Forever Together Part 3.  Life Ever After by Solomon Aegis

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 19/02/2006
Last Updated: 14/04/2006
Status: Completed

It is nearly the end, or maybe it is just the begining of something else. You need to read it
all to find out. A snippet from Chapter 17. "Standing they held each others hand and indulged
in a last kiss. Harry waved his hand and at his summons the stone arch appeared before them, the
lightly fluttering veil hiding what lay beyond; there was no hesitation in their pace, they walked
confidently up to the threshold and side by side they stepped through. On its velvety blue cushion
Hermione’s Tear gave one final burst of light then lay there cold and dark, and then as if it was
melting away, vanished from the cottage."




1. The Things We Wish For
-------------------------



Disclaimer.

The characters and universe created by J.K.Rowling are hers alone. As imitation is the sincerest
form of flattery I hope this story can be taken in that way.

**…………………………….**

Forever Together, written by Solomon Aegis is a trilogy that follows the characters that appear
in the Harry Potter books originally written by J.K.Rowling. The characters are removed from the
original series at the end of the fifth book `Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix' and
plunged into the world of Forever Together.

Here the characters form attachments that Solomon and many other people hoped would follow, that
the hero would get the heroine, and the sidekick would get the girl that has obvious affection for
him. That the bad guys would get their just deserts and the good guy's their rewards, but in
order for that to happen, sacrifices would have to be made. That friendship and love given and
accepted without reservation is the most powerful magic of all. That in the end there is hope for
the future, not just of the characters concerned but for everyone. Mix in to this a bit of the
legend of Merlin and Avalon, some original characters, and some locations that exist in the real
world, wherever that is, and you have Forever Together.

I am sorry this has taken so long and to be honest the tale is not finished yet, but hopefully
there won't be any long breaks between instalments. This has been the hardest one to write, to
try and keep the time line correct and not loose sight of any of the new characters was much more
difficult than I thought it would be. I hope there aren't too many mistakes, let me know if you
find any, and I will do my best to correct them.

So Voldemort is dead, the Tyr have triumphed, but there have been losses. Dumbledore is gone, so
is Snape, but at least the hero did get the girl in the end. The evil was destroyed, or was it; was
it only Voldemort's insatiable drive which led him to be so bad, and what of Draco Malfoy. Is
Harry and Hermione's life ever after a happy one or not.

Hope you like it.

**Solomon.**

Chapter 1. The Things We Wish For.

London, 1962.

A gentle breeze rustled the last few remaining autumn leaves clinging to the branches of the
trees that lined the street. It had been raining all day but now as the evening darkened it had
ceased, and left behind it that cold but clean smell to the air. The road glistened with wetness in
the illumination of the street lamps that were starting to light up. The boy had slipped out of the
house without his parents seeing him, not that he really cared if they had. At only twelve years
old he had a rebellious streak in him that confounded both his parents and his teachers at school.
He was clever, there was no doubt of that, but it was the sort of intelligence that would either
lead to greatness or depravity.

The streets he was leaving behind him, as he walked away, were full of expensive houses and
well-off families, one such was his own, but he preferred the darker seedier parts of town where he
could escape from all that middleclass goodness.

He had few friends at school, most of the other kids thought he was a bit of a bully, but he
preferred not to have the distractions of friends, friends only got in the way. He spent many
nights such as this wandering the streets not really sure what he was looking for, but something
drove him on. It was only the start of the swinging 60's, the depressing 50's hadn't
left this part of London yet, the area he walked had a rather unsavoury reputation, but the boy
liked the dark and dingy alleyways that crisscrossed the locality. If he was lucky he might see
something to pique his imagination, he wanted excitement, and he wanted danger, a challenge to the
sort of life he was destined to lead.

This particular evening he was walking quietly over the damp ground avoiding the many puddles
that formed in these dingy alleyways. There were no functioning street lamps around here and the
closeness of the buildings made the alley quite dark, the boy moved silently between the rubbish
bins that lined the walls of the lane. He had seen a window with a single light shining from it and
that became his goal. He reached it, and using his hands to pull himself up by standing on the very
tips of his toes, he could just see over the sill. It was disappointing, only a store room full of
boxes and other containers which could have held just about anything. Then possibly some action,
the door on the side of the room away from the window began to open and a hand appeared fumbling to
one side of the doorway, it found the switch and turned off the light.

As the light went out there was a `CRACK'. The loud noise made him jump and crouch down next
to the bin he had been about to climb on. There was a man in a long cloak standing not ten feet
from him, but the boy went unnoticed. The man took a few steps away down the alley, then removing
what must have been a long match from his pocket, lit it and studied the shadows. The boy thought
it must have been a very special match because it burned with a bright white light and didn't
seem to get any shorter.

The man was nervous, he was breathing as if he had been running hard but there had been no sound
of hurried footsteps. The man turned quickly, this way and that, holding the light above his head
so that he could see into the shadows, the boy would soon be discovered, his hiding place was not
well concealed. The man moved closer to the boy, then turned away at the last moment to a sound on
the other side of the alley. A cat shot out from under a pile of boxes that had been carelessly
stacked against the wall. The man froze then relaxed when he realised that the animal could do him
no harm. Then there was another loud `CRACK' and both boy and man jumped this time, a second
man had appeared, it seemed out of thin air, but that was impossible.

The first man gave a shriek of fear and backed away from the second. The second man raised his
arm, … he had a gun, … no he didn't, he had a stick in his hand and he pointed it at the first
man. Then he spoke.

“You have failed me for the last time,” his voice was full of menace and hissed like a snake,
“you are a fool and I will not tolerate anything but the best from my followers.”

The boy saw him wave his stick in a weird pattern and shout what sounded like `ABRACADABRA'.
From the end of his stick a green something streaked down the alley making a screaming noise rather
like a firework.

The first man cried out “NO PLEASE MY LORD I……….” but the words stopped as the green firework
hit him in the chest. The boy expected him to burst into flames but the green thing disappeared as
it hit him and the man collapsed to the ground.

The second man lowered his arm and the boy was looking directly at him when with another
`CRACK,' he vanished. For a while the boy didn't dare move, he just stared at the dark
shape on the ground a little way down the alley. Then his curiosity could be denied no longer, he
crept closer to the body and stared down at it.

He thought the man was dead, his face contorted in fear was fixed, and his eyes were open, but
not seeing anything. On the ground by his side lay the match the man had been holding, the boy
looked at it then reached forward and picked it up. It wasn't a natural twig, someone had made
this, it was polished and smooth. At one end there was a handle and at the other there was no sign
that the flame the boy had seen coming from it had damaged the wood at all. It reminded the boy of
the music teacher's baton, the one he conducted the school choir with. He held the stick and
turned it over in his hands, he couldn't stop looking at it. It was almost as if it had some
hidden power.

The double, CRACK' that echoed in the alley broke the boy's concentration and he had
just enough time to hide when two more men walked round the corner into the alleyway.

“They must be around here somewhere,” one of the men said, “that unforgivable curse was tracked
to this spot. Be careful Alastor, we don't want any more deaths tonight.”

Then the one called Alastor saw the body and ran up to it calling to his companion. “Here, here,
its Wilbert Lockinge, dead as a door nail,” Alastor examined the ground round the body,
“they've taken his wand as well.”

“No point in hanging around, we don't want to be seen,” said his partner, “let's get it
done, and then we can get out of here.”

The two men pointed their own wands at the body, it sparkled and flashed then faded away, and
then like the killer these two men vanished in front of the open eyes of the unseen boy.

The echo of their departure had long died before the boy moved again. He stared back down at the
stick in his hand, not a stick, a wand he corrected himself. If the boy had ever entertained any
thoughts as to what he wanted to be when he grew up they vanished from his mind just as quickly as
the men had from the alley. From that moment on he desired the power he had seen used that night,
the power must have been real magic, it couldn't have been anything else. The boy was young
enough not to question the evidence of his eyes, and he had the wand. He would learn to use it, to
free the power it held, somehow he pledged, even if it took him his whole life.

………………………………..

Hogwarts Grounds the day of the fall of Voldemort.

The heart rending cry from the young girl echoed back from the forest, and the flare from the
stone of her necklace flashed briefly as she threw all her power and her very soul itself in an
attempt to save the life of the boy who lay before her. As her soulless body collapsed the young
man at her side shouted her name once, then using his own considerable power flung his soul after
hers, not wanting to lose her. He began to fall as well, then suddenly a tall man with greying hair
flashed into existence between them, and with a strength that belayed his size, scooped the
lifeless bodies into his arms and vanished.

There was for the moment utter confusion, the doors of the great castle opened and people
started to emerge. A small group that had been standing on the steps of the school ran towards the
body of the young boy silent in its isolation. They picked their way through the debris of battle,
then stood in a silent circle around the fallen child.

The giant was running up the hill from his cottage, with a cry of anguish on his lips and tears
of sorrow falling from his eyes. In the bushes by the edge of the forest a dishevelled blonde
haired youth looked at the wand held in his shaking hand, then turned and fled, desperate to get
out of the grounds before anyone had the thought to look for him.

In all this confusion no one heard the POP as a decrepit house elf appeared next to a boulder a
little way from the place that was the centre of everybody's attention. No one saw him advance
to the small pile of smoking ashes that had once been the body of the most evil wizard ever to
live.

The elf grovelled on his knees and picked up a handful of ashes then let them trickle back
through his open fingers, there was no power left in these remains, the elf knew that now, no hope
of reviving the body they had once formed. Then as he raked through the pathetic pile his fingers
found something that did still have the promise of power. It was a wand, made of yew, with a
phoenix feather as its core, in the hand of the elf it pulsed briefly and then in Kreacher's
mind the wand spoke to him, it told him what he must do. The elf stared down at the wand, he was
afraid but would do as he was asked. He slipped the wand under the foul tea towel that served as
his only covering, and with another quiet POP he disappeared.

…………………………………….

The adventure was over, Voldemort was dead, and Harry and the Tyr had triumphed, but the victory
had not been without its cost. Dumbledore, Snape and Austin Henry were gone, and it had nearly cost
the lives of Harry, Hermione and Ron as well. The losses on the other side were much worse, but
then perhaps they only got what they deserved. Draco Malfoy was the only Death Eater to escape, he
was on the run and would probably be running for the rest of his life.

Hogwarts itself had been spared, the battle on the steps had stopped the Death Eaters cold and
the minor skirmish in the hall had done little damage. But the school was changed; Slytherin was
gone, replaced by a new house to honour the greatest Headmaster the school had ever had. Dumbledore
Tower stood tall and proud, its students were taken from all those who had put themselves forward
for resorting in that last term. They were led, however briefly, by Hermione Granger, her decision
to walk the tables from Gryffindor to Dumbledore was hers alone, and no one was more proud of that
decision than her fiancé Harry Potter.

Now school was over, the final meal eaten and the final words spoken. Harry, Hermione and the
rest of the Tyr had walked their last walk down to the lake to say their goodbyes to the young lad
who couldn't walk with them. Hermione wanted to stay but Harry gently led her back as the
others departed, she leant against him as they walked and he comforted her in her sorrow.

“Remember what AH said to us,” Harry reminded her, “we will meet him again.”

“Do you really believe that Harry?” Hermione sounded uncertain, “are you sure it wasn't just
a dream?”

“Oh it was real alright,” he gave no suggestion of doubt, “if AH wants to be with us nothing
will stop him, and somehow I don't think he will be the only one.”

On the day they left Hogwarts for the last time as students, Harry and Hermione set up home in
the small white cottage that nestled in the depths of Godrics Hollow. For the first time they could
relax in as much isolation as they wanted and to start with that was what they did. It was a
beautiful beginning to the summer that year, cloudless skies, gentle breezes and a peace that
neither Harry nor Hermione had any desire to end graced the first four weeks. They spent their time
walking in the hills that surrounded the cottage, soaking up the tranquillity of the countryside,
and simply just being together.

Dobby the house elf was never far away; his self imposed life's work was now to look after
the two of them, as far as domestic living was concerned. He would appear with a picnic basket or a
cooling drink at exactly the right moment, smile shyly at the thanks he always received but never
thought he had the right to expect, then vanish, never wanting to intrude.

Then at the beginning of August Harry removed the magical `Do Not Disturb' sign that he had
strung around Godrics Hollow and the wizarding world had access to them once more.

At the end of their last term at Hogwarts they had set in motion a plan that would see the
rebuilding of the orphanage destroyed by Bellatrix Lestrange and the founding of a school for the
younger witch and wizard. Harry had inherited Black House in Sirius' will, it had spent a short
time as Voldemort's headquarters but with his demise was empty again, and it was this large
rambling building that was destined to rise again as Thrubwell's Academy.

Over the rest of that summer there was a trickle of visitors to the cottage, which as the plans
for the conversion of Black House into Thrubwell's began to take shape, increased into a flood.
The peace of their home was in danger of being swept away completely, so they decided to shift all
work related meetings to the old mansion in Cumbria since it was the focus of all their discussions
and matters could be dealt with `on site'.

The Black's old ancestral home was not in as bad a state as it had been first thought. The
main structure was basically sound apart from the roof, but with the help two wizards Jo Muddiman
and Claude Tubb who ran a wizarding building firm whose advertisement had stated “Indestructible
construction, so if you change your mind once it's up, it's too late”, this was soon
rectified.

All the remaining members of the Tyr, Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville, along with Madam Pomfrey and
to Harry's surprise Professor McGonagall, were involved in these initial planning stages, but
it was very clear to Hermione that Ron's attention was wandering.

“You can tell me Ron, I know there's something bothering you. You are hardly paying any
attention in the meetings any more. What is it?” she asked him, as they finished for the day.

“Oh, that obvious is it,” Hermione nodded and Ron continued, “It's just that I've been
talking to Dad. You wouldn't believe the opposition our little project it stirring up in some
quarters of the Ministry,” he affected a pompous voice, “you know, `All too radical, “Wizards
can't be expected to accept changes like this,' things like that. If we don't get the
Ministry on our side then we will never get the go ahead.” Ron sounded depressed but
determined.

“I take it you are going to do something about this then?” Hermione said, worried as to what
Ron's answer was going to be.

“Yes,” said Ron, “I have applied to join the Ministry.”

“What?” said Harry, not believing what he had heard when Hermione told him.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “and they have accepted him.”

Harry was confused, why accept someone they know has different thoughts to them, why employ
trouble?

“They think they will be splitting up the act,” she reasoned, “divide and conquer, and I imagine
they will get Percy to work on Ron to win him over.”

Harry smiled, “Not very observant these ministry types are they, I don't think they have
realised the way in which Ron has changed.” Harry laughed, “I can't help but feel sorry for
Percy.”

So Ron had left the company, but in a way he hadn't and not long after that Luna began to
get withdrawal symptoms, although she was able to see Ron most weekends she hated them being as far
apart as they were. So she decided that she needed to be in London and that the best place for her
to be near Ron and to help the project was with her father at The Quibbler. Since the revelations
of the true events of the defeat of Voldemort the Lovegood's paper had risen in popularity,
even thought it still retained its quirkiness over some issues it always printed the truth about
Harry Potter and that gave it credibility.

The four of the Tyr remaining, with Poppy, Harry could cope with calling her that, and Minerva,
Harry had great difficulty with that one, continued to roll out the plans. Building work had taken
up all the following year; the hardest task was how to deal with the large cavern under the house
which Voldemort had used as a shelter for some of his lesser followers. Harry felt it had overtones
of another Chamber of Secrets and he didn't want anything like that to rear its ugly head
again, so it was lined and padded to make the only indoor flying arena in England. This made a safe
place for the slightly older children to learn to fly their first brooms, and maybe learn the
rudiments of playing Quidditch.

The most unpleasant part of the renovations had been the clearing of the rooms that Voldemort
and his closest followers, the Death Eaters, had used to live in. Harry and Hermione had taken it
on themselves to complete this part alone and they approached Voldemort's room with some
trepidation. They needn't have worried, it was a bare cell with nothing in it but a hard bed
with the dead body of Voldemort's snake Nagini coiled upon it. The room next to it was a
different matter; Hermione had taken one brief look, cried out in horror and fled. Harry stayed but
didn't look too closely; Bellatrix Lestrange had certainly had some very strange perversions.
He may have used too much power with his cleaning spell as walls and ceiling were stripped down
past the plaster and the floorboards vanished as well, but at least it was clean.

Eighteen months after Harry and Hermione had left school Black House was transformed and was
Black House no longer. Thrubwell's Academy stood in its place, fresh, clean and shining in its
coats of new paint; they were all very pleased with what had been achieved. Now all they had to do
was convince the Ministry and that was going to be easy.

Well, not exactly easy, but certainly not as difficult as it would have been, but for two
things. Firstly, that Ron's plan had worked, he had managed to get a lowly position in the
department of education and by diligently toeing the line had advanced further in that department
than the official who had given him his first job had expected or been led to expect, poor old
Percy was in the doghouse again. Secondly, that Rufus Scrimegour was no longer Minister for
Magic.

He had not lasted long, the backlash that resulted from his high handed approach to the defence
of Hogwarts, the defeat of Voldemort, and the virtual discounting of the part played by the Tyr and
Harry in particular, did not sit well with a majority of the wizarding world. The publishing of the
photograph Mr Lovegood had taken of the Tyr, in the Weasley's garden, standing together the
glow of their power still visible, and the fact that on that day every witch and wizard, however
rich or however poor, had felt that love passing through them, had sealed his fate. For once in
their lives the public face of the wizarding world stood behind one wizard. This wizard incensed on
behalf of Harry and his friends had made his position very clear, and opposed the official Ministry
line. He had perhaps been more outspoken than most, partly because both his youngest son and his
only daughter were members of the Tyr, but also because that Molly would never have spoken to him
again if he hadn't. So it was not by design, but more by default, that Arthur Weasley found
himself sitting in the Minister's chair.

It had all come together at the beginning of that year, Arthur was inducted into his office just
after the New Year, and halfway through January the application papers for Thrubwell's Academy
were put forward. Even with the now willing help at the Ministry, it would take several months
before all the procedures necessary to allow the school to open, could be completed. This left the
occupants of the cottage in Godrics Hollow with a little time on their hands and so there was one
other thing that was sorted out in that very cold month, and that was the date for the wedding of
Mr Harry James Potter to a certain Miss Hermione Jane Granger and they decided that there was only
one date that could be, the 14th of February.

Harry and Hermione had decided that their wedding would be small and private but there was
nowhere in the normal wizarding world where this could be so. They had thought of having it at
Hogwarts, but even there it would be impossible to prevent the publicity they desperately wanted to
avoid. Avalon provided the ideal answer to their problems, only those invited would be able to gain
access and this strange place had played a significant role in their relationship. It didn't
hurt that it was now the home of Hermione's parents and Harry's surrogate Mum and Dad,
Natalie and David Granger. Finally, now four years after Harry had saved their lives, and they in
return had offered him themselves as stand-ins for his own parents, the connection was going to be
made official.

The Grangers had tried to organise everything, not that there was much to do other than
everything that usually goes with organising a wedding. The guest list, the venue, the food and
those important people to conduct the ceremony, but these were muggles in a wizarding word and they
felt a little out of their depth. Hermione was their only daughter and the Grangers wanted it to be
perfect for her. They needn't have worried over anything, Avalon respected the wishes of the
young couple for the ceremony to be plain and simple, but Avalon would make sure it would never be
forgotten.

“I really can't imagine why they picked today for their wedding,” said Molly Weasley, as she
put a second coat on over her best robes. “It will be absolutely perishing and I am not going to be
cold, even for those two,” she finished, wrapping a thick woollen scarf round her neck.

Arthur Weasley smiled indulgently at her, he was only dressed in his smart Ministry robes as he
would be officiating at the civil part of the proceedings, and he had been to Avalon before and
doubted that the weather would be allowed to interfere with this particular event.

“If you're ready dear,” Arthur said, to the bundle of clothes that was his wife, “our
transport seems to have arrived.”

He pointed out to the garden where a patch of mist was forming; this was a *nimbus limen*
the doorway to Avalon, a wizarding village under the shadow of Glastonbury Tor, set slightly
sideways to the rest of the world. The pair of them walked, well Arthur walked, Molly sort of
swayed from side to side as her normal movement was somewhat restricted by the heavy outer
garments, out onto the grass and vanished into the mist. They stepped out of the doorway at its
other end to what appeared to be a balmy spring day; the welcome wizard bowed his head in
acknowledgement of Arthur's office and then stared with some amusement in his eyes at the
seriously padded form next to him.

“Minister, Mrs Weasley, welcome to Avalon,” he managed, with a completely straight face, “if you
would come this way, there is a cloak tent where you can freshen up before meeting the other
guests.”

“Thank-you,” said Molly, with sweetness in her voice that suggested that her mode of apparel was
completely normal. Then she spoke to her husband hissing through gritted teeth. “You wait till I
get you home Arthur, you might have warned me.”

The Minister for Magic said nothing but allowed himself a small smile that he was careful not to
let his wife see.

-->



2. Joining Hands
----------------

Chapter 2. Joining Hands.

Hermione had disappeared from Godrics Hollow the day before the wedding and had been replaced by
Ron and Neville, there to keep their eyes on Harry. Dobby stayed at the cottage as well to keep his
eyes on all three of them, he had been given very explicit instructions by Hermione as to what the
boys could and couldn’t do and he wasn’t about to let them get away with any high jinks. As it was
they sat and chatted about old times and new times and the Ogden’s Old Firewhisky stayed in the
bottle. Harry enjoyed his time with his oldest friends but he did wonder what it was that Neville
was so worried about. Quiet at the best of times, Neville did seem particularly distracted that
evening, but Harry was convinced it couldn’t be all that serious, because Neville didn’t mention
anything all evening.

Hermione was with her mother in the large downstairs room of The Refuge, the house in Avalon
that the Grangers called their own. They weren’t alone, there was a squat witch dressed all in
mauve, who was at this moment kneeling next to Hermione who was standing on a small stool. Madam
Malkin had a mouth full of pins, and was putting the finishing touches to Hermione’s wedding
robes.

“There, all finished now dear,” the seamstress smiled at Hermione, “ just let me run my wand
over those last few alterations, then you’ll be all ready for tomorrow.”

Hermione looked at herself in the long mirror, the same one that Harry had admired his new
school robes in on his seventeenth birthday, the day he had discovered Dumbledore had made him head
boy.

“How does it look Mum?” Hermione asked, “do you think Harry will like it?”

Natalie Granger sighed, her daughter always beautiful in her eyes, looked radiant, she smiled as
she thought of Harry’s reaction to what she could see. “I would be prepared for one of his dumb
looks if I were you,” she suggested, “I think he may be rather short on words.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “Really, you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

Natalie was about to reassure her daughter when the door opened and her husband walked in. David
Granger had seen a lot in the last four years that had given him cause for wonder, some things that
had left him confused and a few that had frightened him, but none had brought the tears welling up
in his eyes as the sight of Hermione, his little girl, standing on that pedestal dressed for her
wedding, did that day. Natalie crossed to him and put an arm around his waist.

“Do you approve?” she asked him.

Her husband nodded, while the tears of pride and joy trickled down his face and he whispered
only one word. “Remarkable.”

Ginny and Luna arrived at The Refuge that evening, they were to act as Hermione’s maids of
honour, and it meant that at the ceremony tomorrow the Tyr would be together once more. That
evening the three girls learned more of each others wishes and secrets than they had during all
their years together at Hogwarts, and it made their friendship tighter and more complete.

The dawn of the following morning was clear and the slight chill in the air was quickly
dispelled by the sun that was at least a month ahead of its normal strength and warmth, but that
was Avalon for you. The ceremony was set to take place in a sheltered spot amongst a grove of
almond trees. As the sun warmed them the rich pink blossoms on the bare branches of the trees
opened to welcome the sunlight and the guests to the wedding.

Just before the appointed time, Harry found himself dressed in his best dark green dress robes
standing, with Ron and Neville, to one side of a stone ãra, on which rested the crystal pyramid. He
was trying very hard not to show how nervous he felt and this resulted in him grinning inanely at
any of the guests that approached him to wish him good luck. He was also trying very hard not to
think at Hermione and so he took to scanning the people who had gathered amongst the trees.

Harry thought that by now all the guests would be here. All the Weasleys had arrived, even Percy
though he was keeping himself in the background. There was Remus, Tonks and Moody, Kingsley
Shacklebolt was standing near Arthur Weasley as if he was on guard and Mrs Granger was talking
earnestly to Molly, who Harry thought looked slightly red faced as if she was a little hot. Frank
and Alice Longbottom, Neville’s parents, were with Poppy Pomfrey and Minerva McGonagall and behind
them he could not miss the large form of Hagrid. Luna’s father was the only member of the press
there that day and he had promised Harry that just one photograph and a small note in the Quibbler
was all that would result.

Perversely it was the missing faces that came clearest to Harry’s mind as he waited. Dumbledore
would have loved this, as would have Sirius, even Snape’s face would be welcome here, for Harry had
to admit that he would have been invited had he lived. However it was the face of a young boy that
Harry and Hermione had known only for a few short months and the faces of his own parents that he
missed the most.

*‘Chin up Harry,’* a thought, so clear and welcome, impinged on his own*, ‘it’s nearly
time, she’s on her way, look happy.’*

Then Solomon Aegis, sender of that thought and Headmaster of Hogwarts, with his mother the Lady
Niniane on his arm appeared out of thin air in front of Harry to stand on the opposite side of the
ãra. He winked at Harry and then moved to one side allowing the Merlect of Avalon to stand on her
own. Lady Niniane gave Harry a smile then lifted her eyes to gaze down to the far end of the grove.
She gave an almost imperceptible nod suggesting to Harry that he should look in the same
direction.

Harry turned and beheld a sight that would stay with him for the rest of his life and far
beyond. Hermione on her father’s arm was walking slowly towards him, dressed in full length white
silk robes that fell smooth and un-pleated straight from the bodice to her knees where the shape
flared slightly to allow easy movement. The robes had long sleeves the cuffs finishing to a point
on the back of her hand. The shoulders of her robes were cut square and ran to a high backed collar
with an open V in the front. Hermione wore her hair shorter these days but it was all piled up to
the back of her head, almost cupped by the high collar. Shining brightly at her bare neck
flickering with its strange double pulse of blue light was Hermione’s Tear, suspended on its white
metal chain that only Harry could unclasp. But bright as it was the Jewel at her neck was not the
most brilliant, the light in her eyes, shining from that delicate face, tore through Harry’s soul
like Cupid’s arrow through the heart of an unsuspecting lover.

As Hermione’s mother had suspected Harry was lost for words but she couldn’t hear his thoughts,
Hermione could.

*‘Merlin but you’re beautiful my love. I am the luckiest man alive.’* he thought at her,
and although she didn’t reply he saw the light in her eyes flash as she received his thoughts.

Harry didn’t take his eyes off his bride from the moment he first saw her, so he missed the
sight of the two maids of honour walking behind her dressed in similarly cut robes but in a pink
silk that matched the colour of the blossoms on the trees. The two wizards standing with him didn’t
miss this spectacle though. Ron was more convinced than ever that Luna was the most beautiful one
there, and Neville seemed paralysed by the sight of Ginny and began to blush furiously. The
progress of the bridal party seemed to take forever but eventually David Granger placed Hermione’s
hand in Harry’s and the ceremony began.

Lady Niniane regarded the couple standing before her. “Time,” she said, “is measured by the
stars. The turning of the planet and the seasons of the year appear more relevant to wizard kind
but are of secondary importance to the celestial clock. The stars reveal everything and yet they
hide it also, it takes great wisdom to read the messages they hold, and great wisdom is only
granted by time.”

She reached out and took Harry’s left hand and Hermione’s right, and turned them palm up so that
the heart shaped marks, a result of Hermione’s gift to Harry on his sixteenth birthday, were
visible. On that day she had given him everything, her heart and her soul, and her belief in him
that he would fulfil his destiny. In return Harry had sealed his commitment to her by sharing the
enchantment and since that day they had been handfasted.

“Faith,” the Merlect continued, “is something that can be applied to a creed or to an authority,
in the hopes that they will lead you to a better understanding. But faith can also be in a person,
that they will stand with you at all times, good and bad, and if that faith between you is strong
then there is nothing you will not share.” Lady Niniane placed Harry and Hermione’s hands together
again heart to heart. “For that faith to hold true you need love. A love that is as strong and as
steady as this stone before us,” she said indicating the ãra, “and as clear as the crystal that
lies upon it.” She looked gravely at the two young people before her. “You have a love that enabled
Hermione to hold Harry from death, and a love strong enough to allow Harry to follow Hermione to a
place where death could have claimed you both.” she paused for a moment. “Harry, Hermione you have
won the time you need, you have a faith in each other that has stood the test of a most desperate
battle against evil, and you have a love for each other that will keep you forever together.” Lady
Niniane turned to the people gathered in the grove, “I approve of this union and I give it my
blessing.”

Arthur Weasley then stepped forward, cleared his throat with a nervous cough, and trying very
hard not to sound pompous said “The office of the Minister for Magic approves of this union and
gives the couple its blessing.” He was only blushing slightly as he moved away.

That was normally it, once the Ministry representative had officially recognised the marriage it
was all over, but today was a little different. A stout elderly witch, that no one had seen arrive,
was standing by the ãra, she smiled at Harry and Hermione, then Eleanor Wicca said “There are
others who would add their blessings to this couple they are waiting for you in the crystal.” She
motioned to the pyramid, the same one that Hermione had used so effectively two years before.

The pair looked at each other, and then as they had done so many times, linked their minds and
entered the crystal. The crystal took them to a path in the woods, or was it a corridor in the
castle of Hogwarts, it was both and neither. Figures approached from the distance and then they
were there with them.

Dumbledore smiled, he looked young and well, “I approve of this union, and you have my
blessing,” he said, with a twinkle in his amazingly blue eyes.

Sirius was standing by his side, “You know how I feel about this you two,” he said lightly, “but
for the record I approve and you have my blessing,” he bowed low to them.

Then they moved aside and the couple who had been standing behind them stepped forward. Harry
was gazing into the faces of his Mother and Father, he felt Hermione increase her grip round his
waist and he was grateful for the added support.

James smiled, “I see you took my advice my son and protected what you had found, and I was
right, she was your salvation, my love to you both. I approve of this union and you have my
blessing.”

As on the only other occasion he had met his parents Harry was finding it hard to keep himself
together, he could feel Hermione next to him but there seemed to be others sustaining him as
well.

Then Harry looked into the eyes of his mother, he thought they were shining with unshed tears
and he felt tears of his own gathering. She reached out with both hands and Harry felt a ghostly
touch on his face. His mother then turned to Hermione and reached out to wipe away the tears that
were falling from her eyes, but the fingers that caressed Hermione’s cheek could not stop them.
“Continue to love him as you do, and support him for he is still the protector of you all. I love
you both more than I can say, and I approve of this union and you have my blessing.”

Harry and Hermione could feel the warmth of the blessings that these four, so important in their
lives, were giving to them. Then they became more aware of another source of warmth and love.

“Harry” it was Dumbledore again, “your friends seem to have arrived. It’s nice to see you all
again,” he said, speaking to someone behind Harry and Hermione, “time for you to go now, run
along.” and slowly the four ghostly figures faded from their presence.

Harry looked around to see who Dumbledore had been talking to and saw that Ron, Neville, Ginny
and Luna were standing with them. The four ghosts had been replaced by the remaining four of the
Tyr. The power that held the Tyr together began to glow around them and as they drew themselves
away from the crystal they found that they were standing in the grove surrounded by that golden
halo that proclaimed their love for each other.

Lady Niniane raised her voice so that all could hear her, “The union of these two young people
has been blessed and approved by all, and their souls are irrevocably sealed together. They are
one.”

Harry turned to his wife, a big smile on his face, Hermione smiled back at her husband and the
kiss that followed brought cheers from the assembled witches and wizards and two very happy
muggles. Quietly, out of the way, shielded from everyone by the trunk of a tree, a small house elf
sniffed back the tears as his family was made complete. Worried that he should not really be there,
let alone watching, Dobby was about to disappear when a voice calling his name held him back.

“You’re not leaving now Dobby,” said Solomon, “this is your celebration as well.” He held out
his hand and Dobby shyly took it and allowed himself to be led toward the happy throng.

“I is not sure I shouldn’t be going, Sir, Master Solomon,” the elf said in a wavering tone, “
the Master and Mistress will not be wanting me here, other more important persons are here to see
them.”

“Nonsense there is no one more important today than family,” Aegis said firmly, “and I know they
both think of you as such.”

“Yes sir, you is right, I am the luckiest elf in the world,” and if he was going to say more it
was lost for at that moment Harry and Hermione caught sight of him and he was drawn into the tight
circle around them, the luckiest and happiest house elf in the whole of creation.

Later that day when most of the guests had left and those few remaining were back at the
Grangers house Harry and Hermione partook of the muggle ritual of exchanging rings. They had a far
more permanent record of their vows in the heart shaped marks on their palms but it made their Mum
and Dad happy to see this final act.

Neville had watched this with trepidation because he knew this was the self imposed signal he
had been waiting for. He leaned to Ginny sitting in the chair beside him.

“Can I have a word?” He whispered, she looked surprised he had asked, “not here, out in the
garden.”

“OK,” then to the others, “excuse us, be back in a mo’.” She shrugged at Hermione who had given
her a ‘what’s up’ look.

Ginny almost had to run to keep up with Neville who had marched at great speed out of the back
door and onto the lawn. He stopped suddenly and Ginny bumped into him.

“Nev’ what on earth is the matter,” she was worried, he had never acted this way before, “have I
done something to upset you?”

She saw Neville take a deep breath before he turned to face her, and her worries increased. Of
the three couples they had been together the shortest amount of time, but up to now their
relationship had been complete and passionate. Ginny’s fiery personality had overridden
Neville's shyness; perhaps she had pushed him too far.

Neville looked down at her, his face unreadable, “You see Ginny, it’s like this, I don’t feel we
can carry on with our relationship the way it is,” for an instant the little red headed witch felt
her world crumble. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t make a scene, she would accept Neville’s decision
with dignity and calm. “So, he continued, “I wondered if you would accept this.” He held out a
small box with a ring in it. “I know rings aren’t wizarding tokens but as Harry and Hermione
started the trend, will you marry me?”

The shriek from the garden startled everyone sitting in the house, Arthur Weasley hearing his
daughter, was up and out the back door before anyone could move. They had only risen when he
returned waving them all to sit down again, he was laughing and shaking his head at the same time,
he sat weakly in his chair and was about to get a blast from his wife demanding to know what was
going on, when Ginny reappeared, her face streaked with tears of joy proudly holding out her left
hand for all to see the ring on her third finger. Neville appeared behind her with a smile on his
face that Harry thought rivalled the one he had the day his parents returned.

That final surprise capped a day that few who were there would ever forget, it had been a
gloriously happy event and no one but the bride and groom ever knew that they had one sorrow that
had not been resolved.

Both Harry and Hermione had hoped when they had entered the crystal pyramid that they might have
seen Austin Henry. It was strange that the child meant so much to them and they both knew that his
soul was free. The last time they had seen him was in the same passageway they had met the four
ghosts, he was happy then and had given them hope that they would see him again but he had not
returned with the others and it saddened them.

At the beginning of March Harry and Hermione returned to Godrics Hollow after a short honeymoon.
They hadn’t really planned anything; they had just peragated to locations around the world as they
had taken their fancy. They spent their last two days on a deserted coral atoll in the middle of
the Pacific Ocean from where they returned calm, rested, and with a lot of sand in their
clothes.

There was only six months left before the expected opening date for Thrubwell’s. The Ministry
was moving slowly but as Ron said at least it was moving and in the right direction. The staff
situation was still unsettled, Poppy Pomfrey was in charge of the orphanage and that part of the
project was already up and running, there were fifteen children in residence with more expected in
the next few months.

The newly engaged couple of Ginny and Neville had decided that Thrubwell’s was where they would
like to set their roots and they were converting a few of the many rooms in the old mansion into a
small apartment for themselves. Neville was also using his talent in Herbology to start a small
version of the Hogwarts greenhouses containing some of the safer but more interesting plants
Professor Sprout had made available to him.

They still need someone to take over the running of the Academy. Neither Harry nor Hermione
thought they had the experience necessary to do the job and they were running out of ideas, then
one day Minerva McGonagall approached them with a proposition. She had decided to retire from
Hogwarts at the end of the school year, love it as she did she missed the presence of Albus
Dumbledore, and perhaps forty two years in the same job was enough. But she wasn’t quite ready for
the old witches’ home, there were a few good years in her yet, and maybe Thrubwell’s could use
someone of her experience.

Harry and Hermione breathed a collective sigh of relief, Minerva had been involved with the
project from the start, her long friendship with Poppy Pomfrey had ensured that, but to have her on
the staff would be a wonderful bonus. Getting her to accept the position as Headmistress required a
little diplomacy as she thought she would be enjoying a lesser role in her advancing years but
eventually she acquiesced, and another problem was solved.

Toward the end of March something happened that was to change the lives of Harry and Hermione
for ever. In the intimacy of their bedroom late one night Hermione’s Tear, the stone on the white
metal chain around Hermione’s neck, burned pink instead of its usual blue when the intensity of
their love reached its peak. The blushing jewel retained this colour for several days before it
slowly reverted to the blue double pulse it normally showed. They were intrigued by the behaviour
of the jewel, it had only ever changed colour once before, in that strange passageway that linked
the world of the living with that of the dead. Austin Henry had held the jewel in his hand,
something that only Harry had been able to do without injury, and the stone had pulsed once then
once again, both times that same blushing pink colour.

Hermione was fairly sure what had happened, but the full impact of her necklace’s strange
behaviour was not confirmed until the end of the following month when she spent several mornings
leaping out of bed to disappear into the bathroom to be violently ill.

Harry missed all these little clues and continued in blissful ignorance, until after a visit to
the Hollow by Poppy Pomfrey, who gave Hermione the once over and agreed with her. Then Hermione had
explained it to him.

It took a little while for the wonder of it all to sink in and for him to accept the fact that
by Christmas their family would have another member. To say that they were happy about the baby
would have been something of an understatement, Harry spent a lot of time, as do most prospective
fathers, being overly protective of his wife and Hermione spent just as much time assuring him that
she was fine and would ask for his help when she needed it.

As the summer passed Hermione’s condition developed along the normally accepted lines and the
passage of Thrubwell's through the Ministry machine seemed to proceed at an even slower
rate.

With the retirement of Professor McGonagall from Hogwarts there followed a general shift around
in the members of staff at the school. Her replacement came from Durmstrang; a Professor Vacille
Deversavich was to take over Transfiguration. The head of Gryffindor house fell to the elderly
Gliffley Marks the Ancient Runes Professor and Professor Flitwick took over as the Deputy Head.

Solomon still trying to carry three jobs, that of Headmaster, Head of Dumbledore House and
Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor decided that he needed to delegate. He was stuck with the
Headmastership, and he had no graduates of Dumbledore House to take that job away from him, not yet
anyway. Now Defence Against the Dark Arts that was a different matter and he knew just who he
wanted to shoulder that responsibility, Harry Potter. So with that in mind he visited the Hollow
late in July to find Hermione blooming and Harry looking just a little frazzled.

“I think you need something to do Harry,” Solomon said cheerfully, with a wink at Hermione.

“Err…what?” said Harry, “don’t you understand I’ve got too much to do at the moment, I can’t
take on anything else.”

“Really?” Aegis queried.

“Oh yes,” and Harry began to count things off on his fingers. “There’s Thrubwell’s.”

“I thought Minerva, Ron, Poppy and Hermione were dealing with that,” Solomon interrupted.

Harry gave him a dirty look, “Well there’s, the baby.” That was number two.

“Hermione seems to have that under control,” the older wizard turned to Hermione, “don’t you my
dear?” She smiled and nodded.

“But then there is the house and the Hollow to care for,” Harry insisted.

“Dobby?” suggested Solomon.

Harry hadn’t run out of fingers, but he had run out of ideas. He took on a crestfallen
expression and looked at Hermione, “Am I really getting in the way?”

“Of course not,” she replied, and he brightened, “but,” and he dipped again, “you do need a new
focus, other than what is happening to me. I am fine and you are only a thought away, whatever you
are doing or wherever you are. It will be good for you.”

Then as Hermione realised her slip, Harry’s expression became suspicious. “What will be good for
me?” he asked, “you two are up to something, come on out with it, what little plot have you been
hatching, you’ve not leaked any thoughts on it either of you.”

One of the disadvantages of telepathic linkage is that it is very hard to keep any secrets and
if one does it feels a little devious. “Oh Harry, there’s no plot,” Hermione put her arms around
his neck and kissed him on the cheek, “Solomon just checked with me this morning to ask if I minded
if he offered you a job.”

Harry looked surprised, “A job, what sort of job, Solomon?”

Solomon assumed the pose of Headmaster and declared “Hogwarts has a vacancy in the teaching
department, I require a DDA Professor,” he grinned at Harry, “I wondered if you would like the
position?”

“Oh,… me a Professor…but aren’t I rather young for that sort of responsibility? I mean….”

“Harry,” said Solomon in an intentionally irritated tone, “you will be twenty years old in a few
days time. You defeated Voldemort,… with a little help from your friends, you have vast experience
in the subject, and in about six months time you will be a father. It’s a bit late now to worry
about responsibility, or the lack of it.”

“Well in that case,” Harry could be irritating too, smiled at them both, “I’ll think about
it.”

Hermione then did a very creditable impersonation of a displeased Delores Umbridge, Harry
winced. “OK,” he said, holding his hands up in defeat, “I give in, I accept.”

So throughout that August Harry planned his lessons, took some pointers from Solomon, and kept a
close eye on Hermione as her pregnancy progressed.

In the last week of August Thrubwell’s passed all the Ministry regulations and became a living
breathing entity, so at least part of the dream Harry and Hermione had hatched those two years ago
came to fruition. Then on the first of September Harry packed a small bag, kissed his wife goodbye,
and peragated to Hogwarts to start the next chapter in his life.



3. New Arrivals
---------------

Chapter 3. New Arrivals.

Harry was looking at the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from a whole
new perspective, and that was because he was sitting at the staff table in the considerable shadow
of Rubeus Hagrid, looking out over a sea of young expectant faces. The students had gathered for
the welcoming feast at the start of another year, and some of them, especially the older ones, were
staring intently at the young man sitting with the other teachers.

To those students in the fourth year and above Harry was something of a hero, they had all been
at the school when Harry, Hermione and the rest of the Tyr had fought and defeated Voldemort, as
far as they were concerned he was still one of them. To the younger students he was a name, a
legend their parents spoke of a lot, but they knew nothing of the man himself. As the great doors
at the far end of the hall opened admitting the diminutive form of Professor Flitwick and the new
first years, Harry’s thought’s retreated back the nine years since he, Hermione, Ron and Neville
had made that walk themselves.

So much had changed and yet so much of the tradition was still the same. The Sorting Hat was
lying crumpled on the old stool much as it had in his day, and the first years would still be
divided amongst the four houses, but with the demise of Slytherin House the division was far less
contentious. Although Harry had visited the school on a number of occasions since the end of his
seventh year, this was the first sorting he had attended where he would see new students chosen for
Dumbledore House.

There were still less students in the new house than the others, but after the death of
Voldemort some older students had transferred to Hogwarts from foreign schools and a few of those
had found their way into Dumbledore. So there was a smattering of students now in all seven years
and this year for the first time, so Solomon had told him, they would be able to put up a
creditable Quidditch team.

The thought of Quidditch let Harry’s mind wander again, and as the sorting continued he dipped
freely into the events of the last nine years. As he foraged through his memories it was so
evident, that for him, there was only one constant that ran through all this time. There was this
brown eyed bushy haired girl, who grew into a brown eyed slightly less bushy haired woman, who was
at this moment sitting at home in Godrics Hollow being waited on by Dobby, the house elf. Hermione
was only ever a thought away and it was on her that he focused his mind.

*‘Hi, you OK love?’*

*‘Yes Harry, no changes since last contact err…twenty minutes ago, I’m fine,’* she giggled
in his mind. It made Harry shiver. *‘Sorting yet?’*

*‘Yes’*

*‘Oh good, let me listen.’*

Over the years they had improved on the fleeting mental contact they had started to enjoy in
their sixth year at Hogwarts. Now by opening their minds fully to each other they could see and
hear what the other was experiencing. Hermione always thought it was like watching muggle
television but without the annoying advertisements. She had no problem in coping with the dual
experience of seeing out of two pairs of eyes, but Harry hadn’t quite mastered the technique for
when he opened his mind in this way he sometimes lost track of which pair of eyes and ears were
his.

It took two nudges from Hagrid to bring him back to the Hall to hear Solomon welcoming the new
Defence against the Dark Arts Professor. It was only when the Headmaster repeated his name for the
second time, Harry remembered he was talking about him. Harry reddened, nodded politely at the
applause that greeted him, and then smiled ruefully at Solomon who winked at him.

As the meal progressed Harry was assailed by many mixed feelings. Hogwarts had been so much a
home to him, and it was again, but in a way it wasn’t, Godrics Hollow was his real home, and part
of him still wished he was there now with Hermione.

Harry’s first morning as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor found him a little nervous.
He knew his stuff, he didn’t have to worry on that score. Solomon had given him some great pointers
on the techniques of teaching over the past few months, and all the other members of staff had been
very supportive, so in theory there should have been no problems. However, for the boy who lived,
the saviour of the wizarding world all was not well, he sat in his office and looked around at the
room that held so many reminders of its previous occupants and worried, for today, for the first
time, he was going to face a class full of students, all on his own.

He heard the main classroom door bang open and the chatter of the students as they filed in,
well, there was no putting it off any longer. He knew what was waiting for him,… third years,… he
blanched, then he squared his shoulders, what on earth was he scared of, he had faced Voldemort
hadn’t he, of course he had, and they couldn’t be any worse than that……could they? He opened his
office door and descended the short flight of steps to the classroom which had now fallen silent.
All the class was staring at him, faces full of expectation; he tried not to show the nervousness
he felt, and perched himself on the end of the desk at the front of the room.

“Right,” he said with his self assumed confidence, “Books away, wands out.”

As one the class beamed at him and cheered, Professor Potter had arrived.

The first few weeks of Harry’s initial term as a teacher flew past, his worries about his
abilities to keep his students attention and to actually pass on any knowledge were groundless. It
seemed that his classes were actually quite popular, but that may have been because he felt that
practical experience with spells was more important than getting his students to write essays. So
from the student’s point of view Harry’s homework was often looked on as an excuse to cause a
little mayhem in the common rooms, rather than that serious study. But however they regarded it,
they did learn and that was the point of it all.

He had started all his classes with work on shielding, even with the higher years, for once he
had shown them that he could penetrate any shields they could produce with ease, they were keen to
improve. Starting with the *protegre* charm with the younger students and *aegis maximus*
with the older ones, everyone was making progress.

Harry was feeling rather smug with his success as he left his class of fifth years; he was
walking down a corridor on the fourth floor heading towards the staff room when in the silence,
only broken by the sound of his footsteps, he heard someone crying.

He couldn’t locate the source of the sound to start with, then he realised it was coming from
behind a tapestry that was hanging on the wall to his left. Harry slowly pulled the tapestry to one
side revealing a small alcove, and crouched in the small space was a first year in Dumbledore
robes, her head buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking with her sobs.

“Hello,” said Harry kindly, the girl turned her dark haired head toward him and stood quickly.
“You seem to have a bit of a problem, is it something I can help you with?” he asked. The girl
seemed embarrassed to have been caught in this situation, hung her head and said nothing. “Julie
Swan, isn’t it?” said Harry encouragingly, “you were the one who asked about patronesses weren’t
you?”

“Yes Sir,” the girl replied in the quietest of voices.

“Well then Julie, would you like to tell me why you are hiding up here and what has upset you.”
Julie looked as if she would like very much to be somewhere entirely different. “You’re not in any
trouble; I would just like to see if I can help.”

“It’s my fault, I…I,” she hesitated unsure as to whether to continue, “had an argument with some
of the other first years, they said that Dumbledore House was full of weaklings.” Now the dam had
burst, all her woes came out in a rush. “We had to be if all we could do was look after the weak
and poor, and…and it was the best place for someone like me a…a…mudblood.”

Harry went cold, it was a long time since he had heard anyone utter that despicable expression,
and he had hoped that the bigotry behind those sorts of feelings had gone, but obviously he was
wrong. Despite everything there were still wizards out there who harboured the old grudges, then he
realised he was being naïve; it was going to take a long time for these old prejudices to fade.
That was one of the purposes of Thrubwell’s Academy putting pureblood, half blood and muggle born
witches and wizards together at an earlier age, teaching them tolerance and understanding.

He sighed and regarded the youngster standing there looking so upset, then an image flashed into
his mind of another young girl close to tears for the same reason, and at that moment Harry knew
what to do.

“I think you need to have a talk with my wife,” Harry said. “Did you know she was a Dumbledore
too? Transferred from Gryffindor in her last term when the new house started, Head Girl too.”

“No Sir I didn’t,” a little confidence returned to the girl, who tried a smile.

“Right then, do you have any more lessons today?”

“No none,” Julie replied.

“OK,” Harry sent a thought to Solomon to ask if what he was going to do was alright, then on
receiving permission, sent another to Hermione, telling her to expect them. “If you are ready,
would you mind?” he held out his hand and Julie took it. Harry concentrated and then they were
standing in the sitting room of the cottage in Godrics Hollow, Hermione sitting on the sofa gave
them both a welcoming smile.

Julie looked very surprised, “How did you do that? You can’t apparate in the school, or the
grounds, it says so in…”

“I know,” said Harry, “Hogwarts a History, I’ve lost count of the times I’ve been told that one.
I’ll tell you later. Now Julie this is Hermione, Hermione this is Julie. I’m going to hinder Dobby
while he makes the tea.”

…………………………….

The weekend after Julie’s visit to Godrics Hollow was the first real opportunity that Harry had
to talk to Hermione about the girl. He had noticed that she was much happier on their return to
Hogwarts and that on the couple of occasions he had met her since she was retaining that new
confidence that somehow Hermione had been able to engage.

“It was just girl talk Harry, that’s all,” Hermione explained, “and I used that muggle phrase
about sticks and stones, something I forgot when Malfoy was being equally obnoxious. She also
needed to realise that at some time in our lives we are all weak and poor, not in the strength and
money sense, though that too, some of us. That Dumbledore House is all about helping people having
problems in all senses of the weak and poor bracket, even someone like you.”

“Pardon, when was I weak and poor?”

“Well,” she said, “when Voldemort caught you with the *Avada Kedavra* curse you weren’t at
your strongest, in fact you nearly weren’t anything, and if you remember there were several times
you were poor in the amount of confidence you had in yourself. It was me helping you with those
troubles, and trying to protect AH that was the catalyst that developed my Dumbledorishness.” She
giggled. “Gosh I wonder if that’s a real word?”

Harry laughed, and drew Hermione close to him; they were cuddled together on the sofa as usual.
“Your right of course,” Harry agreed, “I suppose I hadn’t thought of the words in that light, makes
Dumbledores even more special.” Harry leaned over and kissed his wife and very gently placed a hand
on her abdomen and marvelled at the movement he felt. “But then I knew that a long time ago.”

Time flies when you’re having fun, so the saying goes, and that first term really flew for
Harry. He watched the Quidditch matches with a little jealousy, wishing that he could still play
but realising, even had it been allowed, although he might still hold his own against players of
his own age some of the younger students playing now could turn so quickly that they would run
rings around him. This was something that had been proved to him on the couple of occasions that
the Gryffindor team had persuaded him to get back on a broom, oh to be eleven or twelve or thirteen
again, but even with all his magic Harry couldn’t manage that one.

