A/N: In some reviews, some of you said that Harry's reasoning for leaving is kind of weak, and saying that there is more to it than that might be weak too, but there is more. The original plan for this story consisted of 28 chapters-though it is doubtful it will be that long-and that was just chapter nine. However, I do know that there are some weak points in this story too; I am trying to fix them. I apologise for that, there are far too many mistakes so far already and I'm not sure that I should pull the entire story altogether and start over.
Hopefully this chapter answers some more questions.
Thanks to all who reviewed, constructive criticism keeps me on track when I slip up sometimes.
One more thing, sorry for the banter between the twins, I just cannot do them well, I love them but I can't do it.
Disclaimer: I would love to own this stuff; I would know what happens in book 7 rather than having to wait two years or more like everyone else. But I don't. *sigh*
~*~*~*~
Hallowe'en
As it always was every Hallowe'en, Hogwarts' Great Hall had been prepared for a grand feast. Spider-webs and floating candles, Jack o' Lanterns, fake bats and curious fairy lights, tables lined with sweet treats, meats and drinks, and of course, a grand, pumpkin-garlanded, animated portrait of Harry Potter pursuing the Snitch against the back wall, it was very grand indeed. The enchanted ceiling above revealed a clear starry night, the school ghosts weaved their way between candles and pointed hats just under it, and most wonderful of all, and probably to Professor McGonagall at least, as the staff took up their places at the main table the students rose for a rousing rendition of the school song.
Ron searched for, and found, the twins at their tables with their friends, singing as loudly as the others. He wasn't too sure they properly knew the song, but amidst the voices of their thousand-strong schoolmates who could tell the difference? He smiled at them both, they grinned back, and he continued on to the main table.
Once the song had ended, and all were comfortable in their seats, Professor McGonagall rose to speak.
"First of all, I would like to say, thank you. Thank you, and goodnight, to all of you wonderful students, and especially for that welcome just now. I have never been so honoured."
Smiles appeared on almost every face; she smiled back, and continued.
"Now, tonight, as you all well know, is a very important night for us all, and when I say all, I mean Wizards and Muggles alike. On this night, eleven years ago… and maybe, twenty years before that, Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort. We have always celebrated this night, but since then we have had twice the reason. We toast his victory at the same time that we commemorate a special night for Wizarding kind, and I am glad to see that you all hold it in as high regard as it rightly deserves."
There was slight applause, Philippe and friends took a few bows, much to Ron's disappointment, and then he realised that they were all standing, staring at him and applauding louder.
His face went as red as his hair, he was sure of it, but if they noticed, they didn't care. They had actually done the same thing every year since his arrival at the school, and did not seem likely to tire of it any time soon. He was a hero, like Harry and Hermione, like that Mr Nicolas had pointed out, and as long as he was alive, he was probably going to have to endure being treated like one.
Funny, a lifetime ago he would have revelled in it.
Professor McGonagall allowed the applause to continue for some time, before raising her hand for silence, and when it fell, gravely began again.
"But on this night that we celebrate a victory… we must also remember a defeat. For, as you also well know, when Harry Potter saved us, there was a cost… his life. He courageously and selflessly paid it, thinking only of his friends, of his family, of you…. So, when we feast tonight, we also feast in his memory, and I beg all of you to remember that, to acknowledge it and Hogwarts' treasured son, Harry Potter."
Every head in the hall, and that included the ghosts, and with some ease, Nearly Headless Nick, bowed for a moment of silence. Even Peeves the Poltergeist gave it a rest.
Then one by one they rose and began to applaud again, this time turning to the animated portrait.
Whistling, clapping and then eventually, singing the school song once more, Ron thought it the finest honour anyone could give Harry. No fancy speeches, select guests, fireworks or songs, it was perfect. Harry never really liked that stuff anyway.
Professor McGonagall then waited until an encore of the school song was finished to say, "Now that we have honoured and remembered, I believe it is time to eat!"
One more round of applause, this time punctuated by calls that they concurred, and the feasting began.
