill's home was the top flat in a fairly grotty looking apartment block. Although he was well paid by Gringotts for his extensive work as a curse-breaker and general tomb raider, it didn't show from his address.
“Are you sure this is it?” Ron asked as they waited for the doorbell to be answered. “He lived somewhere much nicer when we visited.”
“Ron, you last visited when you were thirteen,” Harry reminded him. “And he was living in Cairo at the time.”
The door opened and a smart-looking Bill opened the door.
“Hello!” he greeted them amiably. “Come in, won't you?”
Inside, the flat was much, much nicer. Modern furniture jostled for space with various antiques and bits and pieces of Egyptian art-work. It was also immaculately tidy.
“I'd offer you tea, but I'm off to a meeting with the boss goblin at Gringotts in a minute,” he told them.
“We can't stay anyway,” Ron told his brother. “We're looking for a place-”
“Here,” Hermione interrupted, handing Bill the first part of Maura's instructions- the map of Alexandria and its outskirts that she had been able to construct from the first clues.
“Never heard of it,” he said, looking perplexed. The four shared an uncomfortable look.
“Although... it looks like this bit,” he pointed to the entrance of the tunnel complex “isn't far from the wizarding quarter of the city. I can show you before my meeting.”
Bill grabbed a rolled up carpet and motioned for them to follow him. He led them out of the flat and up onto the roof of the building. He unrolled the carpet, which hovered a few inches off the ground.
“You've got a flying carpet!” Maura said in awe. Bill nodded.
“Oh, they're not illegal here. Prime mode of wizard transportation in a country that never had huge supplies of wood, isn't it? Get on, it'll take all five of us.”
“Won't Muggles see?” asked Hermione, looking down on the busy city below.
“Charmed not to, just like broomsticks,” Bill said. “Keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, please no smoking and no food or drink. Unless you offer me some, of course.”
Bill grinned as they each got onto the carpet. The five of them easily fitted onto it as Bill said they would. He steered it upwards a little and to the right.
“We're very high up,” said Hermione rather anxiously, looking down at the streets below. Harry held her arm and squeezed it reassuringly.
“It's fine,” he reassured her. They sat in relative silence as Bill flew the carpet over Alexandria. As they began to reach the outskirts of town, he manoeuvred it downwards to another rooftop.
“Everybody off,” he said cheerfully. They got off the carpet and he rolled it up. By the stairs down, a bored looking clerk sat in a little booth.
“Afternoon Salah,” Bill said with a smile. The young wizard returned it.
“Hello Bill,” he said, taking the carpet and storing it in the booth. “Long or short term parking?”
“Short term. Only here to see the boss.”
“Right,” Salah tore off a little pink ticket from a book and handed it to Bill. “Have a good afternoon.”
Bill led the four down the stairs around the side of the building. At the bottom, they found the Alexandrian equivalent of Diagon Alley.
“This place has been here even longer than Diagon Alley,” he told them, perhaps guessing what they were thinking. “But they do have a branch of Flourish and Blotts now. And there's a Starbucks.”
He led them through the wizard quarter, each of them marvelling at the similarities and differences between this place and Diagon Alley. At the very edge of the shopping district stood the imposing grey stone building that housed the Alexandrian branch of Gringotts.
“I'll leave you here,” Bill told them. “See that outcropping?” He pointed towards a rocky area some distance away in the wilderness of sand, far from the buildings of the city.
“We see it,” Harry said. Bill nodded.
“That's what's marked on your map. You should be warned that it's a lot further away than it looks. Either hire a car or buy a lot of water and a hat. I have to go now. Good seeing you all. Ron, tell Mum I said hello and that I'm eating properly.”
“Will do,” said Ron. Bill grinned at them all one last time before disappearing into Gringotts.
“What do we do?” Harry asked. “Rent a car?”
“I'm not sure we should,” Ron said. “That involves paperwork. We don't want anyone to know where we're going or even that we've been here.”