Hardly had he drawn breath after the welcoming feast then the end of the term was upon him and
Harry peragated back to Godrics Hollow the day after all the students left for their respective
homes. Hermione was close to the end of her pregnancy now and for the first time allowed Harry to
help her in and out of chairs and up and down the stairs.

The were cosseted in their usual place on the sofa by the fire and Harry was feeling the
movement of their baby as Hermione nestled down to rest her back. Not really conscious of what he
was doing Harry was staring at the back of his hand as it moved in time with the kicks from the
person inside. He let his mind wander and suddenly he had the feeling that he was under water, he
had an instant of panic which fled when he realised he was still sitting on the sofa, but someone,
somewhere, was under water. Part of his mind retained this feeling, the water was warm and it was a
place of safety, then it dawned on Harry that he was in contact with his unborn child.

Harry wasn’t sure if this was normal but then he didn’t know many telepathic families. So
keeping as calm as he could he listened and received an even bigger shock because he recognised the
voice that sounded in his mind.

*“Hello Harry, I promised we would meet again,”* the contact was faint but
unmistakeable.

“AH, is that you?” Harry hadn’t meant to speak it out loud but he did.

*‘Well not really, but yes,’* the disembodied voice floated back to his mind.

Hermione opened her eyes a little to see Harry with a look of complete astonishment on his face,
“Who are you talking to love?” She was relaxed and on the verge of falling asleep.

“Our son,” Harry replied, not quite believing it himself.

That woke Hermione up, “Our son?”

“Yes, open your mind, and listen,” Harry said, not daring to move in case the contact was
broken.

Then Hermione heard him too, and she recognised him as well. Her eyes began to shine with the
emotion that burst in upon her.

*‘I know how sad you have both been at times, living with the memories of the day I left you.
So I wanted you to know that I am fine and right now I am just where I want to be. I am changing,
and I won’t remember AH much longer, it’s complicated but that’s what happens when you decide to
come back. I told you we would be together again and now I am becoming what I want to be, what AH
would have dearly loved to be, your son. I will be my own person but deep inside there will still
be a bit of the little boy who loved you both so much; and that’s the good part, I will again. My
AH memories are fading being put away to keep with the others, to enrich this soul, so that one day
it will make its final transformation with all the others. Please don’t be sad any more.’*

Harry and Hermione felt the mental contact fade away to nothing then as they exchanged
expressions of sadness mixed with happiness a new voice so much like AH’s but subtly different rose
in their minds.

The thoughts were as simple as a child’s should be, but the meaning was clear to his parents, as
he spoke to the minds he encountered that were not his own *‘Who are you, and who am I?’*

It was Hermione who answered a question that they had asked themselves when they knew he was on
the way, *‘You are James David Potter and you are our son. Sleep now you have a busy time
ahead.’*

Harry embraced his wife and kissed her, and then she gripped him tightly as the pain
started.

“Ooh!” she gasped, “that was rather sudden. I think you ought to get Poppy, we may need her
soon.”

To give Harry his due he didn’t panic, he peragated away to fetch the nurse immediately. He only
made one false stop at the hospital wing at Hogwarts, gave the new med-witch there an apologetic
grin and then, continued to Thrubwell’s and was back in the Hollow with Madam Pomfrey in less than
three minutes. Poppy didn’t make Harry boil lots of water to keep him out of the way but she did
send him to fetch Molly Weasley. “Nothing like having someone with loads of experience in these
things,” she said, and by the time Harry and Molly returned, Hermione was upstairs in bed. Harry
stayed and held Hermione’s hand, he bore the pain with manful fortitude as she squeezed his hand
very tightly, and three hours later James David Potter made his first public appearance.

……………………….

……………………….

Harry found it hard to credit but here they were twenty months later going through the same
process all over again. This time it was no surprise at all, both he and Hermione knew the
significance of the stone on her necklace turning pink late one November night, and as expected,
right on time, their daughter arrived the following August. They had no proof, as neither of them
had any mental contact with their daughter before she was born, even though they had tried, but
they had a strong suspicion that the little girl who had been AH’s companion all those years before
and their daughter were one and the same. Whatever her origins, when she arrived into the world she
was no longer Sophie or anyone else, she was simply their daughter Natalie Lily Potter.

Harry loved his son to bits, his love for Hermione knew no bounds, but the first time Natalie
opened her eyes and Harry saw those emerald green pools staring at him, his heart melted. Hermione
smiled, she knew that whatever their daughter wanted throughout all her life her father would never
be able to refuse her, and she didn’t mind because that was the way it should be.

That was the size of it, the Potter family, just the two children, but the way they could
communicate with each other it was often as if there was just the one. The brother and sister team
developed as strong a bond as the mother and father team and they tended to get into just as much
trouble.

Life for the Potters settled into normality. Well a normality that any young couple with young
children who could talk to each other telepathically, and had an active magical ability at an age
that surprised everyone who witnessed it, would understand. Both of his offspring seemed to have
inherited Harry’s ability to turn what should be very complex theories into simple spells, purely
because if they wanted something done they just made it happen.

Poor Dobby was kept on his toes chasing aberrant feeding bottles around the cottage as they
floated from the kitchen to the nursery to satisfy which ever infant had decided that feeding time
should be now and not when it was scheduled for. Favourite cuddly toys no matter how well packed
away before sleeping times, would miraculously find their way back into the cot and then resist any
further attempts at removal. James’ stuffed version of Hagrid’s pet Fluffy actually tried to bite
Harry as he went to lift him out of his son’s cot, and he tried with all his three heads. However
inventive their children were with their magic Harry and Hermione found to their dismay that
neither developed a spell that would help to keep them clean. That particular chore they left fully
in the grasp of their parents.

As James and Natalie grew it became obvious to all which child favoured which parent. James had
Hermione’s eyes, deep brown and as bright as sunlight, and he had her hair, although his was as
curly it was fortunately never allowed to get as long as his mothers. He looked quite like her,
everyone said so, but his Grandparents decided that he would be much taller than their daughter, if
their memories of her as a child held true.

Natalie, or Nat as she was usually called, born out of her brother’s initial inability to say
her name correctly, then as a way to differentiate her from her grandmother, was a pixie. Not a
real one, no pointed ears, acorn cup for a hat, and a desire to live in a house made from a giant
toadstool, but pixie like. She was smaller than her brother and had a delicate round face that lit
up when she smiled and positively radiated happiness. Her dark hair, like her fathers was straight,
but unlike him she had some control over the way it behaved. Beautiful child that she was it was
her eyes that held the attention of anyone who met her, emerald green, sparkling like the gem their
colour was named after. With those eyes she could look directly into your soul, sense your
innermost secrets, your hopes and desires, and if you weren’t prepared it could be quite
unnerving.

…………………………..

…………………………..

While the Potters coped with their magically precocious children, the rest of the wizarding
world continued much in the way it had for centuries. For the bulk of the witches and wizards the
muggle world might well have been on another planet for all the attention they paid it, but for
some the way the muggle world was changing sounded warnings that wizardom would not be able to
ignore forever. The muggles generally had never been aware that the wizarding world existed at all.
They were certainly oblivious to the fact that at least some of that alternative world watched
their scientific progress with concern.

There was an obscure ministry department that maintained the muggle watch, it was never very
large and like Arthur Weasley’s old Misuse of Muggle Artefact’s Department, had been considered an
unwanted necessity, and it was a good place to bury a witch or wizard who showed too much
muggleness. However since Arthur’s elevation to the Minister’s seat things had been slowly
changing. The Minister of Magic may have had a soft spot for muggles and their attempts to
circumnavigate the use of magic with ingenuity and inventions, but he was also aware that for
muggles to expose the wizarding world would be a disaster. He also believed that the muggle world
was having and would continue to have a greater impact on their own, and to this end he
strengthened both departments and amalgamated into them a section of Aurors. With Weasley’s
Watchers on the job Arthur really felt that they were ready for anything, dark wizards defeated,
muggles being watched, what could possibly go wrong?



4. Growing Pains
----------------



Chapter 4. Growing Pains.

The September after James Potter was five years old he left the comfort and safety of his
parent's home for the noise and danger that was the first year of Thrubwell's Academy. Well
he wasn't really in any danger, but it was noisy, and however well adjusted you are, your first
day at school is still a little traumatic. It didn't matter that he had spent time at
Thrubwell's visiting his Aunt Ginny and Uncle Neville, they weren't really related in the
normal sense, it went much deeper than that. What did matter was that he was separated from Nat for
the first time, and it made him feel lonely.

“He'll be fine Hermione,” Ginny assured her, as she prised James from her grip, “Remember
it's only for a few hours, we're not going to keep him for ever.”

“Yes I know,” she replied. “Well be a good boy.” she said to James determined not to cry at this
first separation. She waved as Ginny led him away then peragated back to the Hollow to relieve
Harry of Nat so that he could get off to work himself.

Thrubwell's was every muggle child's vision of what a place full of magic and wonder
should be, and even for a young witch or wizard used to the application of spells and charms the
school was fascinating. The magic taught was very basic, simple household spells, like those used
most days at home, were demonstrated and explained. This was done in a way that would make the more
complex magic taught at Hogwarts and the other main schools that bit easier to understand.

Most important was the interaction between the children themselves, although it had to be said
that a majority of the pupils were from all wizard families, there was a smattering of children
where only one parent was magical and even a few from with both muggle parents. It was understood
that all children were welcome as soon as they started to show magical abilities. Harry often
wondered how things would have turned out if he had started at a school two or three years before
going to Hogwarts, when his emerging magical talents started getting him into trouble with his aunt
and uncle. Then he reasoned that he may never have met Ron or Hermione and their friendship would
not have become what it was now, and without that friendship how would he have fared against
Voldemort. He was just very glad Thrubwell's was there for James and would be for Nat, and that
within a very short time it was clear that James was loving it.

After the first few days James was happy to let Harry drop him off on the way to work and after
a week he would have apparated himself if he had been able to do it, he had settled in.

Now that there was only Nat to look after, Hermione would often take both her and Dobby to
Hogwarts, where she would leave her daughter in the care of the house elf, while she began to
develop her teaching skills. Hermione hadn't ever really considered following any other career
than that of a teacher. She had watched with pride Harry's first attempts at teaching with the
old DA in their fifth year. Then again with his role as Defence Professor the pride was there again
but now mixed with a little bit of envy, she wanted so much to pass on to others all the knowledge
she had buzzing around in her head.

Hermione found it difficult at first, it is not always the brightest who find teaching easy, but
because she was clever it didn't take her long to get the hang of it. She watched Solomon and
Harry, the both of them always so careful that everyone understood, even the slowest learners.
Vacille Deversavich was brilliant with the high fliers, but not all his students were that way
inclined, and some of them were left behind. Hermione was determined that her teaching would be
acceptable to all and so it was Solomon she modelled herself on. Harry was good, but Solomon made
it look as if he had been doing it forever, he could vary the pace of a lesson to match all the
levels present in his class, it was as wonderful to watch him teach as it had been to be taught by
him. Hermione became aware of just how much Solomon had passed on to them in those last two years
at school, she was now sure that they would never have succeeded without him.

The time that had passed since the fall of Voldemort was one of peace and contentment for all
wizard kind but especially for the members of the Tyr. With both Harry and Hermione settled, and
their young family growing, the Potters were very happy with their lot.

In the summer after Hermione started at Hogwarts, Neville and Ginny produced their first child.
They had been married several years before and Julie Swan who had now graduated from Hogwarts had
been their bridesmaid. The young girl had become a frequent visitor to both Thrubwell's and
Godrics Hollow in her years at Hogwarts and so became part of the ever expanding magical family the
members of the Tyr seemed to generate.

The same year that Ginny and Neville's first born arrived on the scene, Professor Gliffley
Marks retired and Harry was made head of Gryffindor House, he had been at the school for eight
years now and began to feel that he never really wanted to leave. He was challenged every day by
the demands of the students and now understood why so many Professors hated the idea of ever giving
up.

Ron was never far away from all the activities at the Hollow, Thrubwell's or Hogwarts. He
and Luna continued their long courtship and only brought it to its logical conclusion at the party
organised to wet the head of Ginny and Neville's daughter Rose. Luna made Ron sweat through the
whole day before she accepted his proposal but within the month had made an honest man of him.

They continued to live in London in the small set of rooms they had rented when Ron first joined
the Ministry, it was quiet and comfortable and it suited the pair of them. To outsiders Ron and
Luna's relationship seemed unremarkable but it had stood the test of battle, the possibility of
sacrifice, and just after their marriage the results of Luna's final tests from St.Mungo's.
This was the only piece of bad luck to mar an otherwise perfect time. It had been a shattering blow
but there was no chance of the tests being incorrect. In a world where so much was possible with
the flick of the wrist, an incantation, and some simple wand movement, the possibility for them to
increase the size of their family finally faded. Luna was very down in the dumps the evening that
Ron came home and first heard the news.

“I will understand,” she said, sniffing into a large white handkerchief, “if…if…you… want to
end…” she couldn't finish and burst into tears. Large wet drops fell into her lap and her
shoulders shook, Ron rushed over and pulled her into his arms, he held her tight, as if he never
wanted to let her go.

“Don't be daft,” he said, holding her head so that he could look her in the face, “I have
been in love with you far too long for anything to change that, as long as I have you I have
everything I need and want.” Ron drew her face to him and kissed her gently on the lips. “Do you
remember that day when I thought I had to take Dumbledore through the veil?” She nodded, “I nearly
died twice that day, walking through the veil would have done it, but looking at you, realising
that I would never see you again, that… that was the worst. Snape gave me the chance to spend the
rest of my life with you, when he took my place, and no silly report from St.Mungo's or
anything else is going to prevent that until we are both ready to go.” Ron kissed her again, “and
that isn't going to be for a long, long time.”

Luna felt as if her heart was going to burst because it couldn't contain all the love she
had for this great tall ginger headed man. The tears she shed were tears of sorrow mixed with tears
of joy, Ron rocked her in his arms until they stopped, and sent her all the love he had. For
whatever the condition you are fighting the best medicine of all is love.

There was love aplenty and Ron and Luna were buoyed up by it when they told the others of their
problems so that after a while it seemed to be less of a disaster and more a disappointment. They
began to think that perhaps, with time, they may be able to find some way around it.

…………………………………………

Growing up as a Potter was an interesting experience for both James and Nat. As their exposure
to magic had begun almost before they were even born it was to be expected that they would be
magically more advanced than their peers. Although at home the gloves were off and at times highly
inappropriate spells could be seen flashing around the garden, in the presence of other children or
adults not of their immediate circle, they behaved as if they were perfectly normal.

The other thing which set them apart was their ability to communicate telepathically with each
other and their parents. Harry and Hermione's mental connection stemmed from the time in their
sixth year when Harry had saved Hermione after she had been attacked by Malfoy. Only his prompt and
very delicate intervention prevented the blood spilling from a ruptured vessel swamping
Hermione's brain and killing her. Then slowly their ability to talk to one another with their
minds had shown itself, and this developed over the years bringing them closer and closer
together.

The two children had been born with this gift; in fact they had used it before they had arrived.
James had *spoken* to his parents from the warmth of Hermione's body but Nat only
communicated with her brother this way and had waited until she had seen the light of day before
she deigned to *spea**k* to her mother and father. It was possible to imagine that as the
children grew this close contact could at times be considered a little inconvenient, especially
when moments of privacy were required, however there was at least one occasion when it saved
Nat's life.

It was one of those moments that all parents dread, a few seconds inattention, then a
distraction, and before you know where you are your child is missing. Nat had been playing with
Crookshanks in the garden, Hermione called for her daughter and the half Kneazle assuming his guard
duty was over had ambled through the hedge and off into the woods. At that moment a sudden gust of
wind blew a winter's worth of soot down the chimney in the sitting room filling the house with
choking black dust. As her mother shooed Nat back out of harms way the girl caught sight of a
ginger rear end disappearing into the trees and she was off following her friend. Maybe it only
took ten minutes to clear up the mess, but it was long enough for Nat to disappear.

Hermione calmly used her mind to search for her daughter and discovered her not too far away but
Nat was anything but calm and then suddenly she wasn't there at all. It was James who heard the
mental shriek from both his mother and sister, but his sister was closer and she was the one that
was falling.

Nat was in a panic, she had lost sight of Crookshanks and now she was lost, running through the
woods trying to find her way out. It was dark in there and the branches of the trees and bushes
were grabbing at her clothes like so many terrifying hands, she tripped and nearly fell. Then at
the edge of her mind she could feel her brother's thoughts. She wanted to be with him and with
that thought she translocated herself, but she was only four years old, and her aim was off. In the
blink of an eye Nat found herself falling through the air over the edge of the deep short valley
that held Thrubwell's. Suddenly the breath was knocked out of her body by someone crashing into
her, and a pair of arms fastened about her tightly.

Ginny was leaning over James' shoulder helping him with his class work, she had just pointed
out the mistake he had been making when she gasped with surprise as he suddenly disappeared from
his seat then two seconds later he was back, rolling on to the classroom floor with his sister
clasped in his arms. Nat cried out as she hit the floor, then when all movement had stopped she
slowly opened her eyes to stare into the face of her brother James.

As the shock wore off the commotion began, her mother still dirty with soot appeared and scooped
the both of them off the floor and pulled them into a fierce hug, asking over and over if they were
alright. Ginny was calming the other children who were in a real state of excitement, and then
suddenly it all went very quiet as Harry so tall and dressed in his black teaching robes shimmered
into existence at the front of the class.

Nat switched her gaze from her mother who looked frightened to her father who thankfully was
more relieved than cross.

*`Sorry dada but I was so scared'* the four year old thought at her father. She was
heartened to see her father suppress a little smile.

*`Alright, we'll talk about this later,'* Harry thought back. Then he turned his
attention to his son who met his firm questioning gaze with one of his own. *`Never mind
how**,* *well done.'*

“Sorry for the disturbance Ginny,” Harry said to the petite red head who had now regained
control of the rest of the class. “I think I ought to get this lot home before we cause any more
trouble.”

Hermione had regained her composure rapidly once she had assured herself that her children had
come to no harm. “Yes Gin sorry, I'll come back later and we'll have a chat.”

Ginny smiled at her two oldest friends, “Don't know why you are apologising to me, that was
one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. I just hope you manage to find out how James did
it, he was so fast it was probably instinctive, but it was remarkable none the less.”

Harry and Hermione talked James and Nat through what had happened and indeed, as Ginny had
suggested, their reactions appeared to be instinctive, but why should Nat turn to her brother first
rather than her mother? Solomon solved that conundrum the following day when he arrived at the
Hollow to talk to the children.

Nat was always in awe of this, at least to her, incredibly tall wizard, it was only as she grew
up that she realised that Solomon was not that much taller that her father, and the Uncle Ron
topped them both. Perhaps she reasoned it was because he appeared, so permanent, so steady, and for
someone who really should be quite scary to a young child, so comforting.

Solomon brought a large box with him which he placed on the floor of the sitting room and
invited both children to examine the contents. The box was filled with the most mysterious trinkets
of all kinds, so interesting to the children that they absorbed themselves in the discovery of
their uses, so that the adults sitting around them ceased to exist. Solomon sat quietly and watched
the way the two children interacted with the objects and with each other, Harry and Hermione
sitting close together on the sofa their gaze flitting from children to Headmaster, waited in
anticipation. Then they sensed Solomon's mind reaching out, it flowed like a rolling bank of
mist to cover James and Nat, where it quietly quested and probed the two young minds. After some
twenty minutes Solomon sighed and leant back in his chair.

“There's a link between the two of them,” he explained, “tenuous but permanent, very similar
to the way your linkage was in the beginning. Now your linkage grew stronger as your love developed
and matured as you aged, and you are still finding things that you can do now that you couldn't
do before, right?”

“Yes, that's true,” Hermione agreed.

“Well with these two their relationship is set by the fact that they are, err… related, they
don't have to fall in love, the love has been there from the moment they were born,” Solomon
looked back to the playing children, “I think that their mental bond is as strong as the one you
two have, and just as powerful… Watch.”

Solomon closed his eyes and Harry and Hermione felt the mental thrust he pushed out at the
unprepared children. The reaction was instantaneous; the air around James and Nat actually
shimmered, and Solomon's attack was stopped cold. James turned from the intricate machine he
had been studying to stare at the wizard, but seeing no harmful intent in his action smiled and
continued to play with the toys.

Harry, Hermione and Solomon left the children in the house and walked down the length of the
garden to sit on the long bench under the willow by the stream.

“All things considered this doesn't really surprise me,” said Solomon, “What is more of a
concern is this being able to peragate without any thought about the whole process.”

“Not jealous are you Solomon?” Hermione asked.

He laughed, “No not now but I would have been, it took me a long time to get it right,” he
sighed, “but then that was a very long time ago.” Solomon stood and walked up and down in front of
the bench deep in thought. “They must learn to control their magic before it gets them into any
more trouble, you are going to have to start their formal education earlier than normal, and that
my dears I will leave in your capable hands.” He grinned at them both, “Good luck, see you at
school on Monday Harry.” and with that and a dramatic swirl of his cloak Solomon disappeared.

“Well that's helpful,” said Harry making it sound as if Solomon's advice wasn't
helpful at all.

“Oh Harry you know he is right,” Hermione chided him, “It's a good job the summer holidays
are coming up, we ought to be able to get things well sorted before Nat starts at
Thrubwell's.”

“Goodness, I hadn't thought of that,” said Harry in a worried tone of voice, “do you think
Ginny will ever forgive us landing her with the pair of them?”

Hermione giggled and as always it made a shiver run down Harry's spine. “I expect she will;
you know how she likes a challenge.”

So the first day of the summer holidays found the Potters in Diagon Alley at the wand shop of Mr
Olivander.

“Well,” the old man looked down at James and Nat, “younger than usual, but then you can never
tell. Let me see.”

Harry was instantly taken back all those years to the time when he stood in their places waiting
for his wand, waiting to hold the thing that would truly make him a wizard, waiting for the wand to
choose him. Hermione watched her husband then wiggled her mind into his.

*`Memories* Harry*?'*

*`Oh yes, holding my wand for the first time was like turning a key and opening a door that
led to the most wonderful things imaginable**. It was the start of everything, even of me
finding you.'* He smiled at the woman by his side and slipped his arm around her waist, and
watched their children search for their wands.

Mr. Olivander had started with Nat and the pile of wands on the table had grown to a respectable
size when the last one she picked up spontaneously produced a shower of red and gold stars which
lit the inside of the shop.

“Well, well,” said Olivander with surprise, looking at the underside of the box Nat's wand
had come from. “Avalonian hazel and unicorn hair, good combination, lasts well.”

“Avalonian hazel, did you say?” Hermione asked.

“Yes that right, I get a small amount of wood from Avalon, makes for a very durable wand,
virtually unbreakable you know.”

“Err… no I didn't,” Hermione replied unnecessarily, for the shop keeper had turned his
attention to James.

“Now young man,” said Olivander rubbing his hands together in anticipation of a new challenge,
“What can we fix you up with?”

James looked around the shop taking in the many shelves with the thousands of slim boxes stacked
on them. His eyes settled on a set of shelves hidden in the dark recess at the back of the shop.
James lifted his arm and held out his hand.

“This one please.” he said. From that dark corner of the shop came the sound of boxes falling
from their shelf, then the whisper of something flying through the air. A single box emerged from
the lines of shelves to soar over the counter and land gently in James' outstretched palm. The
box was battered and its edges curling with age, but as Mr. Olivander reached with slightly shaking
hands and opened it, they all could see that the packing and the wand that nestled in it were as
bright and clean as the day the box was made.

“Take it out young man, I don't want to touch it,” the old man said.

James reached in and grasped the wand with his fingers, instantly the shop was suffused with a
soft white light, and Harry suddenly felt that he didn't have a care in the world. The feeling
lingered even after the light had faded, and Harry looked questioningly at Olivander.

“Elder, twelve inches with a Persian Simurgh feather as its core, it is the only one we ever
made.” Mr. Olivander was almost lost for words, …almost. “This wand is nearly two thousand years
old, no one has ever come close to selecting it before. The healing power of the Simurgh is
legendary, I cannot begin to imagine what your son will be able to do with this is.”

Oh dear thought Harry, not another wonder wand in the family, well as long as there isn't a
dark wizard out there with the wands opposite number wanting to take over the world, I suppose we
will have to see how things pan out. He gave Hermione a wry smile and shrugged his shoulders in
mute acceptance.

Later that same summer James and Nat were sitting alone in the garden of their grandparent's
house in Avalon, they were both feeling rather full as they had just decamped from the celebrations
for Nat's fifth birthday. Their introduction to formal magical training had gone well in the
preceding weeks and they had begun to understand why they worked well together. It all revolved
around love, but Nat found the concept hard to grasp, love could be so fragile and so easily
destroyed, and yet love had bound her mother and father and the rest of the Tyr, and it had been so
strong. It was all a bit confusing.

“James?”

“Umm.” He answered sleepily.

“What is love, mum and dad talk to us a lot about it, but what is it really?” she asked.

“Gosh Nat, I don't think I can explain it, I'm not sure I know. That's the sort of
question you should ask Solomon, he's been around for ages I bet he knows.”

“Oh,…Nat sounded disappointed, “maybe I will one day, but James do you love me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Even though you don't know what it is?” she persisted.

“Yes”

“Why?”

“Because you are my sister,” he said with only the slightest trace of exasperation in his
voice.

“Will you always love me?” the question was quietly spoken but for some reason it was very
important for Nat to know the answer.

“Will you always be my sister?” James smiled at her.

“Yes.”

“Then I will always love you.”

Nat smiled back at him put her arm around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. “That's
good, cos I love you too.”

Settling down by her brother's side the warmth of the summer sun gently rocked them and
within a few minutes both of them were fast asleep.

Every year after that the pair could be found out in the garden sleeping off the effects of the
birthday party, but every year there was the subtle difference in that they were a year older, and
as each year passed their understanding of love, magic and the magic of love grew.

The September at the end of that summer saw Nat joining her brother at Thrubwell's and
Hermione found her days completely free again, and then she didn't because Vacille left
Hogwarts to return to Durmstrang and at Solomon's insistence Professor Potter mark two took on
the role of transfiguration teacher. This was going to cause a problem for both the students and
the rest of the teaching staff, you could talk to Professor Potter one or Professor Potter two
providing they weren't in the same room because it was obvious who you were talking to, but
other than that it became a little complicated. Hermione solved it in the most logical way, and
thus with most un-wizard like reasoning.

“At my old muggle school we had exactly the same problem,” she told Harry the day before term
started, “I can revert back to my unmarried name, if you don't mind.”

“Oh,” said Harry, feeling only a little disappointed, “I hadn't thought of that, I suppose
calling you Madam Potter is a bit over the top?”

Hermione laughed “Definitely,” and she slipped her arms round his neck, “don't you ever
think I don't love every minute of being Mrs Potter,” she said kissing him soundly on the lips,
“but being Professor Granger is just a practical solution.”

So Professor Granger she became.

The world of the Potter's had settled into a gentle routine of school and holidays, work and
play and all the other things that go with growing up, and everything was going very nicely. Then
came the year that Nat dreaded most since James had started at Thrubwell's. This year would see
them separated again, not forever, actually only for a couple of months, but even that would be bad
enough. The only problem was that Nat was the only one to feel disheartened by the thought, she
knew her mother and father would not understand and that was acceptable, but James, he of all
people should be sympathetic to her feelings, but no, her wonderful brother was too excited, just
because he had received his letter and he was going off to start at Hogwarts. It just wasn't
fair.

-->



5. Tales From The Other Side
----------------------------

Chapter 5. Tales from the other side.

The defeat of Voldemort and the appointment of Arthur Weasley as Minister for Magic had seen an
increase in the fascination that the wizarding world had for the muggles. Weasley’s Watchers or the
WW’s were concentrating on several interesting subjects, one of which was an elderly academic at a
University in the east of the country.

The work of one Professor Wilfred Fullbrook who held the double chair in Metaphysics and
Parapsychology at St. Beade’s College, Cambridge, was causing some concern. Without realising it,
the Professor, who was now getting on in years, had been, on no less than three occasions, within a
hair’s breadth of proving the existence of magic and the way it could be channelled to allow its
use. On each occasion Weasley’s Watchers had acted, the Professor had been neatly sidetracked by
the arrival of a supposed ‘student’ brilliant in some closely allied but slightly divergent field,
and so the secret of what could make a muggle appear like a wizard remained just that, a secret.
Arthur had vetoed the use of memory modification on the Professor; the man was reasonably isolated
by his incumbency, and who was going to believe him anyway, even if he managed to prove the
existence of wizards.

“He won’t cause us any trouble, what he finds out may even be useful,” said Arthur, to the Head
of the W.W’s. Dot Coombs, at one of their regular meetings. “Just monitor his activities, Dorothy,
it will be fine.”

As time passed it became clear to the Ministry that the now ageing Professor was not about to
make any startling breakthroughs, and they lost interest. So it was that some five years after the
fall of Voldemort the Professor, who had never even considered the existence of someone like the
Dark Lord, had a visitor. He thought at first it was a child standing there in his office, but by
his speech the being was evidently older and thus by his stature must be a dwarf of some kind.
Professor Fullbrook couldn’t see his face, it was hidden by the hood of his cloak, but he did have
an abnormally long nose which poked out past the edge of the garment. The visitor’s voice was
cracked with age and had a sibilant hiss.

“I was told to come to you muggle,” there was resentment in his tone, “I have resisted but can
no longer.”

“Sorry, name is Fullbrook don’t know anyone called Muggle,” the Professor interrupted.

His interjection was ignored. “You are to have this.” A hand with long bony fingers appeared
from inside the cloak holding a stick. “It wants to come to you, Kreacher does not want to let it
go but I have no choice,” the voice was desperate, torn between the speaker’s desire and obeying
his orders.

The Professor was as oblivious to the opposing forces acting in the mind of the house elf, as he
was to the fact that it was a house elf standing in his room.

Wilfred Fullbrook reached down and took the proffered stick, he had in his hand the most deadly
wand known to wizard kind. He turned it in his fingers, examining the shaft and handle of the
instrument that The Dark Lord had used to send a thousand souls away on the next journey.

“Umm,” he said, as he considered it, “yew, very nice, thank-you.”

To the house elf’s chagrin he opened the top drawer of his desk and shut the wand away. Kreacher
gave a guttural cry and turned and ran from the room. The Professor watched his departure with some
astonishment, as he caught sight of the large bare splayed-toed feet slapping on the cold stone
floor, visible below the hem of the cloak.

“Goodness,” he muttered to himself, “what students will do for a prank these days.”

The wand that lay in his desk drawer was forgotten.

………………………….

“Sarge,” the young constable, accosted his superior in the Police Station canteen. “There is
another load of kids outside the station waiting to be shown around.”

He watched the shoulders of the burly sergeant sag; everyone understood that these visits from
the local schools reminded the man of his own problems at home, and the constable knew his sergeant
missed his daughter dreadfully.

Not that she was away all the time, but it was strange that at the moment when he needed his
family near him the most, he sent her away to some boarding school in Scotland.

The sergeant’s wife had died quite suddenly about three years ago, cancer they said, then
uncharacteristically while the rest of the family gathered around to give support, the sergeant had
sent his only daughter away with no explanations to her uncles and aunts, just like that. The young
P.C. had only heard this second hand but it was not hard to imagine it all to be true, Sergeant
Swan was a natural with the kids, but at times you could see the hurt in his eyes.

Gerry Swan straightened, “OK Joe, I’ll be down in a tick, could you get them into reception for
me.”

“Sure Sarge, no problem,” he said with a smile, nobody minded helping the Sergeant, he was the
one who ran this station, whatever the Superintendent thought, and he was a bloody nice bloke.

The sergeant heaved himself up from his chair, picked up his paper plate and plastic knife and
fork and headed toward the refuse bin. It always amused him that in a building full to the brim
with burly policemen that Health and Safety rules decreed that they were not allowed metal
implements to eat with.

He wondered how his daughter Julie was faring, the school sounded good; it was certainly good
for her, a bit rocky at the start but then who didn’t have problems in a new school. He was a very
practical man and he did have, and truly was still having some difficulty in coming to terms with
what his daughter had become.

A witch, to him that meant some green skinned crone covered in warts riding a broomstick like
the one in the Wizard of Oz. Now he knew different, when he had collected Julie from King Cross
last time there had been a young woman with her, my word, if only he had been twenty years younger.
She had been introduced to him as Mrs Potter, and she had held out her hand.

“Hermione,” she said.

“Sorry?” Julie’s father had replied.

“Hermione Potter, my husband is one of Julie’s professors.” She had clarified.

“Oh err sorry,” he said again, and managed to break the spell this wonderful young woman had him
under, “Gerry Swan, err pleased to meet you.”

They hadn’t talked for long, but in that short time he realised that if Julie had friends like
Hermione Potter in that other world, then he didn’t have to worry about her. Over that summer Julie
had filled him in on the story surrounding Hermione and her husband and what they had accomplished
along with all their friends, he honestly hoped that his daughter would find friendship as tight as
that. She certainly deserved something nice to happen to her.

He straightened his uniform as he descended the stairs to the reception room and readied to meet
this next batch of show arounds.

They were the usual crop of kids that was sure, Gerry Swan may have noticed the boy who stood at
the back of the group but he made no special impression on the Sergeant, but the Sergeant made an
impression on him. From the day of that visit John Burford was sold on the job, he wanted to be a
policeman and nothing was going to dissuade him from fulfilling his dream.

…………………………………….

If there was one muggle in the whole world who hated Harry Potter more than Draco Malfoy did,
then that muggle was Vernon Dursley. Although he hadn’t seen Harry in nearly ten years, his dislike
of the boy and everything he stood for never diminished, in fact it had grown. In his own mind
Harry had been the architect of Vernon’s failures, and it had all started with that disastrous
visit to his home by Mr and Mrs Mason. The drill order to top all drill orders, the order that was
going to put Grunnings on the map, and make Vernon a wealthy man and of course it never
happened.

Grunnings had begun to fail and Vernon had become vociferous in pointing out to anyone who would
listen the reason for that failure. Generally he avoided the use of the M word and the W word
simply for propriety sake, but at the last Christmas party, if you could call it a party, Vernon
had become a little drunk, and somehow the whole sordid truth had come out. Fortunately most of his
colleagues were drunk as well so nobody paid him much attention as he banged on about witches,
wizards, magical schools, dementoes and the fact that someone had inflated his sister.

Unfortunately there was someone at the party that was not the least bit inebriated, not only
that, he didn’t work for Grunnings either. He did work for a certain Julius Magus who was in the
market for a machine tool company. Now Magus’ agent had initially written off Grunnings as a waste
of time, but he knew that his boss had a thing for magic, and this Dursley fellow, unlikely as it
seemed, appeared to know something about it.

So the word was passed on and Julius Magus, his interest stimulated, bought out Grunnings purely
so he could talk to Vernon Dursley and show him a little souvenir that he had kept tucked away
since he was a young boy.

Vernon was not surprised to be called to see the new owner; Julius Magus was obviously an
entrepreneurial genius and he must have recognised the same qualities in him. To give Vernon his
due, he did try to find out something about Magus, who it seemed came from a wealthy family but by
judicious buying and selling of initially stocks and shares and then whole companies had made that
wealth grow. Now, in his late fifties he was one of the richest men in the world, and he wanted
advice from Vernon Dursley.

In his own mind, and in his mind only, Vernon thought he was the most important man in the
company, and this summons merely inflated this importance. Physically it would have been impossible
to inflate anything as he was so large no one else could ride in the lift with him, and in the
office canteen he formed a queue all on his own.

Unfortunately for Vernon he had only scratched the public face of his new employer, and he was
totally unaware that at the age of twelve Julius Magus had witnessed an act of savagery that had
marked him for life and left in his possession the knowledge and physical proof that magic and
wizards were real.

The interview started on friendly enough terms, polite inquires as to his family and their
health, but Julius was a master at the soft hard technique of questioning and he watched with
satisfaction as he manoeuvred Vernon to the topic he wanted. His agent had given him the trigger
and so he used it.

Julius Magus saw Vernon’s face redden, the question had been innocent enough, why had he not
clinched the deal with Masons Manufacturing, it was the most important order that Grunnings had
received in the last fifteen years, it would have turned the company into the top drill producer in
the country. Something had put Mr Mason off, and his wife still needed therapy.

“Come on Dursley there must have been something, I can’t imagine that it was your fault,”
encouraged Magus, “Or was it?”

“No, no, not mine, it was all his fault,” Vernon had mumbled, “disaster, he caused it, exploding
pudding then the owls, all his fault.” His hate for everything Potterish flared up, and the
palpitations started again. Vernon felt the room begin to close in around him and the sweat began
to gather on his brow, he had obviously forgotten where he was, for he rambled on. “Thought that
would be the end of it, Ministry of Magic involved, thought he’d be expelled but no, not him, not
Potter.”

“Potter?” asked Magus calmly.

“Umm… yes Potter and all his kind, unnatural.” Vernon was on a roll now and he was unable to
stop himself, so if Magus wanted to know, he would tell him. “Wizards, magic, all real,” Vernon was
becoming more incoherent as he babbled on, “did you know? Caused me so much trouble, …unnatural all
of them, …popping out of fireplaces, …trying to kill my son!” Vernon was actually frothing at the
mouth by this stage, and visibly shaking with rage.

“Yes, yes I understand now,” Magus made his voice cold and unfriendly, he badly wanted all the
information Dursley had, and he decided to provoke him a little bit more. “I know all about you and
the way you feel about, well… this,” he reached into his coat pocket and placed the object it
concealed onto the desk between them. Vernon Dursley glanced down, then he couldn’t look away, his
eyes bulged and an incoherent gurgle issued from his throat.

“NO, NO you’re one of THEM!” he cried, and then he gripped his chest, the pain was unbearable
and it made him cry out once more, “POTTER!” At that moment Vernon’s heart, so badly overstretched
for so many years, decided that enough was enough and constricted tightly in a fatal spasm. Vernon
slid off his chair collapsing to the floor; he was dead before he hit the ground.

Julius Magus eyed his former employee with horror; that was certainly quite some reaction; he
hadn’t expected it to be quite so severe, he tried to remember if he had ever interviewed anyone to
death before, he didn’t think he had. He picked up the wand from the desk and returned it to his
pocket, then called for his P.A. The over manicured man in the sharp suit nearly tripped over
Vernon’s vast corpse as he rushed to do his master’s bidding, then recoiled when he realised what
was lying on the floor.

Magus had regained his composure, it wouldn’t do to have the hired help think this was anything
but a tragic accident. “Mr Dursley appears to be unwell, please deal with it.” He turned to leave
the office, and the P.A. was already scrabbling for the phone, Julius stopped, “For the record I
was never here, and oh by the way, locate Dursley’s son and find out any connection that Dursley
may have had with someone called Potter.”

………………………………..

Dudley Dursley was miserable, he had never been particularly happy as a teenager and as he grew
into adulthood that hadn’t changed much. He knew when his unhappiness really started, that night in
that alley near his parent’s old home, the night he was attacked by those Dementors, and he knew
whose fault that was, Harry Potter’s. Those things had left him cold and stripped of all his happy
thoughts, the thrill of beating up someone younger and smaller than he was, of getting one up on
Potter and seeing his father take advantage of it, those feelings were gone, and now so was his
father.

Dudley Dursley had never left home, he never has any wish to and now with the death of his
father he had a good enough reason to stay. Strangely the company that had taken over Grunnings had
offered him a job. His father had only managed to get him a clerking position in his old company,
and when he had died Dudley thought he would soon be out on his ear, but surprisingly he was given
a position at the parent company’s head office. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing, in
fact he actually did nothing at all most of the time. He signed a few papers and read a few
reports, but that was all, and it suited him down to the ground. What Dudley didn’t know was that
he was watched, every minute of every day, there was someone there. Not that he realised, not that
he probably would have cared, unless he had found out that the reason for the surveillance hinged
on his father’s dying word, naming the one person Dudley never wanted to meet again.

…………………………………

Much to his annoyance Julius Magus found out very little about the mysterious Potter other than
his first name was Harry. There were many Harry Potter’s scattered around the country but none of
them fitted the age or type of person Magus was expecting. Dudley Dursley had proved to be a
complete waste of effort, Julius was surprised that he had enough intelligence to remember to get
up in the morning, and any attempt to prise information from him regarding magic usually resulted
in a rapid, and apparently genuine, rush to the toilet.

However, something did happen at about the same time that greatly interested the industrial
tycoon, and made all those years of searching worthwhile. He had a visit, more a clandestine
meeting, with a shadowy figure who only called himself Elf. And a shadowy figure he really was,
because Magus never actually saw him in the proper light of day, this was a necessity because Elf
was not human and he did not want the muggle to see the box he stood on to raise his height to that
of a normal man.

This Elf led Julius Magus on a merry magical and wizardly dance, he told him many secrets that
muggles should not be told, so many that Magus believed that Elf was a wizard himself. So certain
was he, that on one occasion, he tried to capture him. The results were not pretty, three of his
men were very badly injured, and Elf had simply vanished. What was worse was that he remained
vanished for the best part of six months, Magus knew it was a punishment and he never tried to
cross the Elf again.

The association with this strange being continued and over the years some fascinating projects
came out of it. Magus Research was a complex of laboratories, mainly underground, near one of the
Science Parks associated with Cambridge University, and in the secrecy of this station Julius Magus
initiated his Magical Investigation Unit. The Elf provided plans for containment rooms and
instruments of investigation, which were to be used when they actually captured a wizard, and then
the drawings for a most ambitious undertaking arrived. Magus always handled these plans wearing
gloves; the material they were drawn on was thick and yellow and crackled ominously if it became
very dry, he knew it was skin of some kind and he had a horrible idea that it might be human.

The result of this last grand experiment was that three fifty ton blocks of Dolerite found their
way into the largest of the underground laboratories and were set up as a Trilithon so that they
looked like refugees from Stonehenge. This was to form part of the mysteriously named instability
inducer, neither Magus nor his workers knew exactly what this machine would do, but Elf had assured
them that their world would never be the same once they had perfected it. Oblivious to any double
meaning in his words, they followed his instructions slavishly, it was not an easy construction to
complete and it would be many years before the folly of their actions became clear.

…………………………………

On the day that Voldemort died Draco Malfoy knew he had lost his last chance for redemption.
After watching the Dark Lord torn apart and then incinerated, destroying all his hopes of power and
glory marching at Voldemort’s side, Draco had killed. Not bravely in battle but in a cowardly
attack on an unsuspecting and defenceless child, his hate had made him do it. His hate had given
his physically weak body the power to kill, his hate for Harry and Hermione and all that they stood
for had condemned him forever.

Running for his life he skirted the edge of the forest, then turned down the far side of the
lake through the scrubby trees that formed the west boundary of the grounds and out into the clear.
He reached the muggle road it was as usual deserted, he glanced back once to see the castle on its
hill at the far end of the lake, he willed it to take on the appearance that muggles would see from
here, a crumbling pile of stones slowly decaying away to nothing, but it defied him. The castle was
whole, standing proudly, a symbol of the wizarding world that Draco’s actions had divorced him from
for ever. His breath caught in his throat and he sobbed once, then turning from the sight he formed
a vision of his home in his mind and apparated away.

The mansion that was his home had suffered in the time since his parents had realigned
themselves with Voldemort. The house was damp; there was a coldness that even the blazing fire he
lit would not dispel. He waited alone for two or possibly three days, at least there was some food
in the kitchen, but he was not used to looking after himself and he burned most of what he cooked.
Meagre though his rations were it did satisfy his hunger.

His parents had still not returned, they were certainly not involved in the debacle at Hogwarts
or Draco would have seen them, so they must have been involved elsewhere in Voldemort’s plans, and
as the days passed he began to worry about their safety.

On the fourth day Kreacher returned, he was not behaving like a normal house elf, but then he
had never been that normal. The elf carried himself with a haughty air and he was dressed in
clothes, trousers and some form of jacket covered his skinny body, over these he was wearing a full
length cloak, it was black and deeply cowled at the back. He regarded Draco with distain and threw
a tattered copy of the Daily Prophet at him. The paper contained a vivid description of the battle
in Glastonbury, the defeat of the dark wizards, and the capture of some of the Dementor horde that
tried to invade Avalon. The article concluded with the names of the dead, no wizards had been
captured, all had died, and as he read what was left of Draco’s world collapsed around him for
there in the list were the names of his mother and father.

Time passed without him being conscious of its passage, he was quite unaware that the day after
he had arrived Kreacher left again, never to return. Draco sank into a depression full of despair
and hate; he retreated away from the light and took to hiding in the basement.

Then one day in a garden, on a summer afternoon, six young people reaffirmed their love for each
other and the power of that love was so intense that it spread out of that modest garden to reach
every witch and wizard in the country, and all of them were touched by it.

Even Draco felt it, and he hated it. For he knew its source, and he could sense them at the
centre of it, Potter and Granger then the others the Weasley’s, the idiot Lovegood and the dolt
Longbottom. Draco Malfoy knew was beyond the help of that power now, love meant nothing to him, he
cried out denying it, all he wanted now was revenge.

His home would not be a safe place for him now, with the family irrevocably connected to that
failure Voldemort, the Aurors would search and even Lucius’ belated efforts to hide the house would
eventually fall. There was little he wanted, some clothes, his wand and Kreacher to care for him.
The clothes he found and he took the time to clean himself up, his wand was in his robe pocket,
only now he noticed that the house elf was gone, he would have to survive on his own.

Draco studied himself in the mirror in his room, he could not travel safely looking like this,
his appearance needed readjustment. He knew the spell, and he knew it would be difficult, but he
had little choice. Drawing his wand he pointed it at his reflection, concentrated on the changes he
wanted, and uttered the charm *“mutatio”.* He hadn’t expected the pain to be so severe and an
involuntary scream left his lips. He was driven to his knees but when he looked again in the mirror
the effect he had produced was satisfactory. His blonde hair was an inconspicuous brown, his long
angular face rounded and his complexion darkened, he was definitely not as good looking any more,
but no one would associate him with Draco Malfoy, he was free to go.

He left England far behind him; he travelled east and north to a land where the dark and arcane
arts were given more credence. It was easier for Draco to hide out in this desolate, cold country,
he may even find like minded wizards who would help him, but that was a minor concern. He wanted to
be close to Durmstrang, there hopefully he could listen out for news of home and news of Potter.
One day he promised himself, one day he would meet Potter and he would defeat him.

For now he bided his time, he found a room in Pustynja, the village that was close to
Durmstrang, and as Draco considered his surroundings he thought the name of the village suited it
well, ‘Wilderness’, it was certainly bleak and not very friendly. The mountain that held the school
between its icy crags was perpetually covered in snow and clouds, a cold dampness hung everywhere.
The village was not much better off, the trees that surrounded it were stunted, and those areas
that were clear were covered in marsh grass that held a low mist for most of the day. It really was
an appalling place, however he felt safe. To begin with Draco tried to work to pay for his room but
menial tasks were not for him, perhaps he could use his not inconsiderable talents for deviousness
to make a living.

He became a spy and took the name of Laska, which in the local tongue meant weasel. Draco
thought it appropriate, he may look different but inside he was just the same, and it suited the
type of work he did.

As Laska he learned of many things, some of which gave more benefit to himself than to those who
gave him employ, and in doing so he made himself a lot of money, but he heard nothing regarding
Potter or Granger.

If his time in Pustynja was not that pleasant it was well spent, as he aged he became more like
his father he learned a deviousness that was unknown to him in his years at Hogwarts.

*‘Oh to be able to repeat those years with my new found knowledge, Potter and the rest would
never have stood a chance’* he thought to himself. *‘Perhaps now I could return’* he
deluded himself *‘Potter will not be expecting anything after so long, he will have grown weak
and careless, I must go back.’*

Draco made his return in easy stages, he was in no hurry, and he kept his ear to the ground for
any news of home. He retained the persona of Laska and used the simple ruse of reversing his family
name, and thus by the time Laska Yoflam stood on the shore of the English Channel he had decided
what his next move should be.

James David Potter received his letter confirming his place at Hogwarts on the same day that
Draco Malfoy returned to England. Draco knew that his disguise was almost foolproof and he needed
information to discover the lie of the land, so he travelled to the place where gossip was always
rife, Diagon Alley.

Finding suitable lodgings had not been that difficult, a side trip into Knockturn Alley had
produced a cheap but serviceable room, and from this base he had wandered the length and breadth of
the magical enclave listening for the news he wanted.

Draco was standing gazing through the window of Phume and Boiles, the potions supply shop, when
he heard a vaguely familiar voice.

“James, Natalie, don’t pester your father, he will take you to see Fred and George later, we
need to sort out James’ books first.”

Draco stiffened, he knew those bossy tones, in the reflection of the shop window he saw four
people, two adults with their children walking towards Flourish and Blotts, it was them he was sure
of it, but he could only see their backs.

He moved up Diagon Alley to get a better view, and he slipped into a small alleyway opposite
Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes. Unbeknown to him it was the same dingy cut that he had dragged Pansy
Parkinson into on the day the Tyr had first fought together and defeated his gang.

Draco watched as the family left the bookstore, there he was tall and confident, Harry Potter,
and the woman beside him no real surprise, it was Granger, even Draco had to admit to himself she
was a looker, and then there were the brats. Draco stifled a laugh they were so like their parents,
so it was Mr and Mrs Potter now was it, so much the better, and his hand twitched towards the wand
in the pocket of his robes. But before Draco could take this little meeting to its logical
conclusion there was the touch of a restraining hand on his arm, long bony fingers digging into his
flesh, stopping him from drawing his wand.

“Now is not the time… Master,” the last word was grudgingly spoken, “listen to Kreacher,… Master
Draco, you needs to hear me out.”

Draco turned in rage and surprise. “How dare you! Why should I listen to anything you have to
say elf, you have no loyalty to me, you made that clear when you deserted me. What could you
possibly say that I would be interested to hear?” he spat it out, probably louder than he intended.
Then it occurred to him that the house elf shouldn’t have recognised him, how had he seen through
his disguise?

The old house elf, his face hidden in the deep cowl of his cloak, stared up at Draco, and he
knew without a doubt that it was Draco. It would take more than a simple transfiguration spell to
fool the magic of a house elf, the wizards had never understood their magic and they never would,
besides the voice inside Kreacher’s head had told him who this rather unattractive person was.

“The Dark Lord speaks to me,” Kreacher wheezed, “I can help you get revenge. Come…this way.” The
house elf pulled insistently on Draco’s arm, and so with the reluctant wizard in tow they melted
away into the maze of cuts and alleys, which branched off into the darkness.

In Diagon Alley the Potters turned to enter Fred and George’s shop, Harry let his wife and
children enter, then a icy feeling on the back of his neck made him stop and turn to look behind
him. There was just the empty alley that had always been opposite the joke shop, but today there
was something cold and unfriendly emanating from it. Harry shuddered trying to throw the feeling
away, Hermione was standing in the shop doorway gazing after him.

“What’s the matter Harry?” she grinned at him, “someone step on your grave?” she quipped.

The look that Harry returned to her wiped the smile from her face, then seeing her concern he
forced a smile. “No, nothing to worry about, just a cold draught I expect.” And he laughed it off.
“Go on inside, Fred and George are waiting.”

Draco was not sure why, but against his natural feelings he was compelled to follow the wizened
creature as he shuffled quickly away from the immediate area of Diagon Alley, and was surprised to
find that after several minutes of weaving in and out of the tiny passageways they emerged directly
in front of the door of his lodgings. The elf pushed the door open and entered as if he owned the
place. Putting aside his irritation with Kreacher’s intrusion Draco was fascinated by the actions
of the elf, for they were most un-elflike, in fact Kreacher was acting in a way Draco would have
expected from his father, and it may have been for this reason that he had followed so meekly.