Professor Theoden leaned over then and said, "I wonder if the Ministry of Magic can top this… though Gilderoy Lockhart's speech should be a laugh."
Ron growled, "If I catch him alone in a dark alley it will be, that git almost cost me my sister!"
"We know Ron," said Padma, "but I heard that your brothers are going to be there, they'll take care of him, and knowing Fred and George, they'll provide the dark alley too."
That brought a smile to his face; Professor Theoden leaned over again, "Are the lovely Miss Granger and son going to be there too, it is her first Hallowe'en back with us, isn't it?"
Ron shook his head, "Hermione has… other plans for tonight, or so she told me. And she's gotten over Lockhart so she won't be too disappointed that she missed it."
"Here's missing something… why didn't you tell me that she and your sister were here last week?" asked Theoden, a mischievous look in his eye. "I only found out from the Prophet that evening, 'Reunion: Hermione Granger Makes Surprise Visit to Former School!' I thought we were friends."
"It was exactly what they called it, a surprise visit, even I didn't know about it until they came through the fireplace," lied Ron. "They said they wanted to see me teach… on a Saturday. If they just wanted to spend a day making me miserable all they had to do was say that Mum was swearing off cooking for Christmas…. Hermione did promise to come back again though, soon, but I don't know, she's missed a lot of work, they're going to let her go if she misses any more."
"Any idea why that is?" asked Padma, though her tone wasn't an inquisitive one.
"No," said Ron, lying again, "gods knows what happened to her in Bulgaria, she's not the same person I went to school and war with. Krum is very lucky he's dead, or I'd be killing him now."
He refused to feel guilty about lying to them; they weren't as close to him as Harry and Hermione had been. He could tell them the truth a little before Hermione planned to announce it to the world, but not much more than that.
Hermione still had no memory of everything though she had the pictures, and a few stiff conversations with Mrs Weasley and Lupin. The potion they had given her had no antidote, it either naturally wore off or there was a trigger. The brewer of the potion, apparently Severus Snape, also suggested that Hermione was suppressing something, which prevented the potion from wearing off.
Ron did not like or trust Severus Snape, therefore he did not believe any of that.
Theoden was speaking again, "I hear that Maia Black is the new Hufflepuff Seeker, I hope she knows that when Hufflepuff plays Slytherin we will not be merciful. Gryffindor hasn't won since Harry Potter left and they reopened Hogwarts, Hufflepuff hasn't won for longer than that… I would hate to see her have a bad first year at a new school."
Ron smiled, "But she flies well, shame she isn't a Gryffindor, her sister doesn't seem interested…"
And then suddenly, the twins rose from their tables and hurriedly exited the Great Hall. He allowed his voice to trail off watching them disappear, and then asked, "Are they… are they allowed to do that…? They just ran off…"
The other two turned with him, but only to see Philippe rising from his place as well, and darting off behind them.
Padma began, "Well… there is no rule that says you have to attend the Hallowe'en feast…"
"I think we should follow them," suggested Professor Theoden as Philippe's head finally disappeared through the doors.
"Are you insane?" demanded Padma, "If the three of us leave we'll draw attention… we need a spy…"
Ron sat puzzling a moment and then looked up with a smile, "I have one-Dobby!"
At once, and behind them with a small "pop" appeared the tiny, leathery, bug-eyed, knit-hat-wearing house-elf of his childhood. Padma turned with a gasp, Professor Theoden looked less startled, and Ron ignored them both to ask, "Dobby, how's it going? Good, no time to catch up but I was wondering… would you be interested in doing some work for me like you did for Harry in Sixth Year?"
"What work…?" asked Padma.
Dobby's bright green eyes lit up as if by lanterns, he stood almost on the tips of his toes and said earnestly and excitedly, "Yes sir! Anything for Harry's Wheezy! What is it?"
He ignored the snickering of his companions at "Wheezy" to say, "I want you to follow my nephew-you know him-and a pair of girls, the French twins. You may not know them but…"
"Oh Dobby knows lots about them, sir! They come to visit Dobby sometimes in the kitchens, sir!" started Dobby, cutting him off.
