"Sir, they are waiting; the funeral has to begin on time."
"Yes, yes, I'm aware of the time. I can never get these bloody ties straight. Has any word arrived from the investigations?"
"No, there's been no word from the Senior Auror in charge of the investigation," Percy said as he reached to help the Minister with his tie.
"Leave it, I'm not helpless," he grumbled as he swatted Percy's hand aside. "I want to be informed as soon as Senior Auror Weasley has some information, no matter how minor. You are aware who he is?"
"Minister, he is my youngest brother."
"Of course. Good man, that Weasley. He's served under me with distinction for several years."
A knock on the office door drew his attention.
"Minister Scrimgeour," the voice greeted.
"Acting Minister Scrimgeour, Mister Ogden," he corrected.
"Actually, the Wizengamot has met and voted to make the position permanent. I have been sent to deliver this scroll containing the official appointment. Congratulations, Minister," Tiberius Ogden handed the scroll to Minister Scrimgeour and offered his hand.
"Thank you," he replied, slightly annoyed, as he shook the Wizengamot Elder's hand. "Now I have a funeral to attend."
"Yes, Minister, I have plans to attend myself. Minister Dumbledore was a great man, and will be missed."
"Then why not join me? I had a Portkey prearranged."
"I would be honored to join you in paying last respects, Minister."
Minister Scrimgeour turned to the assistant he had inherited from a long succession of Ministers. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to remain in the office; if any emergencies arise, I'm counting on you, Weasley."
Minister Scrimgeour walked to his desk and looked at his watch, "We have a moment. This quill is the Portkey, easy to conceal once we arrive." He and Elder Ogden held the quill for a moment and at the designated time; both were whisked to a clearing near Hogwarts.
"Interesting fellow, Dumbledore - insisted on being buried here. Of course the Headmistress approved the request, but it is still most unusual."
The Minister nodded as they walked past the gathering crowd. Every student in the school was in attendance, as was the entire Wizengamot. Ogden left the Minister to join his fellows in a reserved section.
Minister Scrimgeour walked past the many rows of seats on the lawn to a waiting booth for special dignitaries. The Prime Minister of Muggle Britain had been seated in the same section. Scrimgeour nodded his acknowledgment and sat. A program outlining the funeral had been placed on his seat.
"Good afternoon, Mister Scrimgeour," The Muggle Minister said in greeting. "I still don't understand all of your customs, but I had the greatest respect for that man."
"Good afternoon," he replied.
"Why on Earth would anyone want to be buried next to an ancient ruined castle?"
"That, my friend, is the difference between us. All you see is a pile of rubble, but these grounds are part of the school Dumbledore had taught and run as headmaster for nearly sixty years. A school that is very much alive and well, due to his guidance."
"So, you say this is a school? I may have to take that on faith, it looks to me to be a pile of rubble."
"Possibly not." He motioned behind them. "The headmistress and several of her staff are just over there, and if you wish to meet them after, I can arrange that."
The two glanced back to the group of men and women he indicated, and the Prime Minister noticed two people engaged in a confrontation. Their frantic whispers quickly grew loud enough for those near to hear.
"I see even in your world people argue," the Muggle Minister commented.
"Yes; as you noticed, we are just people with special abilities."
"Are you going to be home tonight, or are you going 'out' again?" they heard the woman say in a raised voice.
"Marital issues, Minister?" the Prime Minister inquired.
"It would seem so; that is the school's Potions Master and his wife."
"I waited for you for hours last night, but you never came to bed," she said loudly.
"Don't ask me about my business. You know full well I still have my father's interests to maintain," he replied.
"Maybe someone should mention to them that voices seem to carry in this field," the Prime Minister suggested.
"Yes, although it's not wise to interfere with a couple of their caliber. I'm certain they will regain control."
Before another word was passed, the taller blond-haired wizard stood and pushed his way to the aisle, and his wife quickly followed.
"I don't have time for this - would you at least give my respects to the man?" he said as he tried to leave.
"If you don't have enough respect for him to stay, then how can I lie for you?" she now screamed back.
He turned and his hand came around and struck her across the face. Shock and disbelief froze those sitting near them to their seats, as he turned away from his wife and limped away, rubbing his left arm as if it were in pain.
"That bloke hit her!"
"Yes, appalling. I'm certain he's in for a difficult time; that is Harry Potter's sister, by way of adoption," Minister Scrimgeour said.
"Harry Potter? That name is familiar."
"He is one of the most famous wizards; he and his wife defeated a mad man ten years ago that threatened both our worlds," the Minister for Magic replied as the drama between the couple continued.
"Draco!" she shouted, "Don't you dare walk out!" She stood in shock and surprise as he left. They watched as she turned away, sat back in her chair, and sobbed.
Draco stormed out from the funeral back to the castle. Several students who lagged behind in the castle left quickly; his temper toward the students had grown. His reputation for being a hard educator inspired the same fear in his charges as the man he replaced more then ten years ago.