“Probably not,” Hermione said “but it looks rather a long way away.”
“Camels?” suggested Maura with a grin.
“How much money do we have with us?” Harry asked. Hermione checked her bag.
“Not a great deal. I'd say we'd just go to the bank, but we don't want anyone knowing we're here.”
“Right, because we don't stick out at all as it is,” Ron said dryly.
“Do we have enough money with us for two camels?” Harry asked. “We can share.”
“Whatever,” Maura said. “I just want to get this over and done with.”
***
Fifteen minutes later, Hermione's Arabic had got them two camels for a fairly reasonable price, although not being conversant in camel rentals, they weren't sure how reasonable the price actually was. They loaded up on bottles of Evian available at the wizard supermarket, and were soon on their way towards the mysterious rock formation.
Bill had been correct- it was much further away than it looked. As they rode towards it, Maura began to read the instructions she'd been presented with before coming to Egypt.
“What does it say?” Hermione asked, as curious as ever. Maura sighed, having trouble with the detailed yet cryptic wording.
“I think we have to look for a pink rock, but I've never heard of rocks being pink, so I might be wrong.”
“There's such a thing as red granite here in Egypt,” Ron said suddenly from his position behind her on the camel.
“There is? How do you know that?”
“It came up once when we were studying Egyptian rituals at Nostradamus. I think it's quarried much further South than here, although I could be wrong. That needle thing in London is made out of it.”
“What needle thing?” Maura asked. From her position on Harry's lap on the other camel, Hermione sighed.
“You've never heard of Cleopatra's Needle? Or seen it?”
“No.”
“And you call yourself a Londoner?” Hermione asked. Maura nodded.
“Yeah. But unless it was on Kilburn High Road, I wouldn't know anything about it. Tourist attraction, is it?”
“Somewhat,” Hermione said. Maura laughed.
“There you go. I'm not a tourist in London, am I?”
“This is an odd conversation to be having here,” Harry said. The rocks finally seemed be getting closer.
***
After riding for what felt like another hour but was more likely around half an hour, they found themselves at the rocky outcropping. It was a strange place. The huge rocks jutted out of the earth and went about forty feet upwards. It looked like a natural formation, but the perfect circle formed by the rocks suggested that it was rather more man-made. Leaving the camels, the four climbed over the rocks into the centre of the circle.
“Does this remind anyone else of Stonehenge?” Ron asked. Hermione nodded.
“Pink rock, people,” Maura reminded them. “A pink rock.”
“Over here,” Harry called to them. Hidden away from immediate view, a chunk of pink rock was set into a fairly ordinary rock. Without preamble, Maura grabbed hold of the rock, which turned fifty degrees to the right. A low rumbling was heard somewhere below and the four felt the sands shift underfoot. After a moment, the sand and rock in front of them moved to reveal a small opening in the ground.
“How did you know to do that?” Hermione asked, poring over Maura's instructions. “It isn't written down here.”
“I don't know,” Maura shrugged nonchalantly. “Let's go.”
The other three hung back for a moment rather cautiously as Maura barrelled on down into the ground. Her head popped back up again.
“There's steps. Come on, will you?” she said, rolling her eyes at them. Harry followed her before Hermione and Ron went last.
“Will people not see the hole in the ground?” Ron asked. Maura pulled her Maglite out of her khaki trouser pocket and examined the passageway more thoroughly. A pink rock, just like the one up above was set into the wall. She turned it fifty degrees to the left. Above them, the rock closed over the opening.
“An educated guess,” she explained. Hermione turned the rock fifty degrees right. The opening was revealed once more. She turned it to the left to close it.
“Just checking,” she explained. “I have no desire to be trapped down here.”
“Where do we go now?” Harry asked. Ahead of them loomed three equally dark, equally dank looking passageways. Hermione examined the instructions carefully.
“I think we take the middle passageway,” she said. “We have to find the Hall of the Dead.”