Ron suppressed the urge to wonder aloud the deepening enigma of the twins, and said, "Good Dobby, that's very good…. Here's what I want you to do, find them, wherever they are right now in the castle, and follow them-out of sight-see what they're up to, and then come back and tell me later… can you do that?"
In reply, Dobby vanished with a barely audible "pop".
"Well then, that's that, now we wait," said Padma.
Ron nodded, "Yeah, wait."
~*~*~*~
"Reunion: Hermione Granger Makes Surprise Visit to Former School!
For the first time in fifteen years, and just months after her return to Wizarding England, Hermione Granger has re-visited her alma mater, the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Long-time friend, Ron Weasley, is Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at the prestigious academy and is rumoured to be the reason for this week's visit. But this did not hamper Miss Granger from joining the intrigue surrounding the Black twins. She reportedly was also a spectator at the school's Quidditch tryouts and was seen in the company of one of the sisters."
Closing and folding the paper, Paul casually discarded it before joining the line going into the stadium.
When exactly had the Daily Prophet become a tabloid? Not one report in the entire paper was actual news anyone could care for. Well, there was that one thing about the Minister for Magic's plans to award Hermione, Ron and himself with yet another Order of Merlin commendation.
He scoffed at that, it and the ceremony today was just another way for the Ministry to serve their own interests. Whether he liked it or not he was still their "poster boy".
The stadium being used today had been erected deep in the Welsh countryside on rented land much like had been done for the Quidditch World Cup in his Fourth Year. The customary Muggle-Repelling, security and secrecy charms had been set up, the Aurors at the gates went over everyone entering with Secrecy Sensors and once beyond them, they were hurriedly ushered to their seats.
They were taking no chances for trouble, the Death Eaters or supporters (so called "neo-Death Eaters") would certainly love to get their hands on an opportunity.
Drawing his wool robes closer round him, Paul strolled lazily up to his seat in the stands, the ones closest the Minister's box. It was cold out, stars dotted the moonless sky like sequins on a black, velvety gown and he had to wonder why he was really out here. A chilly night wind whipped across the stadium, and he turned his gaze down to the main stage where last minute decorations were being added to a large, animated portrait of him.
Why had he come here?
He could have been at home, in his warm bed or before the fire reminiscing. Reminiscing about a past where maybe it was all simpler, just the straightforward find and stop Voldemort and go home the hero. And waiting, waiting for the not-so-simple present to come crashing down around him.
But he wasn't. How many could boast of attending their memorial?
A familiar voice, a flash of red hair tossed in the wind, and Paul turned to find that he was being deluged by the Weasleys making their way to their own box in the stands.
How lucky was he?
Sons, daughters-in-law, children, Mr and Mrs Weasley… when last had he seen them? There was Ron, but never like this, never all together and so close that they were bumping into him as they passed. He stepped back out of their way… and then spied Ginny and Neville.
At this he paused and dared to hope, would she come too?
It was a desperate thought, but she had to be there. Ginny had been with her at the school, so surely she would come here with her now. Hadn't Hermione and Ginny been close friends before? It wouldn't take long for them to be as they were then again. They could fall out and still be friends; there was no way that they weren't together now. And with Ginny getting married… she had been with Hermione every step of the way with Viktor….
But the last up the stairs, and the others had to pause and wait for her, was Luna and her son. And he barely had time to swallow his disappointment before she turned her gaze directly to him and said, "Mr Nicolas? Come out to see the Minister praise himself?"
The others all turned to him at once. He froze, caught off guard, then smiled and stammered, "Y-yeah… n-never been to one of these things before… um… hello, goodnight… so this is the entire Weasley family is it?"
Luna smiled, "They're hard to miss… where, are you sitting?"
When had Luna…?
Never mind….
"Over there, as close to the Minister's box as I could get, I heard a rumour that if you sit close enough you can actually see his lips move," he told her with a grin.
It was an old joke, and a few cracked smiles, Fred and George as well. Good that he broke the ice, bad that he could see where this was going now.