"She has no idea what's happening," he muttered under his breath. His leg was still sore. Healing it myself might not have been the best choice, he thought as he rubbed injury.
He quickly found his way down to the dungeons and his private potions laboratory.
He picked up a white curved object from the table and threw it against the wall.
His heavy, sharp breathing helped him regain his composure. "I did what I had to do, but I will never do that again, and they can't be involved," he said without looking up.
He stormed from the small, isolated room to his private quarters. The disarray of his normally well-kept flat should have triggered more of a response. Instead, he let his cloak fall to the floor.
The door of a cupboard creaked opened behind him drawing his attention. He reached for his wand from his heavy black cloak he just discarded, but wasn't quick enough. In a flash of red light, he slumped to the floor, leaving the room in an eerie silence.
He shook his head and felt the lump on his crown where he hit the floor. A tall man in a black cloak stood over him, with his wand pointing directly at his throat. His face was well hidden behind a mask similar to the one Draco had just shattered.
"Stand," the man commanded.
"Then what? I did everything you've ordered. That woman you murdered wasn't a threat," Draco hissed at the assailant.
"Concerned for a filthy Muggle bitch? How touching."
"You have no regard for anyone besides yourself," Draco said with disdain.
"Silence! You dare speak of such things when it was your warning that caused the Dark Lord's plan to fail? I never should have allowed you to live after you failed your task." He raised his wand and began to speak. "Cruc-"
"Stop," another voice hissed from inside the room. He was able to see a man sitting at a table, a short glass in his hand. "He has his uses and I will not allow this pointless squabbling to continue. Now, boy, have you completed the potion you were commanded to provide?" the voice asked as he stood, and a hand reached to his shoulder from behind.
Draco flinched at the touch, "Those ingredients are protected and unavailable. I suggest you brew it yourself, if you need it so badly."
"Insolent. And worthless. I can see where your father failed to teach you your place," the wizard at the table said. "I will do so, once you have gathered that last needed item. How is that leg doing? That limp is quite pronounced."
"No, thanks to him," Draco said, nodding back behind him. "Those ingredients you need are too well-guarded. It's impossible. There no chance I will even try unless..."
"Unless?" the man before him asked, and Draco could see a grin form behind the Death Eater's mask.
"Unless you answer my questions. Who are you? What do you want from me and from my family?"
"You are not exactly in the position to threaten or bargain. And if you consider that wench your family, then you have truly stained the Malfoy name," the man behind him barked. The assailant's hand clenched to a fist and he swung, striking Draco against his temple with the back side of his fist.
"You've lost your touch, old man; a blow like that used to have more power behind it," Draco taunted as he turned to face the attack. It was the last comment he made before a searing pain raced through his head and his warm blood seeped down his neck.
The light began to slowly fade from his vision … his hand reached out in desperation. As his knees buckled and he watched the two masked men grow tall, he felt a smooth porcelain object in his hand. The darkness ate at his vision, choking off all light. He could see the face of the man before him as the mask fell to the floor.
"You?" he choked out, before all conscious thought faded from his mind.
The Malfoy Scandal, as it was called in the Daily Prophet, had many speculating the root cause of the family's collapse. Draco had removed his personal possessions from his family home. Ginny and the children remained in Malfoy Manor, isolated from their father.
Ginny Malfoy had also isolated herself, to shield her children from the gossip and scandal spread by the Daily Prophet.
The days and weeks that followed the great wizard's final rest had been stressful for others; the peace of the Wizarding World seemed to crumble a little more each day. Harry had split his time and attention between his new family and helping track his mentor's murderer. The murder of Albus Dumbledore had become an obsession for Ron.
"We have a new lead. The potions and objects in that house seem to have a connection to a Death Eater who died in the fight with Riddle," Harry said quickly as he packed his rucksack.
"Do you suspect one slipped past us?" Hermione asked as she folded a fresh shirt for him.
"That's possible, but it's more likely that one or more remained behind, and we simply didn't get them all." He placed the carefully folded shirt in his bag, only to be distracted by a soft gurgle.
"Then why wait nearly eleven years?"
"Why was there an eleven years delay before? I think Annie has a key role in this," Harry said as he picked up his daughter. A tiny hand reached out as he kissed her cheek, and she grabbed his glasses and cooed softly.
"Annie, your father can't see with out his glasses," Hermione said with a warm smile.
"She's fine, love. She can't understand you yet, you know that."
"Maybe, but she is bright. She took your glasses to keep you from leaving."
"This might be a waste of time, but we are tasked to track any clue. Ron's determined to find the killer; he won't listen to reason anymore where this is concerned."
"This has put a strain on his relationship with Luna; he needs to just let the details work themselves out."
"It seems strange that when we had difficulties in our life, all our friends were happy. Now we have everything working for us and look what's happened to Ron and Luna," Harry said as he handed Annie to Hermione.