Once the door of his room closed behind him Draco turned to the house elf.

“You better have a good explanation for your behaviour elf,” Draco said hotly, “you deserted me
all those years ago then expect to carry on as if nothing has happened.”

“No I don’t, you will sit,” Kreacher replied coldly, “I will explain, I am not myself sometimes,
I listen and I obey.”

“You know that makes no sense elf,” Draco retorted, “listen to what? Obey who?”

Draco sat and the house elf stood in front of him and let his cloak fall away, Draco recoiled
from the sight revealed to him. Kreacher’s skin had paled it was almost white, unhealthy looking,
and so thin that the blood vessels were quite visible beneath it, but it was his eyes that had
changed and that held Draco’s attention. Usually big and round with large central pupils, fixed
with an expression bordering on fear and surprise, now Kreacher’s eyes were slit like and burned
with a red fire that Draco had only ever seen once before.

“On the day that the Dark Lord was destroyed I was called to the grounds of Hogwarts,” the elf
intoned in a voice that was remarkably similar to one Draco hadn’t heard for a long time. “There
was much confusion, and I was drawn to all that remained of Lord Voldemort. He was gone, and
nothing could be done for him, but my new master was whole, he bade me pick him up and take him
away and that I did. He is hidden and will not reveal himself until the time is right, until you
are prepared.”

Draco thought that he should feel heartened and encouraged that the power of darkness was still
undefeated, but he felt apprehension and deep foreboding of what was about to happen. The elf was
starting to sag as if the effort of retelling his story was draining him. Draco needed some
answers, so he posed his questions quickly.

“What are we preparing for? And who is your new master?”

“My master will destroy his brother, my master will destroy Harry Potter.” Kreacher sank down to
his knees and then collapsed over on his side, he twitched and then lay still.

Not wanting to touch the revolting creature, Draco picked up the fallen cloak and covered him
with it. He would wait until Kreacher recovered, then he would find out what was expected of him,
knowing that the elf was under the control of a higher master, meant he would listen but he would
only follow if the outcome benefited him.

……………………………..

Solomon Aegis, headmaster of Hogwarts sat in his office drinking a cup of tea with the Minister
for Magic Arthur Weasley. Their conversation, once the pleasantries had been attended to, centred
on darker matters.

“How many are missing now then Arthur?” Solomon asked gravely.

“We think it is six but it was only with the disappearance of the Finch-Fletchleys that anyone
took any real notice.” Arthur couldn’t help but see Solomon’s disapproving stare. “I know what you
are thinking, but it is hard to keep track of so many disparate characters, some witches and
wizards want to remain anonymous, even to the Ministry.”

“You mean, because of the Ministry, Arthur,” Solomon growled, “more than a few of your
predecessors have a lot to answer for, the office you took over was in very bad odour. At least you
have improved matters there.”

Arthur looked a bit put out by Solomon’s comments, “It’s all very well for you to sit here and
criticise; I can see why Fudge had so many issues with Dumbledore.” he said his face reddening to
match his thinning hair.

“Calm down Arthur,” Solomon placated the seething Minister, “I am only being Mordred’s advocate.
The changes you have made are laudable and I have no criticism of you. Your ministry is now better
than most which rule our world and the muggle one come to that, but we cannot become complacent.
These disappearances rather smack of the last little unpleasantness that Harry and his friends had
to deal with.”

“Well at least we know it’s not Voldemort this time,” said Arthur, “but I doubt we got all his
followers and we certainly never found the younger Malfoy. It chills me to the bone to think that
all that sort of thing could flare up again.”

“I have a feeling that our problems come from a different quarter this time,” Solomon mused,
“you say that Hannah and Justin’s disappearance has given you your best leads,” Arthur nodded, “I
suggest you get one of your WW’S to look at Justin’s side of things more closely, probably better
than letting ordinary Aurors loose on the matter, they will only consider the wizarding
connections.”

Arthur looked up sharply; “You suspect muggle involvement?” his tone was incredulous.

“Yes Arthur, I do.” Solomon said, with a deadly finality.



6. First Impressions
--------------------



Chapter 6. First Impressions.

While Draco was waiting in his rooms in Knockturn Alley for Kreacher to recover, twenty three
year old Julie Swan was finishing her final combat practical examinations in what used to be the
wizard prison of Azkaban. She had one last cavern to clear of her tutors who were all set on
getting her with a stunner if they could. If she was successful then this would give her full
certification as an Auror and her passport to a job with Weasley's Watchers.

Although at the present time there was a dearth of dark wizards to hunt down, Arthur Weasley was
not stupid enough to let the fighting arm of the ministry fall into disrepair. He knew well enough
that problems could arise from any quarter and that Harry's defeat of Voldemort had not caused
a universal outbreak of peace and bonhomie in the wizarding world. Now he had Solomon's warning
about the muggles ringing in his ears and it was a good job he had his W.W's, they may prove to
be far more important than he had first envisaged them. It could well be up to witches like Julie,
and her male counterparts, to uphold the law and maintain the peace that for the moment held sway
over the country.

Julie had been in one of the first intakes to the Auror programme that had received all their
initial defence training under Harry Potter. Solomon was no slouch in passing on his knowledge,
Harry himself was testament to that, but Harry's students had just that little bit more. They
had a drive to prove to their teacher that he was not alone any more in his fight against evil
however it may show itself, and it made them a very tough bunch. By the end of her final practical
most of Julie's instructors were nursing wizard-sized headaches and she had passed with flying
colours.

Now with all her training out of the way Julie decided that it would be nice to have a short
holiday and spend some time with her father. He was still in the muggle police force, but would be
retiring in a few years having reached the rank of Chief Superintendent and unlikely to go any
further. He had always reconciled his knowledge of Julie's world with the thoughts that it
rarely crossed over into his and therefore didn't fall into his jurisdiction, though the tales
she had told him about dark wizards did give him cause to worry over his daughters safety.

She was sitting across the table from him looking very elegant and demure but he knew she was
trained to the limit of her chosen profession. Her father had decided upon a small restaurant not
far from the police station for her welcome home meal, as he never knew when he could be called
back to work. So he was not surprised that young John walked in through the door, as they were
waiting for their food, probably thought Gerry Swan, to get his only decent meal of the week. Most
of the young coppers at his station lived off takeaways and sandwiches from the local corner shop,
but occasionally they would push the boat out and have a proper meal. The young, plain clothed
policeman saw his superior and nodded in recognition, and then he almost ran down the waitress,
because he was staring intently at the young woman seated with him. His boss smiled then beckoned
him over.

“John, all OK?”

“Yes, Sir… err thanks,” he smiled nervously at the seated pair.

As if he was playing a part in a play, the older man looked pointedly at his daughter, then at
the young man.

“Ahh John, you won't have met my daughter?” He didn't wait for an answer, but John was
shaking his head in agreement. “Julie, this is DS John Burford,… John, this is my daughter
Julie.”

Julie extended a hand and John took it and as he did so what felt like a small electric shock
shot up his arm.

“Oh, hah,… pleased to meet you, Miss Swan,” John said as he rubbed his arm to lessen the
tingling sensation.

“Likewise,” said Julie, her response may have been a little cool but on the few occasions she
had met any of her father's `young policemen' he had tried to encourage some rapport, and
he was doing it again.

She was just about to kick him under the table in an effort to make him stop, when his pager
went off. Her father sighed in exasperation and retrieved the unit from his pocket; read the
message scrolling across its top, then gave his daughter an apologetic look.

“Sorry love, I have to go, I'll meet you back at the flat later.” As he stood Julie began to
gather her things, “No, no you stay and have your meal,” then he placed a hand on John's
shoulder, “young John here will keep you company, won't you lad?”

“Err.”

“Well that's settled then.” He said, and Julie's father propelled the young policeman
down into the chair he had just vacated.

It was probably just as well that Gerry Swan wasn't telepathic, as the thoughts Julie was
sending out would have made his toes curl. He kissed his daughter on the cheek and made his way out
of the door.

“If you would rather I left I quite understand, Miss Swan,” John said quietly, “the old man,
err… your father, is always trying to pair me off with the spare girls at the station, I didn't
think he would try it with his own daughter.”

Julie's eyes narrowed dangerously, “Spare girl?”

John jumped, “No I didn't mean that you were spare… or anything like that. Oh God!” He
exclaimed. “Look, do you think we could start again.” He held out his hand, “John Burford,” the
shock was stronger this time. “Ouch!”

“Julie Swan”, she grinned at his discomfort, “I hope you like your steak well done.”

“Sorry?”

“That's what Dad ordered,” she said pointedly, as the waitress appeared and placed the food
on the table.

“Oh fine.” said John, what on earth had induced him to try this particular restaurant and land
himself in this situation; for he realised he was quite out of his depth with this young lady.

As they ate and talked Julie began to regret her initial rudeness to this young man, he was,
after the shaky start, engaging company, and in the course of their conversation, she discovered
the reason for his earlier comments over her father's proprietary feeling towards him.

“I was at school still and he was a station sergeant,” he had explained, “he gave us kids a pep
talk about the force and I was hooked. When he found out why I joined he sort of took me under his
wing. Good really, I'd lost my parents back in '97, been living with an aged aunt,
she's gone too now. Still that's life,” he said philosophically.

If he thought that Julie was being less that honest about her past he said nothing, she had a
well rehearsed tale to tell, courtesy of the Auror department, but she had not tried to tell it to
anyone who had been similarly trained at least in observation. Julie hoped it was good enough,
though at one point in the evening she had her doubts.

“Do you know anything about magic?” the remark was said in a very off hand manner and Julie
nearly choked on her drink.

“Magic, what makes you ask that?” she asked cagily, she hoped a small memory charm would go
unnoticed by the other diners, and inched her hand towards her wand.

“Oh, nothing really, its just I have a choice of two magicians for the local community bash,…
entertainments officer,” he indicated himself in explanation, “and I wondered if you knew of
them.”

Julie relaxed, “Err… sorry no,” she gave a nervous little laugh, “magic's not really my
scene.” Quickly she looked down at her plate hoping to hide her confusion.

“Just a thought” he said, and the conversation moved on to safer topics.

Julie considered the whole evening quite a success, as she sat in her father's lounge
enjoying a nightcap. She had managed to maintain a perfect muggle front, and after the initial
misunderstandings, had enjoyed herself. Even so she was going to have serious words with her father
when he eventually arrived back, and as she heard his key in the lock, that was going to be
now.

John Burford walked back to his flat deep in thought, fancy the `Super' having a daughter
like that, she was pretty, intelligent, and there was something about her that he couldn't put
his finger on. Not an ordinary girl certainly, perhaps he'd get the chance to meet her
again.

……………………………

Kreacher recovered his senses but if Draco was expecting some answers he was sadly disappointed,
the elf said nothing and was unresponsive to Draco's questions. Then as the light outside began
to fade, Kreacher clambered to his feet and picking up his robe fastened it around his neck.

“It is safe to leave now,” the elf's voice rasped, “gather your belongings.”

Draco was incensed at the house elf's manner, but there was something in the look from those
red eyes that stilled his rising anger. He put his few clothes in the single bag he had arrived
with, and resumed his observation of this most peculiar elf.

Kreacher appeared to be engaged in some internal conversation, he mumbled words that made no
sense but part of him was disagreeing with the other, as Draco clearly heard a succession of
“No…No…NO!” then a silence during which the elf shrugged his shoulders then reluctantly said “Yes
as you wish.”

The baleful red eyes turned to Draco. “You will retain the appearance that you have now and you
will use your assumed name in the presence of others,” Kreacher said. Not expecting a response, he
continued, “I am taking you to meet a muggle, you will observe him and study his ways, our plan
will succeed where the other failed,… touch my cloak.”

Draco found the only way he could cope with the attitude of the elf was to forget what his eyes
saw and listen to the increasingly familiar mode of speech. Imagine those words coming from a six
foot tall wizard with similar pale skin and red eyes to match, and it was all too easy to obey
their commands.

It wasn't apparation Draco was sure, but whatever means the elf had used, they found
themselves on a deserted road which led down a hill to the entrance gate of a large complex of
buildings, brilliantly lit by muggle electric lights.

“What is this place?” Draco asked.

“This is the laboratory of the muggle Magus; he is the one who will aid us in our quest.”

“You must be out of your skull if you think I will consort with muggles, they are worse than
useless against wizards.” Draco said disdainfully.

“You will do as you are told!” the elf responded. “Magus is powerful in the muggle world he has
many resources and many followers. He also has an insatiable interest in our world and that we can
use to our advantage. You want vengeance, my master wants vengeance, you will both have that
vengeance against Harry Potter and his family, but you need the help of Magus for we have no wizard
friends left, we must have muggle ones.”

“But surely he cannot match a wizard?” Draco asked in a conciliatory tone, “someone as powerful
as Potter would destroy him.”

“That is correct but it is not our intention for Magus to ever confront Potter,” the elf stated,
“but do not dismiss his resources entirely, because with Kreacher's help he has already
captured six wizards and holds them still.”

That gave Draco something to think about, as they walked down the hill to the gate. He
couldn't see how a mere muggle could hope to contain a single wizard let alone six of them.

Julius Magus had built an empire that stretched around the whole known world. His wealth knew no
bounds, he could buy anything he wanted and yet he wasn't satisfied. Why he could not rid
himself of the compulsion he had with magic, he did not know but he suspected that it was because
the knowledge he craved was always just out of reach. He knew for certain that another world
existed, a world of wonder, of magic and power, a world that as yet he didn't belong to, but
that was what he wanted.

He fondled the wand he held in his hand, in the fifty years he had owned it the wand had only
once shown him any of the power he knew it contained, and that was the tingle he had felt the first
time he had picked it up. Since then it had lain dormant and no application of electric fields,
magnetism or radiation had any effect on it. His only progress in the world of wizards had come
after his connection with the spy that went under the code name of Elf. With his help he had
captured four supposed wizards, all had been very drunk at the time and in a most disreputable
condition, their only common possession had been a stick similar to this one, a wand.

His people had worked on them, kept them sedated, and away from their wands, confined in the
structures that had been built under instructions from the mysterious Elf, but so far they had
learned nothing. Now they had another chance, only last month they had captured a young couple,
again the product of a timely piece of information from the shadowy Elf.

It had been all too easy to manipulate the family. As had been expected the son had come to try
and placate the father, but the man was bitter over the loss of his company and he wanted no
reconciliation. There had been an argument, and then the father in an uncharacteristic display of
revenge had spiked the drinks himself. Once the man and woman were unconscious it was an easy
matter to take them and their wands, but despite this latest capture, they had still made no
progress. Now Julius was hopeful yet again, at last he was to meet the mysterious Elf face to face,
he was going to bring him something invaluable, so he had said, something that would make it
possible for him to feel the power held in these wands.

…………………………..

“You say you want this Magus person to think I am a muggle?” Draco asked.

“Yes.”

“That I can manage, but unless he is blind he will know that you are not human,”

“He will not see me as you do, none of them will,” the elf assured Draco, “now be ready.” They
had reached the guarded gateway.

Both the muggles on guard carried guns, not hidden away, but out in the open, strung across
their chests. Draco was unaware as to the damage those semi automatic rifles could do, but they
looked capable men so he assumed their muggle protection devices would be capable too. Kreacher
walked up to the men and spoke.

“I am Elf, Magus is expecting me.” his voice was hard, each time he spoke he sounded less like
the house elf he was, and more like someone Draco believed to be dead.

“Wait” the guard intoned, staring at a point several feet above the elf's head. He was
obviously seeing someone considerably taller than Kreacher.

There was a hushed conversation with the main security post by the second guard, then two
transparent squares on neck strings were passed over.

“Security passes, wear these at all times,” the second guard said, indicating his own pass
hanging from its string around his neck. He raised the barrier. “Go to the main entrance, you will
be met.”

The man at the door was smartly dressed in suit and tie, and looked overly clean; Draco
couldn't help but notice the artificial shine on his shoes. He led them quickly, with short
fast steps, along a labyrinth of corridors to a bank of lifts, he pressed a button and downward
pointing arrow lit up. The lift door sighed open to a woman's voice stating “Door opening”.
Draco could not see who had spoken and looked around for the source of the voice when “Doors
closing” issued from a grill set into the lift wall, well that was a surprise, muggles had talking
lifts too, just like the real thing in the Ministry. The lift was very quiet, but descended rapidly
and stopped when the light panel on the wall read SB10.

The smart man gave Draco and the thin air four feet over Kreacher's head a very false smile,
“Ten floors down gentlemen, Mr Magus likes his privacy, don't you know.”

“Err no I didn't,” said Draco unnecessarily, receiving another false smile in return.

The room they were shown into was large and airy, false windows gave the appearance that the
room was ten floors above ground rather than ten below, and the furniture and fitments gleamed with
an over abundance of chrome. To Draco it appeared very strange, bleak in a clean sort of way, the
only part of the room that gave him any feeling of comfort was the carpet. It was green, not just
any green, but Slytherin green, he remembered the old common room at Hogwarts carpeted in exactly
the same colour, he had a few fond memories of that place, but it also came to his mind that his
old haunt was never as warm as this room was.

At one end of the room, with one of the large false windows in the wall behind it, was a massive
desk made of glass. Seated at that desk was a man, his iron grey hair and lined face gave him an
air of someone who would expect respect from those around him, and not be one to accept
inefficiency. Draco put him in his mid sixties, a little older than his father would be now, had he
survived. The man stood and walked out from behind the desk holding his hand out in muggle fashion
to his perceived vision of the house elf. Kreacher did not respond, his hands staying firmly under
his cloak. Draco took the initiative and steeling himself for the contact, reached out his own hand
and took that of the muggle.

“Julius Magus,” the muggle introduced himself.

“Laska Yoflam, pleased to meet you…Sir,” the pause before the honorific was short as to be
almost unnoticeable.

“I take it that our silent friend here is the mysterious Elf,” said Magus nodding toward
Kreacher.

“You are correct, Magus,” came a rasping voice from under the hood of the cloak. The older man
stiffened at the mode of address but he let it pass. “I have brought you that which will aid you in
your quest, Laska is an expert in those you seek, and he will serve you well or answer to me.” This
time it was Draco who reacted unfavourably to the elf's words but again he held himself in
check.

“I see, I must admit I was not expecting a person to be this valuable gift,” Magus smiled, “but
I am sure we will work together well, ehh Laska?”

“Yes sir, we will try.”

Kreacher had disappeared again and left Draco in a quandary, it was not in his nature to
acknowledge muggles, let alone to work with them, but whatever the power was that was controlling
the house elf, it expected him to do so. He decided that as Draco was playing the part of Laska,
Laska would play the part of a muggle, and to do that he would need to keep his wits about him and
use his magic. Knowing that other wizards were held captive in the complex caused him some concern,
partly for his own freedom, but also because it was possible that they could feel him using his
wand. He would have to seek them out.

It took him only a few days. Even though Magus was not a man to trust others on first meeting,
Draco's movements were not restricted, but he had no knowledge of the layout of the complex and
could not use his magic to overcome this. Eventually the information on the other wizards was shown
to him, meagre though it was, and reading the notes he surreptitiously managed to find their
location within the building.

He apparated as close as he dared to their place of imprisonment and used a memory charm on the
guard, who for the rest of his shift saw nothing but the empty corridor.

Draco could feel the anti-apparation charm on the room, Kreacher's work no doubt, and was
about to walk up to the door when a red light blinking in the corridor caught his eye.

He reacted just in time, security cameras, a device new to him; so the entrance to the room was
watched by more than the guard. What to do, he had no invisibility cloak; he would have to disable
the camera there was no other way. Keeping close to the wall he raised his wand and cast a
*staticus* spell, there was a brief shower of sparks and the light on the camera went out. He
moved quickly now up to the unseeing guard and through the unlocked door. The prisoners were all
lying in bed and they did not react to his presence, he assumed they were under the influence of
some muggle potion.

He felt no remorse, his freedom and possibly his life depended on his actions now, six times he
performed the curse, six times the green fire jumped the few inches between wand and body as he
held it close over each heart in turn. Draco gave an only brief thought of recognition for two of
the bodies, they would have been of his age, maybe he had known them, not that it mattered now. The
others were much older and were dressed poorly, Draco correctly assumed their low position in life,
so now in death no one would miss them.

The curses drained him and he wasted precious minutes recovering his strength, then he left the
way he had arrived and was back in his room before the security post noticed the malfunction in the
camera. Draco now felt secure, as the only wizard in the complex he could fool the muggles to his
hearts content and learn what he had to from Magus.

There was a tremendous fuss made when the deaths of the six prisoners were discovered the next
morning and Draco as the expert was allowed to see them. He made a cursory inspection, then looked
pointedly at the bottles of drugs set out by the side of each bed.

“Is this what you used on them?” Draco didn't wait for an answer. “If it is I am surprised
they lasted this long, this sort have a very bad reaction to mug… err normal treatments.”

“But why should they all die at the same time?” asked the senior scientist.

“Coincidence?” suggested Draco, “Well as there is nothing you will learn from them now I suggest
you get rid of the bodies. I understand they spontaneously combust,” he lied. “Vigorously.” he
added as an after thought.

……………………………

John Burford was not in a good mood, which was a shame as this was the first proper date he had
had for a long time. He didn't count the meal in the restaurant, that hadn't been his idea
but this evening was. Julie had surprised him by agreeing to see him again and this time a quiet
evening in a country pub was all he had in mind, but they never got there. The call had come
through on his mobile, and he couldn't ignore it, turning the car around, and apologising
profusely he headed even further out into the fens.

The blue flashing lights from the police cars and the ambulance identified their destination. A
local `wooden top' was stopping the few cars that used these isolated roads and turning them
around, John showed him his identification and they were allowed to pass. They pulled up beside the
ambulance and John turned to his passenger.

“I'm sorry Julie,” and he really was, “wait here, I'll be as quick as I can.” he opened
the door and climbed out before Julie Swan could reply.

Julie had seen the shrouded shapes by the side of the road as they had drawn up, and being a
trained Auror and now one of Weasley's Watchers, her curiosity got the better of her and she
followed John into the night.

Standing behind the people gathered around the blankets spread out on the bank of the fen, Julie
watched as the paramedic lifted the corner of one of them to expose the body it concealed. The face
was that of a woman, it was pale; the eyes open blankly staring into the night sky, obviously dead.
It was not the sight of the dead body that made Julie gasp, causing John to spin round to see her
standing there with a look of shock on her face, but the fact that in her bag was a picture of that
self same woman and that Julie knew who she was.

More police arrived on the scene and Julie manged to persuade John to take her back to see her
father, she need to talk to him.

The police station was very busy that night with a major incident underway, and Julie had to
cool her heels for three quarters of an hour before her father could see her.

“Sorry love, but this has sent us all in a bit of a spin, its not often that four bodies turn up
out of the blue,” he sounded tired.

Julie looked at her father and said grimly, “You've only got four? I would have expected
there to be six.”

Gerry Swan stared at his daughter, not daring to say a word. Then clearing his throat he said
the only thing he could think of. “Why?”

“They are ours Dad, wizards and a witch, they went missing, we're not sure when, but we were
trying to find out where they had gone, there should be six of them.” She said sadly.

“Fine mess this is, do you have any suggestions as to what we do now,” her father asked. “I take
it that their identities will not be on our data base?”

“No Dad, you'll have no records of them at all.” Julie fell silent, lost in thought. “Could
you arrange to have all the bodies brought here and all the personnel involved, even the ambulance
people?”

“I could…” but he sounded dubious.

“Please…I'll be back as soon as I can,” and with a CRACK she apparated away.

Julie probably should have apparated to the Ministry, but unless she managed to see Arthur
Weasley himself, the ministry response would be slow to act and then be out of all proportion to
the situation. Instead she went to see the one wizard she knew could sort the problem out.

Julie ran up the short gravel path that led to the front door which was opened just before she
reached it. The diminutive figure that stood in the doorway bowed once to her and then stood aside
to let her in.

“Welcomes Miss Julie, the master and mistress are in the sitting room, please go through.”

“Thank-you Dobby,” she replied, all breathless from her haste.

Harry and Hermione were sitting in the dim light from the oil lamps that were dotted about the
room looking through a photograph album, they had been laughing at one of the pictures.

“Julie!” said Hermione in surprise, “how lovely to see you.”

“Sorry to burst in on you like this,” the young witch apologised, “there is a problem, and… I
have some bad news.”

Harry gave his wife a sideways glance. “Come on, sit down and tell us what's up.” he
said.

So she did, and Harry's face became grim as he heard the news of Hannah and Justin's
death, and the fate of the other wizards.

Collecting their cloaks, Hermione had a quick word with Dobby and then the three hand in hand
peragated to the yard of the police station. Julie spotted John guiding an ambulance back into the
large garage that was to serve as a morgue.

“Hi, I don't know what's got into your father, most irregular,” he said, “but I suppose
he knows what he is doing,” then he saw Harry and Hermione standing behind her, “Hello can I help
you?”

“Oh John, this is Professor Potter and his wife,” Julie explained. “Dad asked me to bring them
down.”

“Ah, you must be the pathologist,” he held out his hand. “I am very pleased to meet you
Professor.”

At that moment Superintendent Swan walked into the pool of light shining out of the garage door.
“All here, John?”

“Yes sir, all here.”

“Gather round,” said Swan and he prepared to give a briefing to the officers and the ambulance
personnel who had attended the scene.

No one saw Harry touch his wand to the side of the ambulance, nor hear the murmured words of the
transfiguration spell he placed on the bodies inside, but they all turned to stare as the rear door
of the vehicle popped open on it own.

“Perhaps we should get the err…bodies out Superintendent,” suggested Harry. Julie was nodding at
her father her head to encourage his agreement.

Her father understood the surreptitious message, “OK lads lets have them out.”

It took but a moment for the ambulance to be unloaded, and all those gathered in the garage
watched as Harry removed the first blanket from the still form on the trolley. Lying exposed for
all to see was a lifelike mannequin, not a real body at all.

“I don't believe this,” the paramedic said, “there was a body, I am sure of it,” but now
there was doubt in his voice.

“Sorry gentlemen,” said Harry in his best professorial tone, “state of the art, but fakes none
the less.” He turned to Julie's father, “Satisfied with the exercise, Mr Swan?”

Err…yes, Professor Potter,” he said prompted by Julie mouthing Harry's name. “You lot can
go,… well done all of you. John, stay behind please.”

The bemused officers and paramedics filed out and a mild memory charm followed them into the
court yard removing the last doubts that this had all been a very realistic exercise.

Harry watched as Hermione sadly moved to the trolley carrying the uncovered dummy, and she
gently laid her hand on its shoulder. The dummy shimmered and sparkled and in its place lay a
blonde haired woman whose form was as still and lifeless as the dummy had been.

“Oh Hannah!” Hermione sobbed. “Why?”

Harry was there beside her with his arms round her giving her support. “We'll find out, I
don't intend to let the terror spread again,” he said sternly, and then he turned to Julie. “We
must tell Arthur, go now, he should be at home, ask him to come here.”

Without thinking of the consequences Julie apparated away, the CRACK of her departure made John
Burford jump; he was staring with disbelieving eyes at the body of Hannah Fitch -Fletchley and at
the young woman standing at her side.

“What, how?” he mumbled.

“We need to talk,” Gerry Swan said, “Mr Potter would you mind closing the doors?”

Harry removed his wand from its concealment, waved it at the doors which swung shut at his
command. John was having some difficulty in grasping everything that was happening around him, and
looked imploringly at his superior.

“Sir, I don't understand, what is going on?”

“I don't know quite how to explain all this,” Gerry Swan, began, “but, you see, …there is
this other world, …and when I found out that Julie was, …so you see,” he stopped, “I'm not
making much sense am I?”

“Not really sir,” said John, even more confused than he had been a few minutes ago.

“Perhaps I can explain,” and John found himself staring into a pair of deep brown eyes which at
the same time made him feel very calm and a little hot under the collar.

“My name is Hermione Potter and this is my husband Harry, we know Julie from her time at the
school where Harry and I are Professors.” Hermione had guided John into a seat and then sat next to
him. “There is a subtle difference between Harry, Julie and myself, to you and Mr Swan. You see we
are able to use magic, you can't.” John started up to protest at this silliness, but
Hermione's hand restrained him. “Show him Harry.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at his wife but drew his wand and from the end of it a silver strand
poured out on to his open palm. Right there in front of John's incredulous eyes a glass beaker
half filled with an amber liquid, formed in Harry's hand.

“Here” said Harry holding the glass to the stunned policeman, “Ogden's Old Fire Whiskey,
looks as if you could do with one.”

John took the proffered glass and downed its contents in one, the tears that came unbidden to
his eyes, were matched with the searing of his throat as the spirit descended to his stomach.

“That was brave,” said Harry to no one in particular.

As he recovered from his brush with the Fire Whiskey, John was given the short version of the
existence of the wizarding world and its interaction with and around the muggle one. Hermione's
lecture was brief, concise, and full of so much information that even Harry thought he learned
something. Just as she finished there was a double CRACK as Julie and Arthur Weasley apparated into
the garage. Age hadn't really changed Arthur much, his sparse ginger hair still stuck out from
under his wizard's hat, he had never taken to wearing the bowler hat of his office, and his
robes were rumpled, as if he had been wearing them in bed.

“Harry, Hermione,” he said in greeting, then he saw the bodies lying on the trolleys, “Oh
Merlin!” He walked over to them and shook his head in disbelief. “You were right of course Harry;
need to keep the muggles out of this if we can.” He turned back and stopped dead, for the first
time he saw the tall grey haired uniformed police officer and his plain clothed companion.
“Ah!”

“Arthur Weasley, Minister for Magic,” Harry said by way of introduction, “Gerry Swan,
Julie's father and John, sorry didn't catch your surname, Julie's err… boyfriend.”

Harry was in blissful ignorance of the look that flashed between Julie and John, which contained
the promise of further discussion about that one.

“Good, good, pleased to meet you,” said Arthur, walking up and holding out his hand. “I take it
we can rely on your discretion in this matter? You being …ah connected shall we say.” he smiled at
both the policemen. “Right, we must get St.Mungo's to collect the …err, …Harry what do you
suggest we do then?”

“We still have two bodies missing, assuming they are all dead of course, so a search in the area
where these were found would be sensible,” Harry thought for a moment. “Aurors could cover that,
but we ought to have permanent contact with the muggle police. Mr Swan, could you arrange a
position for Julie here, it would be most useful.”

“Harry…!” Julie complained.

“You were the one who called me in Julie,” Harry reminded her, “if you would rather give sole
responsibility to the Ministry, …I do have lessons to prepare.”

“No Harry,” Arthur interrupted, “let's keep this low key for the moment, Solomon suspected
muggle interference, I think it's a good idea, it is what the W.W's was formed for. I can
make it an order if you wish Miss Swan.”

“No sir, if my father thinks he can sneak me in, then I will do it,” said Julie admitting
defeat. *`**Merlin,* *working for my Dad**,* *whatever next'* she
thought.

The Aurors found the two missing bodies the next day, scouring the sparsely populated wet lands
on brooms; they were discovered in a small shallow inlet bound up in the bulrushes. The healers
from St.Mungo's examined all the bodies and although they appeared unmarked to the untrained
eye, they reached a very definite conclusion.

“It was the killing curse, Minister,” the senior healer spoke to Arthur and Harry at a secretly
convened meeting. “Used at a very close range, there can be no doubt.”

“They have the mark then?” questioned Harry.

“Yes Professor Potter.”

“Mark, what mark?” asked Arthur.

“It's not generally known Minister, but the killing curse does leave a visible mark,” the
healer explained. “When fired from a distance, even a few feet, the mark is so spread over the
target that it cannot be seen, even with close examination. However if the target is only a few
inches away or if the wand tip is held against the clothes or skin then a small discolouration is
found at the point of impact of the spell.”

“And in these poor people?” Said Arthur.

“They all had the mark, directly over the heart, I would suspect that they were all helpless to
prevent it,” the healer said sadly.

Arthur was horrified. “You mean tied up?”

“Or unconscious at the time Arthur,” said Harry. “Remind you of the way someone used to work?”
Harry added darkly.

“But he's dead Harry,” Arthur's voice was incredulous; “you destroyed his body
yourself.”

“I was certainly under that impression,” said Harry thoughtfully, “but maybe some things are so
evil that they cannot be destroyed.”

“So what do we do now Harry?” asked Arthur later that day.

“Not much we can do at the moment, but keep our eyes and ears open,” said Harry, “we have Julie
liaising with the muggle police, and you will need to keep the Aurors and your W.W's on their
toes. We just have to hope that something turns up.”

Fortunately, or unfortunately nothing happened, at least nothing that explained the deaths of
five wizards and a witch. The loss of Justin and Hannah and the other four became one of those sad
unexplained events that worried those who knew that they were all connected, but it was a private
tragedy for the individual families. For the Fitch-Fletchley's the tragedy was doubled as soon
after hearing of Justin's death his father disappeared and was never heard of again.

For Julie and John the aftermath of that day was as profound but infinitely less unpleasant.
Initially Julie was furious that John had given Harry the idea that the two of them were connected
in any way, but after his many assurances that on the contrary he had been so bemused by the events
happening around him that he had said nothing, she began to wonder why Harry had automatically
paired them up.

“He's an incurable romantic,” Hermione told her, as they were sitting enjoying a cup of tea
in Harry's room at Hogwarts one afternoon. “Love makes him happy, and he likes other people to
be happy too, perhaps he saw the situation and he jumped to a conclusion.”

“You don't think he *saw* anything else, do you?” Julie asked.

“Well…,” said Hermione staring out of the window that overlooked the lake, “you never know.
Harry can be very perceptive sometimes,” she laughed, “and at other times he is just like he was
when I first met him.” Julie could see the shine of memories in Hermione's eyes and the smile
at events in the past.

“What's it like to be in love, Hermione?”

Hermione turned to the younger witch and her smile deepened. “Wonderful.” She replied.

It took a while for Julie to realise what wonderful was, but as she worked with the diligent,
serious policeman, her acquaintance became a friend, and the friendship deepened and from that, the
feeling that was wonderful, began to develop.

-->



7. “Firs’ years! Firs’ years this way!”
---------------------------------------

Chapter 7 “Firs’ years! Firs’ years this way!”

It was nearly the beginning of another September and to James Potter this September was more
important than all the others. He sat in the garden of his parents’ home in Godrics Hollow and
pondered over what was going to happen in the next few days. He wasn’t really scared about going to
school, after all he had been at Thrubwell’s for the past six years and he thought he had done
rather well. Not as well as his sister Nat, but then Mum was probably cleverer than Dad, so perhaps
he should have expected his precocious sister to be the same. He was more worried about the way the
students would react to him once they knew he was a Potter.

At Thrubwell's it had made little difference, everyone there was too young to understand
what his father and mother had done, but this was Hogwarts, this was where it had all happened, and
he didn’t want to be singled out as anything special. He had expressed his fears to his mother the
other day and she had just told him to be himself, not very helpful advice he thought, how could he
be anyone else?

Then sitting under the willow tree that snuggled up close to the bank of the stream which ran
through their garden he realised that the advice was better than he had first thought, because he
*couldn’t* be anyone else could he, he *could* only be himself. In order to be someone
else he would need advanced magic and the Polyjuice potion and he didn’t know how to brew it, so he
would make the best of it, which is probably what his mother had in mind all along.

He sensed his sister looking for him, so he threw her a thought. *‘In the garden by the
stream’,* and he heard the back door open and the sound of her running across the lawn. She was
breathing hard by the time she reached him, Nat never did anything slowly, whether it was running
or learning, always flat out.

“What you doing Jim?” she asked, skidding to a halt beside him.

“Oh, just thinking about tomorrow,” he answered in a dreamy voice, that drove his sister to
distraction, whenever he used it.

But Nat was growing up too and she was well aware that her brother was teasing her, but that
didn’t stop her from rising to the bait.

“Well, you better stop now because Mum and Dad are coming home,”

James raised a quizzical eyebrow, winding his sister up another notch, “Really what makes you
think that?”

“Agh!” she cried out, in frustration at her brother, “the clock, stupid.”

“Oh, I see,” he regarded her with a completely vapid expression, and then trying to avoid the
backlash started to laugh.

“James Potter!” the words exploded from his sister, “if you weren’t my brother,

…and… and… I wasn’t going to miss you,” she spoke quietly now, “I’d be really cross with you……
You will tell me all about it won’t you?” James smiled, she was almost pleading.

“Of course, when could I ever keep anything from you.” He said, giving her shoulder a brotherly
squeeze. He looked up to the house and could see movement inside; it must be his parents, because
Dobby’s head was always below the level of the window sill. “Mum and Dad are back, let’s go
in.”

They burst into the kitchen in time to catch the end of Harry and Hermione’s conversation.

“…you’ll be fine,” Harry was saying, “you looked after our two OK what’s another hundred and
twenty.”

“Hundred and twenty what Dad?” asked James stopping in the doorway.

His father smiled at the pair of them, “Children, that’s what,” their confusion was complete
now, “Solomon, that’s the Headmaster to you now my lad,” he said to his son, “has seen fit to
relinquish the post of head of Dumbledore House, and give it to your mother.”

“Wow,” Nat’s endorsement was enthusiastic, James looked a little crestfallen.

“Great mum,” he said kissing her on the cheek, “s’pose it’ll be Hufflepuff for me then.” He
sighed as if trying to get used to the idea.

His mother held him at arm’s length, “What do you mean, James, why Hufflepuff?”

“Well, Dad’s head of Gryffindor and now you’re head of Dumbledore so they’re both out and I’m
not clever enough for Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff’s the only one left.”

Hermione looked at her husband, *‘Got an answer for this one Harry?’* she thought to
him.

Harry grinned, “Look Jim,” then he winced at the look Hermione gave him, she always insisted
their son’s name was James, not Jim. “Err James,” he corrected, “the Sorting Hat won’t care whose
head of what, its what you have up here,” he tapped the side of his head, “that counts. If you are
destined for Hufflepuff then that is where you will go, and don’t be disappointed,” he paused, a
troubled expression crossing his face, “I’ve had some very good friends in Hufflepuff.” he couldn’t
but help picture the scene of that cold draughty police garage, the last time he had seen Hannah
and Justin. “Hufflepuffs are alright,” he continued to James, “so don’t worry.” Harry glanced at
Hermione who gave him a reassuring smile, only too aware of what he was thinking.

Harry and Hermione could easily have taken James directly to Hogwarts but they knew that the
best things often happened on the train ride north so it was to Kings Cross that they peragated the
following morning. James was only encumbered with his trunk for the trip, and it was one that had
made this particular journey before. The surname on the outside was the same but Harry, with a
little twiddle of his wand had changed H. J. Potter into J. D. Potter, and now the trunk was James’
own. Harry hoped that James’ stay at Hogwarts would be less troublesome than his own, but deep down
he wanted his son to have just as much fun as he had.

They all passed through the secret entrance to platform 9¾ and there, as it had been for many
previous years, the scarlet steam engine was waiting to carry the students north. Harry suddenly
had an incredibly intense feeling of dèjá vu, as he took in the scene he replaced himself and
Hermione with Mr and Mrs Weasley, Nat became Ginny and James became a small skinny boy with glasses
and little to mark him out from his peers but a scar on his forehead. Harry shivered
involuntarily.

“OK Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, only a twenty year time slip; Merlin that was spooky,” he gave a nervous laugh, and then
gathering himself again Harry turned to his son. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” then as his
feelings settled he smiled, “and if a bossy know it all girl tries to make small talk….” he glanced
into his wife’s amazingly brown eyes,… “Hang on to her for all you’re worth.” The love between
them, only ever just under the surface bubbled over, Harry and Hermione slipped their arms around
one another, and he kissed her. The embrace lasted all of three seconds before…

“Mum, Dad please….!” James entreated as he backed into the carriage. They parted and looked
around to see if anyone had noticed, all seemed clear.

“Have a good trip James, see you at school.” his mother said, and then spoilt it all by kissing
him on the top of his head. Harry just smiled but Nat started jumping up and down and waving as the
Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station.

James settled into his seat as the train gathered speed, he felt the tenuous touch of his
sister’s mind then it was switched off as his father understood what she was doing and put a stop
to it. James quite clearly ‘heard’ his sister being told to leave him alone for the moment and that
she would understand when her turn came.

It was odd to be so out of touch with his sibling, in all his life only that first year of
Thrubwell’s had been similar. Then it was because Nat didn’t have the range to reach him, at least
until that incident in the woods, and now it was his parent’s interference that stopped her
incessant chatter. In the quiet of his mind he turned his attention to the other students occupying
the remaining seats in the compartment. He recognised some of them from Thrubwell’s but none in his
year, but then his eyes were drawn to a girl sitting in the corner seat by the window.

It was possibly that she bore some resemblance to Nat that initially caught his eye, but the way
she was distancing herself from the rest of the compartment gave her an air of vulnerability, that
strangely made him want to protect her. Though, he told himself as he tried to watch her
inconspicuously, perhaps it was the way her hair was slowly changing from brown to blonde then
slowly back again. Although James had never seen one he had been told about witches like this, he
decided that he knew what the girl was, and that was fascinating, he knew that his Mum and Dad had
been friends with one such as her a long time ago.

She looked a little younger than he was so she must be another first year, and she appeared both
sad and worried. The boy sitting opposite her stood and went off in search of someone or something
so James took the initiative and his seat.

“Hi!” he said, *‘great opening Potter,’* he thought, “you first year too?” he asked. The
girl didn’t answer at first but stopped studying the floor and looked at him. Her eyes were amazing
as they changed from blue to green to brown finally finishing as grey. With her hair now completely
blonde, it gave her a rather wild look.

“Yes,” the answer was short, sharp, and to the point.

Her gaze began to slip from James’ face but before she broke eye contact completely he said,
“James…James Potter,” and he held out his hand.

The girl stared down at his hand as if it might bite her, but when he didn’t falter she slowly
responded and she took his in hers. James was aware that the skin of her hand was very cool and
soft, and she lifted her eyes to his face again.

“Jennifer,” her voice was as soft as her hand, then her hair and eyes went through several rapid
colour changes. “Sorry, I don’t mean to do this; it’s just that I’m …. I’m…” she was too
embarrassed to continue.

“A Metamorphmagus,” finished James for her, “yes I guessed,” then he laughed, the worried
expression returned to her face, “I think it’s really cool.”

Jennifer smiled, “It only gets out of control when I’m scared or really worried. My mum gets
ever so cross with me when it happens, and it’s been a lot worse since my dad …” her words trailed
off and her grip on James’ hand tightened. Even though his hand began to throb James did not try to
free it, he could see the hurt in Jennifer’s eyes which had settled to that wild grey and were
looking a little damp. Obviously something awful had happened to her father and not too long ago to
judge by her behaviour.

The others in the compartment began to pay attention to the distress of the girl by the window,
so James slipped his free hand into his pocket and touched the tip of his wand, “*Avocare,*”
he whispered and they instantly lost interest and began talking amongst themselves again.

Jennifer looked in amazement. “How did you do that? I thought you just said you were a first
year.” James nodded, but before he could say anything in reply, she went on, “Potter? ... James
Potter? You don’t know Harry Potter do you?”

“Yes,” said James, “I do, he’s my dad.”

“Oh… Oh… my mum and dad told me all about him, not just the stories, I think they knew him when
he was young,” Jennifer gave him a smile that told him she was really trying to cheer up,
“Jennifer,” she giggled, “I’ve already told you that, Jennifer… Jennifer Lupin.”

“Pleased to meet you Jennifer,” he smiled back then winced, “err… would you mind letting go of
my hand, I can’t feel my fingers now.”

They passed the rest of the journey in quiet conversation using the privacy afforded by the
Avocare charm which neatly deflected attention away from them. As Jennifer told her story to him
James realised that he knew only too well the connection between his mother and father and
Jennifer’s parents, he knew exactly who they were.

She was trying to tell him about her father, there was something there that she wanted to say,
but couldn’t quite bring herself to utter the words in case it fractured the friendship that had
only just begun. James knew what it was so he said it for her.

“Your dad was a werewolf wasn’t he?”

“Yes, how did you know?” she said with surprise, then as James said nothing she sighed. “Its OK,
I understand.”

“Understand?” James said raising his eyebrows.

“That you don’t want to be friends with me.”

“Listen,” he said earnestly, “I know exactly who your dad was, he was one of my granddad’s best
friends, and he was a good friend to my dad as well, I’ve heard all the stories so many times. I
would be very pleased if Remus Lupin’s daughter became my friend,” he paused unsure if he should
ask, “will you tell me what happened?”

So she told him what she knew of her parents’ early life together, they moved around a lot,
never staying long in any one place. Eventually they moved away out of the country and she was born
eleven years ago at the end of August in cottage in a Rumanian forest. Her father, she explained,
had some friends amongst the dragon handlers and they were more tolerant of his condition, so
amongst these understanding people, there they stayed.

As she grew up her parents taught her all the magic they could but she never received any formal
education. Then at the beginning of this year there had been a visitor, Jennifer didn’t know who he
was, she only saw him through a crack in the door, he was tall with greying hair, and he had a
black dog with him. The man and her parents talked for a while then as he left he said the only
words she could really hear.

“I know it’s early but this is her letter. The place is hers if you want it for her, please
think about it. Remus… Tonks, it is her future too.” he had growled.

Her parents never mentioned the man’s visit and Jennifer, brought up on keeping secrets, didn’t
ask even though she knew they had been talking about her. Then last Easter her father had one of
his most distressing transformations yet. They had been getting worse for him as he got older, the
pain of the change was more intense and it was harder each time for him to recover.

“It was horrible,” Jennifer said, “after he had changed back he couldn’t throw off the miseries,
he began to shout about it all being too much to bear any more, Mum was really scared, because Dad
looked ill-er than I had ever seen him. Then he rushed out of the house and into the woods, he was
shouting out two names over and over, as if he was looking for them.” She was crying now
remembering the day. “Then it all went quiet and eventually we found him, he was lying on the
ground. He had fallen and was lying very still, but he wasn’t alone. Sitting by his side was a
great grey wolf, it just sat there looking at us, its mouth was open and its tongue was hanging out
to one side.” Jennifer expression became wistful, holding on to the memories, “it looked as if he
was smiling,” she added quietly. “Then out of the trees a great, misty, silver stag walked up to
the wolf and from the other side a ghostly dog that was large and shaggy trotted up. What was
really strange was that you could see right through them, all of them. The animals stared at mum
and me for a bit, sort of bowed, then turned and ran off into the woods together and when we got to
my Daddy he was gone.”

She stopped to reach into her pocket for a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “The noise had
brought out one of the dragon people,” she continued, sniffing slightly. “One of my dad’s friends;
he helped us bring him home. They were all very kind, the dragon people took care of my dad, did
you know that out there the ground’s too wet for burying, when you’re dead the dragons burn
you.”

James’ reaction was instinctive, he reached across with his mind and sent Jennifer the same
calming thoughts he had used on his sister when she was hurt or frightened. He could feel her
emotions relax and she sighed. “You know, I have never told anyone about that day, I feel much
better now I have.” She puffed out her cheeks relieving the tension. “Mum and I moved back to
London after that, then last month she told me I was going to Hogwarts, and here I am.” She glanced
out of the window, “and it looks as if we have arrived.”

As James climbed down from the train, to hear as hundreds if not thousands of his fellow
students had heard before him, Hagrid bellowing…“Firs’ years! Firs’ years this way!”; he decided
that like his father before him, that first journey on the Hogwarts Express was a very special one
indeed.

Before he left the Great Hall that night James sought out his mother and father, he didn’t want
to abuse Jennifer’s trust but he thought they should know about Remus, if they didn’t already.

By the look on their faces they hadn’t heard this piece of news, and James was aware that it
hurt them deeply. He had one other disturbing question which he wanted to ask his parents; at least
it was disturbing to him, and it concerned the sorting, more specifically the Hat itself.

“Does the Sorting Hat ever become confused?” he asked.

“What makes you say that James?” Hermione gave Harry a rather searching look; they both thought
they knew what was coming next.

“Well, when I put it on, I heard this voice in my head.”

“Most do,” Harry assured him.

“Yes, but it sounded as if it knew me.”

From the behaviour of his parents James was sure that his mother and father were having a silent
mental exchange, from which he was excluded. Finally his mother spoke.

“Really James? What did it say?” Hermione asked.

*“Ah, James what shall we do with you now? Umm I know* DUMBLEDORE” James quoted, “but then
everyone heard that last bit. It was just the way it said it, it sounded as if it had sorted me
before.”

“I am sure you would have remembered if you’d already been sorted,” Hermione dissembled in a
falsely cheerful voice, “the Hat is very old and there were a lot of you to sort tonight.” She
paused then asked, “You sure the first word it said was Ahh?”

“Think so mum, to tell the truth its all getting a bit jumbled now,” James replied.

“Well I wouldn’t worry about it now. At least you were sorted into the best house,” Hermione
said, and Harry harrumphed, “you better get along now, the prefects are waiting for you to take you
to the tower.”

“OK night Mum, Dad,” and with that he ran off to the rest of the first year Dumbledores who were
indeed waiting for him.

As the group left the hall Harry and Hermione heard the comments of the senior Dumbledore
prefect David Frobisher. “Come on Potter, just because your parents are Professors don’t think you
are going to get any special treatment, but we’ll overlook it just for tonight, eh?”

“Thanks…err Frobisher,” Harry and Hermione gave each other meaningful looks as they felt their
son mentally fish that piece of information from the older boy.

“We’re going to have to watch him you know,” Harry said, “he could get himself into all sorts of
trouble.”

“Like father like son,” Hermione retorted, “disappointed he’s not in Gryffindor?”

“Yes, and no, he’s your problem now,” then at the disapproving glare he added, “Well at least
during school hours.”

In another part of the castle Jennifer Lupin stared around at the red and gold hangings in the
Gryffindor common room, disappointed that she had been deprived of her new friend so soon she
decided that she ought to make the best of it. In easier times her father had described this room
to her and the antics that both he and his friends and then Harry Potter and his friends had got up
to here. Thinking about all that made her feel sad again, but perhaps she would be able to talk to
James tomorrow, and with that thought her mood lightened. She made her way over to the dormitories
on the right staircase, and bed.

Natalie Potter was in a bit of a snit, she definitely felt left out, all her family were at
Hogwarts and she was stuck at Thrubwell’s. Not that she minded staying with her Aunt Ginny, and
Uncle Neville, and their daughter Rose was a sweetie, but she was a Potter and she wanted to be
with the other Potters. Nat knew there was nothing that could be done about it, so she would just
have to grin and bear it; at least she got the chance to see Uncle Ron, when he visited his sister,
she liked him. He was funny, in a grown up sort of way… of course, he always had the ability to
make Nat laugh. He could tell exactly the same story as her father but all the danger and evil that
was so much a part of their telling was mixed with misunderstandings, innocence and silly behaviour
that sometimes Nat wondered whether Uncle Ron really understood what they were all going through
when they were fighting Voldemort.

Nat loved her Uncle Ron to bits, she had seen him happy like when he and Luna had married, and
sad when they had told her parents that Aunt Luna could not have children. She didn’t think she was
supposed to know that bit, but she had been in bed at home, listening in, practicing her ‘fishing’
as her brother called it. Perhaps that was why Ron and Luna spent so much time at Thrubwell’s, yes
there would be many suitable candidates at the orphanage, she would have to keep an eye on that.
With all these thoughts to keep her occupied perhaps this last year at Thrubwell’s wouldn’t seem so
bad.