Mrs Weasley, who had stopped at the head of the group and turned back, asked then, "You're the Mr Nicolas that Harry told us about…? Why don't you sit with us? That box looks pretty lonely there, and quite cold, I'm sure the Minister won't mind…"
Yep, he definitely didn't like where this was going.
He tried to refuse, "It would be an honour, believe me, but I don't think I should… I mean…"
In classic Mrs Weasley fashion, she refused to hear it, "Nonsense, you're new around here, what better company to be with, we won't mind."
Her husband agreed, "Yes… Harry said you came from South Africa… how's Muggle life down there?"
And before he could protest further, he was being dragged away and led to the Minister's box. How ironic was it that they were yet again going to show him the workings of the Wizarding world.
A Weasley, one he recognised as Charlie, said, "We sit with the Minister tonight, which will be fun… I'm Charlie, by the way."
Paul took his hand, "Paul Nicolas, nice to meet you… you're sitting in the Minister's box?"
One of the twins replied, "Yes, we want to see if his lips move too."
"You mean they don't when he lies?" asked the other.
"When he 'speaks', George," corrected his brother.
"Oh that's right, 'embellishes'," said George.
"'Exaggerates'," said Fred.
"'Takes liberties with the truth'?" asked George.
"Stop it, you two!" commanded Mrs Weasley.
Paul suppressed a smile, and tried his best to look mildly embarrassed.
The Minister's box directly faced the public entrance to the stadium, and yet had a panoramic view of the seats all round. Already, many of the crowd had taken to their seats, some waving small green flags with white, lightening bolts in the centre, or holding up large squares that together revealed an animated image of him taken from Bill and Fleur's wedding. How they had gotten that, he would not know, but he found himself held fascinated by the sight of Hermione in the background, smiling shyly at some unseen photographer.
And then he was snapped out of his reverie when he was pulled aside by someone to allow the children and Luna to get into the box. The children, he counted five, went into the box hurriedly calling and whispering greeting to all they met already there, and taking up the foremost seats. The adults followed after, George found him a seat and unfortunately next to Luna… and then one of the children started, "Maud?"
Some of the adults turned sharply, Paul looked with them to find a girl of ten seated just before them all beside her very familiar mother.
When last he had seen her it was Third Year, but before that it had been in the hospital wing petrified. She had been a prefect then, and caught in the library by a basilisk, along with a bushy haired girl of thirteen with a circular mirror clutched in her frozen hand….
The girl, with a head of long, wavy red hair and dark brown eyes, smiled slightly, "Hello. Hi Grams, Grandpa…"
Her mother, Penelope, turned then, and said, "Oh, hi… um, Percy will be coming back soon… goodnight Mr and Mrs Weasley…"
She turned back to the child and whispered something to the girl, Maud, and she got up at once and went up to her cousins.
Bill leaned over to Paul and said, "Don't mind that… just a little family problem…"
Paul knew the problem quite well, but couldn't say that, so he replied instead, "No matter… um, where is Mrs Krum? I thought she would be here as well… and Mr Ron Weasley…?"
"Oh, um, Hermione has other plans tonight, something just as important… and Ron is at the school. Hogwarts has its own Hallowe'en tribute; I think we'd be much better off at that one though…" replied Charlie.
Paul asked, "Is it that good?"
"Better than listening to politicians lie," said Bill.
But that was to be the end of the conversation as just then a sound of trumpets and some bustling behind them announced the Minister for Magic's arrival. Paul turned back to look at him arriving, and found himself ready to agree. He would be much better off at Hogwarts, everything was much better off at Hogwarts.
In the company of the Minister, and speaking in low voices that abruptly silenced at the sight of the others, were Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson.
For a time they all just looked at each other, and finally one of the twins broke the silence, "My, isn't this awkward…?"
Paul rose at that, "Well… I can see that this box is filled, I should be leaving then…"
"You'll do no such thing," said, or rather, commanded Mrs Weasley. "There's plenty of room, I'm sure those three would love the foremost seats, a bit of night air would especially do Mr Malfoy there well, he seems rather pale."
Draco turned sharply to her at the mention of his name, before quickly looking away again and saying, as haughtily as he could manage, "Shall we, Mr Minister?"