“Which is what?” Ron asked, looking rather nervous. “Just, you know, for reference.”
Hermione cleared her throat and began, “As far as I can tell, it's where the Ptolemaic wizards hid the bodies of important figures. There are also several powerful magical objects hidden here because we're in a magical black spot. Hence our torches,” she held up her own Maglite.
“There are some trials along the way, right?” Maura asked. Hermione nodded.
“As far as I can tell. It doesn't say what they are, though.”
“Wouldn't be trials then, would they?” asked Ron. Hermione smacked him on the arm.
“Behave, children,” Harry chided gently. “I think we've got a long day ahead of us.”
“Middle passageway? I think the middle passageway,” said Maura quite confidently. The other three nodded and they made their way down the passage.
Narrow, low, dark and dank, the passage was not the nicest place in the world to be. Tall Ron was forced to stoop and soon found he had backache.
“I'm getting too old for this saving the world lark,” he grumbled. Their footsteps echoed down the passageway, creating eerie, unnerving sounds. Harry had been periodically checking the compass that was a part of his watch, but found that it was being driven haywire.
“What? I don't understand. It's acting like we're walking through a magnet or something?”
“The way I see it, the wizards who constructed this whole place,” Hermione told him “built in a lot of tricks to put people off. Maybe that's one of them.”
“Isn't this a black spot?” Ron asked. “If they were wizards, how did they do anything?”
“Oh honestly Ron,” Hermione said with a sigh. “They didn't have to use magic.”
The passageway came to an end at a small cave. Checking Maura's instructions again, Hermione nodded.
“We should see a stone Sphinx with a riddle,” she said.
“There's nothing here,” Harry told her after a cursory search with his torchlight.
“What's this?” asked Maura, who had been rather quiet since they had begun their journey through the tunnels. She pointed her torchlight towards the opposite end of the cave. A pile of rubble marked the start of yet another passageway, this time even narrower and even lower. Kneeling down to examine the rubble, Harry found the distinctive carved stone nose and chin of a Sphinx.
The four shared a worried look. Who had been down here already? Who, importantly, had been down here with enough power to reduce a special stone sphinx to little more than a pile of rocks?
“Someone didn't like the riddle, I suppose,” Maura cracked feebly. Harry continued to search through the rubble.
“Nothing here. I suppose all we can do is continue on down the passageway,” he said. The other three, still looking shaken at the new possibilities of what awaited them, just nodded.
***
It took them another hour or so to reach the first cavern and the entrance to the fabled golden pathway. They paused to drink some water.
“You know, I have a feeling that it didn't matter which passageway we took before,” Ron said, pointing to the other two passageways that led into the cavern. Harry nodded.
“That would be typical. What's this?” asked Maura, running her hand over a red mark on the wall of the passageway they'd just come down.
“Looks like lipstick to me,” said Hermione, rubbing the edge of it. “L,J&S?”
Harry blanched.
“Did you say that the person who hid the amulet in the first place was another Heir of Maeve?” he asked Maura. She nodded. Hermione, seeing Harry's expression, guessed what he was thinking.
“Lily did write that note in the book.”
“James and Sirius,” he added. “They all came here. Like us now.”
“We should've told Sirius about our little jaunt,” Maura said. “He might have given us some advice.”
“We're still waiting for him to return from bloody Salem,” grumbled Hermione.
“Do you suppose that they destroyed the Sphinx?” Ron asked. Harry glared at him. Before an argument could break out, Hermione stepped in.
“No. The instructions would have changed. I have a feeling that someone has been here since Lily but before us. Someone that wasn't meant to be.”
“No...” Maura said, punctuating it with a sad, heavy sigh.
“It might be OK,” Hermione said, pushing false cheer into her voice. “It doesn't mean they found what they were looking for.”
“Don't say `they', Hermione,” Maura snapped. “Call her Katerina. It's her name, after all.”
“We don't know it's Katerina we're looking for,” Harry said reasonably. Maura just snorted derisively.