Hogwarts years past as Hogwarts years usually did. James didn’t make the Dumbledore Quidditch
team much to his mothers delight, she had had quite enough coping with Harry’s antics on a broom
when they were young, and she wasn’t ready to go through all that again. He did do very well in all
his classes though; unsurprisingly his best were Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration,
with his father and mother teaching those subjects he couldn’t afford to be bad at them. Often as
not he would pair with Jennifer Lupin in the practical sessions when they were being taught
together and this led naturally to them spending quite a bit of study time in the library pouring
over their books.

Hermione watched the association with interest.

“Remind you of anything dear?” she whispered to her husband as they searched the library shelves
one day. Harry and Hermione were looking for a very obscure paper on the reasons why muggles
couldn’t do magic. They hoped this one might be reasonably sensible, all the others they had found
had finished with comments like “Well they just can’t do it, can they.”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Those two over there.” Hermione nodded in James and Jennifer’s direction, “remind you of
anything?”

Harry looked and smiled, “Still a bit young for anything serious, just good friends, don’t you
think?” he said.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed, “but that is how it started for us.”

Harry looked again at the two students engrossed in the mutual experience of writing an essay.
“No,” he said, “as I remember it you were the one who did all the work and there seemed to be an
awful lot of bullying involved on your part to get Ron and me to do anything at all. We only worked
like that in those last two years, once we had realised our feelings and…Oh… you don’t think?”

Hermione laughed and received a rather severe look from Madam Pince who was still in charge of
the library and brooked no disturbance from anyone, student or Professor.

“No… of course not,” she whispered really quietly, “but you keep an eye on your end and I’ll
keep an eye on mine.”

Harry and Hermione celebrated Christmas that year with their family at Godrics Hollow. Harry
magically enlarged the cottage to accommodate all the guests, Hermione’s parents, demisted in from
Avalon, Ron and Luna apparated from London and brought with them Jennifer and her mother.

Nymphadora Lupin, still called ‘Tonks’ by everyone, stood uncertainly on the path that led to
the front door of the white cottage that Harry and Hermione called home. She hadn’t seen any of her
old friends, apart from Ron and Luna since Harry and Hermione’s wedding some fourteen years before.
She and Remus had slipped out of sight that summer and tried to find somewhere to settle but his
condition always got in the way. Now she was back and unsure of her welcome. Harry opened the front
door and regarded his old friend.

“Wotcher Tonks,” he said, she stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise and emotion. “Welcome
back.”

Then any more words were superfluous as he drew her into a hug that washed away all those years
of separation. Jennifer watched her mother with tears in her eyes, which she tried to hide when she
saw James squeezing past the adults congregated in the doorway.

“Hi Jenny,” James smiled then gazed back over his shoulder ostensibly watching his parents
greeting their guests, but allowing Jennifer time to gather herself. “They’ll be nattering for
ages,” he turned back to her, “come on inside and meet Nat, I’ve told her all about you, I think
she’s very curious to meet you.”

Nat was indeed curious and a little envious of this girl who from the way James told it had
spent almost every waking hour with him at school. In the quiet of the room they ended up sharing
she questioned her rival and found that the situation was not as bad as she feared, they weren’t
even in the same house so they only met during lessons and study periods, she hadn’t lost James
yet. Despite her abilities with magic Nat was still only ten years old and had only a young girl’s
understanding of relationships, she didn’t know that the connection that she and James shared was
totally different to any that he might develop with other girls as he grew up.

Spring followed winter and summer followed spring and by the end of his first year at Hogwarts
James was glad of the rest that the summer holidays would bring. As usual he and Nat travelled to
Avalon to spend some time with their grandparents and this left Harry and Hermione free to have
time for themselves and indulge in activities that prolonged bouts of school life precluded.

It had been their routine since the children had been born to have a few days together alone,
apart from Dobby to look after them, enjoying the peace and serenity of the Hollow. Their love for
each other never weakened, and as the years had progressed it deepened as it matured. Being able to
talk to each other with their minds also contributed to an understanding of each other that few
couples ever reach. They could put so much into a slight movement of the head or posture of the
body, convey volumes of information in a sigh, but eye to eye contact as emerald green gazed into
deep brown, that was the best. A whole lifetime of experiences could have passed between then in
that single moment and it often did.

The pair spent the rest of the summer visiting and doing a little snooping. Harry was still very
concerned over the mystery surrounding the loss of Hannah, Justin and the others, but they had no
better luck in finding out what had happened that anyone else. It was only when they visited Ron
and Luna that they learned any new information at all. Ron was not at home when they had arrived,
as they peragated into the hallway of the apartment where they lived their ears were assaulted by
the sound of a baby in full voice. Harry turned slowly to find Hermione with the same expression of
surprise on her face as he had, then Luna burst out of the kitchen looking a little harassed and
red in the face, with the screaming infant on her hip.

“Hello you two, sorry about the racket,” she shouted over the noise, “Wulf here needs his feed,
he gets a bit testy if it’s late. Come into the front room,” she drew her wand, and wiggled it in
the direction of the room. Sparks shot from the end of the wand, did a graceful circuit of the hall
and entered the doorway, there was a bang and a puff of smoke. “There…I’ve just made tea.” She gave
them both a grin then led the way.

Harry could see that Hermione was totally speechless and followed their friend into the room as
if she had been partially stunned. Harry tried without much success to stifle the laugh that was
threatening to burst out, sometimes he wondered how he would have ever coped with life without Ron
and Luna to lighten the proceedings from time to time.

By the time he sat down next to Hermione she had regained some of her composure, and Luna was
explaining the presence of the baby whilst spooning food into his mouth. The tea poured itself.

“We’ve only had Wulfric for two weeks, he was one of Poppy’s orphans and he’s just starting to
settle in. Things have been a little difficult, that’s why we didn’t spread the news around.” she
gave them an apologetic smile, “Ron’s really good with him but he is very tied up at work these
days, but he helps out when he can.”

Harry let the conversation which delved into the finer points of looking after babies flow over
him. Harry had been a good father, he knew that because Hermione had told him so, and she was
always right, but as with most men the lessons learned in bringing up their own children don’t last
all that long, unless they are reinforced by repeated exposure. He started to drift away on
thoughts of his own when a mental *‘Harry!’* brought him back to the land of the living just
in time to hear CRACK as Ron apparated into the hall.

“Wulfric, Ron where did you find that one?” asked Harry later in the evening when peace had
descended and Luna and Hermione were otherwise engaged.

“One of Dumbledore’s, don’t you remember,” Ron answered, “we thought Wulfric Weasley had a
rather nice ring to it. We stuck an Arthur in between otherwise mum would had given me hell.”

Harry laughed, then considering said “Yeah your right Wulf Weasley will sound good when he comes
to Hogwarts.” Then his smile faded as word association made him think of another wolf that came to
Hogwarts.

Ron regarded his oldest friend, though he didn’t share Hermione’s mental connection with Harry
he knew instantly what he was thinking.

“Remus?” he said.

“Umm.” Harry nodded.

“Bummer,” said Ron, “he was a great guy.”

Ron dropped another small bombshell when he informed Harry and Hermione that his father had
asked him to take a position as one of his father’s W.W’s. Not that Ron was any great expert on
muggles, far from it, but he thought that the Minister wanted a direct connection to the department
and Ron was it. So Harry had broached the subject of Hannah and Justin and it was Ron who gave them
the only real piece of information that the department had.

The last place anyone had seen them had been at Justin’s parents house. In talking to his mother
the ministry agents had discovered that Justin had been trying to reconcile his differences with
his father. Finch-Fletchley Snr. had been very upset when at eleven Justin had turned wizard, he
had great hopes that his only son would be taking on the family business, but as a wizard Justin
had no interests in that direction. His decision had affected his father deeply and like some
disease it had eroded any feelings the older man had for his son. He was so bitter he had even
sounded off on the subject of witches and wizards and the rest of the magical community, or at
least what little he had known about it, to other muggles at parties or luncheon engagements,
especially if he had too much to drink. Then to cap it all the Finch-Fletchley’s company was
snapped up in a hostile take over and suddenly Justin’s father was out on his ear. It was only six
weeks after this final disaster that Justin had returned home to try to reason with his father,
then they had disappeared and…well Harry knew the rest.

Harry and Hermione moved on to visit the Lupins, taking that pathetic crumb of information with
them. They found Tonks and her daughter living in a small set of rooms over a shop in Diagon Alley,
the accommodation was simple but adequate and provided their old friend the space to readjust into
the wizarding world. Jennifer, it appeared, needed no readjustment, she had fitted in just fine
exactly as she had at Hogwarts following that first train ride. She was full of questions for her
two Professors, both about school work and about their son. Apart from any Defence pointers
Jennifer requested, Harry wisely left answers on the other subject to Hermione.

Visiting Tonks gave the Potters a chance to renew their acquaintance with The Leaky Cauldron.
Tom the barman was still there, even more bent and wizened than ever, but had passed on most of his
duties to his nephew Tom. Old Tom now spent a majority of his time sitting by the fire that
constantly blazed in the pub complaining about the type of patron that now frequented the
establishment and how it was so much better in the bad old days.

Diagon Alley itself had changed little in living memory and certainly not at all since the day
Harry had first seen it in company with Hagrid. Now with Hermione at his side they walked at
leisure down its length, mainly window shopping. They made one brief stop at Flourish and Blotts,
well brief for Hermione anyway, then continued heading towards Gringotts. Harry suddenly heard
someone mention his name with excitement in their voice and not wanting to become involved in any
display of fanaticism or otherwise, he steered them quickly into the next shop.

The bell over the door tinkled as they opened it and Harry and Hermione found themselves
standing in the quiet and slightly stuffy wand shop of Olivanders.

“Ahh Mr. Potter, I wasn’t expecting you here today,” said the all too familiar wavering voice of
Mr. Olivander, “but welcome never the less, and to you too Mrs. Potter.”

Hermione smiled in greeting, Harry was looking out of the window to see if anyone had noticed
where they had gone, but no one was watching or waiting outside. A gentle nudge in the ribs brought
him back to the shop and the wand maker.

“Err…” muttered Harry stalling for time, “No it’s just that we…err wanted to thank you for
supplying our children with such good wands,” he said lamely giving Hermione a ‘well you do better
if you can’ sort of look.

“Yes…yes…” the old man replied as if Harry’s poor excuse for invading his shop had been genuine,
“your boy James, isn’t it, yes Elder twelve inches… unusual core if I remember correctly, and I
always do,” he added with a grin, “a feather from a Persian Simurgh; …amazing thing.” The old man
muttered to himself, congratulating his recall of memory, and then he spoke again. “Your daughter,
oh my, that one can search your soul for you, Hazel, Unicorn hair, eleven inches, very tricky.”
Olivander muttered to himself for a few minutes, until both Harry and Hermione began to wonder if
the old chap had finally lost it. Then whatever path his thought processes were following led him
to suddenly blurt out. “Umm… but of course that is not what is interesting you is it? I am afraid
we never found it.”

“Err… never found what?” asked a perplexed Harry, the poor old fellow was certainly
rambling.

“You know who’s wand,” Olivander said in a conspiratorial tone, “yew, phoenix feather….”

“Yes, I know,” said Harry a frown on his face, “what do you mean, it was never found?”

“Just that, the grounds were searched, his remains were found, they had been disturbed, and the
wand was not there.” Olivander shrugged, “the Minister must have thought it unimportant.”

Hermione had been listening with increasing concern, “Harry that means that some one is out
there with that thing, you don’t think that Draco…” her fear was real now.

“No it’s been too long,” his calmness steadied her, “if he had it we would have heard from him
by now, but you’re right I don’t like the thought of that thing on the loose any more than you
do.”

“Do you think Arthur knows?” Hermione asked.

From the look of horror on his face Arthur Weasley, when he was told, was as unaware of this
piece of information as they had been. Harry and Hermione had tracked him down at the Burrow, and
they were discussing Voldemort’s wand with him in the kitchen.

“Scrimegour must have hidden the loss of the wand, I had assumed it had been destroyed.” he
shook his head in disbelief, “He must have known it was taken because even if you had burned it
with Voldemort there would have still been some sign.” Arthur was becoming increasingly worried.
“Can you imagine what that wand could do in the right hands? It will seek out its own, Harry.
Remember what Olivander is always saying. ‘It’s the wand that chooses the wizard.’ For it all to
happen again, that would be too much to bear.”

Despite all their worries and concerns Draco and the wand didn’t resurface and nothing untoward
occurred. Harry began to feel that maybe they had jumped to too many conclusions, but he wasn’t
that reassured to let his guard down. He was well aware that it took Voldemort eleven years to
regroup and start the battle again, so he was prepared to give Draco at least twice that.

In the mean time life had to continue and at the start of the next school year Natalie Potter
took her rightful place at Hogwarts. To Harry’s delight she was sorted into Gryffindor, and to
Hermione’s chagrin she made the Gryffindor Quidditch team at her father’s old position of seeker.
She excelled at her classes and followed her mother’s example and finished top in most of the
subjects, but unlike her mother it appeared she could do it with very little effort. For a while it
worried her, Nat couldn’t understand why things came so easily to her, she sometimes felt she had
done all this before, but eventually she accepted it as ‘one of those things’, and was grateful
that she didn’t have to struggle. Her first, second and third years passed in a blur, she was
totally unaware that soon her life was going to change forever, and the summer when that change was
to take place was just around the corner.



8. The Magic Inside
-------------------

Chapter 8. The Magic Inside.

The wand was made of yew wood, it was thirteen inches long and the wand maker had very gently
inserted a phoenix feather to be its magical core. He had only two such feathers, both from the
same phoenix, the other one he had used the day before to create a wand of holly only eleven inches
in length and now the wands lay side by side, brothers in magic. They were boxed and placed in the
shop awaiting the wizards who would claim them.

An evil so basic and elemental, one that had existed since the beginning of time observed the
making of these two wands and it exalted in their creation. The opportunity would soon be here, an
opportunity it had last seen over fifteen hundred years ago, an opportunity to turn all to
chaos.

Which wand to choose, the Infundus, the unspeakable one, could not decide. They were of equal
power, but it must choose correctly or all would be undone. In the end the decision was simple,
holly was for courage, unity and guidance, these attributes meant nothing to the Infundus, but yew
was for change, maturation and endings, a change to the dark, fulfilment of all its plans and the
end of the world. It chose the yew.

The Infundus entered the wand unnoticed and hid itself from the magical power of the phoenix
feather that lay at its core. It would not battle directly with the magic of the feather, for it
was possible that the spirit could, at this stage, have been driven away. It waged a silent war
instead, and corrupted the power of the wand and the instant an eleven year old Tom Riddle touched
it, it corrupted him. Under the influence of the Infundus and with the power of his wand to back
him up Riddle and then Voldemort carried out acts of evil that made him the most feared of his
kind, and in his turn unspeakable, as he who must not be named.

But the plans of the Infundus had gone awry; its rise to absolute control had been thwarted by
the actions of the Tyr and Harry Potter in particular. Now that Voldemort was gone and utterly
gone, his soul scattered, never to return to this or any other world, the evil in the wand decided
to act on its own. It cared nothing for the individual wizards involved, it simply required one
with sufficient power to fulfil its destiny, and maybe using the one who wanted to destroy Harry
Potter above all else, was a good place to start.

The Infundus had become the wand; consolidating its position so that the feather had become the
weakest of the pair, overcoming it had been a simple matter, and the magic of the Phoenix only
offered a token resistance. In its small wooden world the Infundus ruled and from this haven its
influence ranged abroad, affecting those who were too weak to resist or those whose desires drove
them to accept its suggestions with no coercion.

With the destruction of Voldemort all those years ago, it had summoned the miserable creature
and escaped from the clutches of those that could do it harm. The elf always argued with the new
voice in his head, but always agreed in the end, and so he was easy to control. The wand had made
him check that the boy who was destined to finish Voldemort’s work was safe and unharmed, and then
aid him, without his knowledge, to flee the country and reach safety. Now all that the wand needed
was time. Time for the boy to become a man; time for the saviour of the wizarding world to become
soft, and time for them all to forget the horror, so that when that horror returned there would be
nothing and no one to stand in its way.

Even at a distance the wand had no problem in controlling the elf; it could influence the blonde
haired wizard but not subdue him, not yet anyway, and for the moment as their paths were closely
allied it was only necessary to encourage him to act within his nature. Soon, very soon this wizard
and the whole world would be at its mercy, and for another three years the wand waited, watched and
planned its retribution.

The wand languished forgotten in the top drawer of an old desk, in a dusty corner of a Cambridge
College but now its self imposed imprisonment was over, the time was right this time there would be
no half measures, the wand, the Infundus had no ego to satisfy, it wanted nothing for itself but
vengeance, and to get that vengeance it would destroy the world.

For four years Draco had existed as Laska Yoflam watching and learning the power that the muggle
Magus wielded. He had always thought of the wizarding world as large, but as he observed the reach
of Magus Industries Draco began to see it as rather insignificant and parochial.

It would be so simple to take over; the muggles were so willing to blindly follow those they
considered gifted or superior, and if they resisted ….well none of them had any defence against a
wizard. Maybe this was why Magus was so infatuated by the idea of being able to use magic, whatever
the reason it blinded him to Draco’s deceits and Draco had many of them.

His devices, made to identify, catch and hold a witch or wizard, were all fake. They would beep
and sparkle and look very impressive simply because Draco built each of them around his wand, or
one of the captured ones. His finest creation was a machine to rob a wizard of his powers and store
it for later infusion, this was really only a very impressive light show, but so convincing was it
that by using certain spells and a potion so obscure, it may even fool the wizard it was used
on.

Then one June morning Draco was summoned into Julius Magus’ office.

“Ah Laska, how goes the experiments?” Magus asked with a child like interest that his business
enemies would never have recognised.

“Slow as ever sir,” Draco saw the disappointment, “but I feel that a breakthrough is not far
away.”

“Good, good,” It amazed Draco that a man with so much power and such an astute eye for muggle
business could be so blind when it came to the discussion of magic and wizards. It never occurred
to him that this was always the price paid when an unattainable goal was raised to such importance
that all else was blotted out.

“Was that all sir?” Draco, as Laska, could be nauseatingly ingratiating.

“No, not at all, this is a momentous day for the company,” Magus enthused, “A project initiated
by your friend Elf which we have worked on for over ten years has reached fruition. We tested it
yesterday and today I would like you to see it.”

Draco knew well not to upset his boss when in such an expansive mood, and obviously he would be
delighted to see …whatever it was.

The laboratory was one of the larger ones in the complex that Draco had little reason to have
ever visited before. There in its centre was the thing that all the excitement was about; Draco
wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all. Two huge rectangular stones standing on their ends topped
by a third formed a gigantic doorway that the Knight Bus could have easily passed through, standing
next to this Trilithon was a cabinet, taller that most men, and as wide as the reach of their arms.
Thick cables snaked from doorway to cabinet and from cabinet to the power generators set against
the back wall of the laboratory. In the tall face of the black painted cabinet was a small hatchway
which at the moment was propped open. Inside the cavity open to view was a crystal rod about a foot
in length, held upright by clamps at each end, and pulsing with a red light.

Magus pointed to this strange light. “The heart of the machine,” he said proudly, “that is a
diamond, created in this lab, the power it produces is quite incredible.”

“Err… what does the machine do sir?” Draco asked cautiously.

Magus laughed. “What does it do? Watch.” He closed the hatch and pressed a large green button,
the only other defect in the smooth side of the cabinet.

The noise of the power generators rose to a level that was actually painful, and as speech was
impossible Magus pointed now at the doorway, through which Draco could see the far wall of the lab.
The view suddenly shimmered, then fractured like the reflection in a mirror that had just been
smashed, and was replaced with nothing. Total blackness stared back out of the portal, and Draco
felt a weak but sustained pull toward it. With a crash the circuit breakers from the generators
opened and for a second or two the noise increased as released from their considerable load the
generators sped out of control until their breaks cut in and slowed them.

Magus slipped a conspiratorial arm around Draco’s shoulders. “Like it?”

“Excellent sir, but what is it?”

“The boffins call it an instability inducer,” Magus explained, “It forms a portal that as far as
we can tell leads nowhere. The space on the other side is infinite and anything that passes into it
never comes back, if we can only sustain its operation it will revolutionise the waste
industry.”

Draco regarded Magus with disbelief; of all the ways this device could be used, and all he
thinks of is rubbish disposal; but then of course thought Draco there’s rubbish and there’s
rubbish.

That night Draco thought he had a dream, it was very vivid, and Harry would have recognised its
source immediately, and would have been deeply disturbed because he would have imagined that the
instigator of those night visions had been dead for seventeen years.

Draco was walking down a narrow street bordered on either side by high stone walls, it was quite
dark but at the end to which he was walking was a pool of light. The light shone from an old
fashioned lamp, it was powered by muggle electricity, and hung over an arched gateway that led into
a courtyard. As he turned into the courtyard he could see that there was only one exit from it, a
large black painted wooden door, shut and barred to him. Removing his wand from his pocket he
pointed it at the lock, with an *‘Alohomora’* there was a click and the door swung open.

The spiral staircase behind that door had seen a considerable amount of use, the steps worn with
the tread of thousands of feet; Draco added to those thousands and started to climb the stairs. One
turn, then two, upwards of the left handed spiral Draco climbed until, after many more turns, at
its top the stairs ended at yet another door. This one was not locked and a simple turn of the
handle and the door opened inwards.

The room inside was very cluttered, piles of books and papers were leaning against each other
for support, the walls were lined with shelves carrying even more books, and several small objects
that Draco thought looked familiar. There was only one clear space in the whole room and that was
the top of the large oak desk that occupied the space under the only window, and it was to the top
drawer of that desk that Draco was irresistibly drawn. It again was not locked, why should it be,
it contained nothing of value to its owner, a few pens some spare paper, and a stick that some
students had used in a rag week prank, so long ago that its presence had been forgotten.

The drawer opened quietly, the only noise was from the pens rolling around inside it, and there
at the back was the stick, but as he picked it up Draco realised that this was no ordinary stick,
it was a wand and no ordinary wand at that. It called to him and spoke to him; it told him what it
was and what he would become. Draco held it reverently and tried to stare deep into its centre, but
the evil it contained would not let him in, instead it gave him an order.

When the old man shuffled through the door that had not been seen, because it was hidden beside
a bookcase, and began to enquire what on earth Draco thought he was doing, Draco obeyed that order
and used the two words that sent the green fire screaming across the room to strike the old man in
the chest. There was a clatter of falling books and the thud of a body hitting the floor, Professor
Wilfred Fullbrook lay on his back, his wide open eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, as dead
as a door nail.

In his dream Draco turned on his heel and fled, out and down the stairs, through the gateway and
down the street. The buildings of the town flashed by him and soon he was out in open countryside,
then the place that had served as his home came into view, and seemingly without passing through
any of the security Draco was in his own rooms, then lying in his bed.

The alarm clock by his bed woke Draco; he looked at it with severe distaste, that thing must be
the most diabolical device muggles had ever come up with. He fumbled for the correct button to turn
the buzzer off and his hand touched something on his bedside table that sent a shock of recognition
up his arm. He sat up and brushed the shock of pale blonde hair out of his eyes, there lying on the
table was the wand from his dream, and he was at a loss as to how it got there. Then looking in the
mirror that was attached to the back of his bedroom door, he received his second surprise of that
morning, for looking back at him was not the face of Laska Yoflam, his assumed identity, but that
of his real self Draco Malfoy.

………………………………

The area had been cordoned off and police cars blocked the access to the narrow street that led
to the gateway. The alarm was raised by the Professor’s housekeeper; she had found that his bed had
not been slept in, when she arrived that morning to make it, and as he was a man of advanced years
she was naturally concerned. He had on a few occasions forgotten to go to bed and worked through
the night, so with cup of tea in hand she had gone to his office to check on him. She found him
there lying on the floor cold and pale in death, that might have been the end of it, and his demise
put down to his age but for the fact that on his face, fixed forever by rigor, was a look of
absolute horror as if someone had frightened him into his grave.

“Hello, John,” said the suited detective holding out his hand to the man climbing the stairs.
“Long time no see. Thought this one was right up your street, I know that the University is not
usually your patch, but this one is full of that hocus pocus stuff you like so much. Oh who’s this
little lovely then,” he said as a slim dark haired young woman followed John Burford into the
room.

John smiled, “Of course you won’t have met, will you. Burt Joplin D.S. Cambridge Central, this
is Julie my I.O. one.” he said by way of introduction.

“Very pleased to meet you Julie,” said Burt putting on his best bird pulling voice, “didn’t get
your second name, and I don’t suppose you’re free this evening?”

Julie smiled a dangerous smile that would have quelled a lesser Lothario than Burt, but he was
feeling lucky today.

“Burford,” Julie said, and was rewarded by the sick expression that covered Burt’s face. “No I’m
afraid I shall be busy tonight, as will you be Sergeant, unless I am very much mistaken.”

“Err… yes Ma’am, sorry Ma’am,” Burt had obtained a bright red countenance by this stage, and
beat a hasty retreat. “You might have told me you worked with your missus John, made a right idiot
of myself there,” he added as he passed his old friend and headed for the door.”

John’s only response was to lick his finger and draw an imaginary ‘1’ in the air.

John heard Julie tut, tut. “You lot are so infantile sometimes, it makes my teeth ache,” she
said with feeling, “How long have you been planning that one.”

“Ever since the incident with the pizza and the hot dog,” Julie gave her husband a very strange
look. “You had to be there.” he said.

The pair, now alone, spent some time examining the room and its contents. In the three years
they had been together they developed an excellent working relationship as well as a personal one
which had led to marriage, some twelve months ago. John understood the world to which Julie was
irrevocably joined; well at least he understood some of it, and delving into past records began to
realise how often the muggle and wizarding worlds intertwined. They had cleared several long
standing open ended murder cases from the files, not by actually finding the perpetrators but by
labelling them w.i.c.a., wizard or witch instigated criminal activity, and strangely when wica
files were presented to the Home Office they were accepted without any comment. Obviously John was
not the only person who knew that the wizarding world existed.

During their examination they had unconsciously stepped over the form on the floor covered by
the blanket, but unable to put it off any longer John knelt down by its side and lifted the cover
clear. It didn’t take a genius or a wizard, but just someone who had seen the effect before to
realise that the old man was the victim of the killing curse.

“Why do you reckon?” John asked his wife.

“Well, there is or was something here that is a powerful magical object,” she replied as she
passed a small spherical detector over the shelves. It was making a slow clicking noise that as
Julie worked her way closer to the desk became louder and faster. Until, as she passed it over the
open top drawer of the desk, it rose to a scream. “In here or at least it was, and kept here for
quite some time judging by the residual readings.” She remarked.

Bert Joplin stuck his head round the door. “They’ve come to collect the Professor, if that’s OK,
and we’ve some CCTV footage you might find interesting,” he said.

“OK Bert, that’s fine we’ll be down in a minute.” John replied.

In the incident van the grainy picture flickered on the monitor screen, a man wearing a long
cloak turned and walked down the street away from the camera.

“That was at twelve thirty,” the operator informed those gathered around, “You have to bear in
mind that the lane only goes to the courtyard and that stairway to the victims office is the only
logical destination, but some of the students have told us that it is possible to get over the wall
and access the student accommodation without passing the porters lodge from down there.”

“Why would they want to do that?” Julie asked.

“To beat College curfew and avoid trouble,” Bert supplied.

“Now this is twenty minutes later, same cloak but different man,” said the operator, “and these
were the only two who used the lane last night.”

“Probably just students up to no good,” said Bert, “have to look elsewhere.” And with his words
the van began to empty. But Julie remained.

“Can I see the second man again?” The operator obliged. “Hold it there,” the image

froze. “Can you zoom in?” The fuzzy image of the man’s face filled the screen. “Merlin,” said
Julie without thinking. “If I didn’t know any better I would say that, that man is Lucius
Malfoy.”

“A lead?” said Bert, poking his head back in the doorway, “worth following up?”

“No, not really,” said Julie thinking furiously, “Lucius Malfoy has been dead for nearly twenty
years.” Then she grabbed John’s arm and pulled him into a corner away from the others. “We must get
in touch with Harry and Hermione,” she said urgently, “if that man is not Lucius then there is only
one other he could be, and that is his son Draco, and if it is it means trouble.”

Harry was looking hard at the reprints of the CCTV pictures, John had the photo lab work on them
and as a result the images were much clearer. Although the face of the man was clearly not Draco as
they remembered him, he did look remarkably like his father had. Long, fair, almost white hair and
a stretched face, with a haughty expression, he would certainly have passed as a brother of the
long dead Malfoy, so why not his grown son.

“Who was this muggle who was killed?” asked Harry.

“A Professor Fullbrook, he was known to have more than a passing interest in magic, our sort of
magic,” said Julie. “Even the Ministry were keeping tabs on him, but recently they hadn’t
bothered.” Harry said nothing but raised his eyebrows in surprise. “He was getting a bit past it,
and not considered a threat to us,” Julie explained.

“Yes, well there was certainly something about him or his rooms to interest to a dark wizard,”
said Harry seriously, “any ideas?”

“Only that a very powerful magical object had been stored there for some time,” replied Julie,
“but the Ministry have nothing on record as being missing, least nothing containing that much
magic.”

“Umm,” murmured Harry, “unfortunately the Ministry records department is not aware of everything
that goes missing.” He said. “I have a horrible feeling that something nasty is happening in East
Anglia, it’s all too much of a coincidence. Those murders a while ago and now this one, all in the
same general area, we must make a concerted effort to search this part of the country, we have to
head this off before it gets out of hand.”

Hermione was lying on her side in bed, her head propped on Harry’s chest as usual. She could
hear his heart beating but unlike on other nights they had spent together its rhythm had an urgency
to it that was not brought on by their intimacy, but by worry. She could feel his mind whirling and
the stress that came with it.

“Harry?” she whispered.

“Yes love?” then, “I’m sorry,── I just don’t like the way this is shaping up.”

“You think it was Draco?”

“Oh yes, no doubt,” he said, “aged or not I would recognise that excuse for a wizard, and now he
has Voldemort’s wand.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” said Hermione sitting up, “it may be something else.” She added
hopefully.

Harry gave his wife a grim smile. “What’s happened to the famous Granger logic?” He reached out
and stroked her hair with a loving gesture. “We have to work on the worst case scenario, and at
this particular time I can think of nothing worse than a picture of Draco Malfoy holding
Voldemort’s wand and a grudge.” Harry could see the expression of worry deepen on Hermione’s face
and he pulled her to him folding his arms around her.

“Voldemort was a much darker wizard than our Draco, and we finished him off, don’t worry we will
be fine.” As he held her, caressed her and tried to kiss away her fears he held tight the thought
that was coursing through his mind, *‘Merlin but I hope so, we have so much more to lose this
time.’*

The last day of that particular school year, James and Jennifer’s fourth and Nat’s third, was
one of brilliant sunshine, and promises to meet over the summer holidays. Under the watchful eyes
of Harry and Hermione, James and Jennifer had maintained discreetness in their relationship, but it
was obvious that they were very comfortable in each others company. Certainly the two fourth years
were accepted as an item by all of their peers and even Nat had realised that she no longer had
exclusive rights to James’s attention, but it didn’t prevent the three of them acting together in a
curious mirror image of the relationship Harry, Hermione and Ron had shared when they were at
school.

As usual James and Nat departed from Godrics Hollow to spend the summer with their grandparents
in Avalon, this time it would be a little different as Jennifer was to join them at the end of the
month. This was to be her first visit to what was arguably the most magical place in the country,
and if she was looking forward to it then James was equally excited about being able to show her
around. He was also worried as to Nat’s reaction in having another girl with them to disrupt their
normal plans for their stay, but he needn’t have concerned himself as for once Nat had things to do
on her own, that would have been difficult to exclude her brother from, and Jennifer’s presence
would provide the ideal opportunity.

David and Natalie Granger, Hermione’s parents had lived in the same cottage in Avalon for the
last twenty years, now both in their early sixties, they had enjoyed a life that most muggles would
be unable to comprehend. Their only daughter, the joy of their lives, was the most accomplished
witch to graduate from Hogwarts for generations. She had met and fallen in love with the wizard
that despite his youth had defeated the greatest threat to the wizarding world that had ever been
seen. Now they had produced the two most perfect grandchildren that any muggle or wizard could ever
wish for. Their only disappointment was that despite all their exposure to magic they were still
muggles, and there was nothing that could be done about that, it was something they just had to put
up with.

James and Nat did all the things one does with grandparents when you are on holiday with them,
and in their case, even occasional trips into the muggle world, to see the strange and wondrous,
and it was fun. For James the fun did not stop when Jennifer arrived, there was much for her to see
and he would be her guide, as for Nat she found herself more on her own but that was just as she
wanted it.

The day before her fourteenth birthday Nat took the path that wound away from the village up on
to the side of the Tor. At the first terrace on the hill the path divided, the left fork continued
to wind round and round the Tor eventually leading to the top, the right fork followed the level of
the terrace and led to the small stand of trees that concealed the entrance to the passageway that
ended in the muggle town of Glastonbury.

Nat wasn’t sure how long she had waited for this opportunity, the compulsion to visit the cave
was hidden deep in her subconscious, it was something that she knew she had to do, and she hoped it
would resolve her dilemma. As Nat emerged from the sparkling pool that was not water, but looked
like it, the splendour of the crystal caves hit her as it had never done before. The light shining
out of the pool was reflected back at her from the many faceted crystals that lined the cave walls
in colours so fine and bright that it left her quite breathless with wonder. She didn’t follow the
main pathway through the cave but branched to the left and wound her way between crystal towers
that rose from the rock floor to finish several feet above her head. Nat thought that the path
ahead of her stopped suddenly at a blind end, but in fact it turned sharply right and opened out
into a crystal chamber that was lit even brighter than the main cave. In the centre of the chamber
was a conveniently placed stone block and it was on this that Nat seated herself, waiting to see
what would happen next.

There was absolute silence in the chamber; no drip or splash of water from the cave penetrated
into it, the sound of air passing through the cave was muted down to nothing, the only sound that
percolated through to Nat’s senses was the beating of her own heart. The whispering, when it
started, was so tenuous as to be unintelligible, but Nat knew that the words were directed at her,
so she strained her ears hoping to catch the sense of it. The volume rose slightly and then Nat
realised that the voice or voices were whispering her name over and over again, so she replied.

“I am here.” The loudness of her own voice made her jump, and the whispering ceased
immediately.

“Well, so you are.” The words wavered as if the speaker was great with age. It was a man’s
voice, and the words were kindly spoken. “So nice it is to meet you at last my dear.”

Then there he was, as if he had stepped out of the crystals themselves, the aged man was
standing before her. His hair was long and white, as was his beard and he was dressed in a long
flowing blue robe that was dotted all over with golden stars. His face was hard to describe, it
looked a little like her fathers, it looked more like that portrait of Professor Dumbledore in the
Headmasters office, but it looked most like the face that, she suddenly realised, had been haunting
her dreams for as long as she could remember.

“Why?” Nat asked the old man.

“Ah,…the simplest question to ask,” he replied, “and often the most difficult to answer.” He
paused. “Still… not to be unexpected I suppose. To get the real answer my dear you must look within
yourself, you must find the magic you hide inside yourself.”

“The magic inside? … I don’t understand.”

“No? Umm, perhaps you don’t at that,” the old man smiled at her. “Here, let me help.” He moved
to her side and placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Look into the crystal wall in front of you,” he
told her, “and imagine him.”

The colours in the crystals started to spin about each other and their intensity increased,
brighter and brighter they became, then suddenly they dissolved away and in their place was a green
meadow, and in the distance was Avalon. That it was Avalon was beyond doubt, for in the background
was the Tor, but it was not the Avalon that was present outside of the caves in the here and now.
This Avalon was different, it was smaller, the buildings were simpler, this was an Avalon of the
past, long past.

Walking through the long grass was a young couple, Nat studied them intently, the girl was not
much older than she was, and the boy just a little older. The girl Nat did not recognise even
though she instinctively knew who she was, the boy despite the changes that age would bring, she
knew only too well. As they walked slowly towards her she saw them ageing as if their whole lives
were being played out in those few steps. Their faces may have changed but the love that was
evident between them never wavered, but hidden in the man’s face, which didn’t age as much as the
woman’s, was a look of sadness and desperation.

Then suddenly on the last step the woman disappeared and the man was left standing alone, his
expression one of incalculable loss, the hurt he was feeling must have reached to his very core.
The vision faded and Nat was aware of the tears that rolled down her face, she turned to the old
man and buried her head in his blue star studded robes, and he responded by holding her awkwardly
and patting her on the back, trying to comfort her.

Nat regained her composure and looked once more into the old man’s face. “Her name was Gwen
wasn’t it?” She asked, and he nodded silently in answer. “And they were in love, but she got old
and he didn’t, and so he lost her, and he’s been mourning her ever since?” Nat knew she was right,
but she needed the confirmation never the less.

“Yes, he fell in love before he knew who or what he was, before he knew that his life would span
eons, whereas hers would be that of a normal witch. He wanted to grow old with her, for them to
have a normal life together, but that was denied to him, and he considered his gift as a curse, and
he still does.” The old man sighed, “He did what I could not. When my pain became unbearable,
seeing so many friends pass away out of reach, and not be able to join them, I hid. I became a
recluse, distanced myself from my fellow wizards, existed to them only in legend, and passed into
history as the most powerful wizard ever to have lived, but in truth I was a coward.” The old man
waved his hand and another stone seat appeared and he sat on it facing Nat. He took her hands in
his and stared into those intense green eyes she had inherited from her father. “Even my love for
his mother did not hold me, to my shame the arrival of my son meant nothing to me, the loss of
Arthur was paramount. His death was the final act, that much of the legends are true, I could bear
no more, and I allowed myself to fade away. My son had a loss as deep if not deeper than mine, but
he stayed he shouldered his responsibilities and with his mother and Eleanor shouldered mine, he
has been alone for so long, and even when I could have helped him I failed.” The old man fell
silent and the quiet of the crystal chamber descended again.

Hesitantly Nat broke the silence. “My dad told me that Solomon called on you twice during the
battle with Voldemort, and that both times you helped, didn’t you Merlin?”

Merlin the wizard hung his head. “No my dear, I wish that it were true.” he said sadly, “I heard
him call, but the help came from a source more ancient than all of us, but even then he didn’t
really need it, he has always held all the power he will ever need.”

“But even with all his power he doesn’t have the strength to make himself happy again does he?”
The girl asked.

“No, but we do.” said Merlin cryptically. “Look to the magic inside Nat, what do you see? What
does it tell you? Look hard and it will answer all your questions for you.”

Nat closed her eyes and concentrated, “I see him,” she said, “with my Mum and Dad, I feel the
same about all of them. I love them as a daughter should, I am not his daughter, but it is the only
love I know how to give. I see my brother, I love him too, though even that love is different, and
it comes from further back from that time when I was not me when I was… Sophie and he was… Oh
goodness… now it all makes sense. But that isn’t the end of it, it goes back even further to a time
when I wasn’t me and I wasn’t Sophie, to a time when I was… Gwen… and that is where my feelings for
him come from,… oh dear.” Nat opened her eyes and looked into Merlin’s tired old face. “This just
makes it worse, now I know why I feel like I do, but there is no way I can express it, I don’t know
how, and to him I am just a little girl, the daughter of his best friends, it would be all
wrong.”

“Of course it would, now you love him for what he is and he in turn loves you for what you are,
but that is the now,” Merlin explained, “one day there will be the then. Time has a habit of
changing us all, you will grow, you will learn and one day you will be able to express the way you
feel, and when that day comes he will know who you really are, he has always been in love with the
person you once were. It is quite probable that you and he are, as your mother and father, destined
always to be together, but for the moment it must be our secret.”

Even with this insight Nat still felt like the young girl she was, and nervous as to how she
should act from now on, but one thing was clear in her mind, that even if in the fullness of time
she revealed her true self to Solomon, within a few short years he would be alone again, and maybe
that wasn’t fair.

“I agree,” said Merlin, when she expressed her fears to him, “but this time although my son does
not call me, I can help. There can be no more than four eternal souls, Eleanor was the first; I was
the second, Niniane the third, and Solomon the last. On these souls is the burden of steering all
the others to the final goal, and as for some considerable time I have not met my obligations, it
is possible for me to pass my gift on to another willing to take the load.”

“Think very carefully Natalie Potter before you answer this old fraud,” said a voice from
behind. Nat spun round and the short dumpy figure of Eleanor Wicca was standing in the entrance to
the chamber. “You may have inside you the life of a full grown woman, but you also have the life of
an infant who never had the chance to really live, and your answer will be driven from the being
that you are now with only the experiences of an adolescent.”

Suddenly the purpose of her existence became very clear to Nat, she smiled at the old woman and
said, “With the wisdom of age, the innocence of a child and the enthusiasm of adolescence I say
…yes.”

There was a sickening lurch which made Nat close her eyes and when she opened them again she
found herself sitting in the sun on the upper slopes of the Tor.



9. Things Are Not Quite What They Seem.
---------------------------------------

Chapter 9. Things Are Not Quite What They Seem.

Her birthday and the few days that followed were a bit of a blur for Nat, the only part that
really stood out was the half an hour that she and James sat together under the tree in their
grandparents’ back garden. Like all the other years, they talked and reaffirmed that special bond
that existed between them, but this time Nat knew it was different, because they were both
changing. James was growing as any normal boy of his age, with all the distractions that came with
it to occupy him, Nat was changing as well, but in her case the changes were more profound, she
hoped she was hiding them well, and to her relief they were not noticed by her brother.

The clarity began to return to her life as she stood at the end of her grandparents’ garden
looking out over the grassy meadow that stretched off into the distance. Nat felt the presence
behind her before it made itself known, a warm and comforting sensation washed over her, she knew
who it was.

“So, young lady with the brashness of youth you have taken on a task that most would be only too
eager to relinquish, but I sense a depth to you that I have not felt before. Maybe that old fool
was right after all.” Eleanor Wicca eased her old bones down so that she was sitting on the grass;
she patted the ground next to her indicating that Nat should take the proffered spot. Nat plopped
down cross-legged with the ease of a girl her age; Eleanor gave her a wry look and laughed. “I wish
it was so easy for me to do that.” She chortled.

“It could be,” said Nat, “your appearance doesn’t have to be that of an old woman, does it?”

“No, you are correct,” the ancient witch pondered for a moment, “no more than you have to remain
as you are.”

“But this,” Nat said, holding out her arms, “is what I am, I could make myself older, but inside
I would still be fourteen.”

“Good…you do have sense after all,” Eleanor congratulated her. “I appear as this old woman
because it is the form that most suits my role. I have grown into it, and in the fullness of time
you will grow into yours, either naturally or by your own will.”

“What happened to Merlin?” The question burst out before Nat could stop herself.

“He has gone to the others; he is happy, do not worry about him.” Eleanor said. “He lives where
he is most useful, in legend, but wherever he is, he is still an awful old man. He lied to you,”
she told Nat, “he did help Solomon when he called and he has helped others over the years, but when
he gave his gift to you he did more for this world and the people who live on it than I think even
he was aware.”

That afternoon young Natalie Potter learned more about the affairs of man and wizard kind than
she had ever realised existed. The instruction continued, seeming never to pause for a rest, they
used up many more hours than there were in a day, and many more days than there were in a year, and
Nat began to wonder how this was possible. Then something caught her eye, a simple daisy growing
out of the lawn, and suspended in the air next to it was a bee, its wings silent and unmoving as if
captured in a photograph. Eleanor had stopped talking and was smiling at her young pupil as she
stared at the bee. Then as Nat looked around her became aware that in fact nothing was moving,
nothing at all, not even time.

“Not bad,” Eleanor remarked, “little slower than Solomon, but faster than Merlin, it took him
ages to cotton on.”

And so the instruction continued, how long it lasted, hours, days, weeks, months or years, Nat
had no way of knowing, her perception of time and herself disappeared under the mounds of
information Eleanor was giving her. Then suddenly she stopped.

“Well there you are,” the old witch said, “that’s the basics; you will have to fill in the gaps
as you go along.” Eleanor smiled at the look of total confusion on Nat’s face.

“Don’t worry, I know it’s a lot to take in, give it time, and talking of time I’ve spent far
more here than I intended, I must go.” With that Eleanor Wicca silently vanished.

Nat felt incredibly light headed, but it wasn’t all the thoughts buzzing around in her head that
was the cause, she suddenly realised that she was very hungry.

She grabbed an apple as she passed through the kitchen on the way to her room, and ran up the
stairs meeting no one; she put the apple to her lips to take a bite and entered her bedroom. As her
teeth broke the skin and the apple juice exploded into her mouth, she happened to glance into the
mirror set in the door of the old fashioned wardrobe at the side of her bed; the first bite of that
apple was never finished. The reflection which she saw was an impossibility, it was her, but it was
an image of her that she had not expected to see for several years at least.

Once she had recovered from her shock Nat examined the reflection more closely. There was
certainly more of her looking back out of the glass than there had been this morning, things had
undoubtedly developed here and there, in all she was rather pleased with the result. If Eleanor had
suspended time for everyone else, she hadn’t for Nat, and she must have talked, well… a very long
time. She flirted with herself in front of the mirror for a few moments smiling at the
improvements, and then she heard her grandmother call to her from downstairs. It suddenly occurred
to Nat that no one else should see her like this, at least not until she was old enough to carry it
off, what on earth was she going to do?

The panic lasted only a few seconds, and then Nat remembered why Eleanor looked the way she did,
so she fixed the image of her fourteen year old self in her mind, closed her eyes and concentrated.
She felt nothing, no change at all, but as she opened her eyes again to look, the reflection in the
mirror had altered, and she hoped she had as well. The door to her bedroom opened after the
briefest knock and Natalie Granger poked her head round it edge.

“Oh there you are Nat, we’ve been looking everywhere for you, lunch is ready.”

“Sorry Gran,” said Nat, relieved that at least her grandmother noticed no difference in her,
“I’ll be right down.”

In fact no one noticed any difference in Harry and Hermione’s second born, and for that she was
very grateful, it gave her time to sort out all the ‘basics’ that Eleanor had given her. That she
saw no one but her immediate family and Jennifer for the next couple of weeks was probably a
blessing but she knew eventually she would fall under the gaze of Lady Niniane, and worst of all
Solomon himself, how well would her disguise hold up then?

When the moment came, it was not as bad as she imagined, Lady Niniane obviously knew what had
occurred, but she said nothing, the only indication Nat received was an extra smile of
encouragement from the great lady and a pat on the arm. With Solomon it was slightly different, he
treated her in exactly the same way he had always done, kindly, caringly, and with encouragement,
which as usual left her with gently glowing cheeks. In return she behaved as normal with him, but
when she was in his background she allowed herself to see the wizard in a slightly different light,
and thoughts like that made her blush even more. She wondered how long she would have to hide from
him who she really was, quite a while she reasoned, so putting her thoughts of the future away she
concentrated on the here and now.

……………………………………………

A week before the start of the new school year Jennifer Lupin went back to London. The blonde
haired grey eyed girl had flourished in the companionship of her best friends and their family and
she was very sorry to leave Avalon. She had suffered the loneliness of isolation growing up with
her reclusive parents, being at Hogwarts had helped her, but it was her association with the
Potters that had really brought about the change in her. Jennifer was in a buoyant mood when she
entered the rooms she shared with her mother, it was very quiet, perhaps her mother was out, she
looked on the kitchen table but there was no note in that untidy scrawl her mother used. Not unduly
worried, Jennifer took her things into her room and began to unpack; it was not until it started to
get dark that the unease began, her mother had never stayed out this late. Jennifer walked to the
window overlooking Diagon Alley and gazed down into the street below. On the other side of the
Alley she could see Fred or George Weasley, it was hard to tell close up, impossible from this
distance, working late in their shop. Jennifer was considering going over to see if either of them
knew where her mother had got to when CRACK someone apparated into the room behind her. The girl
spun round, but in the darkness all she could see was the outline of a dishevelled person whose
hair was standing on end and gently smoking.

“What you doing in the dark Jen?” said the familiar voice of her mother.

The relief flooded through the girl who ran to her mother and threw her arms around her
waist.

“Oh Mum,… where have you been? I was getting really worried,” she cried.

“Hang on love,” Tonks said, then, “*Incendio*,” directing the spell at the lamp on the
wall, and then as the light began to grow, “There that’s better, now what’s all this about, and why
are you here?”

Jennifer backed off from Tonks and took her first good look at her mother. Her clothes were all
torn and her hair, as she had first thought, was a mess. Tonks’ face was flushed and liberally
covered with dirt, but there was also a look of achievement there.

“I was worried because you didn’t leave a note, and I’m here because today is the day we agreed
for me to come back.” Replied Jennifer.

“Oh,” her mother plonked herself down in a chair, and she scratched her head with her wand which
emitted several bright blue sparks as she did so. “I thought that was tomorrow,” she shrugged her
shoulders, “sorry love.”

Jennifer shook her head in disbelief at her mother’s fallible memory then took a second look at
her mother and said, “OK I’ll forgive you, but please tell me why you look like that?”

A look of complete triumph broke out on Tonks’ face. “Well thanks to Harry, Hermione and not to
mention the Minister for magic himself, yours truly Nymphadora Lupin, has just completed her Auror
refresher training and as from next Monday I will be reinstated on the force.”

“Wow Mum, that’s great! I know how much you wanted that.”

“Yes, after all this time I feel accepted again,” her look change to one of wistful sorrow.
“It’s a nice feeling.”

Jennifer took her mothers hand and gave it a squeeze, “Dad would be really proud of you.”

“Yes I know.” And a single large tear spilled out of Tonks’ eye and ran down her dirty face
leaving a trail of slightly cleaner skin in its wake.

………………………………

If Neville Longbottom had learned one thing over the years he had been running Thrubwell’s with
Ginny, it was that you never passed over the chance to get decent equipment at a cheap price. The
message from Mundungus Fletcher had been short and to the point.

“Nev, Have something of interest to you, usual place, same time. MF”.

On previous occasions Dung had come up with some useful items, always obtained legitimately, so
he said, and usually of good quality. So Neville had no reason not to go, it was just that he
didn’t want Ginny to find out where he was getting the supplies.

Mundungus was not in good odour with the Weasley clan. His reputation had never really recovered
from the first time that they had come in contact with him, way back when they were at school, and
recently he had nearly landed the twins in trouble with a very dodgy supply of whiffling snoots.
Although, on that occasion, Neville suspected that both Fred and George knew exactly what they were
letting themselves in for.

Neville waited until Ginny was busy helping Poppy Pomfrey settle the orphanage children for the
night, then sneaking out of the school buildings he apparated to the warehouse Dung used for his
more legitimate transactions. As usual the place was in complete darkness, Dung never wasted any
money on lighting when an old hand lamp would do, and Neville cursed his own stupidity because he
had left his at home. He would have to wait for Dung to put in an appearance, and then in the
distance he saw a small light held low bobbing up and down as someone walked towards him.

Neville frowned, he knew Dung was short but the light was only about a foot or so above the
ground, then as the light came closer he could see that the figure holding the lamp was in fact too
short to be Dung or any other wizard for that matter. He drew his wand to confront the stranger in
front of him, but the attack that beat him came from behind. A quiet ‘*pufft*’ and a stinging
sensation in the back of the neck was all there was to it. Neville tried to brush the dart from his
skin but the strength had left his arms, he didn’t even manage the reflex turn to see where the
attack had come from before he collapsed unconscious in a heap.