They began to move again-the three former Slytherins with upturned noses, the Minister whispering profuse apologies-but the effect was not quite there. Draco truly looked little like the boy he had loathed from the first day he met him in Madam Malkin's. Paul felt a tiny stab of pity again, but did not allow it to last before turning his attention back to the Weasleys… and once again found that he was under Luna's penetrating gaze.
She leaned over and whispered, "Don't mind them; they don't know you so they can't hurt you… right?"
"I'm not afraid of them…" he protested, feebly.
"Oh no, of course not," she said quickly, "but the way you looked at them just now, I just thought it would be good for you to hear…"
Luna, Luna, Luna… if Voldemort had ever known of her, he would have won the war…. By her side tonight, he had best be on his toes.
And then he forgot all about that when he saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming to the stage in robes of brilliant turquoise, hair slicked back and his trademark grin. He shook his head and sighed.
This was going to be a long night, he should have stayed home.
~*~*~*~
"Come on, Caspar, I don't want us to be out too late," called Hermione up to her son.
In reply, Caspar came bounding down the stairs in his blood-red Weasley jumper and said in Bulgarian, "I was waiting for you…"
She narrowed her eyes at him, and, in English, replied, "Very funny, let's go, Mr Lupin is waiting for us and you have school in the morning."
"I can stay home with you," he protested, still in Bulgarian.
"No, Harry and the others may be home-schooled but you're not, I have work," she told him.
"But you haven't gone there properly in days!" he whined.
She handed him his cloak, put on hers and pushed him out the door ahead of her. He grumbled all through her securing the house, walking down the path and through the front gate. But after she locked this gate, he silenced himself and took a tight hold onto her arm as they Disapparated.
They were going on a special trip tonight and he didn't want to be left behind. Tonight, they were going to number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
With a "pop" and his eyes tightly shut, Caspar felt himself jumping away from his mother slightly as they appeared in the dingy, dark street of their destination. It could not be helped, after being squeezed through that very narrow invisible tube that brought him here, it was almost as if he had burst free.
Hermione looked down at him and laughed, "Just like when you were you born… come on now, I've never liked being out in these streets for long."
Opening his eyes quickly, he composed himself and took her hand again as they began walking down the street. She began as they went, "I first came here when I was fifteen, some weeks after your father and I-well it should be "separated" when you think about it-but basically after I met him in my Fourth Year. The wizard who killed Harry was back, officially, and no one wanted to believe it, but here… here was our hiding place. Your sisters were born here, and grew up here for six years… I want to know why no one found them all that time…"
"When do I get to meet them?" asked Caspar, suddenly, cutting her off and almost ignoring her speech.
She halted temporarily, was silent a while, and then asked, "You want to meet them?"
"You did," he replied. "And I know you told me everything about it, but I want to see them too, for myself."
Hermione exhaled slowly, studied him in the white glow of the street lights for some time, and then said, "Okay, soon, I promise… but now, tonight-as I was saying-tonight we're going to do some research on them. (They began to walk on again.) I have to warn you though, this place, this house… when last I remember seeing it, still looked a bit… frightful. The Black family, where your sisters got their surname, used to support that bad wizard, Voldemort. There are things in this house you should not touch, I don't want you wandering about on your own, and most important of all, avoid the umbrella stand on the landing, there's a painting there that we can't remove and it screams in some very naughty language."
Caspar nodded to all of this, and stopped with her on a spot of lawn between two large houses with almost no visible space between them. As a matter of fact, the spot of lawn they were on connected to the house numbered eleven; if he looked to his right he would see thirteen, there was no sign of number twelve. He looked up at her confused, and in reply she produced a piece of paper he had to read quickly before she destroyed it: "The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place."
"You remember that well now, and concentrate," she said as she burned the paper.
Caspar asked, "But I don't see the house…"
"Remember what it said," she instructed, staring directly ahead of them.