“I know it is. After finding that stuff at her flat, I'd say she's got enough know-how and power to get down here,” she said.
“Look,” Ron cut in. “I would really like to get home to my wife and children within the next few months, so if we could hurry this up? We must nearly be there.”
“I think so,” Hermione said, glancing over the instructions again. “We follow the gold.” Before anyone could add anything else or object, she was off, following the glittering nuggets of gold.
***
As it had been over thirty years ago, it took the group about half an hour to reach the end of the passage of gold and arrive at the Hall of the Dead. Had Sirius been with them, he wouldn't have noticed anything different since his last visit. The gold was as glittering, the murals as bright as they had been. This time, however, the group knew more about their surroundings courtesy of Hermione Granger, writer and historian extraordinaire.
“What does the writing on the archway say, Rune Girl?” Ron asked. Hermione glared at him for the `Rune Girl' remark but translated it just the same.
“It's in ancient hieroglyphics,” she said. “It says that this is the Hall of the Dead and that only those wishing no harm should cross the threshold into the Hall.”
“Is that us?” Maura asked. Hermione nodded and stepped onto the gold tiles.
“This is a statue of Nephthys,” she said of the statue guarding the entrance. “She's the guardian of the dead. I didn't think she was worshipped this far north, but you learn something new everyday.”
Harry, Ron and Maura listened with a little amusement as Hermione pointed out this, that and the other in great detail. Within a couple of minutes she identified the tomb of the first Ptolemaic Pharaoh, the statues of Isis, Horus and Osiris and the materials used to make each. Then, as Lily Evans had done so many years ago, Hermione found a red granite sarcophagus.
“You should all come and see this,” she said breathlessly. “Alexander the Great. The Alexander.”
“How many Alexander the Greats are there?” Ron asked, fairly unimpressed.
“Don't you understand, Ron?” she asked. “This room has just contradicted thousands of years of history.”
“You might want to look at this one then, Hermione,” Harry called, standing at the sarcophagus-for-two not so far away. He had a fairly good knowledge of runes thanks to spending so many years with Hermione, and had an idea of who was inside. Hermione understood straightaway.
“Who is it?” Maura asked.
“Antony and Cleopatra,” Hermione said, tracing the runes with her finger. “It says that this is the last resting place of Queen Cleopatra XIV and her husband, General Marcus Antonius of Rome.”
Maura, Ron and Harry looked suitably impressed, just as James and Sirius had done so long ago.
“Where is the tomb we're looking for?” Harry asked, right back to business. “Does it say in those instructions of yours, Maura?”
“I'm reading... I'm reading... Says something about Lapis Lazuli... The tomb of the wizard is made of black granite and Lapis Lazuli.”
Maura frowned. These ridiculous instructions weren't her sort of thing. She was only glad that Hermione the Brain was with her on this mission, otherwise she might have been down here a long, long time. She began wandering around fairly aimlessly, listening to Hermione talk.
“He must have been very, very important,” Hermione said, fully in her historian mode now. “Lapis Lazuli was highly sought after in ancient times and-”
“Hermione, love?” Harry interrupted. “Can you tell us all your facts when we're out of here?”
Hermione looked a little hurt, but nodded. They searched through the Hall.
“I'd say she found what she was after,” said Maura, staring into a dark corner of the hall.
Her friends ran over to where she was standing over a black granite sarcophagus, hidden away in a corner. The lid was smashed into two pieces which now lay haphazardly, one piece on the floor, one piece leaning on the stone catafalque. Feeling rather nervous about the whole situation, Harry peered inside the coffin.
“His right arm has been broken. Recently, I mean,” he said. Hermione took the instructions from Maura and began reading through the end.
“It says that the amulet was placed under the right hand,” she told him. “Katerina must have been impatient.”
“That doesn't sound like her,” Maura said. “Then again, tomb raiding didn't used to be her style either, so what do I know?”