The small figure hidden in the depths of a full length robe reached the fallen wizard, and at
the same time two men dressed in black close-fitting suits materialised out of the darkness. One of
the men carried a gas powered rifle which he slung over his shoulder, the pair of them regarded the
spy they only knew as Elf. They shot looks of unease at each other as Elf extended a knobbly long
fingered hand out from under his robe to prod the body on the ground.

“Good,” the voice rasped out, “pick him up and take him to your master. Make sure he does not
revive until you get him there. I will follow later.”

Wordlessly the two men picked Neville up, and carried him the short distance to the van that was
concealed behind some large packing crates. With them all inside the vehicle roared into life and
its lights blazed out, then with a squeal from its tyres it raced out of the warehouse at a
breakneck speed, its driver only too glad to be away from the scene of the crime. Kreacher watched
the muggle vehicle depart, and then walked a few steps to a pile of rags on the floor.

“Thank-you so much for the use of your premises,” he addressed the rags, “most kind of you.” His
laugh echoed off the walls of the warehouse and as he turned away his light shone once on the pale
upturned face of Mundungus Fletcher, lying dead in a pool of his own blood.

…………………………..

On the morning Voldemort’s wand came into his possession Draco Malfoy changed, and not just
physically. He walked quickly through the complex and straight into the office of the industrial
tycoon, he said only one word to his employer Julius Magus, **“Imperio”** and from that moment
on the muggle ceased to think for himself and became a wizard’s plaything.

At last Draco realised what all past years had been leading to, this muggle and his empire had
provided the means by which Harry, Hermione and all those others could be disposed of, permanently,
and now with this wand Draco would make their humiliation complete by defeating them first. All he
need to do was to draw them in, give them enough clues so that they would find him, and then he
would destroy them, but he didn’t want to do it bit by bit, he wanted them all to go out in a blaze
of glory,… his glory.

The wand, the Infundus, had a different plan, it was very simple and it relied solely on the
total activation of the instability inducer and since that formed part of Malfoy’s plan as well, it
had no reason to interfere with the wizard,… not yet.

Draco had discovered that the muggle’s intelligence network was quite amazing, the information
that had been gathered would have caused incalculable damage to the wizarding world had Magus been
able to piece it all together. However only a wizard would have known what was significant and what
was not, and as Magus was a muggle and likely to remain one for the short span of life that was
left to him, this wealth of information was put to no use.

There was even a file on Potter, well not specifically him, but his muggle relations which Draco
found rather amusing. Magus, it appeared, had goaded Potter’s uncle into a heart attack, from which
he had died, but his aunt and cousin were still alive. Draco considered the opportunities in this
information then discarded them, from what he could remember from their school days Harry had
loathed his relations, he would probably thank Draco for taking care of them. There was no leverage
in that course of action, not yet anyway, but then Potter was the sentimental sort,… maybe
later.

For the moment Potter’s weaknesses were closer to home, Draco would have to work on Potter’s
friends, the Tyr. There was always a sneer that went with that word, every time he said or thought
it; the Tyr was a concept so revolting that Draco couldn’t help his reaction. Then he pondered some
more,… possibly the children of the Tyr, yes they would make good bait, which was certainly
something worth considering.

Working through Magus, Draco controlled far more than he ever really could comprehend, but he
found that most of the empire functioned with little or no input from the man at the top, and so he
concentrated on the divisions that interested him. The lead to Mundungus Fletcher filtered through
one of the intelligence channels looking into misappropriation of items from one of the smaller
supply companies in the group. From this, his contact with both the Weasley twins and then to
Neville Longbottom came to light.

The Weasley twins would have done for a start, but they were rarely out in the muggle world and
so difficult to get at, but Longbottom had met Fletcher at his warehouse and could easily be
persuaded to do it again. Draco decided that it was time to set his plan in motion and use this
information. With the connivance of Kreacher and some hired help the result was being wheeled into
the laboratory on the floor below.

Neville began to shrug off the effects of the drug that had rendered him unconscious, he didn’t
panic, but he was frightened, and he couldn’t move, not even to turn his head. He tried to remember
how they had caught him; it was all a bit vague. Mundungus was involved he remembered that, and
then, he had an image of a very short wizard, but it was no good, thinking was making his head
ache. He did know one thing though, he knew wasn’t able to get away.

He had tried to apparate, but something was stopping him, possibly the effects of the potion
they had used on him, and now the straps holding him to the table prevented him from reaching his
wand, which he could feel in his pocket although he was sure he remembered drawing it earlier.

By turning his eyes as far as they would go he could see vague shapes on the other side of a
glass wall, they seemed to be working some sort of machine. It all looked very strange to him; he
had never seen wizards dressed like that before. Then the room was flooded with light, and he heard
a gentle hissing sound.

Draco Malfoy watched through the glass as Neville struggled at his bonds, the technicians
operating the machinery were encased in protective suits and hoods that made looking anywhere but
straight ahead very difficult, but in effect both the technicians and their suits were totally
superfluous. As the chamber filled with the green coloured tranquilising gas Draco reached for his
new wand, he only had to touch his finger tips to the handle and think the words, the wand did the
rest.

The green mist rose from the floor, flowed over the level of the table and slowly enveloped
Neville in its embrace. There was a strange smell with this mist and he began to feel light headed,
then with a loud CRACK a bolt of lightening struck across the room, and the pain began. At that
moment Draco thought the word *‘Crucio’* and directed the curse to the body on the table.

Neville screamed out loud, once, twice, then a third time and it was almost as if he could feel
something being ripped from his body. Again and again Draco whispered that fateful word and again
and again Neville’s body strained upwards in a futile attempt to escape the agony.

Strand by strand his very being was torn away leaving him alive but empty, empty of everything
but pain. Then as he thought he could stand no more, a blessed darkness enveloped him and Neville
slumped back onto the table unconscious again. He surfaced once more but not fully, in his
semi-conscious state he was aware of a container being pressed to his lips and a foul tasting
potion poured down his throat, it was swallow or choke, and so he swallowed. He wasn’t sure, but in
the background before the blackness claimed him again, he saw a vaguely familiar face capped with
white blond hair, he couldn’t quite put a name to the face, it was there, but in his befuddled
condition it wouldn’t come. Perhaps if he slept again then he would remember, but he didn’t want to
sleep, he must stay awake, then a strange tingling began at his fingers and toes and spread up his
arms and legs, as it passed into his body it became almost painful then there was nothing.

…………………………….

Ginny was beginning to panic, Neville had never been away for this long without telling her what
he was up to. Not even on his clandestine meetings with Mundungus Fletcher, which she was not
supposed to know about, was he ever out this late. Leaving Rose with Poppy and Minerva, Ginny
apparated to Godrics Hollow, to see if Neville was with Harry and Hermione. Her two oldest friends
were out in the garden enjoying the late evening warmth of this August day and watching the water
as it burbled its way down the stream past the seat beneath the willow tree.

Hermione comforted the distraught Ginny, as Harry systematically peragated to every location he
could imagine that Neville could have gone to. When he returned with Molly Weasley in tow, Ginny
burst into fresh tears fearing the worst.

“I haven’t found him yet Gin,” Harry reassured her, “but I did find Mundungus, he was in his
warehouse, I am afraid he was dead. I thought I ought to bring Molly here, you know….” He stopped,
embarrassed, not knowing what to say next.

Molly scooped her daughter up and took her into the house, and Hermione joined Harry by the bank
of the stream, slipping her arm around his waist, and Harry acknowledged her presence with a hug of
his own. “Dung has been murdered Hermione,” Harry said in a subdued voice, “Someone cut his throat,
there was blood everywhere, it was horrible.”

“But no sign of Neville?” She asked.

“No nothing, but he had been there.”

“How do you know?”

“I found this,” and Harry pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and on it was
written just a few words “

Nev, Have something of interest to you, usual place, same time. MF”.

“Oh Harry, what are we going to do?”

Harry sighed, “Get some more help and keep looking, I suppose.” Harry drew Hermione into a tight
hug. “Things don’t look very hopeful though.”

……………………………

Neville opened his eyes, they were dry and felt as if they were full of sand, he blinked to try
and clear them, but it only made it worse. Although it was still dark he could tell that he was
outside in the open air, in the distance even with his poor vision he could discern an orange
flashing light, then he recognised it as one of those markers muggles used to indicate a safe place
to cross a road. He pulled himself to his feet and it made his head spin, he had a curious empty
feeling which he could not place, almost as if part of him was missing, and so leaning back against
the wall behind him Neville tried to take stock of himself and his surroundings.

Wiping his eyes with his handkerchief improved his sight and he could see that he was in a
muggle street, actually at the end of a short alley, which led to the road with the flashing light.
He wondered if he could conjure himself a drink, his throat was almost as dry as his eyes, he
reached into his robes to get his wand, he drew it out but the usual tingle he felt when he held it
was gone. He looked at his wand and it really was his wand, he recognised the small nick in the
shaft that had been there since the battle on the steps of Hogwarts Castle, but it didn’t feel like
his wand. It felt like the way it would feel to any muggle, a stick of finely polished holly wood
with a fine turned handle at one end. Then it hit him, he knew what he had lost, his magic was
gone.

Not sure what to do, Neville pushed himself away from the wall and staggered down the alley
toward the road at its end, as he came to the corner he tripped and would have fallen but for the
presence of two large figures who had reached that corner at the same time and grabbed him as he
fell into them.

“Steady Sir,” said one of the figures, “here Phil, give me a hand, this one’s a bit worse for
wear.”

Neville was lifted up by a second pair of hands, and in the light of the street lamps he could
see that he was being supported by two tall muggle policemen.

“Sorry, …sorry, …thank-you,” mumbled Neville.

“Are you alright Sir?” The first policeman asked.

“Err …no not really,” Neville didn’t sound very sure, “I can’t seem to walk too well.”

“Not been drinking, have you Sir?” said the one called Phil, sniffing Neville’s breath.

“No, no, not at all, but I do feel a bit dizzy.” Said Neville, almost slipping to his knees.

“Well I think you ought to come with us to the station, at any rate,” said Phil, “the car is
just up there,” he pointed to the multicoloured vehicle twenty yards down the road. “Think you can
make it?”

Neville nodded, the two officers almost carried him to the car and while Phil slipped behind the
wheel the other policeman, whose name it turned out was Harry, climbed in the back with
Neville.

“I have a friend called Harry,” said Neville once Phil had divulged the other’s name.

“Really Sir, that’s a coincidence, and what would your name be?” said Harry dryly, taking out a
small notebook.

“Err…Neville,” said Neville, “Neville Longbottom.”

“OK mister Longbottom, and would you like us to contact your friend Harry for you?” asked Harry
the policeman.

“Not sure how you would be able to do that.” Said Neville.

“We could try the telephone Sir,” Harry said helpfully.

“No,” said Neville dejectedly, “I don’t think that will work somehow.”

…………………………..

Julie Burford closed the filing cabinet, with a slam, another dead end in the Fullbrook murder
case. If they didn’t get a decent lead soon then the case would be scaled down and they would lose
manpower, and with muggles you needed manpower. What she would give for a squad of Aurors working
magically through all this information, being able to get from place to place instantaneously, and
not having to worry in which county they were working.

John had phoned to say he would not be back until morning, so Julie decided to call it a day and
head for home; it was only when she looked at the clock that she realised that she had worked most
of the night. The station was nearly deserted as she wound her way down the stairs. At the desk two
uniforms were logging an incident with the sergeant; the man it probably concerned was sitting
slumped in the corner of reception, holding his head in his hands. Julie was about to wave goodbye
to the sergeant as she left, when something caught her eye, the wedding ring on the hand cupping
the man’s head flashed in the light, and as she looked at it she took in the clothes he was
wearing. Wizards robes? No, not possible, then the man sighed and raised his head.

“Neville! What on earth are you doing here?” Julie cried.

Neville Longbottom looked at the woman dressed in muggle clothes then through his half closed
eyes he recognised her. “Julie? Oh Julie, help me please.”

“You know this man Ma’am?” The sergeant asked.

“Yes, of course.” Julie replied. She turned to the two constables. “What happened?”

………………………….

The beds in the hospital wing of Hogwarts had held many a patient with unexplained or
unexplainable injuries, and most, but not all had recovered. Harry and Hermione were standing at
the end of Neville’s bed while Ginny was keeping vigil at his side. Healer Felicity Jessup, a no
nonsense, middle aged witch, who was Poppy Pomfrey’s replacement, was looking over some charts,
having given Neville a thorough check up.

“I can’t explain it, Professors,” she said to Harry and Hermione, “Mr. Longbottom is fine in all
respects, apart from the fact he is unable to do any magic. You have checked his wand, and say that
his wand is working alright…there’s just no reason for it. I am at a loss.”

“You are sure there is nothing the muggles could have done to affect him?” asked Harry.

“Absolutely Professor, there has never been any recorded case of such a thing. Why muggles can’t
even see magic, their brains won’t allow it; they come up with all sorts of explanations rather
than admit to magic.” Felicity Jessup assured him.

“Always a first time.” Said Hermione quietly so only Harry heard her.



10. Healing the Past.
---------------------

Chapter 10. Healing the Past.

The start of this Hogwarts school year was for the students much like any other. For the new
intake it was a little scary and very awe-inspiring, for the older students it meant new challenges
and possibly the spectre of examinations to be faced at the end of it. For some there were new
responsibilities as well. James Potter and Jennifer Lupin had both been selected by the Headmaster
and both now had prefect duties to perform for their respective houses.

To James’ surprise his sister had shown no fit of jealousy, or really any untoward reaction when
his letter and badge had arrived. She had been politely encouraging and supportive, at this
additional barrier that had arisen between them, not her usual self at all. Although the bond
between them was far to intense to be permanently disrupted by run of the mill upsets like this Nat
usually made at least lip service to a normal brother and sister spat, just to make things seem
normal. Something had happened to her over the summer, James was sure of it, but despite the mental
exchanges that were commonplace to them he could discern no reason for his thoughts, but he knew he
was right none the less.

All the pageant, the complete panoply that made Hogwarts into the safe, secure environment that
it was, followed its inexorable course. The students were sorted, installed, and instructed as they
had been for over a thousand years. Hogwarts had become a symbol to many in the wizarding world as
the one place that never changed, and apart from the unpleasantness surrounding a certain dark
wizard, who for some still remained as ‘he who should not be named’, it never did.

In this castle that embodied all that wizards could be proud of, one wizard lay in his bed and
pondered what his life would be from now on with no magic to fill the emptiness he felt. Neville
was profoundly depressed, he knew his wife and daughter still loved him, he knew his best friends
loved and cared about him as they had always done, but inside him without his magic he felt as
nothing. He had never been that good at magic, he knew that, but the thought that he could no
longer walk his greenhouses nurturing with a single touch, those delicate and difficult plants he
was so fond of, took away his very existence. It is so sad that in depression one can only
concentrate on the negative side of life, that Neville still had so much that was good mattered for
very little, he was driving himself into a decline, that if allowed to continue, he may never be
able to recover from.

Healer Jessup had insisted that Neville stay at Hogwarts, partly because she didn’t want to fail
in her treatment of him but also because most of his closest friends were near at hand and they
were untiring in their efforts to help him. She knew that going to St.Mungo’s would be a one way
trip to the closed ward on the fourth floor; here he had a better chance. Of all Neville’s visitors
the one which caught the attention of the healer most was the youngest of the Potters’ children.
She would often come into the ward and sit at his side and just talk of insignificant things, but
if there was already a visitor at the bedside she would go to the corner of the ward and sit
quietly watching as if taking it all in, then suddenly, without making her presence known, leave
looking very thoughtful.

Professor Glynis Honeybourne the potions mistress, known to most of the older male students as
Professor Honey, but one has to say not to her face, sat in her office. For safety sake the potions
classes were still set in the dungeons, but her office on the first floor of Dumbledore Tower gave
her a splendid view out over the mountains that ringed the Castle and its lake. She was striving
very hard to make her position at Hogwarts successful, but she was young and pretty and in some
corners that was a disadvantage, however she knew her stuff.

Top of her class at Beauxbatons, she had graduated with the highest marks ever recorded at the
school, and then she was given the opportunity to teach at Hogwarts which was just too great to
miss out on. She felt fortunate to have been attached to Dumbledore House, Professor Granger the
head of the House had a fearsome reputation from her part in the destruction of Voldemort, but in
reality was one of the nicest people Glynis had ever met, along with her husband and the
Headmaster, she was made very welcome, and settled easily into the old school’s routine.

From the very beginning Glynis operated an open door policy for the students and never minded
the interruptions that grew from this. So it was no surprise to her that Natalie Potter knocked on
her door just a few days into the start of the term.

“Natalie, how nice to see you.” Said Professor Honeybourne, her French accent, acquired at
school, was hardly noticeable any more, “did you have a good summer?”

“Yes thank-you Professor,” Nat answered, staring at the Professor. She was momentarily
distracted by the thought that there was little physical difference between the appearance of the
pretty potions mistress and an image of herself she had once seen in her bedroom mirror. It was all
still a bit scary.

“You wish to ask me something?”

“Oh yes, sorry,” Nat got herself back on track. “Do you know of any potion that smells of
toffee?”

“Well, let me think, there are several that taste of toffee, but all of them smell very
different, usually quite revolting as I recall,” she replied, opening a large and very tattered
book on her desk, “but, as far as I can recall, there is only one that smells of toffee, caramel to
be precise, it is very old and not in use now. Its effects, if I remember correctly, were so
ghastly that its use was prohibited.” She continued to thumb through the book, and then near its
end she stopped pointing to the closely printed script on the page. “Yes here it is,
Extorqueaserum, used in the late fourth century, by the Inquisitorial Court of the Russian
Confederate of Wizards.”

“What for?” Said Nat dreading the answer.

“As a substitute for execution, it says here,” Glynis replied, then she read on. “Oh this is
quite horrible, it seems that witches or wizards deemed to be unworthy or a danger to their fellows
were given the potion, and it reduced them to the state of a ‘kerst’janka’, or ‘kerst’jannin’, a
peasant,” she looked up from the pages, “they mean a muggle.”

Nat looked back, her face very pale and despair in her emerald green eyes. “Does it mention any
cure, or a way to reverse the effects?” she asked with some desperation.

“Goodness what has got into you?” Professor Honeybourne asked in surprise, “anyone would think
you know someone affected by this awful potion.”

Nat was unsure whether to pursue this any further, then realising how close she might be to
getting all her questions answered, put her gift to work and looked deep into the soul of the woman
sitting before her. She saw only light no darkness and she knew that the Professor could be
trusted. The Professor for her part gasped as her soul was peeled open and read by the young girl
at her desk, then was filled with an unexpected joy as she passed the test. Professor Honeybourne
put her hand up to cover her heart, she was quite breathless as if she had witnessed something very
exciting. “What was that?” She laughed as she asked.

“I’m sorry Professor it’s something that I could always do, even when I was very young. I needed
to know if I could trust you. …Really trust you.”

“And, what did you find?”

Nat smiled at her then asked “Did you know that my Uncle Neville is in the hospital wing?”

“I did not know you had an uncle, Natalie? Ah! I understand, you must mean Mr. Longbottom, from
Thrubwell’s?”

“Yes, that’s right” said Nat. “Well he is, and he can’t do magic any more,” So Nat explained
everything she knew about Neville’s condition, and the fact that, even though she knew there were
none about, she could always smell toffees whenever she was with him, and it had set her to
wondering. “Now we know what the problem is we will be able to help him.” She said brightly.

But Glynis was shaking her head, “No my dear, I am afraid the cure is even more obscure than the
potion,” she turned the book so that Nat could read the page. “See here,” and Nat read.

“The effects of Extorqueaserum can only be reversed when the light of love hears the song of the
bird that sits in the tree of life.”

Nat stared at the page as if her very life depended on her fathoming out the riddle. “I think we
need to talk to my Mum and Dad,” she said, and gathering up the book and with a willing Professor
Honeybourne in tow, set off to find them. They found them sitting with Neville and Ginny in the
common room that Harry and Hermione shared as an office and formed part of the small set of rooms
they occupied while at Hogwarts.

Situated in the main building close to the Headmasters office it was very like the rooms they
had shared as head boy and girl all those years ago, but with one major difference. In those days
there had been a very special room, bare on the inside unless it was asked to find the location of
someone the viewer wished to see, then the room, the Speculator, would produce an image projected
on its walls and where that person was would be a secret no more. That room, as with all the rooms
that formed that very special place, had vanished the moment Harry and Hermione left the school to
start their home in Godrics Hollow.

“So how does this potion produce its effects?” Asked Harry, once all had been explained.

Professor Honeybourne looked disheartened, “I am sorry Harry but I am afraid I don’t know.”

“Oh Harry sometimes you can be so dense,” said Hermione in exasperation, “No offence intended
Glynis,” she said in an aside, “but Harry ought to know that the effect of spells and potions is
often hidden in its naming. Extorqueaserum literally means a dislocating potion, it must separate
the victim from his or her magic, it must use some form of barrier, for because once you have magic
you can never lose it. Only by dying can you relinquish your magic, and even then I am not so sure
it is that easy.”

Nat regarded her mother with a new respect; it was possible that even with the extra instruction
Eleanor had given her, Hermione was still smarter than she was.

“So,” said Harry, not in the least abashed by his wife’s reprimand, “all we have to do is break
down this barrier, and I suppose that this light of love and bird of happiness has something to do
with that.”

“It’s the bird that sits in the tree of life, Dad, not the bird of happiness,” said Nat sounding
rather like a young Hermione.

Harry actually had the grace to wince this time. “OK, …sorry, but whatever light or bird we
still don’t know what they are.”

“Harry,” this time it was Ginny who spoke, “look at this.” She had on her lap a book filled with
pictures and paper cuttings from her years at school. She and Neville were looking through it in
the hopes that something would spark his magic again.

It was a cutting from the Quibbler, the paper was a little yellowed, but the picture was a
bright as the day it had been taken. Six young witches and wizards were sitting and standing around
an old garden bench with a blaze of golden light surrounding them which pulsated brighter and
brighter. It was the Tyr, their picture taken in the Weasley’s garden so long ago. The caption
below it read ‘The hope for the future and the light of love.’

“At least that’s something,” Harry said closing the book, unaware as he did so that the last
four words faded from the caption under the picture. “We better send a message to Ron and Luna, it
looks as if we will need the whole Tyr for this.” Then he sniffed the air. “You know, you’re right,
there is a smell of toffees, I always thought that was me.”

The Tyr was together again, their lives may have led them in different directions but the bonds
formed at the very beginning were as strong as ever. They were all walking in the grounds of the
school, grouped together discussing what they were about to attempt.

“But we still don’t know about this bird,” said Ron, “could be anything.”

“I am sure it is a Phoenix,” said Hermione, “I found some references in the ….”

“Library?” suggested Ron, with a grin all over his face, “honestly Hermione, sometimes I think
you will never change.”

The banter continued, serious but light hearted at the same time, in an attempt to keep each
others spirits up. They were acting on an idea that had come to them as they talked, walking to the
place where they hoped their questions would be answered. None of the adults knew where this idea
had come from, but a dark haired green eyed girl was hoping that she was correct.

A little way behind the Tyr James and Nat were deep in conversation, but not a word was being
spoken.

*‘Are you sure you need me for this?’* James asked his sister, *‘I don’t see what I can
do.’*

*‘You are as much a part of this as I am; we need to be there, that is all I know.’*

*‘OK if you’re sure,’* he looked around, *‘where are we going?’*

*‘Down to the Forever Stone; Mum didn’t want to go that much, I think it holds some sad
memories for her.’*

*‘All the kids know it’s AH’s grave, he was the only student to die in the battle, so Mum must
have known him, I can understand that she would be sad.’* James thought.

Nat didn’t reply but in her own mind thought *“Oh James, if only you knew why Mum and Dad
glossed over that part of the story.”* Merlin’s gift had changed Nat in many ways, and the
knowledge of her own past was not the only result, she smiled at her brother and wisely she kept
her own council.

The two children watched as their father arranged the small group around the red granite slab
that lay on the bank of the lake. The surface of the stone was as clean and bright as the day Harry
and Hermione had created it, the gold lettering which had given it its name shone in the sunlight.
Students who visited the Forever Stone in the winter swore that even when the snow was piled high
around it the granite block was left uncovered. This simple grave had become one of the most
magical places in the school.

The Tyr stood as they had on the day they had helped Neville find his parents. Flanked by Harry
and Hermione, Neville stood in the centre of the group with Luna, Ron and Ginny behind him with
their hands on his shoulders. It was with a sense of disappointment that they realised that nothing
was happening, the love was there, but the magic was not, something was wrong. If they could not
rekindle the magic the power of the Tyr would be finished, they would never again be able to
combine their abilities, Nat knew she had to do something. She hoped her parents would forgive her
for what she was about to do, as she stepped forwards onto the Forever Stone raised her hand and
held it against Nevilles chest. Nat looked once at the shocked expression on her mothers face and
turning her gaze to Neville spoke to him.

“Uncle Neville,” she said, as if she was a teacher talking to a recalcitrant pupil, “for the
magic to be real you have to believe.” Then in her mind to her brother she thought *‘James, take
out your wand and make it sing.’*

*‘But Nat I don’t know how.’*

*‘Just ask it, ask it NOW!’* the last thought was a shout that everyone gathered around
that stone heard, and at its command all eight reacted.

The air around them began to vibrate as the power that now flowed through the members of the Tyr
was directed inwards to help one of their own. Ripples on the surface of the nearby lake raced away
towards the Castle at its far end, and then the air was filled with a song so beautiful and clear
that it washed away cares and doubts and filled eight hearts with the desire to succeed. The
explosion of light that erupted from the Tyr paled even the sunlight that had been shining down on
them, Nat lowered her hand and stepped back to stand next to her brother. The pair stood in wonder
as the light pulsated up and away from the six, all of them shining in the full power of their
magic, and then the children looked at each other and smiled, for of the six the two that shone the
brightest were their Mother and Father.

Nat heard a noise behind her and spun round to see what had caused it, standing just within the
trees was a tall slightly grey haired wizard, and he was staring intently at her, he inclined his
head in recognition then bowed imperceptibly and disappeared. Nat felt the blood rush to her face
and by the time she had composed herself again and turned back to the scene in front of her the
glow of love from the Tyr had dissipated and it was just the six old friends standing together once
more.

They talked about what had happened endlessly from the time they retraced their steps back to
the castle to the time Harry and Hermione insisted that Nat and James head off to their respective
dormitories for the night.

Nat had been forgiven the discretion of standing on the stone for understanding that James’ wand
held the feather of the Simurgh, the fabled bird that, once Hermione had sorted through a few heavy
tomes, the others discovered, lived in the tree of life.

They had all wondered the source of the power that infused them at the beginning, but once
Neville had said that he clearly saw Solomon standing in the trees Nat was only too glad to let
them believe that he was the one who did it.

It was a few days later that Nat discovered that her Uncle Ron had gone off to Durmstrang in
order to follow the trail of the potion, but by the time he had returned lessons were well underway
and she had to do a little surreptitious fishing to find out what he had learned.

“How did it go Ron?” asked Harry. They were sitting in the Potter’s common room eager to hear
what Ron had found out.

“Pretty good really,” he replied, “I’m beginning to warm to these Durmstrangers, always thought
they were a bit strange, but they were very helpful. Oh by the way Hermione, I ran into an old
friend of yours, Vicki Krum, remember him, he sends his love.” He said with an almost straight
face.

“It was all a long time ago Ronald,” said Hermione with a slight edge to her voice and a little
pinkness in her cheeks.

Ron wisely didn’t pursue that particular topic any further. “Well anyway, they certainly knew of
the Extorqueaserum potion, they use the making of it as a test for some special award in higher
potions studies but they always destroy it afterwards,” he said. “Although it’s not exactly illegal
to make it I think I managed to persuade them to choose a different potion, but goodness knows what
they will pick.”

“What about Draco, any sign of him?” asked Harry.

“No not directly and not at the school,” said Ron, “but I did some snooping in the village close
by and they did have a ‘foreigner’ there for a while, some time ago now. Sneaky sort, didn’t give
his own name, so they said called him Laska, which apparently means weasel, so it sounded like
Draco but the description was all wrong.”

“No other name to go with Laska?” asked Hermione.

“Funny you should ask that,” said Ron, “I followed the trail that Laska left when he moved away,
and found the wizarding inn he stayed at that first night. He had signed the register so he was not
trying to hide his movements, and he had used the name Laska Yoflam. Weird name isn’t it?”

Hermione gave Ron a look that he recognised immediately. He had seen that self same stare
countless times during the years they had spent together at Hogwarts, and it meant that he had
missed something glaringly obvious. “What?” He said, waiting for the axe to fall.

Harry started to laugh. Hermione rolled her eyes, something she had always been able to put a
lot of feeling into.

“Ronald,” she said patiently, “write out the name Yoflam, then write it out again
backwards.”

Ron did as he was asked, “Wow!” he said, with as much child like wonder he could manage, “It
spells Malfoy….Oh bloody hell!”

“Wizard logic,” said Hermione, “working as well as always. I suppose this Laska Yoflam
disappears off the face of the earth?”

“Well actually, Miss clever clogs,” said Ron gathering together as much of his self esteem as
remained, “He rented a room in Knockturn Alley, Tonks found out that only yesterday, as a matter of
fact.”

“And then?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“Err…he disappears of the face of the earth.” said Ron dejectedly, resigned to another bout of
eye rolling.

It looked as if Hermione was about to retort with more than just facial expression when Harry
butted in.

“OK you two, that’s enough,” then he laughed, “I can see a Granger-Weasley argument brewing
here, it’s just like being back at school,” then he regarded their surroundings. “Well I suppose we
are,… I think I have missed the three of us being together, how about you?”

“Sorry Ron,” said Hermione.

“Sorry Hermione,” said Ron.

“Great”, said Harry, “now that is all sorted out, we need to get this description of Laska
‘whatshisname’, to Julie Burford, seeing as we have connections in the muggle world, we might as
well use them as well as the wizarding ones.

While the adults slowly picked their way through the trail that Draco in his disguise had left
behind him, the younger members of the Potter family were working through some slightly different
problems, James had began having dreams. Like everyone else he had dreams most nights, and like
everyone else they faded quickly and were lost to the memory, but now his dreams stayed with him or
a least one particular dream did.

It didn’t come to him every night but each time it did, it was the same. A long corridor with a
large double door at its end bolted and barred. A corridor and a door that would have been
instantly recognised by either of his parents, and from behind that door was a faintly heard cry
for help. In his dream, no matter how hard he tried, James was unable to open that door, spells
didn’t work, the patented Weasley Lock Pick, “Available to Hogwarts students at a discount”, didn’t
work either. He knew he needed help to do it and after a while it occurred to him that it was his
sister who could provide that help.

By the time James sought out Nat the term had moved on, and the first Quidditch matches had been
fought out, Gryffindor had narrowly beaten Ravenclaw, that very morning. Nat was with Jennifer,
both still in their match robes looking a little hot and tired, but happy.

“Did you see your sister, Jimmy?” asked an elated Jennifer, “that last dive, I bet even your dad
wouldn’t have been able to pull that off.”

James laughed, “Yes I did, but I bet you didn’t see mum’s face, did you Nat? I am sure dad was
holding her wand hand down, I reckon she was going to send you direct to the hospital wing before
you hit the ground.”

“She always worries too much about me; doesn’t she know I am the best flier in Hogwarts?” Said
Nat.

“Yes she does,” said James, “and she knows you know, and that’s why she worries.”

Nat gave a snort that suggested that she could look after herself, but was secretly pleased that
her mother cared.

“OK I’ll be more careful. What was it you wanted by the way?” asked Nat.

“How did you know I wanted something?” said James suspiciously.

“Oh err… you just looked as if you did,” said Nat lamely, trying to hide the fact that she had
picked the thought out of her brother’s head without him realising. She would have to be more
discreet in future.

“Humm… well actually I did.” And so he explained his dream to both his sister and his
girlfriend. Nat followed his explanation both in his words, spoken for Jenny’s benefit, and in his
thoughts, making sure that he knew that she was in his mind this time.

She recognised the corridor straight away, not from her own experience but from the images she
had seen when her Mum and Dad had regaled the story of the defeat of Delores Umbridge. It was one
of those tales that only the immediate family were told, and Nat could remember every detail as
clearly as the day she had first heard it, but James obviously did not. Was this another sign of
the differences that were coming between them, her inner older self knew it would all be fine in
the end, but her outer younger self wished it was not all so complicated.

She didn’t really lie to her brother; she was just a little economical with the truth. “I know I
have seen that corridor somewhere before,” Nat said, scratching her head “It was in some other
story I‘m sure. Let me think about it for a while, and then we’ll work out what to do.”

She left it a week and then disturbed James and Jennifer when they were working close together,
as usual, in the library.

“I’ve remembered,” she whispered, “It’s a corridor in the Ministry, and the room is the one that
had the ball of souls in it.”

“Of course!” said James loud enough to receive a sharp look from Madam Pince.

“Can’t think why I didn’t recognise it before,” he continued in a much quieter voice. “Now all
we have to do is work out who is calling for help and what we can do about it.”

“We could tell Mum and Dad,” murmured Nat.

“We could,” muttered James as he watched Madam Pince disappear behind some bookshelves. “But it
wouldn’t be half as much fun as working it out ourselves.”

As Nat regarded the expression on her brother’s face she knew this was going to lead to trouble,
but there was enough of their parents disregard for doing the sensible thing in the both of them
for her to smile back, and so the adventure was set.

Two weeks before the end of term, early on a Sunday morning, three Hogwarts students had a
clandestine meeting at the top of the Astronomy tower. Not two boys and a girl as it would have
been some twenty years before but two girls and a boy, but this group, as had the other, were about
to break more school rules than you could comfortably write down in an evening’s detention.

“You don’t have to come Jen.” said James, “We’ll understand.”

“My dad wouldn’t though,” Jennifer replied, smiling and shivering at the same time. “Let’s do
it, it’s perishing up here.”

So all three held hands, Jennifer relaxed preparing herself for the transfer, James and Nat
concentrated and without a sound the three peragated away from Hogwarts. When Jennifer opened her
eyes the deserted corridor was there before them and at its end the locked and barred door.

They walked to the door still hand in hand as if they were seeking reassurance from each other.
Doing this sort of thing may have been commonplace for Harry and Hermione in their time at school
but for Nat, James and Jennifer this was a first.

“I can hear the voice quite clearly now, can you?” said James, Nat nodded, but Jennifer shook
her head. “Umm, it must be speaking to me up here.” James continued tapping the side of his head
with his finger. “That’s why Nat can hear it as well.”

Jennifer was only a little jealous of Nat’s ability to share her brother’s thoughts, she just
hoped he didn’t share all of them with her, and to her embarrassment began to blush at the
idea.

“How do we get in,” Jennifer asked, quickly shielding her reddening cheeks by allowing her long
blonde hair to fall forwards, hiding her face.

“Err… peragate I suppose,” said James, both he and Nat were examining the bolts and bars closely
and it hadn’t even registered with either of them that Jennifer was fighting this small internal
battle with her emotions.

“OK then,” said Nat, grabbing hands again. “One more time.”

Inside the room it was very cold; almost filling it was a large transparent ball, which at first
appeared to be empty. Then as their eyes became accustomed to the dim light they could see that
floating in the centre of it was the grey, thin figure of a Dementor.

Jennifer stifled a small scream and Nat had a look of disgust on her face, but James let go of
the girls hands and stepped up to the surface of the sphere and placed his hand flat against
it.

“What is it you want?” He asked the floating form in front of him.

“Help me, let me go,” a voice spoke in reply. It came not from inside the ball but from the
throat of the young girl behind him. James spun around to see Nat staring at Jennifer whose eyes
were blank and unseeing, though they were fixed on the daemon trapped before her.

“LET HER GO,” shouted James.

“Soon,” came a whispered response, “She is in no danger, I will not harm her. Your mind and that
of your sister are too powerful for me to use. This girl allowed me in, once I had explained
myself.”

James controlled his anger with difficulty while Nat regarded the creature before them more
closely, she began to realise that something was not as it should be.

“Tell me,” said Nat to the spectre in the glass prison, “tell me why we should let you go.”

“More than a thousand years ago an evil that has existed since the very beginning of time,
entered our world,” Jennifer’s voice whispered, “an evil which worked insidiously and trapped my
race to produce the being you see before you. In the long years before, my race lived on the
thoughts of man, not on the thoughts he needed but the thoughts he threw away each morning, we
lived on his dreams. We lived with man, we complemented him, and we saved him from his nightmares.
Then the evil came and corrupted my people with spells and enchantments too powerful for us to
break free from, we were always ethereal, our magic never very strong, and he turned us into what
you know as Dementors.” Jennifer’s voice gave rise to a long despairing cry of hate and revulsion.
“Now we had the power to take thoughts from man at any time and survival drove us to turn and use
the power to our advantage, we became despised, unwanted, and visible to wizards. Man still could
not see us, but even he hated what we could do, bringing unhappiness and despair to his world even
when he was awake. Our descent into evil was complete,” Despair, utter despair, clouded the
Dementor’s words. “Then when Harry Potter destroyed Voldemort the enchantments and spells began to
lift. But my race had sided with that of the Dark Lord and those that survived were imprisoned,
here in this sphere, isolated from the thoughts of man, to starve and die. Now I am all that
remains, as my brothers died, the enchantments on this prison weakened and the thoughts of man
leaked in. There are a few minds far stronger than others and to one of these I sent my plea. To
you James Potter I sent the dreams, I ask for help, I ask you to heal me, because the evil has not
completely gone from this world and it must not rise again.”

James was switching his gaze back and forth between the Dementor and Jennifer, not really sure
whether he should believe the creature his father had assured him was evil and not to be trusted.
He went over to Jennifer and held onto her shoulders, putting himself directly in her line of
vision he shook her gently trying to gain her attention. She blinked once and staggered forward
into his arms and held him tight to her.

“Are you OK?” he asked, his mouth was close to her ear and he whispered quietly.

“Yes I’m fine.” the response was sighed down through his open collar and he felt her breath on
his bare skin. “It may look awful on the outside but inside its mind is beautiful.” ‘*Please help
it James.’*

*‘Are you sure you want me to help it Jen?’* James closed his eyes hoping for the reply to
come to him as before.

*‘Yes.’*

*‘Look at me,’* Jennifer raised her head and stared at the deep brown eyes of her
boyfriend. *‘I love you.’* The words were there and the words were James’ but he did not speak
them.

Nat watched the exchange and she could not help the tear that came to her eye. For her it was
the final piece that gave her the freedom to move on when she wanted, her brother would be OK, and
so she turned her thoughts to the being that had brought this about.

*‘How and why did you do that?’* she asked the Dementor, *‘think at me, not her.’*

*‘A thank you for letting me in,’* the creature’s physical appearance was indeed repulsive
but the mind was soft and smooth. *‘My magic is weak as I said but it can be profound. She was
very close to doing it on her own; I just made the right connections so it happened quicker. Her
love for him is very strong, this will only strengthen it, she needs happiness.’*

*‘You could read so much in just the first fleeting connection?’* Nat was impressed.

*‘When you have read emotions for as long as I have it will be as easy, and you have all the
time in the world to learn.’*

*‘Fine just don’t spread that thought around, it’s not common knowledge yet,’* Nat
advised.

*‘As you wish,’* the velvety thought floated back.

Nat turned her attention back to the two still huddled in each others arms. “If you two could
spare a moment we still have things to do,” she said, and then throwing the thought casually
across, *‘Welcome to the party Jen.’* And she gave her a great big grin.

“How can we help the Dementor? Mum used the power of her necklace to get through the barrier, we
have nothing like that.” said James.

“Yes we do dear brother, mum’s necklace is concentrated love, and we have that. I just hope we
have enough.” Nat replied.

“Did I miss the bit where you got all smart?” asked James of his sister.

“Yeh,” she grinned. “Actually everybody missed that bit. Now hold hands, love each other and
walk forward.”

Which is exactly what they did, and to their surprise the wall of the sphere posed no barrier at
all. As they stood with the Dementor floating not three feet from them there was a tremendous crash
as the double doors to the corridor burst open, seven bodies piled through the doorway, Arthur
Weasley was in the lead and the Tyr was close behind him. There must have been a lot of frantic
shouting going on, but the children couldn’t hear anything, Nat knew her parents were trying to use
telepathy but she blocked their efforts, hoping they would think it was the ball doing it. The she
saw her mother fumbling in her robes for her necklace; they would have to be quick now.

“James use your wand, touch it to the Dementor’s forehead and make it sing again.” she
instructed.

Out in the room the shouts had stopped as the adults watched in horror as the one remaining
Dementor bowed his head towards James, it looked for all the world like it was going to perform the
kiss and Hermione started forward, the blazing jewel held in her hand. But before she had moved two
steps it was all over, James’ wand made contact and the song of the Simurgh rose and filled the
whole Ministry building. The tattered form of the Dementor fell away and in its place was a faint
blue presence glowing with light which bowed once to the children and vanished. As the light faded
the crystal sphere around the children vanished as well, and the full force of The Minister for
Magic and what was worse, their parents, descended upon them.



11. Here Comes a Whizz-Bang.
----------------------------

Chapter 11. Here Comes a Whizz-Bang.

“Don’t you think they have suffered enough?” Harry asked his wife just a few days before
Christmas. “The three of them confined to school for the holidays and only allowed out of the
school buildings with Dobby to watch their every move, why are you being so hard on them
Hermione?”

Harry and Hermione rarely disagreed, in all the time they had been married the number of
occasions could be counted on the fingers of one hand, but this time it seemed, Hermione wasn’t
about to let it go. The incident at the Ministry had badly frightened her, she still didn’t
understand what had really occurred, but she was convinced her children had been in mortal danger
and that was not to happen again.

“Why!” Hermione’s voice had a hysterical edge; she seemed unable to talk sensibly about the
subject. “Because, if they try something like that again, they are going to get themselves killed.
It’s not like with us, we had no choice, the danger was there and we had to face it. There was no
reason for them to go to the Ministry, it was idiotic, an unnecessary risk.”

Harry drew in a deep breath; he was determined to talk the matter through this time. He felt
that all this disturbance had gone on long enough, and it was interfering with their ability to
deal with all their other problems.

“Have you actually asked the kids why they went there?” He said, trying to reason with her.

“No.” Hermione replied shortly, folding her arms and turning her back to Harry.

“James was having dreams,” he told her.

“Dreams, what sort of dreams?” Now there was uncertainty in the tone of her voice.

“My sort of dreams,” explained Harry, “and as I did, he talked his dreams over with his best
friends. Then they determined to find out what they meant on their own, maybe not the most sensible
course of action, but me, I blame the example set to them by their parents,” Harry wrapped his arms
protectively around his wife, and kissed her on the back of the neck. “There is more of you and me
in those kids than may be good for them, but it is there, and there is nothing you or I can do
about that.”

“Oh Harry,” as her resistance melted away, she sagged in his arms. “What are we going to do with
them? And what with this Draco business I am beginning to feel the walls closing in about me
again.”

“Well, I suggest you go and have a good long talk with the kids, all three of them,” Harry said
in his best professorial tone, “Dobby can stay at school next term and keep an eye on them, and you
and me can sort out Draco.”

“You and I Harry, it’s you and I,” Hermione corrected automatically.

“That’s right love,” said Harry as he watched her walk across the room and out of the door. “The
both of us,” and he smiled to himself as the love of his life went in search of their children.

Christmas turned out to be not too bad after all, Hermione had calmed down, Tonks had long
gotten over her disappointment at her daughter’s actions, not so much at what she had done, but the
fact that they had allowed themselves to get caught, and Harry just breathed a sigh of relief. His
relief in part was due to what in the end had finally settled Hermione’s mind, on the matter of the
Dementor.

Solomon had searched through his large collection of ancient scrolls and found written evidence
to back up what Nat, James and Jennifer had been telling them all along. Dementors were a
corruption, not a real race of beings at all, they had just appeared, and those of them that were
there at the beginning were there at the end, because they couldn’t breed. They were an abomination
living a twisted existence, which was why in the end it was inevitable they would follow
Voldemort.

The Dreamwraiths, or the Sommulatum that the Dementors were derived from, had been a benign
race. In feeding on discarded memories and nightmares they had kept the balance between dream and
action, which helped to maintain peace and tranquillity. No wonder the history of both muggles and
wizards was littered by wars and strife, which as time progressed became worse and worse. It had
crossed Harry’s mind as to what the fate of the world might be if this situation continued, so even
in his new knowledge there were worries.

…………………………………

Draco had no worries, his plans were maturing nicely. He held Julius Magus on a tight rein, the
muggle had no way of fighting the Imperious curse and it was distinctly possible he was completely
unaware that he was under its influence anyway. Convinced he had reduced the fighting ranks of the
Tyr by one, Draco almost discounted them as a threat. Individually its members were still a danger,
in the case of Potter and Granger, a great danger, he pondered on that thought because no matter
how he looked at it, he could not see them as husband and wife.

To him they had always remained as the swotty know-it-all and the boy with more luck than anyone
should have. As a couple, in love, producing children, Draco gave an involuntary shudder; the whole
idea was too revolting to contemplate. Studying his opponents was something that Draco spent a
great deal of time doing. There were others, …Minister Weasley and his Aurors, a minor concern,
they would get theirs in good time, …the muggle authorities, Magus worried more about them than
Draco did, and then there was the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Solomon Aegis, why couldn’t he have been a spineless weakling like old Dippet, the one his
father had to avoid when he was at school, but no, like Dumbledore he has to be powerful and
worldly wise, how he hated him. Never mind, Draco had plans for all of them and before the summer
solstice they would all be dead, or worse than dead, and he would start with Aegis. Draco smiled,
this they won’t expect, and if he was lucky and his plan worked, he may get more than one with this
blow.

Magus Industries was a huge organisation and had many fingers in many pies. One of these pies,
Draco was delighted to discover, produced weapons for the muggle military. Wizards didn’t
understand the way muggles made war, they knew it was messy, noisy and there was always a lot of
blood involved. The muggles seemed to destroy and kill at random, to Draco’s mind using far more
force than was necessary. They had in their arsenal weapons capable of destroying villages, towns,
and cities, certainly more than enough power to destroy an old Castle.

Julius Magus, standing with his new personal assistant Draco Malfoy, his previous one had simply
disappeared, observed the activity in the hanger like room that they had just entered. Two
nondescript vans were parked in the centre on the large concrete floor, and six men in paramilitary
uniforms were loading the equipment into them. The new short range spot guided tactical missiles
were preloaded in the shoulder carried launchers that were being secured in the vans. If this final
test was successful then the government was bound to confirm its order, for them to supply the army
personnel and select the firing area and target was a good sign. It never occurred to Magus that
certain aspects of the test and the delivery of the weapons was not the way in which the Army
usually worked, but it would not have concerned him anyway, as Draco had covered that part of the
arrangements and Julius had every confidence in him.

“You understand,” Draco addressed the six men, assembled in a line before him. “That your target
will be protected by a unit using hallucinogenic gas, partly we are testing the missiles, but also
this po… err drug, which you must take once you get within twenty miles your target area.”

“Yes Sir, all understood,” answered the soldier standing at the end of the line.

“The target is an old crumbling ruin, so we expect you to destroy it utterly,” Draco smiled as
he spoke. “You certainly have the firepower for the job.”

“Leave it to us Sir; we will make sure the test is a success.” The man turned and with a few
brisk words ordered the others into the vans. Within a few minutes Draco was watching as the hanger
door closed again after the last departing vehicle.

The small convoy sped northwards unimpeded, even by the unusually heavy snow fall that had
descended on Scotland this year. The satellite navigation equipment in the lead van unerringly
guided them toward of the most isolated locations any of the men had ever worked in.

Precisely twenty miles short of the target location the vans drew to a stop, and as ordered six
doses of *nebulaintegum* potion were downed under the label of ‘Antihallugen’ (for use of HM
Forces only), it was very sweet and left an aftertaste of elderberries. The potion would have been
totally useless if the soldiers had actually come up against a hallucinogenic gas, but it would
make them resistant to the anti-muggle spells that normally dissuaded passers-by from stopping and
lingering near to Hogwarts Castle.

The potion was not powerful enough to break the enchantment that turned the magnificence that
was Hogwarts into the crumbling ruin that all but the uninitiated would see when looking at it, but
that worked to Draco’s advantage, the muggles would not hesitate to fire on a pile of old stones,
whereas a bustling and brightly flagged Castle in good condition was another matter. The missile
squad waited the required half an hour as directed on the bottles of potion before moving in. Their
leader thought they would arrive at the target about mid morning, fifteen minutes to set up and
then fire the missiles, with luck they could be back in Edinburgh before the pubs closed.

……………………………..

Harry loved to see Prongs, his patronus, running round and round the Quidditch pitch grass. This
was one of his special classes, Hagrid always kept the pitch clear of snow for the matches and
Harry used this open area to its full. The day was cold and the sky grey with clouds that
threatened more snow. With his class of fifth years arranged over the grassy pitch they were
practicing producing patronesses.

Although traditionally used to repel Dementors, a patronus was basically a shield so it, could
drive off many different magical creatures and dispel some of the slower acting enchantments. This
was fortunate, as since his son had removed the threat of Dementors for good, Harry was concerned
that Prongs and his like would serve no useful purpose. Thanks to Hermione ploughing through the
library, these additional uses were rediscovered, and Harry did not have to think up a new subject
to fill these lessons.

The production of a corporeal patronus was a good mark of the power of a witch or wizard, Harry
had mastered the spell in his third year. James had matched his mother in producing his and only
now was the half man half eagle visible for any length of time. James had called him Simms, the
face and torso of a man, with wings that would have made him look like a typical angel but for the
fact that his lower half was that of a bird, with a magnificently flared tail and three-toed claw
feet.

Simms could fly at a considerable speed on his powerful wings and he produced quite a wake as he
passed by. It tired James to keep him active for any great length of time, but Harry knew that this
would improve with practice. Harry watched and helped his students as many and various patronesses
flashed in and out of existence, some only wisps of smoke, some partly formed and one or two fully
fledged. There were so many bits of this and that, floating in the air around, him that Harry
didn’t really recognise the smoky trail for what it was, only as the rocket flashed over the pitch
and its roar climbed above all the cries of *Expecto patronum* echoing off the stands around
him, did he realise the enormity of what he was seeing.

Rushing out of the pitch, Harry saw the missile plough into a snow bank, in front of Hagrid’s
barn, the one he used for classes in winter, and explode. The barn disintegrated in a flash of
flame and smoke and the shockwave from the explosion smashed every pane of glass in the school
greenhouses, and nearly blew Harry off his feet. The trail from the rocket hung in the air and
clearly marked its path down from the far end of the lake near to where the muggle road passed the
end of the valley, and then to his horror he could see four more rockets streaking over the still
waters of the lake toward the school.

With the yells of confusion from his own class, and the screams of pain coming from the
greenhouses ringing in his ears, Harry sent a mental cry of his own to the two people he knew would
be able to help, and in an instant Hermione and Solomon were standing next to him in the snow.

The missiles were half way to the castle when the three of them sent a barrage of reductor
curses flying out to meet them. Two rockets exploded with tremendous force in the air over the
lake, throwing the others momentarily off course, but fixed as they were to the twinkling laser
lights on the castle walls the error was corrected and they flew on toward their target. A second
wave of reductor curses shot upwards as straight as arrows, and a third rocket was gone in a splash
of fire. The last remaining projectile was within fifty feet of its target when it was surrounded
by a brilliantly shimmering ball of force. Harry saw Solomon close his fist, and as he did so the
ball contracted crushing the enclosed missile, which flashed white hot for a split second, and then
vanished into nothing.