Shrugging, he did as he was told… and his jaw dropped in surprise when the battered black door, grimy windows, dirty brick wall and finally the entire exterior of the house that was number twelve appeared-or maybe inflated-before his eyes. But he barely had time to question this before his mother was dragging him up the stairs and tapping gently on the ghastly old knocker on the door. Repeating, "I'm a wizard, this is magic… I'm a wizard and this is magic…" in his head didn't help much too.
And then the door opened before them to reveal Remus Lupin who gave them quick looks and said, "Come in, this is not a night to be out in the dark."
But it was darker in there, and once the door was closed, they quickly walked down a strange, noisy and very musty old hall before any lights came on. And immediately Caspar wished them off again.
The threadbare carpet was almost turned to dust, most of the aged wallpaper had fallen off, the serpentine chandeliers and gas lights were almost buried in cobwebs making them dimmer, the smell of decay and the sounds of strange and inexplicable noises permeated the air and… Caspar buried his face in his mother's side. He had just spotted the house-elf heads on the wall above the stairs.
Hermione barely noticed, as she asked, "Have you found the room?"
Lupin shook his head, "No, but Severus has been here longer than I, maybe he knows… he at least suggested that it might be higher. How was your first visit with the twins?"
Hermione absently massaged Caspar's head, "It was… I was so happy to see them… but I couldn't allow myself to feel it until I was home. I wanted to… from the moment I first saw them all I wanted to do was take them in my arms and go home. It was so hard letting them go, and they're so beautiful… so… they have his eyes you know? But brown instead of green, golden brown like honey-we have to find that room."
Lupin, who had been studying her expression and nodding all through her reply, said, "We will, I doubt they had a Secret Keeper for that. Surely, it's in the upper floors… I thought you were letting him go with the Weasleys?"
He was looking down at Caspar, who now peered up at him and tried his best to ignore the wall.
"I couldn't… he has school in the morning, and because I didn't take him when I went on Saturday I'm hoping this is compensation. But to bring him here, I must be a bad mother," she replied with a half-smile.
Lupin smiled back, "You probably don't need to hear this, but you're not-now let's find that room."
They began to walk again, up the stairs past a pair of moth-eaten curtains and a curious looking umbrella stand, past the house elf heads where Caspar shut his eyes and nearly fell, to the second floor landing. Lupin shook his head at Hermione's silent question and they went up again, and this time with thankfully only the smell of must and curious, glowering portraits on the way.
Third floor, fourth floor, fifth, and still Lupin shook his head. Hermione looked up above them, Caspar too, and asked, "You don't think-you don't think that the room is up there do you, in the attic?"
"I don't know. No one went up to the attic after Buckbeak went back to Hagrid… it would have been perfect… and it's so far up there…. A few Silencing Charms, maybe a Foe Glass or two, a Repelling Charm… no one would ever know, Grimmauld Place keeps her secret," replied Lupin.
He began to ascend the stairs before he was even finished speaking, Hermione and Caspar quickly followed after.
"Young children like to explore… do you think there was anything to keep them in as well?" Hermione asked behind him.
"Probably… but it wasn't long before we abandoned this place and they had the run of it. Only Mrs Weasley would know, it was thought to be unsafe for Severus or myself to know the specifics of their location, and even though they were in the house, that any of us know exactly where," Lupin told her.
They had come to the attic and stopped on the landing beneath a trap door in the ceiling. Pointing his wand at it, Lupin commanded clearly, "Alohomora!"
Immediately, it fell open before them, its ladder descending to their feet.
They walked up under it and looked up, but the air that rushed out at them was not as musty as the rest of the house. As a matter of fact, it felt rather fresh.
"I think this is it," said Hermione.
"After you, my dear," said Lupin and he took Caspar's hand to allow her to climb the stairs.
The two remained below, watching her vanish above them into a darkness that seemed rather solid. They heard her utter "Lumos!" and it softened, then she gasped, there was silence, and she said, "I-I I found it… y-you can come up now… this is it… oh gods…"
Lupin let Caspar go before him, but when he got up there as well the reaction was the same: complete astonishment.