Hermione looked greatly troubled now.
“We're too late to protect the amulet,” she said. “If Katerina does have it, it's only a matter of time before she works out exactly how to use it.”
***
It took them some time longer to get back out, due to their fatigue and the dispirited feeling of failure they each now had to face. Finally, they arrived back on the surface and rode the camels back to Alexandria. They didn't wait around to see Bill again, instead choosing to Portkey straight back to England. Once there, they headed to Ruairi House, where Harry began cooking and Hermione delved right into her library.
“It's gone?” Maura's Guardian Clara looked most distressed. She had arrived at the house after Maura contacted her to say she was back in Britain. On her question, Maura just nodded glumly.
“What can we do?” she asked. Clara shook her head.
“I don't know. It's never come up before. Last time, we were sure it would be safe there, but... I don't even understand how she discovered the whereabouts of the Hall.”
“We don't know who or what she has on her side,” Ron explained. “The kind of stuff Harry and Maura found at Katerina's flat was a bit disturbing.”
“I should get back to London. I can contact the rest of the Guardians' Circle and see what we can do. Maura, you should speak to the Order of the Phoenix as well.”
“That's what we're here for,” Ron, a member of the Order, said with a grin. Clara did not return it.
“I meant that you should call a meeting of the Order. If the Katerina girl is able to channel the powers of the amulet, you'll need all the help you can get.”
Without another word, Clara stepped into the fire, threw some Floo powder in and disappeared back to London. Ron got up from his seat.
“I'll owl Dumbledore,” he told Maura before heading upstairs to Harry's little owlery. Maura sat alone in the living room as Harry cooked, Hermione read and Ron wrote. She thought of Katerina as she remembered her: a sweet, kind girl with a delicate smile and a fear of spiders, snakes and Jack Russell dogs. She thought of Katerina as she had been the last time they saw each other: red-eyed, heart-broken, betrayed and angry. This, Maura realised, was all her fault.
***
After eating a rather rushed dinner of bacon, eggs and baked beans, the Diamond sat down to discuss the amulet, Hermione's findings and the implications.
“From what I've been able to ascertain from all the books, the amulet was forged in Ireland in about 44 BC. It was made at Tara, the old seat of the High Kings of Ireland by an Egyptian priest who had travelled there to teach, to learn and to harness the magic there to make his amulet.”
“What was his name?” Maura asked.
“I haven't found a name yet, although I'm sure with a bit more digging I can find it.”
“Is it easily destructible?” Ron asked. Hermione bit her lip.
“I don't think so. From what I've found so far, the amulet was made using precious metals mined in Greece, although it doesn't say what metals. It had gemstones from Babylon set into it and was made, quite specifically, on the Roman feast day honouring Jupiter, chief amongst gods.”
“So,” Harry started “it's a pretty powerful thing?”
“From what I've been able to deduce from all those books and in the last half an hour since returning home, and let's remember I haven't slept in two days,” Hermione said “if the person with the amulet knows how, it can harness the ancient magic we barely touched when we borrowed some of it seventeen years ago. It can also bring people back from the dead if you know how. That's what we assumed she wanted it for.”
“Do you suppose she knows how?” Maura asked. Sharp-eyed Harry noticed that Maura's hands were shaking slightly, a sure sign of the woman's underlying anger and fear. Hermione shook her head.
“I haven't found anything written about how to use it. Everything I've read so far is very, very vague indeed. If it is as powerful as I'm led to believe, nobody would be stupid enough to write a User Manual. But... that doesn't mean she can't find out. We should talk to the Order. They've been looking after it for centuries, they should know more than us.”
“Dumbledore said he'd owl us back when he'd contacted the rest of the Order,” Ron told them.
“Well, we're probably off to Hogwarts. No sleep for us anytime soon.”
“Well, I refuse to sit around with sand in my shoes any longer,” Hermione said, rising to her feet. “I'm going to have a shower before I do anything else.”
***
To be continued...
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