Solomon cried out in pain and thrust his smoking hand into the cooling snow which sizzled and
steamed as it took the heat away. Harry and Hermione turned to rush to his aid, so none of the
defenders saw the final sixth trail of smoke racing toward them. James standing in shock with his
classmates did, whilst his friends dived for cover in the trench the ran around the edge of the
Quidditch pitch, he ran forward, and yelling at his parents to take cover used the only spell that
came to him mind. The cry of EXPECTO PATRONUM had hardly left his lips when Simms, his wings
pumping, soared up to meet the descending missile. Following the direction of James’ unwavering
wand the patronus connected with the tip of the device and the resulting detonation knocked James
flying and pieces of hot metal blasted holes in the brightly coloured stadium behind him.

For a few seconds there was absolute silence then chaos descended, amid the yells and screams
Harry and Solomon vanished to reappear amongst the wreckage of the greenhouses, there was a lot of
blood on the tables and floor, but Professor Sprout sporting several cuts of her own, was
organising the students of her class and informed Solomon that the most seriously injured were
already on their way to the hospital wing. Harry had run on to the remains of Hagrid’s barn, but
although there was little left to recognise, it was clear that the building had been unoccupied at
the time of the attack.

He looked back down towards the stadium and could see that his own class was gathered around a
form on the ground that was being cradled in the arms of his wife. Hermione was rocking backward
and forward and by the shaking of her shoulders Harry could tell she was crying. With fear in his
heart he peragated to her side, but with her head bowed over he could not see the condition of the
boy, their son, who she was holding so close to her. Harry reached down to touch Hermione’s
shoulder and she looked up at him, the tears in her eyes were falling freely and the expression on
her face told its own story.

…………………………….

“Well they were a bloody waste of time,” said the soldier as he and his men packed away the
empty launchers. “Four premature activations, one we don’t think exploded at all and only one hit
and even that one was a bit short on range. Magus and his crowd will have to go back to the drawing
board with this one.” He laughed ironically. “The only success was that we didn’t get any
hallucinations.”

The men around him joined in his laughter and then fell silent three people, a woman and two
men, suddenly appeared out of nowhere to stand in the middle of the road. They were dressed in long
coats with large sleeves, they were dishevelled and streaked with grime and looked as if they could
have been on the receiving end of one of their SRSGM’s. The woman was shaking, obviously very
upset, there was fury in her eyes and tear streaks could be seen clearly on her face, she raised
her arm. In her hand she held a stick which she thrust out at the lead van, the word that she
shouted sounded like *‘BOMBARDA’* there was a rush of wind, a bright flash and the van
disintegrated into thousands of very small pieces.

For a few seconds the soldiers were shocked into immobility, then their natural survival
instincts took control and they scattered. They didn’t get very far, to their continued surprise
ropes appeared out of thin air and without any human intervention proceeded to wrap themselves
around each of them. Bound tight like this they could not maintain their balance and one by one
they crashed to the frozen road.

…………………………………….

Harry sat by the bed and stared down at the still form of his son, he was tired and close to
tears. He had made Hermione take a sleeping draught so at least she was now resting in a dreamless
sleep away from all this. The ward was crowded, students covered in bandages, and extra healers
brought in from St.Mungo’s, filled every space. Even Poppy Pomfrey had come to lend a hand and at
that moment she laid it on Harry’s shoulder.

“You must get some sleep Harry,” she said softly, despite the number of people in the ward, it
was eerily quiet.

“Soon,” said Harry as the still form before him moved. James’ chest rose slowly and he took
another breath. “I thought he was dead you know; only when Hermione looked up and I saw her relief
was I sure he wasn’t.” Harry smiled sadly with the memory. “Then James gives me a grin, says ‘I’m
fine dad’ and passes out.” Harry paused and sighed. “He was still connected to his patronus when
that bloody rocket exploded, that’s why he was knocked about so.”

“Yes Harry I do know,” Poppy replied.

“Of course you know,” said Harry sleepily, “You know everything, thank-you Poppy.” Then Harry’s
head nodded forward and he fell asleep in the chair.

Poppy Pomfrey took a spare blanket and wrapped it around Harry trying to make him a little more
comfortable. She ran her hand through his tousled hair, to her he was still that little boy who
fell off his broom a lot and injured himself completing feats that many a full grown wizard would
have run from. “Thank me Harry? … No thank-you.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead
and thanked Merlin that it was this particular boy who had received that scar.

Harry woke the following morning, refreshed but very stiff. As he surfaced from his sleep the
gentle murmur of voices informed him that the nursing staff were checking on the patients lying
quietly in their beds. He looked to his son and was relieved to see two deep brown eyes staring
back at him, James was so like his mother in many ways. *‘But trying to take out that rocket
yesterday, that sounds more like me’,* he thought.

“Hi Dad, you OK?”

“Hi yourself, I’m fine, how about you?”

“Bit sore and stiff,” said James.

“Tell me about it,” said Harry, his left buttock had gone back to sleep and he shifted in his
chair in an attempt to wake it up.

The door to the hospital ward creaked partly open and Hermione and Nat squeezed through. Nat ran
across to her father and brother, Hermione followed more slowly, the expression of apprehension
fading as she saw James heave himself into a sitting position to welcome his sister.

Once Hermione had satisfied herself that James was OK, she and Harry left him in the company of
Nat and made their way to the headmaster’s office, where they were sitting waiting for Solomon to
return.

Hermione was still very definitely on edge; Harry had no difficulty in recognising that, he
regarded his wife with concern; he had never seen her so mixed up. She had always been the one with
the answers, so sure, so steady, but since the thing with the Dementor last term and now this
attack, she was more vulnerable than he ever imagined she would be.

The door opened and Solomon entered, he was tired not having slept at all the last night, but
with only one glance he read the troubled look on Harry’s face and knew the reason for it. With a
negligent wave of his hand a tray of tea and buttered toast appeared on the small table near the
chairs.

“There Hermione,” Solomon said lightly, “shall I be mother, or will you?”

Her brown eyes darted up and she seemed about to say something, but she was held by the steady
gaze that Solomon returned, and no words escaped her mouth. The eyes that had seen countless
triumphs and tragedies over fifteen hundred years bored through the layers of hopes, fears, desires
and love that made up this most remarkable witch, the like of which Solomon had only ever
encountered once before. He felt Harry join them and together they led Hermione through the maze of
thoughts in which she was in danger of losing herself.

Motherhood had changed Hermione’s perception of life, she had never really worried about
herself, and with the protection of Hermione’s Tear, she had little reason to. In their fight with
Voldemort she had worried about Harry, he had had her complete confidence, but she still
worried.

He was not her worry now, James and Nat, that was where the problem lay, if Hermione failed her
children they would pay with their lives, and this thought was eating away her resolve. Perhaps
they should run away and find somewhere to hide then the problems of the wizarding world would not
be theirs. Hadn’t they done enough?

Nat sitting quietly by her brother’s bed followed Harry and Hermione with her mind as they
departed for Solomon’s office. James was in a doze so Nat concentrated all her thoughts on her
parents, her mother in particular. Nat could feel Hermione’s confusion, her worries and her
desperation to protect her children. Nat knew that she could help, but her mother would not listen
to her, she needed someone she could really trust, and so before she sent her mind on its errand of
mercy she constructed a simulation of a wizard that even Hermione would believe.

*‘I don’t know what to do,’* Hermione wailed in thought, and then suddenly her mind was
isolated from Harry and Solomon and every thing went black. For half a second she panicked, then as
the light grew again she saw she was not alone. As far as she could tell the room she was in was
built of stone, blank, featureless and not very large, someone was holding her hand, but even
before it was light enough to see a face, Hermione felt her presence, she knew it was Nat.

She turned expecting to see her daughter and looked straight into the face of the oldest man she
had ever seen. He had a long white beard and long white hair and was dressed in a blue robe studded
with golden stars, at first she thought it was Dumbledore, then as the light brightened although
there were similarities Hermione could tell it was not. He did look familiar, but the likeness was
to that of Solomon, and then she realised whose company she was in.

“Merlin?” She asked in a slightly timid voice.

“That’s right my dear, and what can I do for you?” The old man’s voice trembled and tripped over
the words. “Come on now, don’t be shy.” He treated her to a gentle smile.

“Oh! Ahh! err… I thought you called me, didn’t you?” Hermione was confused and embarrassed all
at the same time.

“Oh yes, silly me, of course I did,” said Merlin, shaking his head at his woolliness. “Look
Hermione, look at the wall and see.”

Merlin retrieved his wand from the voluminous pocket of his robes, it was long and crooked and
with a flourish he waved it in the direction of the wall, thousands of tiny stars shot from its end
and vanished into the stonework.

The wall of the room sparkled and flashed and an image appeared as if projected on its surface,
it was Avalon and the scene was that of a wedding. Initially Hermione thought it was her own, but
surely that was the two of them standing to one side. Hermione scanned the crowd, she recognised
many faces, but there were a few she could not place, all of them looked as if they were having a
wonderful time. As she glanced back at herself and her husband standing there near the bride and
groom, Hermione noticed that there was a touch of grey in Harry’s normally jet black hair.

This was an image of the future and that future was happy and all that she cared about were safe
and sound. It was at that moment that the bride and groom turned, looked directly at her, and
smiled. Not at the Hermione that was there with them but at her standing here and now in this
strange room watching. The image faded and Hermione gave a sigh of disappointment.

“Sorry my dear, but you have no idea how hard gazing into the future really is,” said Merlin.
“So you see everything will be all right, there is no need to worry, just do what you have to
do.”

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked. “Looking into the future can be quite unreliable you know.”

“This is the way it will be.” He told Hermione, his tone was sure and sincere, and although
Hermione still retained her doubts about the accuracy of fortune telling, she was happy enough to
believe him. “You know now, but you must tell no one what you have seen. Be well my dear.” And then
Hermione found herself back in the comfortable minds of Harry and Solomon, who were unaware that
she had ever left them, and she was at peace.

The stooped figure that looked so much like the great Merlin shimmered and in his place stood a
fourteen year old girl that was in reality a bit older than that. For a moment Nat stood alone in
the blank room, she hoped that using the image of Merlin would cover her tracks; she had been a
little careless with her powers of late, and was sincerely hoping that no one was putting two and
two together. She waved her wand again and the wedding scene reappeared on its wall, but then on
the other three walls different images appeared.

For the wedding was only one possible future, and Nat knew that as things stood any of the four
images shown in the camera posterum, the room of the future, could come true. Nat turned and
surveyed the scenes she had hidden from her mother. A landscape blackened and burnt, devoid of life
graced the second wall, the third a scene so appalling with flames and torment boiling out of it,
that Nat had to turn away. On the fourth and final wall there was nothing, it wasn’t that it was
blank because you could actually feel the nothing that it showed, and it was the thought of that
nothingness that frightened Nat more than anything.

Harry and Solomon congratulated themselves, the session in the office this morning, and the
subsequent questioning of the six muggles had brought Hermione back to her normal self. All her
doubts had vanished and Harry could find nothing in her mind that suggested the change of heart was
not genuine. He was relieved; they would all need to be thinking positively if they were to
overcome this new challenge the information from the muggles had unearthed.

…………………………………

The muggle soldiers had co-operated, and co-operated willingly. They had spent the night locked
in the room of requirements, which was masquerading as a deep, dark, slimy dungeon, with the castle
ghosts for company and by morning were eager to talk.

They had realised that what they had thought were illusions brought about by the hallucinogenic
gas were in fact very real. Tough men though they may have been, there is a limit to the number of
times you can sit through the telling of the botched attempt to behead Sir Nicholas de
Mimsy-Porpington, especially when the tale is told by the victim himself with added actions.

They told all that they knew. It was not much for their knowledge was limited to the job on hand
the planning and testing of the missiles, but there were a few names and locations that proved
useful to the wizards. The men had not acted maliciously or with intent to kill or maim, so with
their memories modified and filled with a job well done and completed to the letter, the muggles
were put back in their remaining van and sent on their way. It was left up to them to come up with
a good reason for the loss of the other vehicle.

So Harry, Hermione, Solomon and the rest of the Tyr now knew of the existence of Magus
Industries, and the fact that Draco Malfoy had been involved in planning the attack on the school.
Now they had their target, they just needed a bit more information for they wanted nothing to get
in their way. Unfortunately for them Draco was of the same mind, there was only one thing he
intended to put in their way, and that was indeed nothing, but the nothing he had in mind was a
nothing that none of them had ever come across before.



12. It's Comming All Unclued
----------------------------

Chapter 12. It’s Coming all Unclued.

Julie Burford and her husband studied the parchment on the desk. Harry had left them with a full
transcript of all they had been told by the soldiers and had filled them in on the casualties at
the school. Fortunately no one was killed, the cuts were all but healed and the broken bones would
be repaired in a few days, but it was going to take time for the two arms and a leg lost to flying
glass to re-grow.

John scratched his head, “Problem is love, how do we follow up on an attack on a place that to
all intents and purposes, doesn’t exist, and Magus Industries is big, really big. They will have
corporate lawyers all over this if we so much as hint that we have some dirt on them, they’ll close
us down in five minutes.”

“We have to find another reason to make a few enquiries,” said Julie, moving to the computer and
calling up the page on Magus Industries. “There must be something, or someone, so innocuous that
will get us in.” She scrolled down the page listing the staff employed at the head office in London
and one name caught her eye. “I wouldn’t have believed that,” she said in astonishment.

“Believed what?”

“Dudley Dursley, well, well.”

“Who is Dudley Dursley when he is at home?” asked John.

Julie looked up and raised her eyebrows, “Only Harry Potter’s cousin.”

……………………………

“How on earth did you remember about Dudley?” Harry asked Julie when they met the next day in
the Three Broomsticks. John Burford was gazing around the pub with unashamed fascination, he saw
little of the wizarding world normally, this was a feast of the unusual for him.

“You told me so many stories about him when I was at school Harry, so that his name just jumped
off the screen. I think it’s the one about the ton tongue toffee that really sticks in my mind.”
She giggled with the memory of it.

“Did I really tell that many?” she nodded. “Perhaps it was my way of getting the Dursleys out of
my system, must admit I haven’t thought about them for years.” He said.

“Err… Harry, did you know that your Uncle is dead?”

“No… I didn’t.” Harry answered.

“Sorry…. it was about ten years ago, a heart attack at work, it said in the records. I thought
you ought to know.”

“Don’t be sorry Julie, couldn’t stand the man.” Harry held a thoughtful gaze. “Can’t help
wondering how Aunt Petunia managed without him though.”

“Want to find out?”

“What visit Aunt Petunia so that she can shout at me some more?” said Harry giving Julie a look
that suggested that wild hippogriffs wouldn’t be able to drag him there. As he considered the idea
some more he suddenly burst out laughing. “Yeah, why not.” He said. “Might be good for me.” He
continued to laugh to himself as he watched the antics of the muggle policeman. “You’d better
collect John before he gets into any trouble,” he told Julie, nodding in the direction of her
husband who was in the process of poking what appeared to be a large ball of fur that was sitting
on the bar. “If he manages to wake up that dentidumballdus he is going to loose a finger, or maybe
more.”

“John come here and leave that poor thing alone,” called Julie, as if she was talking to a six
year old. He recoiled as he was about to poke the ball again and backed off. The infidumbulldus
opened its one eye and yawned, showing row upon row of needle pointed teeth in a six inch wide
mouth that snapped shut with an audible ‘clack’ as the teeth came together. John gave Harry and
Julie a rather sick smile, as he realised how close he had come to leaving part of his anatomy
behind.

………………………………………..

Harry stood at the end of Privet Drive and stared at the house he never thought he would see
again. The years had mellowed the estate where he had grown up, and he felt a pang of nostalgia,
not for his relations, but for the roads and pathways he had tried to lose himself in when things
were going badly at number four.

The house itself looked as if it could do with a coat of paint, but the small front garden was
as neat and tidy as it had always been. Harry let John and Julie lead the way, they were here on
muggle police business, he was just a hanger on. The door was opened on the second ring, and from
the shadows behind his friends Harry had his first glimpse of his Aunt in nearly twenty years.

She would be over seventy now, her face was a thin as ever and was crowned with grey hair held
in a tight perm. One thing hadn’t changed however, and that was her voice, as waspish as it used to
be as she questioned the right of these strange people to be standing on her doorstep. John handed
over his warrant card and her demeanour changed, she appeared almost glad to see them, with a
little more genuine grace she invited them in and it was at that moment Petunia saw the third
figure lurking in the background and realised who it was.

“You!” she cried, and Harry prepared himself for the tirade of abuse he felt sure was coming in
his direction. He could see the emotions in her face vying for supremacy, he wasn’t sure which one
won but her shoulders sagged as if the fight had been too much for her and said, “It’s been a long
time Harry; you better come in as well.”

Harry admitted later that his aunt’s reception baffled him, to begin with he had not expected it
to be anything like as cordial. However it appeared that Petunia was at her wits end and any
familiar face, however unwanted, became something she could fix her hopes on, and to that extent
Harry was welcome. Under the gentle probing from John Burford, Harry learned more about his
relatives than he ever found out in the eleven years he had called this house his home, and he
learned about the circumstances of Vernon’s death.

The company had treated them well, given Dudley a job and provided a pension for Petunia, on the
understanding that she accepted the verdict of the company coroner and didn’t contest the
circumstances of Vernon’s demise. She had complied and for the last ten years there had been no
problems, the pension was adequate which suited her, and Dudley’s job was undemanding which suited
him. He had stayed with his mother at home, and judging by the photographs on the walls had grown
to command the same robust physique as his late father. Then, she told them, a month ago Dudley had
moved offices to the company’s research site and since then she had not heard from him, and
eventually in desperation she had called the police.

She had assumed that John and Julie’s visit was a result of that call, and neither had the heart
to dissuade her from that thought. It also gave them a reason for Harry’s presence, for as her only
other living relative it was natural that they would ask him to accompany them when they visited,
wouldn’t they, and Petunia appeared to accept the story.

“Do they know what you are?” Petunia asked Harry while the others were searching Dudley’s room
for any clues.

“No,” lied Harry, “they think I am normal.”

“Are you good at….you know?”

“Magic?” queried Harry, “Yes,” he said, not waiting for her to respond, “Very.”

“Could you find Dudley by…….?” she twiddled her fingers in a bad imitation of someone casting a
spell.

“Possibly,” he said, wondering why he was being so polite, then he realised that whatever she
had been before, now she was just an old frightened woman and he could not bring it on himself to
be nasty to her.

*‘Proud of you,’* Hermione’s familiar thoughts washed through his mind.

*‘Thanks’* he sent back, then to his aunt, “Look the police are coming back, they’ll want
to talk to you again, I’ll go and make some tea, and I promise I will do what I can.”

As the kitchen door slowly closed behind him the words “Thank-you Harry,” spoken softly but
sincerely, floated out to him.

Harry listened for a few seconds to the muted conversation through the kitchen door, then while
waiting for the kettle to boil wandered out into the hall. The door to the cupboard under the
stairs drew him like a magnet and he opened it half expecting his bed and few possessions to still
be there. Aunt Petunia was obviously using it for its proper purpose now, as a brush and a mop fell
out on him as he opened the door. Closing it as quietly as he could, he continued his tour and
climbed the stairs to his old bedroom. The last time he had set foot in this room it was to find
that Dumbledore had sent him a portkey to whisk him back to Hogwarts to meet Hermione and Solomon
and start the adventure that had changed so many things.

The door opened silently and Harry looked in on a room that hadn’t changed in all that time. His
aunt, uncle and cousin had probably pretended that once he had left, the room didn’t exist at all.
The same bed, the same wardrobe and the same desk with the circular mark where Hedwig’s cage had
sat still visible, they were all as he remembered.

He sat on the bed and stared out of the window, his thoughts raced through all that had happened
to him since the last time he had sat here. An intense deep warm scent of vanilla assailed his
nostrils, and then he heard a very familiar voice.

“Memories Harry?” asked Hermione.

“Yeah,” said Harry, and he held out his hand to the witch that had silently peragated to his
side. She took it and sat beside him on the bed, which gave an ominous creak as it sagged under
their combined weight. Harry slipped his arm around her waist and their heads touched as Hermione
leaned towards him. “So much has happened since I was last here; it’s hard to take it all in, and
we don’t know when it will all end.”

Hermione hugged her husband to her, “You’re beginning to sound the way I felt, but don’t worry,
everything will be fine, I promise,” she said. “Come on, we’ve things to do.” With that she jumped
to her feet and pulled Harry to his, she pushed him out of the door and as he continued towards the
stairs she turned, took one last look into the past and drawing her wand spoke two quiet words, all
the furniture in Harry’s old room vanished, new paint appeared on the walls and a bright new carpet
graced the floor. “There,” said Hermione brushing her hands together after a job well done. “Ready
for a fresh start, …just like me.” And she followed her husband down the stairs and out the front
door.

…………………………………

He never had a name, or if he did he had forgotten it, his existence depended on thought, muggle
thought, wizard thought, witch thought, it didn’t matter. Thoughts discarded without knowledge, on
purpose, by failing memory or failing mind, all were sustenance to the Dreamwraith. He never took
these thoughts by force; he sort of swept them up before they faded away, but that was not always
so. As a Dementor he had ripped the very souls from the bodies of countless victims, and gorged
himself on their despair, but the curse that had made him act in that way was broken. He was free
from all but his memories and they would never leave him, he would never be pure himself, but
others could be. He shaped a thought and another Dreamwraith appeared, he hid his evil past from
the newcomer, only the purity of his reborn self did he pass on and he watched as the newcomer
produced more of his kind, as did they in their turn, and the re-creation of a race continued.

The first Dreamwraith drifted away from his fellows, the existence of his race was assured now
and once again the task that was set before them at the beginning would be carried out. This would
not be his future, he had memories to act upon and debts to repay, the evil that had caused so much
pain was still abroad, it must be found and it must be stopped. It was not hard for him to find it,
power radiated out from its source in all directions, the Dreamwraith followed the beams back and
down into the earth. He now stood invisible, next to the wizard that held the evil in his mortal
hand, but for the moment he was unable to act against either. The Dreamwraith could not do this by
himself, he needed help, and he knew that only those who had released him from his curse could give
him that help.

………………………………………..

Draco was elated, the report from the soldiers was one of complete success, all the missiles had
found their target, he tried to imagine the destruction, the falling masonry, the pain and death
that would have followed. If Harry had survived it would not be long now, and as an added bonus one
of the vans had crashed on the slippery roads and lay close to the remains of the school, even if
Harry could not follow any of the other clues then the van would eventually bring him here, he only
had to wait.

…………………………………..

The Tyr had gathered and with Tonks, Julie and John Burford they were sifting through all the
information they had. Solomon sat behind his office desk and watched the activity of Harry and his
friends in silence, his thoughts racing around in his head.

He felt that it was a great deal of effort that they were putting in to apprehend one renegade
wizard, even if it was Draco Malfoy. He supposed that having muggles on both sides of the equation
complicated matters, but deep down he was sure that there was something that they were missing. All
the information now pointed to the Magus Industries research station as the place where Draco was
hiding. The warehouse the soldiers had used prior to the attack on Hogwarts had proved to be just
that, rented on a short lease by the company, but now completely empty.

John, the muggle policeman, was convinced that Draco had murdered the old Professor, seen by the
security camera going into the building as Laska and coming out as Draco. This was as Solomon knew,
from John’s point of view Draco’s most serious crime, but for the moment he had not passed that
information on to his muggle colleagues so at least there was no hue and cry from that direction to
further muddy the waters. Then to top it all Harry’s cousin Dudley had gone missing after going to
work in the research complex. Solomon could not figure why Draco would kidnap what was apparently
one of Harry’s least favourite people, perhaps he intended to use him as a human shield, and by all
accounts he was certainly big enough*.*

It was almost as if Draco had laid a trail leading directly to himself, in order to provoke a
fight, but he would never best Harry on his own, let alone with the power of the Tyr behind him.
Then the thought clicked into place, the attack on Neville, had it succeeded, would have diminished
the power of the Tyr, it would have made Harry more vulnerable, and on top of that if Hogwarts had
been destroyed Harry could have lost more than just his friends.

*‘Harry’s family’*, thought Solomon, *‘there was another conundrum, Hermione and James,
he could understand, but Nat, there was something about that young lady. She was a powerful witch,
stronger than her brother and for all that she was hiding her true potential, hiding her true
self’.* Solomon shook his head. *‘Too many thoughts Solomon, what did Dumbledore used to do in
these circumstances,…Ah yes.’*

“We are going tonight,” said Harry to Solomon once the meeting had broken up. “Ron is off to
tell Arthur what we are up to and collect a few Aurors to help Tonks cover our backs. John insists
on informing his superiors, he feels a discrete muggle police presence is necessary to keep others
away from the area if nothing else. I think he said he would tell them there was some sort of
industrial accident at the site and they would block the roads.” Harry shrugged his shoulders.
“Can’t hurt, I suppose.”

“What do you want me to do?” Solomon asked, giving his former pupil a sly grin.

“Hogwarts is your responsibility Solomon, you have to look after the important people,” Harry
replied.

“OK Harry I understand, but don’t let it become too personal, Draco has tried to undermine your
strengths, and he may not be all you have to face.” Solomon warned, then almost as an afterthought
added. “By the way do you still have that pensive Dumbledore gave you?”

Harry smiled, “Yes, gathering dust in my study, never felt the need for its services. Do you
want to use it?”

“If you don’t mind, I am carrying far more memories than you; and this old man gets confused at
times.”

Harry didn’t believe Solomon for a moment, but before he left he summoned the pensive which
appeared on the Headmasters desk.

Harry caught up with Hermione in their common room, both Nat and James were with her and were
being read the riot act.

“You can stay here tonight, and you can ask Jennifer to join you if you want, but Dobby will be
here as well and you are not to go out of his sight,” Hermione was telling them. “Your father and I
will be away overnight and back again in the morning, Solomon is staying here as well and he will
be keeping his eye on you too, so no monkey business.”

“Yes mum,” said James.

“OK,” said Nat, “but where are you going?”

“Never mind,” chipped in Harry, “just do as your mother asks.”

“Oh alright,” agreed Nat “I was interested that’s all.” She added quietly.

Harry and Hermione left the children to meet the others late that afternoon, Nat had collected
Jennifer from the Gryffindor Common Room as she was now curled up on the sofa with James. This
early in the year it was dark by five o’clock and Dobby busied himself lighting the lamps, stoking
the fire and clearing away the tea things. Nat, sitting alone in the armchair, let her mind roam
around the school she always searched for the same person, but never let him know that she was
there when she found him. He was in his office and his mind was unusually calm, Nat would have to
be very careful if she didn’t want to be caught fishing. She loved the feeling of his mind, knowing
her past existences; it was the part of her that was still Gwen that revelled in the familiarity of
the pattern of his thoughts. Nat wondered if one day her three personalities would become one, it
sometimes felt quite crowded in her mind and a little confusing. Quite suddenly she sensed
Solomon’s mind cry out in recognition, frightened that it was her presence he felt, she withdrew
but before she was completely disengaged he disappeared and she realised that he was no longer in
the castle.

………………………………..

Solomon had spent the afternoon pulling thoughts out of his head and placing them in the
pensive. He would place a finger at his temple and draw a silver strand from it and feed it down
into the swirling contents of the shallow stone bowl. From time to time he would stop and allow the
memories to settle, and as if pushed up from below to break the surface, an image would appear. He
would examine it and when he was done wave his hand over the bowl set the thoughts moving again.
Many images rose before him, but then Solomon had a great deal of memories to place in the pensive,
and as time passed he began to think that perhaps he was wrong, there was nothing that they had
missed after all. He was about to give up when the motion ceased one more time and from the centre
of the bowl the image of a wand emerged from the silvery surface of his memories, but this was not
any wand, this was a yew wand thirteen inches long. Solomon had watched its previous owner turn to
ash under the fire from Harry Potter’s own wand, but they had already considered Draco having the
wand, there must be something else. Then, as he watched, Solomon saw something twisting and turning
inside the wand itself, it was tantalisingly familiar, it was just that he couldn’t put a name to
it. Then he remembered something his father had told him and he knew why there was no name to put
with what he was seeing. Now he knew exactly what they were facing. Harry, Hermione and the rest
were in terrible danger.

He waved his hand irritably over the pensive and searching with his mind for Harry and Hermione
he vanished from the room. The silvery contents of the pensive swirled once more, slowed then
stopped, the figure that rose out of it this time was that of a golden haired woman, she reached
out as if she was trying to hold on to something that was slipping through her fingers, but failed.
The image didn’t fade as the others had done, but it changed to that of a small girl with blonde
curls and large blue eyes that were full of innocence. She stretched up her arms in the manner of a
child asking to be picked up, but she was too small and could not reach what she was trying to get
hold of. The image changed for a third time and a black haired green eyed girl appeared but there
was no reaching or grasping hands trying to hold the intangible, simply an outstretched palm
inviting a hand to be given in turn. A draught of air slipped into the Headmasters office, down the
chimney, over the unlit fire and wafted over the surface of the pensive. The image of the girl
shattered into thousands of sparkling fragments and slowly settled back down into the unmoving
memories contained in the bowl.

…………………………………..

Nat had hardly recovered from the suddenness of Solomon’s departure when she was presented with
an equally unexpected arrival. She sat up and rubbed her eyes to make sure what she was seeing was
in fact real. A tenuous form had drifted through the wall and was floating in the centre of the
room. This would not disturb most Hogwarts students, familiar as they were with the comings and
goings of the castle ghosts, but some may have recognised that this spectre was not one of the
usual compliment and that would have caused concern. Although this was the case with Nat, she was
not worried for she had seen this particular vaporous being before, Dobby hadn’t and with a shriek
ran to hide behind Harry’s desk. Nat stood and giving James a poke to get his attention as she
passed, moved to stand in front of the Dreamwraith.

“Miss Natalie must not talk to ghost,” Dobby said in a quavering voice. “She will be in much
trouble if she does, her mother will be very cross.” He gave another shriek as the Dreamwraith
turned in his direction.

“Do not be afraid, I will not hurt these children or you, I have come because I need your help,
there is a great evil and it must be destroyed.”

Dobby was eventually coaxed out from his hiding place and the Dreamwraith explained what he had
found to the three youngsters and the house elf.

“We’s must tell Master Solomon,” Dobby insisted, “he will knows what to do.”

“Yes I agree,” said James, and made to go for the door.

“He isn’t here,” said Nat, she looked down at the floor embarrassed at being caught out. “I felt
him leave about ten minutes ago.”

“You’ve been fishing again, haven’t you?” James accused her.

“So.” Nat retorted, pouting like a five year old.

“Never mind,” James gave way. “So what are we going to do?”

“Something I hope we will live to regret, if I know you two,” said Jennifer.

“Simple,” said Nat, “Mum and Dad think they are fighting an ordinary dark wizard, they might
know about the wand but they don’t know about what it contains, if the Dreamwraith thinks he can
destroy it with our help then we must give it to him.”

“But Miss Natalie you is not to be out of Dobby’s sight,” the house elf protested.

“That’s OK Dobby, we won’t be, you’re coming with us.” With that, Nat grabbed Dobby’s hand and
one of her brother’s who was hanging on to Jennifer. Nat concentrated on the image in what passed
for the Dreamwraiths mind and all of them disappeared without a sound.



13. Unlucky for Some
--------------------

Chapter 13. Unlucky For Some.

Draco Malfoy could not help but gloat, he was in complete control of the complex, he just had to
sit back and let Harry and his friends walk willingly into his trap, this was going to be so easy.
Magus was still under the imperious curse and was behaving impeccably, like all muggles his mind
was weak and ridiculously simple to control. At Draco’s merest suggestion he had passed on the
orders to the muggle security guards on duty. They were told that there was to be an incursion by
an armed group, Magus had called them terrorists, and that these people were not to be confronted
but allowed entry to the laboratory where they would be incapacitated and dealt with. The security
guards’ only instructions were to make sure that none made it back out again.

“Keep it simple Draco,” Julius had informed him in a lucid moment, “you will find that your
followers will understand simple orders and what they understand, they do not question.” He paused,
as just for a few seconds he thought for himself. “Remind me, Draco why are these terrorists coming
here?”

“Best not to ask Sir, I think that was what we agreed.” Draco replied.

“Yes, of course, silly of me, completely forgot about that. Actually I have a bit of a headache,
I think I will go and sit down over...” Magus mumbled, his mind clouding over again, and he walked
over to the corner of the laboratory and found a chair.

Draco watched the muggle, he wondered if the length of time Magus was spending under the
imperious curse could be having an effect on his mind. It would be an interesting experiment, but
Draco didn’t think he would have the time to worry himself over one muggle mind. No matter, once
Potter was finished Magus might as well go the same way, Draco would have little need for him after
today.

The security cameras gave Draco a clear view of the whole complex and for the moment there was
nobody to see. Draco smiled, he had all the advantages and as he scrutinised the newly installed
bank of screens before him, all the equipment. Although he had no time for muggles themselves, he
had to admit that some of their technology was very useful.

Suddenly there was movement, or rather there wasn’t, as the two guards on the gate snapped to
attention and fell backwards as stiff as boards. Then hurtling towards his point of view Draco saw
the red streak of a spell, it struck the camera and in the laboratory there was a deafening bang.
Draco jumped backwards from the console as sparks flew all around him, and every single one of his
monitors flashed once and then went black. In anger he slammed his fist into the control panel, but
it did nothing except take the skin off his knuckles, kicking it didn’t help either. He turned to
the muggle Magus still sitting quietly in the corner, his head buried in his hands, oblivious to
everything that was happening around him. Draco realised he would get no help from that quarter, he
would have to do it all himself.

He turned on the generators and waited until they reached full speed, then he reached into his
pocket and pulled out the wand, the wand the Dark Lord Voldemort had once wielded. He pointed it at
the large copper circuit breakers that controlled the power and said, *“Calor Maximus.”* The
heat poured into the shiny blocks of metal, softening them to the point of melting, and so they
flowed together permanently locking the circuit breakers closed. Everything was set, once the
instability inducer was activated it would be impossible to turn off, his moment had come. He only
had to push the large green button for the doorway to be formed, but at the instant of his success
Draco’s world began to fall apart about his ears.

As Draco reached for the switch the wand in his other hand began to throb in a most unusual way.
Then his vision blurred and he could feel an irresistible pressure on his ears, something was
trying to get inside his head and he was unable to concentrate any more. There was the sound of
crashing and banging from a side corridor leading to the laboratory, but it didn’t register in
Draco’s mind, he was fighting and losing a battle of his own.

Everything the Infundus needed was in position, all it required was the wizard, and wizard minds
were so weak and so easy to control. The full weight of the evil that resided in the wand came
crashing down on Draco Malfoy, it revealed itself, and Draco’s consciousness was instantly
overwhelmed.

The Infundus could see through Draco’s eyes, hear through his ears and speak through his mouth.
Its control of his mind was absolute, but it was still held in the wand by its magical core. Since
the time of the making of the wand the Infundus had shielded itself from the magic of the Phoenix
using subtle coercion to guide it to the path of evil. Now they were totally in balance, the
Infundus had control over the magic the Phoenix could release, but in turn the Phoenix now
prevented the Infundus from escaping, holding it in its woody prison. The Infundus reached out with
Draco’s hand and depressed the large green button, the generators screamed with the load, and under
the Trilithon light was fractured and total blackness filled the doorway. With the mechanism
activated it would only take the slightest touch for the Infundus to defeat the Phoenix and then it
could finish its ghastly task.

Draco opened the cover that hid the heart of the instability inducer, the crystal glowed
brightly with the power that was coursing through it, and to its surface Draco touched the tip of
the wand. Phoenix song, second only in this world to the cry of the Simurgh, is the most beautiful
sound that most will ever hear, but the scream that tore through the air that night, as the energy
from the crystal burnt away the last vestiges of the feather core of Voldemort’s wand, was the most
awful. It was the cry of despair for a dying world.

The blonde haired wizard was thrown backwards away from the machine, his hand a smoking ruin.
Voldemort’s wand was gone, incinerated in a second. With its destruction Draco’s mind was released
and as his consciousness returned so did the sensation of pain. He screamed out loud and
frantically tried to retrieve his own wand from his robes, he needed a spell to quell the searing
heat in his hand.

The Infundus had found a new home, its refractile abode surged with the power it craved, but it
knew it was still vulnerable and for the moment cared for no interruptions so it sent out a
command, not directed at the wizards, but at the muggle guards scattered about the complex. The
Infundus made it simple, just as Julius Magus would have done, and it made it loud so that none
would mishear it. *‘Kill them all’* resounded in every muggle brain in range.

……………………………………

“*Petrificus Totalus*,” said Harry and Hermione together as they pointed their wands at the
two guards on the gate.

There was a satisfactory click as the men’s boot heels snapped together and a satisfactory thump
as both their bodies hit the ground. Neville drew in a shuddering breath as he remembered his own
brush with that particular spell from Hermione’s wand, so many years ago, but it still gave him
goosebumps. Julie Burford tapped Harry on the shoulder as he was about to leave the cover of the
bushes they were crouched in. She pointed with her wand to a tall post upon which a camera
swivelled from side to side as it monitored the approach to the research buildings. Harry nodded at
her and she muttered a spell he had never heard before, and as a result a glittering red ball shot
from the end of her wand and hit the camera which exploded in a shower of blue sparks. Julie’s
spell was obviously very effective as several more cameras which were hidden out of site also
emitted small bangs and profusions of sparks.

“With luck that will have disabled the whole security system,” said Julie, “at least they won’t
know where we are.”

“Unfortunately,” said Ron, watching the sparks from the camera descend to the ground, “they will
know we have arrived.”

“OK Ron, point made,” said Harry in an attempt to forestall any more lugubrious comments.
“Julie, get Tonks and her merry band and cover the main entrance, we may need it as a way out if we
have no other choice. The six of us will go in on our own and I want no one bursting in just
because they thought it was a good idea, understand?”

“Yes Harry, you have made it plain on a number of occasions,” Julie replied.

“No offence, just wanted to make sure.” He gave her a quick grin, and with the others following
Harry led the Tyr out into the open.

They kept in a fairly tight formation as they crossed the car park in front of the main
building, Harry was pushing a blocking shield out before them. This would stop any muggle weapons,
though not spells, but for the moment it was the muggles they were worried about. Moving quickly
and quietly they mounted the steps and gained access to the main door without encountering any more
guards. A quiet *‘Alohomora’* from Hermione, and they were in.

It was becoming rather unnerving, there appeared to be no one about and yet John Burford was
adamant that the security staff numbered at least twenty five, regardless of the time of day or
night. So somewhere in this building there must be another twenty three and Draco Malfoy.

The Fire Brigade access map on the wall behind the silent and dark reception desk indicated that
the experimental areas were three floors down. Hermione had reasoned that this was a good place to
start, it was most probably where Neville had ended up and if Draco wasn’t there then they may get
a clue as to his whereabouts. Harry had vetoed the use of the lift, it was too claustrophobic and
not an ideal spot to have a fight, but the ramps, at the back of the building, which were used to
bring in large pieces of equipment, and wound back and forth as they descended, were ideal.

The security personnel, following Julius Magus’ orders, hid in side rooms and watched the six
strangely dressed terrorists, through one way glass and pin hole viewing scopes, as they made their
way to the rear of the building and the internal vehicle ramps. Once they were sure the terrorists
had passed them by, the guards emerged and some set up barricades whilst others followed the six
down, at a discrete distance of course.

The Tyr had reached the lowest level and started down the long passageway that led to the
laboratory at its end, when several things happened at once; the machinery noise which up until
then was a gentle hum rose to a whine which made moving quietly quite unnecessary. Off to the left
there were crashes and bangs and the sounds of people shouting, and right in front of Harry,
Solomon Aegis appeared out of thin air.

Harry was surprised at how calm he remained; even though Solomon’s sudden appearance had made
him jump.

The look on Solomon’s face made Harry swallow the words that had threatened to burst forth, and
he also realised that Solomon was one of the last people he should be telling off. There must be a
very good reason for the Headmaster to leave the school unguarded, and Harry waited to hear it.

“I’m sorry Harry, but you have a bit more than just Draco facing you here,” Solomon began, “ I
knew there was something missing from all the information we have put together, and your pensive
gave me the answer. You suspected that Draco had Voldemort’s wand, and that it was the magical
object stolen from that muggle Professor, well it would appear that you were correct and there can
be no doubt that he will use it against you.”

Was that it? Had the Headmaster deserted the school just to confirm what Harry in his heart of
hearts had already excepted?

“No more than I was prepared to face, Solomon,” said Harry, thinking hard, “But surely it won’t
cause any more of a problem. Even if Draco had a hundred wands the limit of the power is still the
wizard or witch wielding the wand, and he is no match for us.”

“Normally I would agree with you, but Dumbledore always thought that Voldemort had more power
than he ever expected, where did that come from? You see, the pensive tried to show me something
else, I hope to Merlin that I am wrong. You must be very careful Harry, I……..” Solomon’s words were
cut off as the most despairing cry rent the air and a feeling of dread filled the souls of the
seven standing in the corridor. The colour drained from Solomon’s face, the pensive hadn’t lied,
it, the unspeakable evil had risen again, and the members of the Tyr, their eyes locked on the
Headmasters face, knew that for the first time since they had known him Solomon was frightened.

“What is it?” said Harry’s the concern evident in his voice. Solomon just stared back, seemingly
incapable of telling his friends what he so obviously knew.

“Solomon please!” cried Hermione, grabbing his arm and shaking him to bring his attention back
to them.

Solomon looked from face to face, knowing in his heart of hearts that in a very few minutes all
his wonderful friends could well be dead.

“I never really thought I would have to face this,” he said to them, “It is an evil that
transcends time and its sole purpose is destruction, if the Infundus is free then there is little
hope, if it is able to open the barrier then there is none.”

“Solomon talk sense,” said Hermione, “What barrier? And why have I never heard of this
Infundus?”

“Oh you have my dear,” said Solomon, as he marched down the corridor towards the room where the
cry had originated, “In my father’s time the Infundus tried to conquer through the actions of
Morgana and Mordred. Did you not know that back then no one spoke their names out loud?”

“No” said Hermione, as she and the others ran to keep up with the tall wizard.

“Many times the Infundus has tried and each time the names of those it acts through are so
feared that they are never spoken, the latest was Voldemort.”

“He who should not be named,” said Ron.

“Exactly, my boy,” said Solomon, “even the name Infundus is not its real one, an invention of
Eleanor’s I believe, its Latin, it means…”

“Unspeakable,” said Hermione.

“Yes, indeed it does,” Solomon agreed, “Always before the Infundus has been confined by the
magic it tried to corrupt. In Morgana’s time it was the staff that she used, which bound the
Infundus to it, I imagine that the same held true for Voldemort’s wand. Each time its wizarding
allies have failed the Infundus, they have always been destroyed before they conquered, and so its
plans have been confounded.” They stopped for they had reached the main door to the laboratory,
Solomon turned back to the Tyr. “That cry was the sound of the death of a wand, this time the
Infundus is free and I have to tell you, all of you, that I don’t know how to beat it.” He studied
the group, a finer set you could never put together, and he smiled sadly at them. “But I have to
try, you do not.” Harry started to protest but Solomon cut him off. “If Draco is in there Harry he
is past our help or retribution. This is no longer your fight.”

There was the sound of running feet from the corridor behind them, and a dozen or so of the
muggle guards burst into view. As soon as they saw the group standing by the doorway they opened
fire, the semi automatic weapons barked again and again and a hail of bullets flew down the
corridor. Ron acted instinctively and his powerful shield surrounded the Tyr, Harry responded as
well and blasted multiple reductor spells down the passageway through Ron’s shield. As the bullets
spent their energy against the shield the walls of the corridor collapsed under Harry’s bombardment
and the ceiling fell in sealing the passageway completely. As the rumble of the collapsing building
died away, they could all see that further interruption from the guards was now impossible, Harry
and the others turned back to Solomon. He was leaning against the wall and was breathing rather
heavily, Ginny went over to him, put her hand on his arm, then cried out.

“HARRY HERE QUICK” she shouted, and turned back to the others, her hands were covered in blood
and Solomon was slipping slowly down the wall leaving a trail of red behind him.

…………………………………

The Dreamwraith had led the children and Dobby into a side corridor not far from the main
laboratory. The area seemed deserted, but the door to the lab was protected by thick bright green
beams which ran horizontally from wall to wall shining in the dim light and giving off a low hum.
They were only about six inches apart, so there was no way any of the youngsters or Dobby who was
considerably smaller could get by them. The Dreamwraith floated toward the beams, but the closer he
got the louder the hum became and everyone realised there was no way through. James read a notice
on the wall in large red letters, it said.

DANGER PHOTONIC SECURITY FIELD HIGH VOLTAGE

KEEP AWAY WHEN ON

They all backed down the corridor to consider their options. James and Nat knew it was essential
for them to find their parents but for the moment they were trapped, the other end of the
passageway ended in the door of a lift and there was no button on the wall to call it.

Then they heard a noise, someone was laughing, it started as a slow but high cackle which became
louder and faster, as the enjoyment of the person causing it increased. Then stepping out of the
shadows, a small form shaking with mirth stood in the corridor between the students and the
laboratory door, and Kreacher surveyed the scene before him.

“Well, well, what have we here?” he wheezed, “Three naughty children and a traitorous elf.
Kreacher will make sure you cause no trouble to the Master, I thinks I will have to kill you.”

“You is an evil elf, you will leave my family alone,” said Dobby moving to stand in front of the
others.

Kreacher laughed out loud and with a loud bang launched a thrusting spell at Dobby who stood his
ground and blocked it. Only Harry and Lucius Malfoy had ever seen the Dobby that Kreacher was
facing, the tiny house elf knew little but his love and loyalty and both of these belonged to the
Potters and their children. He would give his life to keep them safe, and if it was necessary he
would take a life too.

Dobby returned the enchantment with interest, so Kreacher was unable to completely stop the
spell, he was blown backwards to within a foot or so of the security beams which sparked and
flashed because of his proximity. Kreacher picked himself up and discarding the use of magic flew
back down the corridor crashing into Dobby.

The pair of them rolled about on the floor, hissing and spitting at each other as long nailed
fingers clawed and gouged. James, Nat and Jennifer shouted encouragement to Dobby and curses at
Kreacher, as the house elves bounced off the wall and cannoned into a filing cabinet knocking it
flying. None of them dared to intervene with magic, there was no way of knowing which elf they
would hit. Dobby may have been the younger of the two but Kreacher was wile and as tough as old
boots and he was inching Dobby closer and closer to the glowing green beams.

Kreacher balled his fist and smashed it several times onto Dobby’s head who crumpled and lay
flat out on the floor on his back with his head close to the security field. Kreacher rushed in at
Dobby, determined to push him into the field but he came in too fast and Dobby lifting his large
flat feet planted them in Kreacher’s midriff and flipped him over his own body. The old house elf,
his momentum too great to stop, sailed over Dobby and crashed head first into the beams which
appeared to grab hold of his body and pull it to them.

Kreacher screamed and writhed in pain as the photons surging through the security field pulled
his body to pieces. There was an almighty flash and the beams disappeared, all that remained of
Kreacher was a greasy whiff of smoke which was rapidly sucked up into the ventilation system.

The trio ran up to Dobby who was rising groggily to his feet, there were tears in his eyes and
he was sobbing.

“I is a bad elf, I had to fight him but I broke an elf law when I kills him, I must be
punished,” he wailed.

“Oh Dobby, you were wonderful,” said Nat throwing her arms around his skinny little shoulders
and kissing him on the top of his head.

“Nat’s right Dobby, no punishment for you, that foul thing only got what he deserved,” said
James thumping him on the back.

“Thank-you Dobby,” said Jennifer her wild grey eyes full of praise.

The Dreamwraith floated by them and stopped by the door. “The way is open now, we must go
on.”

The four of them advanced to where the Dreamwraith hung suspended in the air, Dobby insisted on
going first, he pulled at the handle and the door swung open. The house elf and the three children,
with the vaporous form of the Dreamwraith behind them, entered the laboratory.

……………………………….

Harry caught hold of Solomon’s arm and prevented him from completing his journey to the floor.
Ron grabbed Solomon’s other side and with Harry got him back on his feet again, while Hermione
searched to find the wound. She found two neat holes in Solomon’s robes over his chest and the
material was soaked in his blood. He was very pale but his eyes flickered open and he surveyed the
anxious faces before him.

“Should have been a bit quicker there,” he said, then coughed and a small trickle of blood
started at the corner of his mouth. “Outside your shield Ron, sorry.” He drew in a short breath.
“Merlin but this hurts, just give me a minute.”

From whatever hidden reserves he had Solomon concentrated on his damaged body, turning his power
inwards to stabilise the injuries. It was more like two minutes, but when he opened his eyes it
appeared to those gathered around him that his strength had miraculously returned. He smiled at
them all, then wiped the blood from his face with the sleeve of his robes.

“Right then, I better get on with this,” said Solomon. He leaned on Harry and took a step to the
door.

“Whoa old man, where do you think you’re going?” Said Harry holding him back.

“In there Harry,” he said indicating the door in front of them, “I told you this is my
fight.”

“That it may be, but you are not going in alone, and I am curious to see what this Infundus
looks like,” said Harry, the others were nodding in agreement. “You may go first if that is what
you want, but we are coming with you.”

Solomon gave a grateful sigh. “Thank-you,” was all he said and he pushed open the door and
walked into the laboratory.

………………………………..

Outside the complex things had taken a decided turn for the worse. Julie, Tonks and the half a
dozen Aurors with them were in a bit of a pickle. Some of the security personnel had returned to
the main door and began firing at the witches and wizards standing between them and the gate on the
road. While everyone there scrambled about diving for cover, the sound of the shots carried up to
the police blocking the access road. The officers stationed there shook themselves out of an
apparent daze and turned towards the sound of the shooting.

John Burford was in the electronic surveillance truck sited on a hill some three miles from the
research station. All the devices available to him were switched on, and unbeknown to the occupants
of the truck the electrical field created by this panoply of equipment effectively shielded them
from the mental suggestion that radiated out over the countryside. For many miles in all directions
the command of the Infundus had penetrated susceptible muggle minds and those three simple words
*‘Kill them all’* began to cause untold havoc amongst the population. There was no direction
to those words other than to kill, no who or what or when, just kill, and all of them. The horror
began slowly but within very few minutes the catastrophe that was occurring was beyond
imagination.

The long range microphones and night vision cameras picked up the start of the shooting down at
the research station, and in seconds John was in his car racing to the sound of the guns, his wife
and her friends. He passed the police cars partially blocking the road, but of his men there was no
sight, he found them a hundred yards further on and immediately regretted getting the order signed
so that they could carry firearms, because as he drove closer they opened fire. Unlike the security
guards the policemen were all good shots the first few rounds struck the tyres and John lost
control of the wildly swerving vehicle. The car ploughed into a grassy bank and came to a
shuddering halt. The air bag and his seatbelt saved John from the worst of the impact but it dazed
him none the less and with his blurred vision he caught the horrifying sight of the four armed
policemen advancing with their side arms levelled at him.

He dare not move for he knew that an attempt to escape would release a fatal rain of bullets,
but once they knew it was him it would be OK. It was his fault, he shouldn’t have come racing in
like that, the lads were all very jumpy, taking out the car was understandable. The apologetic
smile on John’s face froze as the first officer to reach him pointed his automatic at his head and
cocked the weapon. John knew he was going to die, there was only seconds left and his final thought
was *‘Love you Julie’*, when there was a brilliant red flash and a cry of *‘STUPYFY’* and
the policeman was flung to one side but his finger was tightening on the trigger as it happened and
the gun went off with a very loud bang.