In sharp contrast to the decay below, the attic had been transformed into one full of life. The walls had been painted a light colour indeterminable even under the added light of Lupin's wand and Caspar's torch. The windows had been changed, by whom they could not be sure, and clearly painted white. The carpet on the floor was relatively new, the cedar furniture in the room, consisting of separate cribs, cradles, beds, and single everything else, was as well, there were stuffed and other toys spread about on the floor and in shelves, a small library, a night light that was on but not working, animated posters, one entire wall painted with a Quidditch scene and a faint perfume that teased their noses despite years being locked away.
Hermione smiled.
For a time they all just stood there, looking around at the perfect little bedroom-nursery that had been set up for the unexpected children. In the war it had been the safest place to hide, why not use it for this as well? For six years this place had done its duty, and if it were not such a place of darkness, it could have been for much longer. Or maybe the proper excuse would be that the person sending off their school letters, if they knew of the Order, would have had a bit of a shock. And all they could come up with to describe it was that it was perfect.
Eventually, slowly, Hermione stepped further into the room, daring to go to the beds last slept in by her daughters at six. She traced her fingers along the headboards and had a seat on the bare mattress, displacing a tiny bit of dust.
Caspar walked away from Lupin to an arrangement of toys nearby. They had been set up on a settee, a small tea table with set before it, and on poufs and cushions on the floor the other attendant toys had been placed. It was an immortal tea party, and left just as its mistresses had arranged it six years ago. He didn't dare touch it.
Lupin went to Hermione on the bed, and asked at once, "Are you alright?"
She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, "I don't remember this… I mean, I know I wouldn't remember this, but the room… I don't remember the room. Not the toys, the cribs, not the changing station, not their little wardrobe… I remember nothing! Why?"
"Again Hermione, I apologise, I cannot apologise enough for this, but we thought we were protecting you," Lupin hurriedly replied.
"It changes nothing! You could have told me before and still I would not remember! How can I not remember my own children? What am I suppressing that I can't? What is this?" she demanded, slamming her fists into the mattress.
Seeing her distress Caspar made to come over, but halted when the black, greasy head of one Severus Snape appeared through the trap-door and said, "I found it! Or it seems you found it…?"
Hermione and Lupin turned to him as he raised his wand to look at the room around him. He paused when he came to Caspar, carefully scrutinised him from head to toe, and said, "The spitting image of Viktor Krum… except for the nose, and the feet… congratulations Miss Granger, you continue to do wonderful work…."
When Lupin made to protest this, Snape said quickly, "But like I said, I believe I've found a room downstairs that might interest you… did not the paper say something about the father's letter arranging for the twins to stay at a home in London for the summer?"
At once Hermione rose, "Take me to it!"
Through the trapdoor to the sixth floor, down a begrimed, rotting hall and the first door at the end, led them into a room that was very out of place in the old house. Well, not exactly.
The room had been restored to what it must have looked like in the late-Victorian Gothic era: over-embellished, cluttered and heavy. Large and high-ceilinged, the furniture was of polished mahogany, with two canopied, four poster beds and identical dressing tables, armoires and study desks on opposite ends of the room. The windows were adorned with heavy drapes, the carpeting was lush, the wallpaper dark, and the lighting, as with the rest of the house, was supplied by gas. The one thing that defined this room as the twins' though were the photographs of them that lined the walls, which sat on the shelves or nightstands, and a letter addressed to them both on a table near the door.
Without thinking about it, Hermione opened it and went to a bed to read, barely hearing Snape saying, "Every room for two floors is like this, restored by someone-I believe the aunt-and set up for habitation. She must have done this when she realised she was dying… but how? Without us knowing it seems impossible, and not to mention, rather foolish. Who would take care of the children while she lay disintegrating in the earth?"
Absently, Hermione replied, "A trusted house elf…?" and turned her attention to the letter.
The script was unfamiliar, but feminine, so this could only have been done by Amaranthe. There was only one letter, and it wasn't long, but a quick read told her why. It was doubtful they would want to read a long letter after her beginning. When she noticed the two men and her son staring at her on the bed, she read it aloud.
"Mes belles petites jumelles, you've heard a variation of this so many times from me, but it is not appropriate here. In my last Will and Testament I think we should begin on better footing.
If you're reading this, it means that I have died, and for that I am sorry. I always promised that I would be around for the day you finally met your parents again, but I know that this will not happen.
At least, not without some help.
Do not allow yourselves to believe that they did not love you, that they do not love you, for I was there the day they gave you up and if your mother's reaction alone is any indication, they loved you both more than the lives they lived. I have always told you this, but I have to tell it again, I want you to know and understand that. Nothing I can say after this will make sense if you don't."
Hermione abruptly stopped reading, and read over the next paragraph again. A hand to her stomach, she swallowed a sob, and read on.
"You know who they are, you will not remember them but you know them and what they did. This was why they gave you to me, an Auror handpicked for the purpose by friends of theirs-I am not your aunt. I am sorry, and my belated apology may be meaningless now but I had to say it, I am truly sorry that I deceived you but if I didn't you could have been harmed. If anyone ever knew of you, the same wizards responsible for the deaths of many would come after you. You are too precious to them both for me to have allowed the complete truth."
"They know who you are?" asked Caspar and Lupin in unison.
"Oh my… they… they gave no indication that they ever… that they… they know?" said Hermione, herself in shock.
Snape gave no indication of surprise, and said, "There must be more, what does she say next?"
Hermione could not speak though, and with a theatrical roll of his eyes, he walked on over to her, took away the letter and began to read.
"If you are still reading now, you must want another question answered, why is it that they never came for you. There was a potion-and you both know well of potions by now-brewed by a former teacher of theirs that sealed their memories away. The intention was to protect you, but it does not easily wear off and I fear that your mother is still under the effects. I wish that she could be with you, but she does not remember and I can only hope that by the time you read this she would have. But just in case, I have arranged for her to receive your baby things, little memories that might unlock the secrets in her mind as soon as my death is confirmed. It is all that I can do, everything else is left up to her, and you."
Now it was Snape's turn to pause, but unlike Hermione, he quickly continued.
"Your father is a little tricky, you know his story, and you know what happened in the war. As a matter of fact, you are one of the very few who know that Harry Potter is still alive."
Hermione, Lupin and Caspar looked up at Snape in alarm. Hermione rose quickly and snatched the letter back, rapidly scanning the rest of it. She did not attempt to read it aloud, and Lupin doubted he needed to know the rest. He had already heard the important part.
When Hermione stopped reading though, she looked back at him and stammered, "He's alive… he didn't… he's still alive…" and promptly fainted.
Snape caught her as she collapsed, Caspar rushed to her aid as he laid her out across the bed, and asked, "Harry Potter is alive, but where is he?"
The two men looked down at the boy and his mother, and Snape replied casually, "I wonder that myself…."
~*~*~*~
Ron was halfway to his office, long after dinner had ended, when Dobby finally reappeared with a "pop", in the hall before him. He nearly fell over at the sudden arrival, but recovered quickly, to ask, "What did you see?"
"Dobby sees them in the Owlery sir, they were writing a letter," replied Dobby, quickly.
Ron stared at him curious a second before realisation hit him and he laughed, "Oh yes, to Hermione, they were writing to her, she said she was going to let them do that. Where was Philippe?"
"Oh no, sir!" spoke up Dobby, shaking his head, "They were not writing to her."
"What?" Ron asked, once more confused. "Who were they writing to?"
"Dobby saw two letters, sir; they give them to an owl, a new grey one, sir. They sent them to "Mama" and "Papa", sir, and Dobby found this after they left, sir," the house elf told him and then presented a piece of crumpled paper.
Ron took it, and then nearly dropped it. It was a draft of the letter they had written, with a series of scratches where they had removed words and put in others. It must have taken them quite some time to do it, and since he had left the Great Hall before they returned, he was sure that it did.
Dobby was speaking again, "Mr Wheezy was watching them, sir, he left just before they sent the owl away…"
But the reason that he nearly dropped it lay simply in the first paragraph: "We have to ask a question though, why didn't you recognise us when you saw us Mama?"
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