John had no time to move and the bullet passed through the window level with his face, and
buried itself in the headrest of his seat; the spell that hit the policeman had moved him just
enough so that the bullet missed its intended target. John slowly opened his eyes as the door of
the car was wrenched open and Julie was there holding him and kissing him in her relief. She helped
him out of the wreck and he could see that the four constables were lying insensible on the ground.
A witch whose hair was alternating between bright pink and dark brown was securing them with their
own handcuffs.

“What the hell is going on Julie?” John asked, “I heard the shooting and came to make sure you
were OK then this lot start having a go at me.” He looked at the burly officer now lying
unconscious by the side of the car. “I’ve known Keith for years, but just now… he was going to kill
me. I could see it in his eyes.” John gave an involuntary shudder.

“We don’t know, the guards just started shooting we managed to stop them, but two of our people
have been hit. …Not badly.” Julie said, answering his questioning look.

In the distance there was a loud explosion and a ball of yellow and orange flame rose into the
night sky.

“Oh God, that must be the petrol station in Swaffham Prior,” said John, in disbelief. “I just
don’t understand this.”

……………………………….

Harry followed Solomon into the laboratory, the tableau set out before him was hard to accept.
Everything was dwarfed by the three enormous stone blocks which formed a frame that held a
blackness so intense that Harry could feel it. Lying on the floor holding his charred hand to his
chest and whimpering like a frightened child was Draco. Harry had a momentary urge to enact his
revenge on his old enemy and murderer of his friends, but Draco could wait.

On the far side of the room a machine was making an insane noise and a bright light was issuing
from an open panel in a large rectangular box. Over to his right an old man sat on a chair with his
head in his hands, rocking back and forward as if demented.

Then a movement to Harry’s left drew his sight and to his horror he saw his children with Dobby
and Jennifer standing in a small group with the wavering form of the Dreamwraith floating behind
them. It was no good, Harry’s brain refused to accept the pictures his eyes were sending it, and he
froze but through his haze of uncertainty he clearly heard Ron take a deep breath and say, “Oh
Bloody Hell!”



14. The Light Of My Life
------------------------

Chapter 14. The Light of my Life.

Detective Sergeant John Burford ran back up to the two patrol cars that were parked to block off
the road. Even from a distance he could hear their radios blaring out chaotic instructions to other
units. It took several minutes for him to finally get some sense out of the control room but the
news they relayed was all bad. Newmarket was experiencing riot conditions and the local police
could not be contacted, half of Cambridge was in flames though there at least the police were still
functional, as to what was occurring in the villages scattered over the intervening countryside,
the control centre had no idea. John returned to Tonks and Julie carrying a map and looking very
worried.

“It seems that all hell had broken loose over about a ten mile radius,” said John.

“Ten miles from where John?” asked Tonks.

“Here,” he said, pointing the short distance to the research station, “right here.”

Julie took the map from him and in the light of her wand studied it carefully. “Oh dear!” The
inflection in her voice was mild but the look on her face gave her words a disastrous weight. “Did
you see this?” She said pointing to a legend on the map. “You don’t suppose this has anything to do
with what is happening, do you?”

Tonks and John bent close trying to read the small print. The Ordinance Survey map, like all its
fellows, contained information not only on the present lay of the land but also something of the
geographical history of the area. Sites of battles, ruins of castles, and ancient features were
liberally spread over the countryside and the O/S maps covered them all. Running between the
villages of Reach and Ditton Green there was a dotted line on the map indicating one of these
ancient features, the legend was written in a gothic style to indicate its age, and spaced out down
its length the letters read D e v i l ’ s D i t c h .

……………………………………….

Three levels below ground the situation in the laboratory appeared frozen in time. Harry,
Hermione and the rest of the Tyr were staring at Dobby and the kids, they in turn had their eyes
fixed on the adults, but Solomon was focused on the machine in front of him and the huge doorway
that was straining to contain the darkness that was within it, no one was paying any attention to
Draco.

Then people started moving, the Tyr with Harry and Hermione in the lead rushed over to the group
of youngsters and instinctively formed a protective ring around them. The Dreamwraith drifted over
to where Solomon stood, the wizard acknowledged the spectres presence then turned his attention
back to the instability inducer. Back under the protection of the Tyr, James, Nat and Jennifer were
trying to explain their actions to an almost incandescently angry Hermione. Dobby was sobbing with
remorse having put his young charges in mortal danger, and Harry was watching Solomon, standing by
himself, swaying slightly, the blood dripping off his robes onto the floor. Harry was not the only
one to see this, Nat stole a surreptitious glance away from her mother to the wizard who really
needed her help.

When she saw the blood on the floor she cried out one word, “NO!” then darted out between
Neville and Luna, passing through the Tyr’s shield as if it wasn’t there. Nat ran across to Solomon
and stood beside him, he didn’t break his concentration but gratefully rested his arm on her
shoulder in order to steady himself.

“Harry, get her back!” Hermione snapped.

Harry was about to move forward when he stopped. “Look Hermione, look at her.”

As her parents watched, their daughter changed before their eyes. Nat grew several inches in
height, making her robes look as if they were at least two sizes too small, as her shoes and then
her ankles emerged from under the hem. As she became taller her body matured, in a very few seconds
Nat left her adolescence behind and became the young woman she had been hiding for the last six
months. She was ready to take her stand and to use her gift, the last few things clicked into place
and then her power began to shine forth.

Solomon must have known that something was happening to the girl by his side as her supporting
shoulder rose upward allowing him to stand straight.

He glanced quickly at her once, but showed no surprise, and with a voice that was just above a
whisper said, “Can you help me? I am afraid I don’t feel too good again.”

“You don’t look too good either,” said Nat, “Let’s see what we can do.”

Before they could do anything the massive stones forming the Trilithon creaked and groaned and
then began to bow sideways as they struggled to hold the darkness in check. The deformation was
impossible for the dolerite to contain, it cracked and split, and groaned some more, then with a
sharp report the stone shattered. Shards of rock flew in all directions but most of it disappeared
into the darkness, which freed from its constraints flowed outwards and began to consume the back
wall of the laboratory.

“PROTECT YOURSELVES!” Nat shouted in the direction of the Tyr. In answer their shield flared
anew as Hermione gripped the stone of her necklace and added its power to that of her friends.

Julius Magus lifted his head from his hands and beheld a scene that he had wanted to be a part
of since he was twelve years old. The group of witches and wizards on the far side of the lab all
held wands in their hands. They were projecting around themselves and those they were protecting a
ball of energy, golden-hued, that flashed and sparkled with the power that was holding it.

The witch and wizard standing alone, their clothes and hair being whipped by some unseen wind,
were confronting the growing negation that had spread over half of the back wall. It was this
seething blackness that drove Magus to act, he could feel it pulling at him and suddenly he wanted
no part in what was happening. Getting to his feet, he sought the handle of the door that was in
his corner of the laboratory. He gripped it tightly, then opening the door he slipped away unable
to witness the outcome of the battle about to be fought.

Draco Malfoy was in a lot of pain, his hand was crisped and useless but it was still sending
messages to his brain that burned like the fire that had caused the injury. He watched the
unfolding drama before him, it was useless, the few minutes the Infundus had spent in his mind had
taught him that, there was no way to fight it, they were all going to die. He scrambled across the
floor on his hand and knees until he was alongside the Tyr in their protective shield. The Potter
girl and Aegis stood their ground, Draco thought there was something there with them but he
couldn’t make it out.

Aegis looked in a bad way, his face was pale and drawn and there was a considerable amount of
blood around his feet. The girl was radiant; Draco didn’t know how Potter and Granger had managed
to produce that one, for she was beautiful, the power shone in her face. Not for the first time
Lucius’ son regretted the direction his life had taken him, perhaps for Draco this was the most
important occasion on which this had happened, for it was to be his last.

He climbed to his feet and looked at the witches and wizards of the Tyr, and laughed a silent
laugh. It may be that when death is inevitable and close at hand some of the barriers that separate
our lives begin to crumble and then we see the complete picture and our part in it. Draco saw more
in those few moments than he ever knew existed, and that bad as he was, his part was essential to
the whole and he had played it to the best of his ability.

*‘Just time for a little goading before I go,’* thought Draco. He saw James standing in the
midst of the Tyr, his arm wrapped protectively around Jennifer. Another spasm of ‘if only’ briefly
touched the blonde haired wizard “Lucky boy,” he said, and gave James a salacious wink.

“Leave him alone Malfoy,” said Hermione, “Why don’t you go and find somewhere to die?”

“Now, now, Granger that’s not polite,” replied Draco in and oily voice that was so like his
father’s. “Anyway I think we have all found somewhere to die,” he said watching the darkness as it
crept slowly towards where he was standing. Draco had the satisfaction of seeing a look of anguish
pass across Hermione’s face, then from the corner of his eye he thought he saw a movement in that
impenetrable blackness and Harry had seen it too.

Harry didn’t know what it was, but he had a pretty good idea that they didn’t want it to get
out. He fired spell after spell through the Tyr’s shield, eventually using the one he had avoided
all his life, the green scream streaked into the blackness and splashed against something, but it
appeared to have no effect. Draco looked at his old adversary and smiled to himself.

“Useless Potter,” he sneered, “you have all that power, but there is not enough hatred in you to
make that one work.”

“It would work against you Malfoy,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

“Yes I expect it would at that,” Draco said quietly, “and I expect I would deserve it.”

“Feeling sorry for yourself then?”

Draco’s mouth curved in a small smile, “No,” he said, “I feel sorry for you; because however
much you will hate doing it, you will have to give me credit for this. If you live long enough,
that is.”

Knowing that death was waiting for him, Draco wasn’t going to allow it to take him with just a
whimper. He drew in a deep breath. “Goodbye Potter, Granger, Weasleby, it’s been fun.” Holding his
wand in his good hand he turned and ran full tilt into the darkness screaming “ADAVARA KEDAVRA” at
the top of his voice.

The curse flew from his wand again and again crashing against something invisible in the
darkness which gave a huge bellow full of horror and pain. Then Draco crossed the threshold and
vanished into nothingness.

For a moment it looked as if Draco had saved the day, the darkness contracted in on itself and
flickered, but then again began to advance seemingly faster than before. The generators and other
mechanical devices had long disappeared; the only part of the instability inducer that had not been
swallowed up was the large crystal that had formed its heart. It hung in mid-nothing, its inner
light made it visible but that light did not illuminate anything around it. The shadow of the
Infundus could be seen clouding the very centre of the jewel, and it was with this shadow that
Solomon was battling and he was losing.

*‘I can’t go on Natalie, I feel so tired and the Infundus is too strong,’* Solomon’s
thoughts betrayed how badly things were going.

*‘You need help, that is all,’* the calm thoughts of the girl returned to him, *‘I am
here, and if I am not enough we will call the others.”*

*‘There is no need to call, I am here with you,’* Eleanor Wicca’s thought rolled in from a
great distance.

*‘And I, my son.’* Lady Niniane responded.

*‘We will need us all,’* Solomon’s thought was desperate, *‘Where is my father?’*

Solomon felt a physical hug as well as a mental one, and then thoughts so tantalisingly familiar
filled his head.

*‘I am here in his stead, I carry his gift now. He needed to go on and he wanted us to be
together again.’*

Solomon turned to look at the girl by his side with more than just his mind. His vision was
blurred, and his mind clouded by weakness, but surely this wasn’t Nat, not Harry and Hermione’s
Nat? He remembered feeling her change and the fleeting vision of the face next to him, then as he
gazed into her emerald green eyes she became one with the face of the little girl who had died so
young, and then of the woman that Solomon had loved so long ago and thought never to see again.
*‘Gwen?’* he whispered, and at that moment the blackness reached them and they were
engulfed.

………………………….

The Tyr had watched Draco fling himself into the darkness, and were heartened when it appeared
that his apparent sacrifice had worked, but whatever daemon he had attacked was only part of the
danger that confronted them, and that danger flared anew.

Hermione was almost unaware of what was happening around her, her power and that of the stone on
her necklace were bound with that of the Tyr, but her mind was fixed on her daughter standing side
by side with the old wizard Hermione had considered her mentor.

She didn’t understand how or why Nat had changed, but there was no doubting the look in her
daughter’s eyes. Hermione had seen that very look in others so many times before. It was the look
Luna gave to Ron, it was the look Ginny gave to Neville, and she had little doubt that had she a
mirror handy she would see the same expression on her face when she looked at Harry. So why would
Natalie see Solomon in that light, there had to be a logical explanation, and what were Solomon’s
feelings toward her daughter?

Hermione saw Solomon turn to the girl by his side; he was as confused as she was as to why Nat
should be there. Then Hermione watched as Solomon’s expression changed from confusion to wonder,
wonder to hope, then like a wave the blackness broke over the pair and they were lost to view.

A frantic “NO!” was all that Hermione had time to cry out, as the tide of darkness reached the
Tyr and they were too busy fighting for their lives to think about anything else.

It was a most peculiar sensation, the shield held, and its light was turned inwards illuminating
the inside of the bubble they were trapped in. There were no points of reference other than the
other occupants of the shield, to look into the total black that surrounded then on all sides was
to risk complete disorientation. Harry was thinking as hard as he could, they would not be able to
hold this shield forever and he didn’t want to contemplate what might happen if it failed. He was
out of ideas and running out of time, he sent a thought to Nat and Solomon and received nothing in
reply.

Harry looked around at his friends; he was amazed at how calm they all were, then he knew that
he shouldn’t be. They had such confidence in each other, and the bonds that held them together were
so strong, that none of them had doubted that they would survive he thanked the day that Solomon
had pulled the Tyr together. Six friends that had shared the danger of the fight at the Ministry so
long ago, welded into a team that had defeated Voldemort, and now would survive against this
Infundus.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that there was something that hadn’t changed, down still meant
down, they weren’t all floating around without any weight. He remembered seeing the television news
at the Dursley’s when he was much younger and astronauts were practicing weightlessness in a plane,
but here despite not being able to see it, the floor was still there. He banged his foot down
several times to test his observation and received a quizzical look from Ron.

“Floor is still here,” said Harry in answer to the unasked question. Ron’s confused expression
deepened. “It means we can move and I suggest we head over to where Nat and Solomon were when they
disappeared into this muck.”

So moving together, they shuffled slowly forwards and to their right, rolling their shield with
them, like a rat in an exercise ball. Until with a dull clang their shield connected with
another.

……………………………..

The darkness washed over them and Solomon, acting on instinct, threw out a shield to cover them,
but that act took the last remaining vestiges of his energy and he sagged to his knees. Nat
struggled to hold on to him and keep him from collapsing to the floor, but he was a large man and
too heavy for her. Solomon raised his head for the last time and gazed full into Nat’s eyes, now
moist with unshed tears, his eyes closed and his full weight fell against her. Both would have
fallen but Nat felt the presence of the Dreamwraith wrap itself around them and Solomon became the
weight of a child. As she managed to bring his limp body to its feet again, Nat looked about her in
fear remembering the shield that Solomon had conjured, it was still intact, so he must be alive,
and the relief flooded through her.

*‘His mother and I will keep you protected,’* Eleanor Wicca’s thought, was kindly meant but
dashed Nat’s hopes again. Then Nat felt the Dreamwraith shift his position, he was behind Solomon
drawing him away from her, she tried to hold on to him and pull him back.

“You must give him to me,” said the Dreamwraith. “We must do this thing and only he and I can do
it if we are together.”

“No I can’t,” Nat cried, tears of realisation were beginning to fall from her eyes. “I have only
just found him, you can’t take him, I won’t let you.” She began to form a spell that would drive
the Dreamwraith away when a calm quiet voice sounded in her mind.

*‘Natalie, you must do as he asks. I could not be with you like this anyway. I am far too old
and you are far too beautiful. I am grateful that I have seen you so full of that beauty, so full
of the innocence that Sophie gave you, and so full of the grace of my dear, dear Gwen. I must
finish this task and this is the only way. You must let me go.’* Solomon’s thoughts …his mind
…his very being, was slowly drifting away, and Nat couldn’t bear it.

“Nooooo,” the negative was quietly said and full of sorrow, but she understood. Unwillingly Nat
released her hold on Solomon’s body; it did not fall but drifted and hung in the air a few feet
from her. The glowing nimbus that made up the form of the Dreamwraith completely enclosed Solomon
and then slowly faded as it was absorbed into him.

At this moment with a dull clang the shield enclosing Nat, and what she could only call the
Dreamwizard, made contact with that enclosing the Tyr. At that touch Eleanor Wicca and Lady Niniane
enlarged their shield to encompass them all, and the conversation amongst the members of the Tyr
fell silent as the sight of Nat and Solomon popped into view. Harry and the others slowly let their
shields down and then he moved to comfort a distraught Nat and stare in wonder at the slightly
glowing form of the Headmaster.

“What’s going on?” Harry demanded.

“Oh Daddy,” Nat wailed, “Solomon is gone.” She turned away from the glowing figure to bury her
face in her father’s chest.

“Then who or what is that?” said Ron, pointing towards what appeared to be Solomon Aegis.

It was definitely a voice that answered Ron’s question, not a thought, and it emanated from
Solomon, but his mouth did not form these words and neither did his eyes look toward the questioner
but remained staring straight ahead seeing nothing.

“I am light.” It said. “As the Infundus is darkness I am its opposite and I hold the wisdom of
Aegis and the dreams of man. One or other of us will prevail at this meeting, if darkness wins then
chaos will result and all will go to naught.”

“What do you mean by all?” said Hermione.

“This land, this world and in time the whole of creation will be brought to it’s knees and
become as black and desolate as that which surrounds us now.”

“Good definition of all,” said Ron as lightly as he could.

“You expect us to sit back and let you take this on all by yourself do you?” said Harry passing
his daughter to Hermione and standing in front of the Dreamwizard.

“No Harry Potter I do not,” said the voice, “I expect you to fight for your world, I expect you
to give me time, I expect you and your fellows to hold this at bay.”

At the last word the total darkness that had been enveloping them, lifted and flowed away behind
them, as if it was a curtain that they had just passed through. The darkness had not been the
unimaginable emptiness that Magus and Draco had thought; it was merely a passageway to something
far more terrifying. A sight dredged from the deepest recesses of man or wizard subconscious was
revealed before their eyes, a sight that tried to drive away the sanity of their minds; a sight
that would remain with all of them for the rest of their lives.

You could have called it Abaddon, Gehenna, Acheron or Hades; Hermione knew that her mother and
father would have given it the name Hell. A vast cavern which stretched into the distance with no
end in sight; whose floor fell away from the place where they were standing, sloping down and down,
so that the bottom could not be seen. A place that was unimaginably chaotic in form, and was filled
with all the horrors that the imagination could produce, and a place, that on a small outcrop of
rock, not far from them, a blonde haired wizard fought for his life against the denizens of this
unwholesome world.

“Merlin!” said Harry.

“Bloody Hell!” said Ron.

Hermione swallowed the fear that had threatened to rise, “I think Ron that for the first time in
your life you may actually be right.” She said, trying to lighten the moment and failing
miserably.

“I must destroy the Infundus, otherwise your world will become like this and then it will
disappear forever.” said the voice of the Dreamwizard. “You must help me reach it, …there.” One of
Solomon’s long fingers pointed to a pinnacle in the distance beyond where Draco was fighting. At
its top was an area of blackness like an ink blot on parchment, but this blot writhed with the evil
that was bound inside it, and Harry could feel the hatred that flowed from it like a physical
presence.

Harry drew a deep breath, and looked at the others, they hid their fear well and that gave him
confidence, he knew that only death would keep them all from trying. They formed up with Harry and
Hermione in front, flanked by Ron and Neville, Ginny and Luna protected their backs and James,
Jennifer, Dobby and Nat were sandwiched between the adults. Solomon walked along with the
youngsters, his feet were only just touching the ground, he more floated than walked. The shield
that Eleanor and Lady Niniane were somehow providing began to waver at the edges as the group moved
further into the cavern then Harry felt it give altogether.

“SHIELDS.” He roared, in an effort to be heard above the cacophony of yells, screams and worse
that issued from the residents of Hell.

Several cries of *“orbis maximus gladius”* could be heard and on each of the Tyr’s arms
appeared the small fighting shield with the blood red edge that they had used against Voldemort and
his Death Eaters. They continued to walk forwards fighting off insane attacks by beings that if you
studied them too closely would draw you into their insanity. To add to the confusion jets of flame
and billowing smoke began erupting from vents all around them. The monsters attacking them paid no
attention to this additional hazard and suffered for it, several were torn apart when one
particularly violent column of flame burst into life beneath them.

The Tyr sent destructive spells in all directions; Hermione was having particular success with
shouts of *“DETONATUM”* but as she was in the van they had to keep stepping over the results
of her spells.

As they moved slowly forwards two of the five protected by the Tyr recovered from their shock.
Nodding to each other as a silent message of love flashed between them, James and Jennifer
positioned themselves at either side of Luna and Ginny and added the weight of their spell work to
that of the Tyr. Nat stayed quietly within the group walking along, her head bowed low, holding on
to the fingers of one of Solomon’s limp hands.

The group gained the outcrop that Draco had positioned himself on, he was fighting like a thing
demented, and there was a respectable pile of bodies scattered around his rock.

“Not quite what I was expecting when I ran in here,” Draco yelled between curses. “I thought it
would all be over by now.”

Harry looked at the one wizard he could cheerfully send on his way with a green scream. Draco
deserved nothing from them, no help no pity, he had done so much that was unforgivable, and caused
so much pain and heart ache. But standing on that rock Harry saw him as a single wizard trying to
defeat the hounds of hell, and hate him though he did, Harry extended the hand of salvation.

“Down here!” he shouted at Draco, at the same time opening a breach in his shield to allow Draco
passage through.

Draco couldn’t believe his luck, at a time like this Potter had weakened and was prepared to
give him shelter. Now the last Death Eater had a choice, and being the man he was there was only
one to pick. Draco fired off a few spells to drive off the encroaching daemons and turned to look
down at the Tyr, Potter wasn’t even concentrating on him, this was going to be far too easy. He
flourished his wand and the words began to form in his throat that would send Potter to his maker,
but he never finished the curse. A small figure rose up from his position hanging on to Harry’s
robe.

“You shall not harm Harry Potter!” cried Dobby using exactly the same spell on the younger
Malfoy that he had on his father, many years before.

Harry’s attention snapped back to Draco as the spell from the house elf lifted the blonde wizard
off the surface of his rock and threw him back. The creature that was approaching from behind Draco
was probably fifteen feet tall, his long arms ended in hands with three fingers, the talons on each
of them sharpened to a point. These talons were maybe two feet in length and with a stabbing motion
the creature drove a handful into Draco’s unprotected back as he flew through the air.

He didn’t even cry out, there was a look of complete surprise on his face, Harry was staring in
horror as Draco’s eyes rolled upward, the monster freed his hand and the wizard collapsed to the
rock he had so desperately defended, within seconds it was swarmed under, the daemons ripping and
tearing at his body.

Harry returned to the resolute march of the Tyr, Draco had been right, he certainly deserved
credit for what he had done that night, but maybe not very much. They were closing on the pinnacle,
Ron and Neville with shouts of *“VOLANTI”* sent their shields skimming over the horde that was
pressing in from all sides, a few of the creatures tried to catch the wildly spinning discs and on
each occasion failed, the shields passed through flesh, bone and rock with impunity. Two of the
largest beasts any of them had seen crashed into the side of the formation using no weapon but
their weight and inertia, and although Harry and Hermione reinforced the shielding on that side,
they were all forced sideways into the base of the tower that was their goal.

Harry was firing curses through the shield as fast as he could, bringing monster after monster
to its death, then a reptilian shaped daemon shot out its rope like tongue towards him. There was a
horrible sizzling noise and the smell of burning flesh as the tongue hit and then passed through
Harry’s shield, although the creature was screaming in pain its tongue whipped through the air to
wrap itself around Harry’s wand and his hand.

The grip on his hand was incredible and Harry was inexorably drawn closer and closer to the edge
of his shield and destruction. Struggling with all his might to resist the daemon Harry knew his
situation was futile, there was no way he could free himself and his wand and so he did the only
thing he could to save his life, he let go of his wand. In a flash it was grasped and pulled out
into the horde of nightmares, whose hungry hands scrabbled for it and ripped it into matchwood.

Harry could do nothing but watch as his constant companion since the day of his eleventh
birthday, the friend who had saved him on uncountable occasions was destroyed before his
unbelieving eyes. The phoenix feather at its core floated free and for the last time in his life
Harry heard Fawkes’ unearthly and beautiful song. The song reached a glorious crescendo as the
feather settled downwards and the creatures nearest to it shrank back in fear of the sound, then as
the feather touched the ground there was a tremendous detonation that cleared the rocky floor for
fifty feet in every direction.

Without his wand Harry’s shield disappeared, the daemons recovering from the shock wave of the
exploding feather pressed closer and closer. As Harry frantically thought of a way out of this
impending disaster he felt the touch of a mind so familiar, yet one he had assumed had gone for
ever.

*‘Use the magic within you Harry. The loss of your wand is not the end of your power it is the
start of the journey to new levels of understanding, for you to reach your true potential. …Use the
magic within.’*

Harry glanced quickly at the slightly glowing body of the old Headmaster, it was hanging there
as unresponsive as ever, and then he looked into his own hands, sweaty and grimy from the battle.
He turned his thoughts inwards and he felt the power locked inside, he concentrated the magic and
he channelled it down his arm and out through the palm of his wand hand. There was but an instant
of hesitation as Harry’s shield flared anew and then from his fingers destructive spells spewed
forth blasting the devils of hell back once more.

Despite Harry’s use of wandless magic the numbers of their foe were incalculable and slowly but
surely the Tyr was being overwhelmed. Their backs were pressed up against the rocky face of the
pinnacle, this was going to be the site of the Tyr’s last stand, one final effort then it would all
be over.

It was at this point that Nat finally let Solomon go, she knew he was gone as surely as she knew
that in a very few minutes she the rest of her family and the friends that were so dear to her
would be gone as well. It was not in her nature to give up without a fight, and so pushing past her
mother and ignoring her pleas to return, stepped out in front of the Tyr.

The young woman faced the creatures of the abyss, they snarled and slavered, anticipating a meal
which had not presented itself in the dark regions for a millennia. Harry and Ron had pushed out a
shield as far as they could and they were straining to hold it against the weight of the devilish
fiends pressing against it. There was a space of no more than ten feet separating the Tyr from the
horde, and in this space Natalie Potter stood, she took a deep breath and shouted out at the top of
her voice.

“AVALON!”

There was a deep rumbling noise that could be heard above the tumult of the gathered raveners,
and a few of them looked around with surprised and nervous faces. The ground in front of Nat split
open with a grinding crack and a brightly shining staff, some six feet in length, with a five
pointed star at its head, flew out of the crevice that was rapidly widening and into the hands of
the waiting witch.

Nat raised the staff of Avalon above her head and the daemons recoiled from its brilliance. Then
she brought the staff down, waving it as if it was as light as a wand and a blast of power shot
from its end fanning out and incinerating anything within sixty feet of the base of the pinnacle.
The shockwave spread out as far as the eye could see knocking imps, ghouls and daemons off their
feet and bowling trolls and incubi end over end, sending the host of darkness into disarray.

Bringing the staff crashing down to plant its butt end in the ground she cried out once more
“AEGIS INEXSUPERABILIS!” and a wall of force grew out of the ground, rising higher and higher to
arch over the peak of the tower of rock and seal the Infundus inside the dome with them all.

Natalie turned to face her parents and the others, the light of power shone from her emerald
eyes and her dark hair flew in the static from the magic.

“Bugger,” said Ron, with feeling, “I’m glad she’s on our side.” He glanced nervously at
Hermione. “She is on our side, isn’t she?”

Any answer was cut short as a hand touched Hermione on the shoulder making her jump; she turned
quickly and found herself staring into Solomon’s sightless eyes. The Dreamwizard spoke quietly,
“Hermione my dear, we have a favour to ask, we need to borrow your necklace. We promise that
somehow it will be returned to you, but without it we cannot defeat the Infundus.”

She looked at what remained of her old friend with great sadness, then nodded not knowing if he
could see her or not.

“Harry, undo my necklace please.”

Harry said nothing but removed it for her as she asked and placed it in the palm of her hand. He
watched his wife intently as she in turn passed it on to the Dreamwizard; there was no reaction as
Hermione’s Tear touched Solomon’s skin. On the only other occasion Solomon had touched the jewel
the shock had knocked him off his feet, now there was nothing, Harry and Hermione knew now that
Solomon was really gone.

From the midst of the group the limp form of Solomon Aegis rose into the air, eventually drawing
level with the writhing blob of darkness with the crystal containing the shadow of the Infundus at
its heart. Under the control of the Dreamwraith, Solomon straightened, his head came up and his
arms opened wide, Hermione’s necklace was dangling by its chain from one hand.

“As you are the darkness I am the light,” the voice of the Dreamwizard rang out clear and true.
“In the presence of light there can be no darkness, and this time you cannot run from me.”

In answer there was a noise that sounded like the crack of doom, and then the Dreamwizard
actually laughed.

“It is too late for that; there is no mind to turn, only pure thought and the dreams of man
inhabit this body but it still holds its power and that is your undoing.”

The Dreamwizard embraced the darkness and squeezed it in his mighty arms. As he did so
Hermione’s Tear touched the edge of the darkness and it flinched from it, then both the Dreamwizard
and the stone began to burn brighter and brighter.

Tighter and tighter the Dreamwizard contracted down on the Infundus, smaller and smaller they
became, and brighter and brighter they shone. Until all that remained was a pin point of light more
brilliant than the sun. Had they been able to see through that incandescence Harry and the others
would have seen that the strange double pulse of blue light that normally inhabited Hermione’s Tear
was beating in there, but they were clinging to each other and shielding their eyes with their
robes.

Nat stood alone, the staff of Avalon burning in her hand and the tears of sorrow rolling from
her eyes, she looked upward to the light that was the man she would have loved, then suddenly it
disappeared and there was total darkness.



15. Time To Start Again
-----------------------

Chapter 15. Time To Start Again.

On the far side of the car park away from the research station, Tonks was checking the line of
trussed up security guards. From inside the building the sound of running feet preceded the main
doors bursting open, an elderly man in a considerable state of disarray dashed out and almost fell
down the steps in his haste to get away. Two Aurors neatly immobilised him and picking him up off
the ground dragged him unceremoniously toward the pile of incapacitated humanity.

“Who have we here then?” said Tonks. The man was jabbering incoherently and twitching despite
the spell that was on him.

The Auror holding him looked down at the badge on the man’s coat. “Says here that this is Julius
Magus, you want me to shut him up as well Tonks?”

“Wow that’s the boss man, isn’t it Julie?” Tonks called over to Julie Burford, standing with her
husband who was trying to make sense of the babble on his police radio.

“Magus? Yes that’s him, looks in a bad way. Something has given him a scare that’s for sure.”
Julie replied. “What is he rabbiting on about?”

Tonks had the Aurors sit the old man down and she bent her head the better to hear him.

“Keeps going on about wizards, spells and darkness, and …oh he knows dear old Draco, just
mentioned him by name.” Said Tonks, listing Magus’ ramblings. “Not to worry if I know Harry and his
band they’ll have this all sorted out in no time.”

Then the ground started to shake and all the lights in and outside the building went out. A deep
penetrating rumbling sound from far below their feet became louder and louder, windows shattered,
the glass flying in all directions and then there was the crash of falling masonry. The rear half
of the building was crumbling to dust and the rest of it was being shaken as the ground heaved and
warped under some invisible and immense stress. Using the light of their wands to guide them,
Tonks, Julie and the Aurors ran around the building. They had to fight their way through the dust
and rubble that rolled off the pile of bricks and twisted steel, that was all that was left of the
back of the research station. The ground bucked and twisted and then bulged upwards until it looked
like a bubble ready to burst.

They all managed to retain their footing, but were swaying back and forth in their attempts to
stay upright. The uplift in the earth grew and grew and as it expanded cracks appeared as the
ground, stretched beyond it limits, began to fail and disintegrate.

“GET BACK!” yelled Tonks, they all turned as one and retreated the way they had come.

And as they turned and ran they bumped straight into John who had given up on his radio and was
coming to see what all the fuss was about.

He found himself grabbed under the arms and dragged backwards towards the car park again, but
because he was facing the direction that everyone was running from he was the only one who could
truly say that he saw what happened next.

The bulging ground burst open and for a fleeting second he thought he could see thousands upon
thousands of creatures that his worst nightmares would have been proud of creating, leaping and
writhing, as if they were trying to reach a central point. Then there was an instant of darkness,
so dark that John swore even the stars had stopped shining, and a silence so profound that all he
could hear was the rapid beating of his own heart. The others turned to look now and the silence
was shattered by the most tremendous roar as a column of white fire erupted from the ground,
soaring into the sky and racing away along the ground, burning out an enormous trench as it tracked
across the countryside into the distance. The noise was painful to the ears and it rolled on and on
as the flame widened one hundred yards, two hundred yards, wider and wider, burning the ground away
as it went. Stretching away for miles and miles the destruction continued, the roaring flame
scoured the earth to a point which the observers in the car park couldn’t see.

………………………………………..

In that second of total darkness Nat drew her shield down to surround her family and friends,
their fate was now in the battle that was raging above them. Light and dark were fighting for the
whole of creation and they would soon know who had won. Then the light returned and with an
unimaginable roar the cleansing fire burst forth, and swept all before it. Nat quickly closed the
short distance between herself and the Tyr, and through the wall of the shield they could see the
destruction of the cavern and those within it. Nat concentrated on her magical power and all those
held in the shield with her disappeared from the base of the pinnacle, which flew apart when the
ground around and beneath it was gouged out by the white flame.

Harry had drawn Hermione and the two children to him, protecting them as best he could, Dobby
was crowding round their legs shivering and shrieking in fear. Ron and Luna, Ginny and Neville had
struck a similar poses each protecting their loved one, their arms wrapped tightly around each
other. Only Nat stood alone, her eyes aflame, and the power coursing through her very being was
making her shine so brilliantly that she seemed to be made of light itself. Then the noise and
confusion were gone and Nat let the power and her shield dissipate, the group found themselves
standing once again in the fresh, cold, open air, and the quietness of the night.

Far away to the east a bright light was shining, like a ribbon of searchlights it reached into
the sky beyond the world where it was born, out to the infinite reaches of creation, it was
powerful enough to touch the stars, and was as a beacon to bring hope to the souls of all.

Harry looked around trying to work out where they were, the night sky was full of stars and way
below them were the twinkling lights of a village, but only when, in the gentle glow from Nat’s
staff, he saw the large block of stone she was standing on, did he make all the right
connections.

Nat, looking out to the east, raised the staff of Avalon and brought its metal capped end down
sharply on the stone. As the staff, with a noise like a hammer blow on the gates of Hell, raised
sparks from the stone, the light in the east vanished, it was over.

The Tyr, the children and the house elf stood around the stone on the top of the Tor and stared
in wonder at the young girl as the light in her eyes faded and died. Nat was aware of her father
helping her down and of her mother and brother warmly wrapping their arms about her. The silent
walk down to the village under the light of wands passed without her noticing, and the welcome by
her grandparents to The Refuge was as nothing, because deep inside Natalie Potter was as empty and
lonely as could be.

They were all far too tired to talk about anything yet, and they collapsed into chairs and sofas
and some of them even drifted off to sleep. Harry left and returned with Tonks who was ready to
tear a strip off her daughter, but when she saw her Jenny and James fast asleep on a chair each
cuddled in each others arms, she was so happy to see they were alright that she forgot about the
telling off almost immediately. She didn’t stay, but had Harry conjure a ‘cloudy doorway’, saying
that she needed to get back to the Ministry. The mist of her nimbus limen was dispersing from the
lane at the front of the cottage, as the others settled down and waited to see what the morning
would bring.

…………………………………..

Somewhere in the village of Avalon the cry of a new born baby broke the quiet of that long, long
night. Lady Niniane woke from her sleep and rising from her bed walked quietly to the nursery that
held a single cot, and gently pulled the covers back from the baby lying there. The infant smiled
and gurgled as babies do, then closed his eyes to sleep.

He was a good strong boy, with sandy hair and hazel eyes, and his legs propelled him at
considerable speed as he tottered from room to room, yelling out with joy at the top of his voice.
He often sat at the window and stared out into the perpetual night, he longed to go and see, for he
knew she was waiting for him.

His mother praised him for his cleverness, the puzzles she had set him were not easy, but with a
single minded intensity he had mastered them. His thirst for knowledge drove him on, to learn the
secrets that others never really bothered about. Yet all the time he wondered if she would remember
him.

The power of his magic was considerable, he never bothered with a wand and it never restricted
him. In the minutes when time passed normally he found he could use his mind to search for the
thoughts of others, good and bad, and although distance made little difference to the strength of
his probing, he was always very careful not to abuse it. He never looked to see what she was
thinking but he could feel the sadness and the loneliness that she was suffering.

He had known about his gift from the moment of his awakening, he was like his mother and his
grandmother, he would live as long as was necessary, the gift would see to that. It had been this
way before, and his life had been a curse, but this time it would be different this time he had
someone to share the long years that would roll out before them, this time it would be forever
together.

The time was getting close, his perpetual world of night and the starlight was lightening as the
dawn approached, and the sun returned. He had walked the silent village, he knew every lane and
house and he knew the Tor and the crystal caves, and he knew that she hadn’t slept at all through
that long, long night. For he had seen her, sitting as still as a statue, the tears frozen on her
face, her face so beautiful that he found it hard to tear himself away from the window of the
cottage and when he did he wished that this night would end and the dawn bring a new day.

His mother watched as he packed his bags, he was tall now, and well grown, she knew the timing
was right soon the enchantment would break, soon the world would turn again. She stood at the door
and he bent to kiss her goodbye, then as she kissed him back, there was a the sound of breaking
glass and a breeze that had not moved in nineteen years lifted some old, fallen leaves and blew
them into the hallway.

“Mother?” he asked, for there were many questions bound in that one word.

“Yes, they are all here, and they are all well,” she looked deep into her son’s eyes,

“And yes she is well too, but remember what she has seen. She may not understand to begin with,
be very gentle.”

“Thank-you Mother, thank-you for everything.” The young man said and walked out of the house
into a bright morning that was full of promise.

………………………………………

No one was talking much as Mrs Granger and her husband prepared a breakfast for the exhausted
witches and wizards lying in various states of disarray in the lounge. As the kettle boiled and the
toast cooked under the grill, the pair of muggles so used to living with all this wizardry were
struggling to come to terms with what little they had been able to get out of Harry and Hermione.
All they could really comprehend was that Harry’s old enemy Draco Malfoy was dead, and so was
Solomon Aegis.

The loss of the old wizard was a great shame; the Grangers had come to know him well, but like
with Dumbledore before him, these battles between good and evil took their toll and his life had
been payment.

What had them totally confused was the change in their youngest grandchild, the little girl they
had seen briefly over Christmas was gone and a young woman had taken her place. She was still their
Natalie, there was no question over, that but a girl so changed, aged in a way they couldn’t
comprehend, and so sad that it broke their hearts to look at her.

Harry and Hermione had talked quietly to the girl for most of the night and she had made a few
replies but her voice was expressionless, their bright lively daughter was reduced to a young woman
who realised that all hope had gone. Eventually even her parents had fallen into a fitful sleep and
Natalie had remained seated, unmoving, staring into the distance her eyes focused on nothing at
all. In her solitude the tears came and they fell silently on to her hands that were cupped
together on her lap. Her upturned palm caught the drops that ran unashamedly down her cheeks and
she wept for a love so recently rekindled and so savagely extinguished.

Towards dawn the tears had stopped and as the sun began to lighten the morning sky Nat had risen
from the sofa and walked out into the garden to welcome the new day. There was little cheer in her
welcome, though the day was doing its best to get off to a good start. The few clouds that scudded
across the sky were light and fluffy and the gentle breeze that wafted them about was warm and
carried with it the promise of spring and new growth. Nat drew in breath after breath of the fresh
new air and slowly, ever so slowly, her resolve began to return. She knew she would never
completely throw off her feeling of loss, that would be with her forever, and she began to
understand the centuries of pain and sadness that Solomon had carried with him that would now be
hers to bear.

David Granger gazed out of the kitchen window as he set cups and saucers on his tray. Nat was
out in the garden at the moment, walking slowly in the brightening light of the early morning. He
could not help but compare this sight of his granddaughter with the one vision that he had of
Hermione in a similar situation, but on that occasion his daughter’s depression had been lifted by
Harry coming back home and they had been able to share their troubles, but Nat had no one to turn
to in her hour of need, no young man to be at her side. The emotion that welled up blurred his
vision of his granddaughter, but not so much that he couldn’t take in every detail of her
appearance. She had outgrown her robes, and she was doing her best to stand straight and tall,
which made them look even shorter. Her face was strong and denied the hurt her Grandfather knew she
was feeling, it made her look older, her eyes held something that aged her even more. Her hair was
long and dark as it had always been, blown by the morning breeze it fanned out in a wild profusion
around her head. The sunlight caught the filaments of three white strands that now ran the full
length of her hair and made the whiteness glow almost into incandescence.

The young man walked down the narrow lane that ran around the base of the Tor, it was so strange
to see it in sunlight and there was a breeze and movement; it was almost like seeing everything for
the first time again. He waved cheerily at the witches and wizards he passed on his way to the
cottage and they smiled back in the happy understanding that at least that young lad was having a
good day. Then as he drew nearer he began to get a little nervous, he wasn’t sure why his
uncertainty was growing, for had known everyone in that house since he was an old man. Maybe it was
the fact that now he was only nineteen that had something to do with it, and he hadn’t spoken to
any of them in his whole life, perhaps it was excitement at the thought of meeting them again after
all this time. He pondered this problem as he walked down the lane, he couldn’t decide, he would
have to talk to Eleanor, playing with time could be convenient, but was very confusing.

He reached the garden gate and glanced at the sign which proclaimed The Refuge, remembering the
first time he had seen that name board. He had been an old man then, it was the year Harry became
seventeen, troubled times but long in the past now. He took a deep breath and walked up the path,
when he reached the front door he was about to ring the bell when on an impulse he turned and
followed the path round the house to the gate that lead to the back garden.

His heart leaped as he saw her, her solemn beauty enhanced by the radiance of the white strands
in her hair, the mark of her power, and her position as one of the four. He noticed that she was
still wearing her Gryffindor robes, they were definitely a bit on the short side for her now, the
red facings and hood lining stood out in the pale sunlight, the bright colour in contrast to that
of her face, which was pale and drawn. She was certainly no school girl any longer, she looked sad
and alone, and he knew that feeling well.

“Hello” he said just loud enough for her to hear.

She looked up, standing in the gateway was a lad of eighteen or nineteen, he was tall and was
dressed in brown, not a drab colour but one that had suggestions of autumn in it. He wore wizards’
robes which ended at his knees showing trousers which were tucked into calf length boots made of
soft leather. His shoulder length hair was sandy in colour and it had a curl in it which could have
given her mother’s hair a run for its money. The young man smiled at her and then Natalie felt her
world begin to spin, he was by her side and caught her before she hit the ground.

Her grandfather shouted out as he saw Natalie begin to crumble, then from nowhere a boy appeared
caught her and gently lowered her down. David’s cry jerked Harry back to his senses and he arrived
in the kitchen in time to see the final piece of the drama out in the garden. Rushing out of the
backdoor Harry saw a young man kneeling on the grass supporting Nat who seemed to have fainted.

“What is going on!” said Harry concerned for his daughter and wondering who this stranger
was.

“Sorry Harry,” said a tantalisingly familiar voice, “I didn’t think she would recognise me as
easily as that, I am afraid she has had a bit of a shock …sorry,” he said again, and the young man
raised his head to look at Harry.

“Oh my!” said Harry, he gazed with incredularity at the boy as his mind tried to come to terms
with what he believed he was seeing. “I’m not surprised she fainted, let’s get her inside shall we,
and I think you, Hermione and I need to have a little talk.”

The lad swept Nat up in his strong arms and followed Harry into the house. They passed David
Granger standing dumbfounded in the kitchen and Harry led the way up the stairs. They laid Nat
gently on her bed and the youth knelt down by her side. Harry sat on the end of the bed shaking his
head at the sight before his eyes, and he heard a familiar step hurrying up the stairs, then
Hermione appeared at the door.

“What’s happened to Natalie?” she brushed passed Harry in her haste and squatted down by her
daughter, irritably pushing the stranger’s hand away. Hermione smoothed Nat’s ruffled hair back and
out of her eyes, the girl was pale but breathing normally and she was showing signs of coming round
again. With a mother’s concern she scrutinised the young man who appeared to be the cause of all
this trouble and then she drew in a sharp breath of surprise.

“I don’t believe it, it isn’t possible, is it Harry?” the words tumbled from her lips,
breathless, incredulous and questioning.

“It would seem that it is,” Harry said calmly, suggesting that at last his brain was accepting
what his eyes were telling him.

“I am sorry…” the young man began, but stopped as a quiet voice from the girl on the bed asked
the question both she and her parents needed answering.

“Solomon?” the question was almost a sigh.

“Yes Natalie, I am here,”

“Don’t leave me again,” she pleaded in the smallest of voices.

“Never,” he said.

“Never,” she repeated with a satisfied smile, and then her eyes closed and the sleep which had
tried to claim her all night finally won.

The three of them moved away from the side of the bed to the window in the room with its view
out over the garden to the meadows beyond. They stood in silence for a moment not knowing what to
say, then Solomon reached into his pocket, retrieved something from it and held a closed fist out
to Hermione.

“Here,” he said, “I ought to let you have this back, thank-you very much.” Into her open palm he
released the necklace with Hermione’s Tear suspended on it. The jewel was still and dark but as it
touched Hermione’s skin a small blue flame ignited in its heart and then it flickered and began to
pulse with the strange double beat that it had always carried before.

“Oh …Solomon,” Hermione cried and threw her arms around the young man’s neck and the tears that
fell from her eyes were tears of joy.

A rustling sound from the doorway made them all turn towards it, and standing there was an old
stout witch, possibly the oldest witch there has ever been. She looked Solomon up and down, mumbled
to herself, then nodded as if she approved of what she saw.

“You’ll do,” Eleanor said, “only your mother and I have seen you looking like that, there will
be suspicions but no one will be able to prove who you are.”

“I don’t think you will be able to keep his identity secret,” said Harry, “if that is what you
are intending. Both Hermione and I knew who he was almost immediately; he doesn’t look all that
different.”

“That is true, but then he wasn’t trying to hide from you, and you two probably know him much
better than all the others.” Eleanor gave Solomon the once over again, then confirmed her
satisfaction. “No, he will do just fine.”

“Thanks,” said Solomon, dryly, “thanks awfully.”

“You have things to talk over,” Eleanor said to the three as they crossed to her. “I will be
here when she wakes; she and I need to talk too. Go down stairs now, I will call if she wants you.”
And with that she shooed them out of the room. “Oh by the way, you can’t call him Solomon any more,
call him….” she searched for a name… “call him Ambrose.” Eleanor gave them the briefest smile, then
closed the bedroom door.

Waiting down stairs were a group of very anxious people, who rushed forward all asking questions
as Harry, Hermione and young Solomon - Ambrose reached the bottom of the flight.

Harry forestalled all the questions. “Nat is fine, she didn’t sleep last night, and what with
everything else, she just fainted.” He said, smoothly. “Fortunately this young man was on his way
to see us and found her in the garden.”

Ron was looking suspiciously at the lad that Harry was gripping by the shoulder, he looked very
familiar and Ron was beginning to have some very strange ideas. Then suddenly for no reason, it
occurred to him that maybe the young man didn’t really look all that familiar after all. “OK then,”
he said, “and you are?”

“Ambrose.” said Solomon; he held out his hand, “Ambrose Semper, pleased to meet you Mr Weasley.
I am sorry to butt in on you all; I know things are a little difficult at the moment. You see the
Merlinium sent me, Lady Niniane was too upset to come herself, but she wanted you to know what
happened to my uncle.”

“I thought you looked familiar,” said Ron, “but then I didn’t, confusing isn’t it?” he laughed,
“So you are related to Solomon?”

“I was Sir, yes.” replied Ambrose.

“Oh,” Ron looked crestfallen, “sure… was.”

A depressing silence descended and was in danger of getting out of hand. “Into the lounge
everyone,” said Harry, breaking the darkening mood. “Then Ambrose here will tell us what he
can.”

When they were all seated again, the young man began to explain what the council thought had
occurred, as he spoke his manner changed from a lowly official delivering a message and became that
of a teacher talking to a class. Ginny listened to the lecture and she was sure that she had
witnessed this style before, she glanced at Hermione and raised her eyebrows, but her friend would
not meet her gaze. Then as Ambrose continued Ginny’s suspicions slipped away and she was amazed at
how much like his uncle this young lad was.

“It would appear,” said Ambrose, “that the moment the Dreamwraith took over my uncle’s body I
suppose you could say that he was dead, it’s not entirely accurate but it is close enough. You see
nothing with a human mind could hope to defeat the Infundus; it has always been able to turn anyone
who tried to control or attack it.”

“Is that what happened to Voldemort?” Harry interrupted.

“Possibly, err…Professor Potter, we don’t know when or how the Infundus invaded his wand,
Voldemort dabbled in so much of the darker side of existence it is impossible to tell.” Ambrose
admitted. “What is clear is that whenever it was that Voldemort touched the wand inhabited by the
Infundus, from that moment on he was doomed.”

“You mean that he could never have won against us?” Hermione asked.

“Oh no, Professor err… Potter err…Granger.” Ambrose gave a nervous laugh. “Sorry I’m not sure
how….. perhaps Mrs Potter?” He looked to her for guidance.

Hermione smiled, “Hermione will be fine, Ambrose.”

“Oh if you’re sure, thank-you. What I intended to say Hermione,” said Ambrose trying it out and
finding that it fitted ok, “Was that if Voldemort had beaten you then the Infundus would have had a
free rein, it would have instantly subdued Voldemort and then there would have been a world ruled
by It, infinitely worse than anything Voldemort could have come up with. Your victory put a stop to
any plans the Infundus may have had of working through Voldemort, it had to start all over
again.”

“Anyway,” Ambrose continued with the story, “The Dreamwraith had no mind, at least nothing the
Infundus could work with, my uncle’s soul was clouded in death but his body was still functioning
despite the actions of the muggles. So the two of them in combination, with the help of that
wonderful stone,” he said pointing to the jewel hanging once again around Hermione’s neck, “were
able to form a singularity and that is where they sent the Infundus, it is isolated, it will never
be able to escape, and it has nothing to feed on. No emotions, no minds, no souls.”

“So is it dead?” asked Ginny.

“Can’t be well.” said Ron, earning a giggle from Luna.

“That is something we will never know,” said Ambrose seriously. “Unless someone finds out how to
unwrap a singularity and that takes a lot of power, exploding sun sort of power.”

For the Tyr as a whole that explanation had to suffice. It wasn’t complete and maybe the
destruction of the Infundus was not as final as they would have liked but it would have to do, they
had all agreed that unless Solomon came back from the land of the dead they would never know any
more.

“That would be a first,” said Ron, “but you know if anyone could do it I would bet it would be
that old man.” He smiled sadly. “I’m going to miss him.”

Harry and Hermione dared not look at each other at this point, nor at Ambrose who sat between
them, youthful innocence shining in his face.

After saying their goodbyes Ron and Luna left to return to the Burrow to collect Wulfric and
Ginny and Neville disappeared back to Thrubwell’s to relieve Poppy Pomfrey and Minerva McGonagall
from their babysitting duties and claim Rose once more.

Harry and Hermione were alone once again with Solomon, at least they thought they were alone for
in the corner of the lounge the two youngest participants of the drama of the night before sat
curled up together silent and unnoticed.

“OK.” said Harry, “You and the Dreamwraith dealt with this Infundus, why is it that you look
like you have just finished your final year at Hogwarts rather than its Headmaster.”

“Ah! well it is very simple,” said Solomon. “you both saw what occurred; my body was completely
consumed, so I had to start again.”

“That’s not much of an answer Solomon, why didn’t you die?” Harry looked a little embarrassed to
ask. “Not that it isn’t nice to have you back, but it isn’t normal is it?”

“I think I can answer that for you Harry,” said Hermione, “If you try to remember all the stuff
we learned about our souls, you know that dying isn’t the end of it.”

“Yes, I know that we can come back,” said Harry “but when we do we are someone else, and we
don’t remember what happened before. I didn’t think you could come back for a re-run or pick how
old you are when you return,” he remarked looking pointedly at the disgustingly youthful
Solomon.

“No that’s right,” said Hermione thoughtfully, “as far as it goes. However I spend far more time
reading old books and scrolls than you do…”

“When didn’t you.” Harry said quietly.

Hermione ignored him and continued, “… and it goes a bit further that that. I found a very old
scroll which explains it. Whatever happens to us, there are four souls who remain here all the time
to …I don’t really know how to put it… look after the rest of us I suppose,” she said looking to
Solomon for confirmation.

“Good approximation,” he said.

“So,” continued Hermione, “basically Solomon and his mother, and Eleanor and Merlin cannot die.
If anything happens to their physical form then they would have to regenerate a new body… you know…
start again as a baby.”

Solomon nodded slightly in agreement. “OK,” said Harry, “I get that, but if you were born last
night, why aren’t you still a baby?”

“Eleanor held my mother and I in a temporal conundrum for nineteen years, she released it this
morning,” said Solomon, sounding so much like the teacher he didn’t look like any more. “Hermione
is almost correct, there are four of us, and we have been given a gift, we remain while others pass
on. The old Solomon was gone, and a new Solomon grew to nineteen years old in the time it took you
to pass one night. Same person, different body,” he said finishing with a flourish.

“OK I buy that,” said Harry, “I am not sure why, but it does make some sort of sense.”

The one subject neither parent had touched on was the change in their daughter and Solomon
decided that if it wasn’t to come unannounced he had to take the initiative and deal with it
now.

“Your understanding of the four eternal souls was excellent Hermione.” She smiled in
appreciation of his praise. “The only thing is,” Solomon said with trepidation, “is that you were
wrong on one account. Merlin is no longer one of the four eternal souls; he gave his gift to
another.” He paused, uncertain as how to go on. “Oh dear, …looking back I have always known there
was something special about Natalie, let’s be honest both your children are special, but for some
time I was convinced that Natalie has layers to her personality that she has been hiding.”

Hermione was looking at him in shock, remembering the old man who had shown her the future, the
old man that she had seen when in truth she had expected to see Nat. The young Solomon was still
talking. “I didn’t know until the last few seconds before the Dreamwraith took control, but I saw
something in Natalie’s mind that I thought I would never see again, not in this world anyway.”

Tears welled up in Hermione’s eyes as the realisation hit her. “My baby.” She said quietly, as
Harry slipped his arm around her.

“There is no doubt Solomon?” said Harry as calmly as he could.

“I don’t think so,” he said earnestly, “I clearly saw Natalie’s past lives in her mind, you
aren’t supposed to be able to do that, and there is something else…” This was very difficult, it
was something that they should know but despite all his years of knowledge and memories, he didn’t
know how to say what he so desperately wanted to tell them.

In the uncomfortable silence, while Solomon searched for a way to tell Harry and Hermione that
he was in love with their daughter and had been for over a thousand years, came a voice full of
concern that his family was about to be terminally disrupted.

“Tell me Solomon, Ambrose, who or whatever it is you are; what have you done to my little
sister?” James’ question wasn’t quite shouted out, perhaps if he was sure that he should have been
listening to the conversation it would have been.

“Solomon has done nothing,” said a voice from the top of the stairs. They all turned to look at
the speaker, and Natalie stood there looking every inch of the young woman she had become. Dressed
now not in her Gryffindor robes but in flowing robes of emerald green which exactly matched the
colour of her eyes.



16. Altered Situations
----------------------



Chapter 16. Altered Situations.

John Burford surveyed the scene of destruction, he was having some difficulty in coming to terms
with the extent of it, but association with his wife and her wizarding world did form something of
a cushion. The white fire of the night before had burned out a trench which stretched for miles
across the open countryside, water had already begun to seep into the bottom of it and when full
there would be an impressive lake where farm land had once existed. The public unrest had stopped
as quickly as it had begun and the authorities were at a loss to explain it and neither John nor
Julie were going to enlighten them, not that they would have been believed.

Julius Magus had suffered a complete mental breakdown, but regardless his company was going to
take the blame for all the local damage, of that the senior investigating officer had no doubt. The
rioting in the surrounding villages had caused much death and destruction, at least now it was over
and peace had returned to the area but it would be many years before the muggles concerned could
forgive themselves for what they had done if ever they could.

The only thing to lighten the mood that day happened early in the afternoon, John and Julie were
about to leave when a car drew up to the police cordon at the gate of the research station. The
very large man who squeezed himself out of its interior stood with open mouthed wonder at the
devastation before him. Julie could see that he had initiated a heated argument with the officers
on the barrier and walked over to see what was going on.

“I am sorry Sir your name does not appear on my list, so I cannot let you in.” said the
constable in a firm tone.

“Are you sure I know I am late, four weeks to be precise, I took some holiday… it was owed you
know, please check again. Its Dursley… Dudley Dursley.”

“It's OK Bob, I'll deal with Mr Dursley.” said Julie.

“Anything you say Ma'am.” Bob said with relief.

“I was at your mother's house with your cousin a while back Mr. Dursley, and she was very
worried about you, have you thought to contact her?”

“Err.. no actually,” he admitted, “and I don't have a cousin, my mother is my only
relation,” Dudley added stiffly.

“Really… I don't know if Harry will be disappointed or glad that you seem to have forgotten
him,” said Julie hiding a smile.

“Harry?” said Dudley, with a sick look on his face, “Harry Potter?” he looked once more at the
destruction and the huge crevasse torn in the ground and his eyes bulged.

“Oh God, is this down to him and his lot?”

Julie Burford regarded Dudley with distaste, “Actually Mr. Dursley it is down to Harry Potter
and my lot,” she said surreptitiously twiddling her wand in her fingers, “I would suggest you go
home to your mother, I doubt there is a job for you here any more, your boss Julius Magus is likely
to be in a lot of trouble, if he ever regains his senses, that is.”

Dudley backed away with a look of horror on his face, trying to speak but the only word he
really managed was “Gibber” only as he forced his bulk into the tiny car did Julie hear anything
that made sense.

“Mummy they are at it again!” Dudley cried and he started the engine and the little car lurched
off up the road at a speed that would have earned him a ticket if the circumstances had been
different.

……………………………….

Harry and Hermione gazed in silent wonder at the transformation of their daughter; there was no
doubting the changes that had occurred now. Natalie walked sedately down the stairs, trying very
hard to maintain her appearance of a witch in the full possession of all her power, but her mother
noticed the way Natalie clung to the banister and that just occasionally her step faltered.
Hermione took half a step forward to give her daughter a hand, but James ran passed her to meet his
sister as she reached the foot of the stairs.

Natalie took the proffered arm and her brother led her into the lounge. He had a hundred
questions for her, but as he looked into the serene beauty of her face they all faded from his mind
and he was left with just the one.

“Why?”

Natalie looked at the people surrounding her, her grandparents trying so hard to understand what
to them must be doubly difficult to grasp, her mother and father their love for her shining in
their eyes, Jenny and James confused but eager to know more, then Natalie stared into the face that
she thought she would never see again. Ambrose smiled and gave a small nod of assent, *`Tell them
they need to know**,* *it is the only way that they will be able to move on to put this
all behind them.'* She heard the deep rich thought that she knew so well resounding in her
mind.

So Natalie sat on the old squashy sofa and she told them everything that had happened, the
crystal cave, Merlin, and the time she had spent with Eleanor. How she had hidden the changes in
her and the knowledge of who she really was from old Solomon.

……………………..

The others had drifted away, naturally or by some suggestion Natalie wasn't sure, but now
there was just the four of them sitting in a tight group being what they were, a family.

“Nat, these past lives, do we all have them?” James asked, quietly. “It's just that ….”

“Sometimes you feel that you have been through all this before?” finished Nat for him.

“Yes, something like that.”

“Well….” Nat began, but Hermione interrupted her.

“Do you really think we need to….”

Nat gave her mother the tiniest of smiles. “Yes Mum, he needs to understand. I promise it will
be OK.

Harry slipped his arm around Hermione. “Trust her Hermione, I think she is right, it will help
us all.” He looked deeply into a set of emerald green eyes that so closely mirrored his own. “Go on
Nat.”

So James came to know of Sophie and Austin Henry and the young boy's quest for a mother and
father. His old memories didn't emerge but deep down James knew that the tale was true, he
understood what he had lost and he understood what his family really meant to him.

“You see James,” said Nat, “both our souls ended up with what they wanted. Yours wanted a family
and Mum and Dad in particular, mine wanted to be able to be with Solomon, to keep him company for
always. Now I have that chance and because Merlin gave me his gift I can do that and more, I can
work with him in all that has to be done,” She stopped and looked at Solomon, the young man was now
standing quietly in the doorway and she smiled at him. “I couldn't bear the thought of him
being alone, he has been that way for so long already, it just wasn't fair any more.”

James wasn't a selfish boy but he could see his family dissolving before his very eyes,
everything was happening so fast. Although he understood the goal his soul had been seeking, Harry
and Hermione were only part of it. In a strange reversal where once his sister had thought she was
losing him, he now feared he was going to lose her. He couldn't help the rising of his emotions
and as James fought the tears he asked the question he had been trying not to ask but couldn't
avoid,

“Nat do you still love me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Why?”

“Because you are my brother,” she said with only the slightest trace of exasperation in her
voice.

“Will you always love me?” the question was quietly spoken but for some reason it was very
important for James to know the answer.

“Will you always be my brother?” Nat smiled at him.

“Yes.”

“Then I will always love you.”

James smiled back at her, put his arm around her neck and kissed her on the cheek. “That's
good, because I love you too.”

As they embraced Nat placed her hand on her brother's head and hid from his mind all the
knowledge she had just imparted to him save for the fact that she was still his sister, that his
family would always be there, and that she still loved him. However James was left with a feeling
of completeness and belonging and slowly the memories of Austin Henry faded becoming like those of
a dream, still there but veiled and vague, exactly as they should be.

Hermione gazed over James' shoulder into the emerald green eyes of her daughter, the stare
was returned, and as usual with this unusual family, a welter of thoughts, questions and answers
passed back and forth in that look. In the evening light in a small house that nestled in a village
that the world had forgotten a mother and her daughter reached an understanding that would last
them both the rest of their very long lives.

After a quiet evening meal Harry and Solomon found themselves out in the garden walking between
the flowers and watching the darkness fall and the early night stars come out. They reached the end
of the garden and leaned on the fence that separated it from the meadows beyond.

“Well what do we do now, Solomon?” asked Harry and he glanced towards the young, old man at his
side. “Everything has become a little confused, if you don't mind me saying so. What with you
getting younger and Natalie getting older, I mean you can't be Headmaster the way you are and
she is a bit …well you know, to be in the fourth year.” Harry scratched his head in thought. “I
suppose we could come

up with some sort of story of a time spell accident, I remember Hermione telling me that
terrible things have happened to wizards who have experimented with time. We certainly can't
tell anyone the truth, not that they would believe us anyway.”

Solomon laughed; to an outsider it would have looked very strange to see the way these two
interacted. Solomon, the younger, laid a fatherly arm on the older Harry's shoulder.

“I am sure the great Harry Potter will work it out,” said Solomon brightly, grinning at the
dirty look Harry cast his way. “Seriously though, a time spell is a good cover for Natalie's
changed …err circumstances, but I think we should let Solomon Aegis, at least the one that was the
Headmaster of Hogwarts, die. We cannot hide what has occurred, you and the rest of the Tyr will be
heroes again, like it or not,” he added because Harry had scowled at the thought.

“Umm… but what about Hogwarts, there is still a term and a half to go in this year, OWL's
and NEWT's to arrange and no one steering the ship?” complained Harry.

“I know of several good candidates for the job,” said Solomon, giving Harry a sly look. “Would
you like me to write you a reference; I think my handwriting is still the same?”

Whatever retort Harry was about to make was cut short by the appearance out of the gloom of two
young women, arm in arm, as mother and daughter came looking for husband and …whatever.

In the quiet of the night a spell was cast on the people sleeping in The Refuge that removed
from those who didn't need to know the truth about the origins of Ambrose Semper. To all
intents and purposes on that clear and starry night Solomon Aegis died.

……………………………….

The following morning they all returned to Hogwarts, where they found the school was in a state
of high excitement. The Daily Prophet had carried a story, gained from a reliable ministry source,
which claimed to tell of the occurrences of two nights ago. No names were mentioned, no reasons
given, and no hard facts were provided, but that had never stopped the Prophet before and it
didn't now. It boiled its story down to the appearance of a ten mile long, half a mile wide,
nine hundred feet deep hole in the ground, which had suddenly appeared in the east of the country.
Magic had been used and many had seen it, but as all the muggles in the area were busy causing
mayhem on each other and anything they could get their hands on, no one was concerned that the
wizarding world would be exposed. In fact the muggle police had put the blame on a muggle who had
carried out some very dubious experiments in a laboratory in the vicinity. The paper was concerned
that the Ministry of Magic official sources were keeping very quiet about the whole affair, “what
were they concealing?” asked the Prophet.

The Ministry were concealing the fact that until Arthur Weasley had a chance to speak to Harry,
Hermione and the others, they knew very little about what had gone on that night, and for the
moment that chance had not yet come.

Harry was in deep conversation with the board of Governors, he had sent them a message the day
before telling them of Solomon's death, and as a result of their unusually rapid response to
that bit of news, Harry was fighting against the inevitable and losing.

“It is the only sensible course of action Harry,” said Lawrence Stogumber, the head of the board
of Governors, “Flitwick has declined the position; for the sake of the smooth running of the school
you must take charge.” He considered the defiant look on Harry's face. “I know it will be
difficult, Solomon was a remarkable man and we all appreciate how close he was to you and Hermione,
but all the advances the school has made in the time he was head could be lost if someone less
err…….”

“Able to scare the robes off the Ministry and anyone else who decided to poke their nose into
the schools business?” suggested Harry.

“Err… quite,” said Stogumber reddening a little. “So you see Harry…” His plea was cut off before
he could finish.

“OK,” said Harry throwing his arms up in defeat, “I think you are all barmy, and I don't
feel I have enough experience for the job, but if that is what you want then… I'll do it.”

“Thank-you Harry and don't worry, you probably know this school better than anyone, and I am
sure that Hermione will lend you her copy of `Hogwarts, a History' if you get stuck.” said
Stogumber with a laugh, standing and holding out his hand. Harry responded and they shook on it.
The relieved Governors congratulated Harry, shaking his hand and slapping him on the back, and then
one after another they left the room leaving him on his own, the new Headmaster of Hogwarts.

“Well done love,” said Hermione flinging her arms around his neck, the moment he emerged from
the Board Room. “They are right you know; only you could follow Solomon.”

“Its not just Solomon but its Dumbledore as well,” he gave Hermione an entreating look, “You
will be there with me?” he asked.

“Of course, silly,” she said kissing him soundly, “Forever together, remember?”

“Yes” Harry replied, “I remember.” He shrugged his shoulders, “Well lets get started then, we
ought to go and see the others.”

They were all waiting for them at the foot of the stairs that led to the Headmaster's

office. The rest of the Tyr and Ambrose and Natalie all stood in a long line like some welcoming
committee, or troops lined up for inspection. It only took one look then Ron could hold his
merriment back no longer and he burst out laughing, what had started as a serious attempt to
welcome the new Headmaster turned into a group hug, which was probably just as well.

Harry led them all up the spiral stairs to the headmaster's office, facing the large oak
door he reached out to grasp the latch but in response to his actions the door swung open on its
own and revealed a room totally different to the one Harry was expecting. All of Solomon's
crystals and mysterious devices were gone, just as it had when Dumbledore had died, the office had
prepared itself for the next incumbent of the position of Headmaster. The desk with its high backed
chair was still there that had never changed, but by its side in a reflection of Dumbledore's
time was a perch and sitting on it was Harry's venerable owl Hedwig. She looked as beautiful to
Harry on this day as she had on the day Hagrid had given her to him some twenty five years ago. Her
snowy white feathers were just as smooth and soft and she clicked her beak to Harry welcoming him
home as she always did. Harry gently scratched her head and sighed.

“Hello girl, did you know all about this before I did?” he asked, not expecting an answer. The
owl regarded him with her large yellow eyes and softly nipped his finger, Harry smiled. “Of course
you did.”

Harry gazed about the room, the portraits of the old headmasters looked down on him they nodded
and smiled but for the moment none spoke, save one. The voice that always brought a lump to
Harry's throat when he heard it floated down from the portrait on the wall by the window.

“Well done Harry.” And Harry glanced up at the painting of Albus Dumbledore who appeared as
happy as Harry had ever seen him. Harry gazed intently into the bright blue eyes of the old man who
smiled and very deliberately winked at him. Dragging his sight back to the study he noticed that
all his books from is old office were now ensconced in the shelves that lined the walls and that in
the centre of the room were several large squashy sofas, Harry's favourite piece of furniture.
He also noticed that crowded in the doorway were all his friends, they had let him enter the office
on his own and were standing there with expressions ranging from tearful joy to outright amusement
at Harry's reaction to the state of his study.

“Come in,” Harry said, waving them in over the threshold, “make yourselves comfortable, we ought
to have a drink to celebrate.”

They all piled in and sat down. Then as if by magic, and it probably was, a tray with glasses
and several bottles appeared on the small table amidst the sofas.

“Clever Harry.” said Ron, as he helped himself to a glass of Ogden's.

“Manners Ron,” scolded Luna, “and it's far too early to be drinking that.” she said removing
the glass from Ron's hand and placing it back on the tray.

“Sorry all,” said Harry a bemused expression on his face, “I didn't really mean to do that,
though that was what I was thinking.”

*`**Unfoc**used thoughts Harry,**'* Solomon whispered at him
thoughtfully, *`**wandless magic is not as easy as it looks. It takes a bit of time to learn
to control which thoughts you wish to use magically and which you don't. It can be a little bit
embarrassing at first, try again.**'*

Harry looked at the tray of drinks and they vanished to be replaced with a teapot, a pile of
cups and saucers and a plate of biscuits.

“Oh wonderful Harry,” said Ron unenthusiastically, “Shall I be mother?”

As Ron began to distribute cups of tea there was a rap on the door, Harry rose to open it,
revealing a rather agitated Arthur Weasley.

“What on earth happened there Harry, I have only just been able to visit the site. There were
far too many muggle police milling around, I had to wait until Julie and her husband could smuggle
me in. The Prophet is having a field day, I need to talk to Solomon and get this all sorted out.”
Arthur said the strain of his office showing through.

“Cup of tea Dad?” said Ron helpfully.

“Cup of tea!” exclaimed Arthur, “I need more than a cup of tea, and I expected more information
from you my boy.” He looked around at the assembled faces. “And where is Solomon.”

“Sit down Arthur.” said Harry, “you don't know then, I thought Tonks was going to see you
yesterday?”

“I've been flitting back and forth, here and there for the last 24 hours, and I keep missing
her. I don't know anything!” said Arthur in exasperation, “I have only seen the Aurors that
Tonks had with her and Julie Burford, and they knew nothing of what happened inside the research
station, only what occurred outside, and that was bad enough.”

So patiently, and as completely as possible, Harry told the Minister for Magic the events of two
nights ago. He glossed over his daughters part in the proceedings, though he did explain away her
change appearance as a side effect of the powerful magic used. By the time Harry finished Arthur
looked stunned, and he gazed from face to face, not really able to believe all he had been
told.

“So he is really gone, no chance that he may pop up somewhere?” Arthur asked hopefully.

“No I am afraid not,” said Harry sadly.

“Then why is it we are in here?” said Arthur indicating the Study, “I thought the room would
only open for the true Headmaster, I remember that Umbridge woman was very upset about over
that.”

“That's right Dad, only for the true Headmaster,” said Ron grinning at his father and
discreetly nodding in Harry's direction. “Fancy that cup of tea now?” he said with undisguised
glee at Arthur's expression.

“No, the Governors wouldn't do that to me, would they?” Arthur looked imploringly at
Hermione.

She slipped a comforting arm around the Minister and patted him gently on the shoulder.

“Never mind Arthur, you know Harry, he's always had a bit of a soft spot for you and Molly,
I am sure he will be nice,” Hermione said sweetly.

“Oh dear,” he said resigning himself to the trials ahead, “I think I will have that cup of tea
now Ron, …please.”

As they talked Arthur could not but help keep glancing at Nat and the young man sitting quietly
with her. Neither of them had taken part in all the explaining that had been going on that morning,
but Arthur had a feeling that more had occurred than he was being told and he suspected that Nat,
at least, had played some part in the story that was being kept from him. When they broke for lunch
Arthur caught Harry and Hermione alone and he was able to ask the questions he had not wanted to
broach in public.

“Have you made any decisions about Natalie yet?” he asked the pair.

“What do you mean, Arthur, made any decisions?” Hermione replied, her eyes narrowing
dangerously.

“Well… err umm, I mean ah, that however she, ah, seems on the …err outside, she is after all
still fourteen years old, and should by rights err…umm, be in lessons with her class mates. Oh
dear!” he flustered. “And who is that boy, he looks so familiar, I just can't put a finger on
it?”

“Ah, well…” said Harry, He's… err.”

Now Arthur was the one with the suspicious look, but the couple on the sofa who must have been
listening to the exchange, rose together, walked up to the conversation and very neatly spiked
Arthur's guns.

“Sorry Mr Weasley,” said Natalie, in a most disarming way, “You haven't been introduced to
my friend, this is Ambrose.”

“How do you do Sir,” Solomon said holding out his hand. “Very pleased to meet you,” he said
vigorously shaking hands with the Minister for Magic, “We don't get much of a chance to meet
outsiders, where I come from.”

“And where do you come from …err Ambrose?” asked Arthur, massaging the feeling back into his
hand.

“Oh Avalon, Sir.” replied Solomon. “That is where I first met Natalie; I came here with her
because I am her friend.” He looked nervously at Arthur. “We didn't think anyone would
mind.”

“Err… No, no of course not,” said Arthur momentarily distracted, “Are you sure I haven't met
this young man before, Harry?” he asked Hogwarts newest Headmaster.

“You do look very familiar, you know.” He directed at the young man himself.

“That would be my Uncle,” Solomon replied.

“Uncle?” asked Arthur warily.

“Yes Sir, Solomon Aegis.” said Solomon.

“Solomon was your Uncle? I didn't know he had a sister.” said Arthur.

“He didn't Sir,” said Solomon.

“Oh sorry, your father must have been his brother then?” Arthur smiled convinced he was now in
command of all the facts.

“No Sir, Solomon Aegis didn't have a brother either, the relationship is a little more
complex, I call him my Uncle for convenience.” said Solomon smiling at the now totally confused
Minister. “And so that you know, Sir, to save any problems from arising Lady Niniane has agreed,
that with her parent's consent, to complete Natalie's education in Avalon.”

“What err… well I suppose that is alright, is it Harry?” Arthur looked to him for confirmation
and Harry nodded, “OK then, but surely your Uncle is the brother of your mother or father,
isn't that right Hermione?” he almost pleaded.

“Yes Arthur of course you are right,” she said, slipping a comforting arm around his shoulders,
and gently leading him out of the room to go down to the Great Hall. “Just accept it all at face
value, it is much easier if you do that.”

“If you say so Hermione, I have great faith in your judgement.”

“That's very kind of you, Arthur” Hermione's voice floated back as they descended the
stairs.

Harry laughed, then looked to the couple standing next to him, his emotions were mixed. Solomon
or Ambrose was a very old friend, very old, and now Harry knew he would have to stop thinking of
him as such. He looked into the calm beautiful face of his daughter, into those emerald green eyes
that so closely matched his own, and knew that he couldn't refuse anything she asked of
him.

“Will you be going now?” Harry asked the pair.

“Soon Harry,” said Solomon, “there is one more thing that needs to happen and then we will
go.”

As if in answer to a cue, a large black shiny nose poked round the edge of the door to the inner
room of the headmaster's quarters, and with a scrabbling of claws Solomon's old black
Labrador Compass waddled across to where Natalie and Solomon sat.

Harry had no idea how old the dog was, he had been full grown when they had first met twenty one
years before. Harry remembered it so clearly seeing Solomon and Compass walking out of the mist on
the lawns outside the school, and thinking, no wishing, that the black dog was Sirius.

The dog sat and moved his large brown eyes from witch to wizard as if he was sizing them up. It
looked as if he was smiling, his mouth open and his large tongue flapping about as he panted, he
was certainly happy for his tail never stopped wagging. Compass lifted a paw and placed it on
Solomon's knee and the young-old wizard reached out to pat him on the head. The dog gave a
joyous bark and then very slowly he began to fade away. Solomon watched him with tears in his eyes
as Compass became more and more transparent the last bit of him to disappear was his tail and it
was still wagging furiously.

“Four hundred years, you know,” said Solomon, when he had regained some of his composure, “four
hundred years, he's been with me. He appeared out of nowhere when I needed a friend and now he
has gone back.”

Solomon looked at Natalie. “Do you know the first thought he ever sent me?” Natalie shook her
head not daring to speak. “He said *`**I will stay with you until you fi**nd what you
are searching for'**,* I didn't understand then but just now when he looked at you
he said *`**Here she is,'* and it all made sense. Oh dear,” sniffed Solomon, drying
his eyes, “I think I am going to miss him.”

………………………………..

The news that Solomon Aegis had joined the ranks of past Headmasters shot through the school
like a rocket, but only a few knew that Harry had been chosen to follow in his footsteps and they
hadn't told anyone. Most of the pupils assumed that Professor Flitwick would take command but
some of the staff knew him better than that, and their suspicion was rewarded when Harry was
introduced to them all in the staff room early the following morning before breakfast. Hagrid could
hardly contain himself as he congratulated Harry, though in truth it was the staff room that could
hardly contain Hagrid as he jumped for joy and nearly went straight through the floor.

The school remained in the Great Hall after breakfast that morning, the events of three nights
ago were the only topic of conversation, and the discussions were loud and animated. James and
Jennifer were trying very hard to maintain a low profile at their respective tables, but the
questioning was relentless. At the Gryffindor table the absence of Nat Potter was causing a great
deal of interest and Jennifer was hard pressed to provide reasons. She was immensely grateful when
the volume of noise abated as the professors filed into the hall and took their places at the head
table. In the room behind the professors table a conversation was still taking place.

“I still think it is a silly idea, Hermione,” said Harry, his exasperation showing in his tone.
“Why can't I just walk through the door like any normal person?”

“Can normal people walk through doors? Well that might be an alternative I suppose.” She said,
not taking her husband seriously at all.

“You know what I mean.” said Harry darkly.

“You are no longer `normal', if you ever were. You are the Headmaster of Hogwarts now and
you will make an entrance that fits your station.” Hermione said, giving Harry a look that he
couldn't argue with.

“OK, if that is what you want,” he replied now resigned to the performance. “How about some
flames and smoke as well?”

“Just do it Harry, peragate into the seat like we said, it will be quite enough.” And Hermione
slipped through the door into the now silent hall.

The vacant place where the headmaster sat was the centre of everyone's attention, and every
eye but two were fixed on it. James however was desperately scanning the row of professors, he had
seen his mother, but had yet to find his father, and the longer he failed to find him, the
premonition that he was not going to enjoy the next few minutes grew to almost unbearable
proportions.

With a pop an enormous jug appeared and floated in the air above the headmaster's seat.
Agonisingly slowly the jug began to tip until its contents poured over its rim to splash into the
vacant chair. The liquid didn't run away, it sloshed backwards and forwards and appeared to be
trying to take on a shape of its own. Before the astonished school Harry Potter was literally
poured out of the jug and into the position taken by the Headmaster.

When completely poured he turned to Hermione and winked, she rolled her eyes conveying as much
in that action as she always did. Harry turned to face the school and a split second before the
students erupted in welcoming the new headmaster Harry clearly heard the single, very recognisable
voice of his son cry out.

“Oh no!”

-->



17. The Greatest Adventure Of Them All
--------------------------------------

Chapter 17. The Greatest Adventure Of Them All.

Harry surveyed the empty Great Hall, he was sitting in the Headmaster’s chair mulling over the
events of the last few weeks, it appeared that they had done it again. Triumphed when the odds
against them had seemed insurmountable, but as before the victory was hollow. Last time they had
lost Dumbledore, Snape and little Austin Henry, this time although everyone lived they had still
lost Solomon and worst of all, Natalie. Harry knew he should feel happy for them both, Nat and
Ambrose had what they wanted, they were together, but he, Harry, wasn’t going to have the
satisfaction of seeing his daughter grow up slowly and become the beautiful young woman he knew she
was, she had done the whole process when he wasn’t looking and he felt cheated.

Now here he was, Headmaster of Hogwarts, and he doubted he would even be given the time to feel
sorry for himself.

The fragrance of her perfume arrived before she did; Hermione never used anything exotic, the
simple purity of vanilla expressed her persona better than anything. He closed his eyes and
relished the pleasure as she perched herself on the arm of his chair and slipped her hand round the
back of his neck and embraced him. That feeling had never diminished; his love for his brown eyed
bushy haired witch always drew him back from whatever despair he was falling into. As Hermione
leaned over and kissed him on the top of his head, Harry pulled her over and on to his lap, and
then as their lips met Hermione provided the best medicine for an ailing husband.

They sat together for a while enjoying the silence and each others company, for the moment the
school didn’t need either of them and it left them in peace.

“Feeling better Harry?” Hermione asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry gave an answering squeeze, and he smiled, “How could I not be, with you here by my side,
well on my lap anyway.” He waved his hand over the table and a jug and two goblets appeared.

“You’re getting very good at that,” Hermione said.

“Well you mustn’t let you mind wander when you’re doing it, I nearly ended up with porridge on
my toast instead of marmalade this morning, join me in a drink?”

“What is it?” she asked suspiciously.

“Should be pumpkin juice,” Harry said, looking warily into the jug. “Yup that’s what it looks
like, anyway.”

Hermione laughed, “OK, what shall we drink to, you and the school?” she said.

“How about, us and the school?” Harry replied.

“Fine by me,” and Hermione watched as Harry, his hands nowhere near the jug, poured the drinks
and they drank to just that.

As the noise of the school going about its daily business began to intrude into the quiet of the
Great Hall, Harry and Hermione realised that unfortunately they could not spend the whole day
lazing around and as they rose to leave and walk across to the staff door, Hermione remembered
something she had meant to mention.

“Oh by the way Harry, you will have to have a word with James,” she said.

“James? I thought that Nat sorted out all his worries the other day? He said.

“She did, but at that time his father hadn’t been made Headmaster, had he?”

“Ah,” said Harry understanding, “and that has caused some more difficulties I take it? He was a
little distant with me at breakfast this morning.”

“He thinks you have done it on purpose just to make his remaining time at Hogwarts as hard as
possible.” Hermione told him.

“Is he ever going to forgive me?”

“Oh yes,” she assured him, “go light on the homework, give him anything he wants for the next
ten years or so, and he will.” Hermione gave Harry a sideways glance and giggled, Harry shivered as
he always did. “If we all live long enough that is,” she said with a smile.

…………………………………

Maybe it was some kind of reward who can tell, but live long enough? They certainly did, and you
mustn’t go away with the idea that they never had any more battles to fight, there were plenty of
them. In these battles no one died, no one was even injured, at least not on purpose, because they
were all to do with running the school, bending or changing the Ministry rules, and the general
homely sort of situations that all witches, wizards and even some muggles have to deal with on a
daily basis. It wasn’t boring for them, what would make you think that? There is nothing in the
least easy or relaxing in running a school with a thousand magical students all intent on
‘out-Harry Pottering’ the Headmaster.

But never again did Harry, Hermione or the rest of the Tyr have to stand up to a wizard such as
Voldemort or an elemental evil like the Infundus. Perhaps if there were any of either persuasion
remaining in or on this world they got the message, and left everyone alone. This really was the
time to live, the time to enjoy the peace and freedom, the time to have a happy ever after.

Hermione even got to see the wedding that had been promised to her, and it was well after James
had left Hogwarts. He finished with nine NEWTS and it appeared that his wand knew what it was doing
when it picked him out. The legendary healing power of the Simurgh was carried in the feather that
lay at the core of James’ wand and it was no surprise that he went on to be one of the greatest
healers St.Mungo’s had ever seen. He and Jennifer married when they were twenty five and Hermione,
standing waiting for the ceremony to start, looked in vain for an image of her past self watching
the proceedings. At the precise moment Hermione knew the young couple had turned to her watching
from the past, a partridge exploded from a bush with a flurry of wing beats and a cry of alarm,
James and Jennifer turned toward the bird, and the circle of time was completed again.

James and Jennifer worked together at St. Mungo’s and in time discovered the cure for
lycanthropy. Werewolves everywhere howled their praise until they took the treatment and then they
could thank them properly.

Natalie and Ambrose, as they were careful to call him, were frequent visitors to the school and
to Godrics Hollow. To allay any suspicions they aged themselves slightly as the years progressed,
but not everyone was fooled, at least not completely. For some while after the event, Ron had a
quiet word with Hermione.

“It occurred to me that there was a slight problem with Ambrose’s story, about the destruction
of the Infundus,” he said to her one evening when they were all enjoying walking through the
grounds of Hogwarts.

“Oh yes, what’s that then Sherlock Weasley?” said Hermione, curious as to what her old friend
had been thinking about for so long.

“Who’s Sherlock Weasley?”

“Never mind, go on.”

“Well it’s your necklace, you gave it to Solomon and he destroys the Infundus, but then you get
it back when Ambrose arrives. You see I know you didn’t have it on before you went to see what had
happened to Nat that morning, and it was there when you came back down stairs. I think that there
is more to Ambrose and Solomon than uncle and nephew.”

“Err… Ron how did you know I wasn’t wearing it, what makes you so sure?”

Ron had the grace to go a little red then he squared his shoulders and said “Well if you must
know I was looking at you,” he became very quiet, “You see Hermione if the truth be told I have
been in love with you, just a bit mind, ever since, well I’m not sure. It’s not like the way I feel
about Luna, it’s just that you make me feel……”

“Safe, wanted, loved, that if she approves of what you have done then it has all been worth
while, and that if she asked you would do it all again without a seconds thought.” Said Harry,
without rancour, he had obviously been eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Err…yes” said a very embarrassed Ron, whose face now matched the colour of his hair.

“You and me both mate,” said Harry smiling at the pair of them, “you and me both.”

In the gathering gloom, arm in arm, the three walked across the lawns, and Ron’s suspicions went
unanswered.

………………………….

The years rolled on and as time passes you begin to lose the ones you love. New ones come along
to join the family but that doesn’t lessen the sadness when some one goes. The children gave them
grand children and they then gave them great grandchildren, but the circle of the Tyr was broken on
the day that Luna died. Ron did not take her loss well and Harry and Hermione watched with mounting
sadness as their oldest friend declined and in the year that was the sixtieth anniversary of
Harry’s headmastership, Ron took the walk down the passage that led to his reunion with his
wife.

For one hundred and twenty years Harry and Hermione were the leading lights at Hogwarts, during
that time there was never a head and his deputy, they ruled together, and it was a golden age for
the school and the wizarding world. The thousands of students that passed through the hallowed
halls of Hogwarts could not be unaffected by the presence of the paramount witch and wizard of the
time. Each of them left with a little of the togetherness without which the wizarding world would
have never overcome Voldemort or the Infundus, and they took that togetherness out into the world
with them.

The year that Harry and Hermione left Hogwarts for the sanctuary of Godrics Hollow was the year
that they became the last left alive in the wizarding world to have participated in the fall of
Voldemort. Ginny departed to be with all the others and left them on their own, but they weren’t
lonely. The cottage was filled with family, grand children with a significant number of greats
before the grand appeared to keep the elderly couple younger than their years should have allowed.
The attendance of three house elves, Dobby’s children, helped even more. Dobby himself was waiting,
he did little these days other than that, his children did not know what their father was waiting
for, but Harry did. The little house elf had saved Harry’s life on two occasions from two
generations of the same family, and he was waiting for the time when he knew he would not have to
do it all over again.

Right at the beginning of all his adventures Albus Dumbledore had told an eleven year old Harry
that to a well organised mind death is but the next great adventure. “It is really like going to
bed after a very long day”. Dumbledore had said. At the time Harry had not understood, but now with
the last of his friends gone and Hermione by his side as he knew she would always be, it did not
seem to be such a terrible thing.

During one long summer in that short period between July and September when Harry and Hermione
were both one hundred and eighty years old they said their goodbyes and put their affairs in
order.

Sitting together on a sofa which was even older than they were, Harry had purloined it many
years before from the Gryffindor Common Room; they quietly enjoyed their own company. Harry turned
to his wife, she looked no different to him, but the bushy hair was now silver not brown. She
returned his stare; the boy she loved was still there hidden under a mantle of years, his white
hair short enough so that the lightning shaped scar was still visible on his forehead.

Harry reached over and ran his fingers through the silky strands of Hermione’s hair, savouring
the feel that filled his mind with so many memories. Slipping his hands around her neck he felt for
the clasp of her necklace and unfastened it. They held it together between them, the stone
flickering with that strange double pulse of blue light. They laid it down in the box on the blue
cushion where Harry had first seen it displayed so long ago. Hermione gave the stone a pat to say
thank-you and farewell, now there was no need for words, they were so in tune that both knew that
the time was right.

Standing they held each others hand and indulged in a last kiss. Harry waved his hand and at his
summons the stone arch appeared before them, the lightly fluttering veil hiding what lay beyond;
there was no hesitation in their pace, they walked confidently up to the threshold and side by side
they stepped through. On its velvety blue cushion Hermione’s Tear gave one final burst of light
then lay there cold and dark, and then as if it was melting away, vanished from the cottage.

It was as it had been before all those years ago, the corridor in Hogwarts that was a path
through the forest and in reality was neither. As they walked Harry felt the discomforts of age
fall away and he looked to his wife whose long bushy hair was glowing with the colour of youth. In
those wonderful brown eyes he could see his own reflection and for him the years had diminished as
well, his dark hair untidy as usual obscured his vision of the young Hermione that now graced his
arm, and unconsciously he brushed it back out of his eyes with his hand.

Hermione, whose eyes had never left the sight of her rejuvenated husband, gave a little cry of
surprise and stopped to turn to him and examine his forehead.

“It’s gone Harry, your scar it’s gone,” she said excited by her discovery but with a twinge of
sadness that the one thing that had positively identified her husband to everyone had gone.

“Never mind love,” he said smiling at her, “I never really liked it anyway.”

They laughed and embraced and kissed, then arm in arm again they continued with their
journey.

………………………………..

In Godrics Hollow a very old and tired house elf looked at his three children, they were all
crying but Dobby held up his hand to quieten them.

“I’s can go now, Harry Potter needs Dobby no more,” the elf’s voice was faint and difficult to
hear, “but you’s remember he is not the last of the Potters and it is to them that you should go.
Our families are not joined by service or obligation, our families is joined by love.” Dobby drew
in a deep shuddering breath and as he let it out he slowly faded away and vanished.

Dobby’s children shut the front door of the cottage and walked slowly to the gate where they
were met by a witch and wizard who stood and gazed at the small house, their eyes glistening with
unshed tears. The wizard looked down at the house elves with a kindly face.

“All done?” he said.

“Yes sir, Master Ambrose,” said the eldest of the three.

“Very well, off you go.” he smiled as the three house elves, with a quiet pop, disappeared.

“I can’t believe its over,” said the young woman at his side.

“Come on Nat,” gently chided Ambrose, “you know this isn’t the end, you know there is more to
all this than just fading away.”

“I know, but I am still going to miss them, even so.” said Natalie the tears streaming
unashamedly down her face. She sniffed once very hard, and was silent for a while. “I’m OK now,”
she said drawing in a deep breath, “shall we do what we came here to do?”

“Of course, we will have to get to the top of the hill then we can include all of the hollow in
the enchantment.” said Ambrose, he held out his hand and gave her an understanding smile, “come
on.”

The two of them walked slowly up the gentle rise past the small copse of trees concealing
Natalie’s grandparent’s graves. She looked sadly at the marble headstones regretting the fact that
she had never known Lily or James in person or even ever met them when she was waiting on the other
side. Reaching the summit they turned and faced Godrics Hollow, it was a beautiful place, the sun
glinted off the small stream and the pretty white cottage sat there looking smug and ever so
comfortable.

Ambrose and Natalie raised their arms and in their outstretched hands appeared the staff of
Avalon. It shone with the power of the ages and in unison the eternal witch and wizard spoke the
simple enchantment *“Semper hic adesse videri non posse”*. The brilliance of the staff raced
outwards to encompass all of the hollow, then as the light faded, a mist began to form which slowly
grew to fill the entire shallow bowl that hid the cottage. Slowly but surely Godrics Hollow was
moved slightly sideways to the rest of the world, and like Avalon was hidden for ever.

“There it’s done,” said Ambrose, “If they ever decide to come back they will be able to find it
again.”

“Will we know if they come back?” asked a still tearful Natalie.

“Do you think that Harry and Hermione could ever walk this world and we not know?” Ambrose
answered with a question of his own.

“No not really,” said Natalie with the beginnings of a smile. “Let’s go home love.”

With a silent nod Ambrose reached out and took Natalie’s hand and the pair disappeared from one
of the most precious places on earth.

……………………………….

Harry and Hermione walked further down the pathway than they had ever done before, they had left
the old sofa at the halfway point far behind them. Now the end was looming in front of them and
both were feeling a little nervous as to what they might find waiting for them. There was another
fluttering veil, white this time, covering the doorway in a marble arch, still hanging on to each
other they stepped through onto the rich green lawns that stretched away into the distance from the
other side of the veil.

There was quite a crowd waiting to welcome them, everyone was there Ron, Luna, Ginny, Neville,
and all the old marauders, Hagrid, Poppy, Minerva and Dumbledore. He stepped forward, he was
slightly younger than Harry and Hermione remembered, but then you could look how you wished.

“There were so many who wanted to come to greet you, it would have been too much for you, but
they are all here and you can see them soon. However nothing was going to keep this lot away.”
Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his amazingly blue eyes.

Who could say how much time passed if any passed at all, but friendships were renewed, loves
rekindled and Harry finally got to have a really long talk with his mother and father. Throughout
it all Hermione never left Harry’s side, for it was truly impossible for one to exist without the
other.

Harry and Hermione remained just that, it was clear that some of their friends had played the
game before and they carried their past lives with them, but for the two this had been their first
journey. They had no other experiences to draw on and it made them wonder if they should not try
again.

Harry looked at his soul mate. “It was fun last time, well most of it anyway”, He said. “To have
another chance to fall in love with you all over again would really be something”.

Hermione gazed into those brilliant emerald green eyes. “Let’s see, shall we?”

………………………………

The great scarlet steam engine wheezed and puffed as it waited to take the students of Hogwarts
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry back to the north to start another year of scholastic
achievement. For Jonathan Carpenter this was to be his first trip and at the moment he was on the
platform with his older brother saying goodbye to his parents and younger sister. He came from a
loving and close family, wizards or witches all, and that morning they had travelled from the
modest house in Kent they liked to call their home. This was not the first time he had travelled to
a school. Since the age of five he had attended Thrubwell’s Academy, but that part of his life was
over now, this was the real deal. Hogwarts, the name still thrilled him and he had been aching to
go there since his brother started three years before. It was his chance now, this was where the
adventure really began, and he couldn’t wait.

At the other end of the platform a dark haired brown eyed girl was hugging her mother, this
parting was a first for her, she and her parents had only recently returned to the country and she
had never been away to school before. Not that she was uneducated, far from it, her personal tutor
had seen to that. The old woman was a stickler for correctness in all that was done, and she had
been a hard task master but beneath it all she had a very kind heart. The girl saw her own
reflection in the window of the carriage and the flash of the sun as it struck the stone on the
necklace her tutor had given her as a parting gift. The old witch had fastened it for her and the
girl had felt a tingle through her whole body as the stone had touched her skin. The girl knew that
the stone was magical, but her tutor would tell her no more about it. Waving once more to her
parents, the girl boarded the train and went in search of a likely compartment.

Jonathan disentangled himself from his mother’s grasp, kissed her once more, and then followed
his brother onto the train. He listened to the last shouted instructions from his parents as with a
loud whistle the engine began to draw the train out of the station. Ducking his head back inside he
saw that his brother was already in deep conversation with some of his school mates, so with a
quick, “See you later,” to him, Jonathan set off on an adventure of his own. He walked down the
swaying corridor, bypassing compartments full of chattering students, some of whom he recognised
from his time at Thrubwell’s, but he didn’t stop. He was looking for something specific he wasn’t
sure what it was, but he felt a strange compulsion to continue down toward the end of the
train.

He stopped at the door to the compartment; there were only three occupants, two boys sitting
close to the door to the corridor and a dark haired girl in a seat by the window. The boys were
talking in excited voices about their holidays, and they broke off and looked up at him as Jonathan
walked between them and took the other window seat opposite the girl whose head was buried in a
large book. The two boys had hardly turned back to their conversation when loud shrieks of laughter
from a compartment further up the train and the sounds of definite mischief pulled them from their
seats and out into the corridor. The girl looked up once and made a ‘tut-tut’ sound of disapproval
in the direction of the departing merrymakers, but as her eyes travelled back to her book they just
happened to catch the face of the boy sitting opposite her.

His eyes were the most brilliant green she had ever seen, his fair hair was a bit of a mess but
to be honest he wasn’t all that bad looking, and he was quick, she had to give him that. For in
that briefest of eye contact he had smiled and said “Hi.”

“Hello,” she replied, perhaps a little coolly and was going to return to her book when…

“Jonathan Carpenter,” said Jonathan, and looked at the girl expectantly.

Resigned to at least some conversation, the girl stared back and said “Samantha Parfitt.”

“Oh,” said Jonathan, then not knowing what to say next caught sight of the stone on its white
metal chain hanging around Samantha’s neck, and before he could stop himself, “Nice necklace,” had
come dribbling out of his mouth.

“Really?” Samantha was more amused than anything, but she hid it well.

“Err… yes…” there was a rather long slience because Jonathan found that he couldn’t take his
eyes off the sparkling gem, he knew he had seen one like this somewhere before, then it came to
him. “Have you ever read Hogwarts, a history, the new edition?” He asked.

“No,” said Samantha, “not even the old edition. Is it important?”

“Not really, but it is full of wonderful facts about the old castle, it’s just that I’m sure a
stone like yours is mentioned in it,” he laughed, “can’t be the same though, can it?” He looked up
from the hypnotic influence of the stone to stare at the girl’s face, she was very pretty and she
had the most amazingly deep brown eyes he had ever seen, “Wow!” he said quietly and with a feeling
he was not quite ready for.

At that moment an elderly witch appeared at the door to the compartment pushing a refreshment
trolley, “Anything off the trolley dears?” she said smiling hugely at the pair.

“Here let me,” said Jonathan, breaking his rapture and beating Samantha in holding out some
change. As he chose the sweets and handed his money to the old witch he glanced up and smiled at
her, and for just a moment there was a sense of recognition which passed almost before it had
begun. He thanked the old witch, then purchases in hand, he returned to his seat and offered
Samantha the pick of the selection. As he held out his hands and the girl leaned forwards to see
the sweets he had chosen the train must have passed over an uneven rail for the carriage jolted and
swung alarmingly, the stone on the necklace around Samantha’s neck arched out on its chain and made
contact with the back of Jonathan’s hand. There was a brief flash of light and the shock made
Jonathan drop all the sweets into Samantha’s lap.

“Oww, what was that?” he said, rubbing his arm.

“No idea,” Samantha replied, “are you OK?” she asked. Jonathan nodded examining his hand, and
found that it still worked.

“I think it was your necklace,” said Jonathan glancing once more at the glittering jewel, “I
wonder what it means?”

The goblets on the trolley rattled together as the train hit another uneven bit of track, and
they both looked up to the witch that was still standing in the doorway of the compartment.

She winked at them, “I am sure you will find out soon enough,” she said mysteriously, for some
reason she seemed very pleased. “Have fun,” and with that she pushed her trolley forwards and moved
on down to the end of the train.

There was a second elderly witch sitting with the Guard in the last carriage having a cup of tea
as her trolley came rattling into view. She looked up at the witch pushing the trolley, it was
uncanny, for she looked just like her. Then the disguise rippled away, and in an instant she
didn’t. The dark haired, emerald green eyed, ageless appearing woman that the trolley pushing witch
had transformed into smiled, and winked at the Guard.

“Found what you were looking for my dear?” said the Guard’s companion, as the young witch handed
the trolley back to its rightful owner.

“Yes thank-you, everything is just where it should be.” said Natalie Potter, then with a wave of
her hand she vanished from the train.

“Well there’s queer,” said the real trolley witch to the Guard.

The Guard gave a grunt of assent, then smiled, shimmered and vanished as well.

“Ooh!” cried the old witch in surprise, and dashed off to find the engine driver.

Back in the compartment the conversation that had started so tentatively had begun to blossom,
all the little pieces of information about family, home, hopes and fears of what Hogwarts would
bring, were being exchanged. The process of getting to know each other was moving along smoothly,
and at some point in that long journey it dawned on each of them that whatever else may happen,
after this chance meeting on the train to Hogwarts, they had at least one friendship to rely
on.

“You obviously like books,” said Jonathan, when the conversation had switched to school and
lessons, indicating the large tome on the seat next to Samantha. “What are you reading?”

“Oh this one is my favourite, my very favourite,” said Samantha, enthusiastically, “it’s about a
witch and a wizard and their life together,” she told him, “but what is really good about it is
that I have never been able to finish it.” Jonathan looked quizzically at Samantha. “You see,” she
said, in explanation, “this is a magical book, and the story it contains is magical too, because it
has no ending.”

Jonathan wasn’t sure whether or not to believe his new friend, but he was prepared to give her
the benefit of the doubt, because living in a magical world, as they did, had taught him that
anything was possible.

Deep in the stone of Hermione’s Tear, infinitesimally small and unnoticed by either child, a
strange double pulse of blue light began to flicker. ……………………..

*** * * * * * * * * ***

**For my Mother who stepped through the veil on** **29th March
2006****.**

**“So alive in my mind that I will never be without her.”**

**Thank-you all for reading.**

**Solomon.**

Just as a final postscript this is my answer to a lovely review sent to me by Yukon it is for
her, but it does apply to all who have posted their thoughts on these stories.

I thank-you very much for your kind review. There may not be many reviews on any of my stories
but as with yours they are all encouraging, and for that I am thankful. I would love to be able to
continue writing Forever Together but as you will see my characters soon fall out of the remit of
this fan fiction site and so there it must end. However I have plans for Solomon and there is a lot
of his story that has yet to be told, but not here.

It may be that one day I will fill in some of the potential gaps left in Chapter 17 and
reconsider rewriting The Letter and making that a full story, but for the moment I want to play
with my own characters in their own world and leave JKR to hers. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing
these stories over the last year or so and thank all of you who have read them.

Solomon Aegis,

England, April 2006.