"Draco leaving has been hard on Ginny; she's not left her home in several weeks."
"Have you talked to her since the funeral?"
"No, she's refused to see anyone."
"We should be back in a few days; Ron tracked a possible Muggle witness, a tourist that had returned home to the United States ." He stuffed the last of his clothes into the pack, and closed the top.
"That shouldn't take very difficult. Why will you be gone for so long?"
"Orders from Scrimgeour. We are going to accompany several detectives from the 'Yard.' We'll be traveling undercover, they don't know about us. This witness is being held by the authorities over there for us to question and the Minister believes the detectives would be better attuned to dealing with the Americans."
"You could take Jake along. He might be able to help; he is familiar with both worlds."
"I suggested that, but the investigation is still confidential. We can't use any outside assistance unless authorized."
"I see; you'll be flying on commercial flight then?"
"Yes, the flight leaves this afternoon, but we have to meet the others in London first. I'll fetch Ron and then report to the Ministry for one of their cars before heading to Scotland Yard."
"Harry," she said with a note of concern, "Please be careful?"
"Of course. This is a simple trip. I love you; I'll send a message once we arrive."
"Bye darling, I love you too," she said.
He wrapped his arms around the two people he loved more then any other and kissed them both good-bye.
He left their bedroom, and walked through his home. Once on the front porch, with a snap of his fingers, he vanished.
His frequent trips to the Burrow in this manner still felt as unnatural as the first time he Apparated when he was seventeen. The sensations of being pulled into a vortex only lasted a moment, but still felt longer.
"Harry," Ron called before he fully materialized. "I've been waiting for you. We have to go to St. Mungo's; Luna's there now. Come on," he insisted, leaving no time to argue.
"What's wrong, Ron?" Harry asked in bewilderment as Ron grabbed him and they both vanished again, only to rematerialize outside the wizard's hospital in London .
"It's Ginny, she was attacked," Ron exclaimed as they ran into the waiting rooms.
"Hang on, tell me what happened," Harry insisted as he followed Ron.
"All I know is Luna received an emergency Floo message to report at the hospital. A short time later she called for me to get here as soon as possible - that was minutes before you arrived."
"Did you let Draco know?"
"Yeah, that git just shut down his Floo. I know he got the message, but seems to have ignored it."
They both flashed their identification as they passed the security booth, Ron in the lead, as they ran down the corridor to the emergency center. The room was filled with wizards and witches with various maladies, each being treated or scheduled to be moved to a room to deal with their issues.
The pair of Aurors spotted Luna standing in front of a drawn curtain, conversing with another Healer.
"No, don't disturb Healer Potter yet, she's got a newborn," Luna insisted.
"They are friends; I only thought she'd open up to Healer Potter," Healer Gillingbass replied.
"Where's my sister?" Ron demanded as they neared the bed.
Luna pulled on his arm to stop him from barging in. "Wait, Ron, she needs rest."
"What the bloody hell happened?" he ranted as he threw the curtain back.
Ginny lay on the bed, a bloody bandage still wrapped around her head. A third Healer sat at her side applying a wound sealing potion to her shoulder.
"Please give her some privacy! You can interrogate her when I've completed," the Healer barked.
Ignoring the Healer's instruction, Ron came to his sister's side. "Ginny, did he do this?"
She managed to shake her head. "No," she mumbled, "Draco hasn't been home in weeks." She pushed the Healer aside and sat up. "I passed by the library, and noticed the door was open. I haven't been in there since before Draco left; you know how he feels about anyone in his study. I thought he was back and hoped he'd talk to me."
She paused and winced as the gash in her shoulder closed. She squeezed Ron's hand as he shoulder was bound. The potions closed the wounds, but they were tender and needed the protection from further injury. Ron wrapped his arms around his sister, as she tucked her face into his shoulder.
"I expected to see him in there, or maybe one of the children playing. Instead I hound a tall man in a black cloak, wearing a white mask. The last thing I saw was a red flash; I then felt a searing pain in my head and arm."
"A Death Eater," Harry muttered.
"Her wound was from a poorly aimed curse, had it hit her in the chest or head, she would have died instantly," the Healer offered. "The head injury seems to be from an impact, either a table or sharp corner of some sort."
"The book cases all have the ornamental ledge," Harry suggested.
"Yes, that may have done it. But this shoulder was not an accident," the Healer repeated.
Ginny finally looked up, "Where are the children?" she asked.
"They were brought along and are in the waiting area," Luna said as she stepped from the other side of the curtain.
"Who brought them?" Ginny asked, now with a note of concern.
"No one had seen anyone with you, we assumed you came on your own and barely made it her before falling unconscious."
She shook her head, "No, the last I remember was falling. I woke here," she said with a shaking voice. "Can you tell my husband, Ron?"
"I did, and he ignored my message. You're better off without him," Ron suggested.
Ginny attempted to push him away, but her arm was still weak. "He needs to know - what if the twins walked in on that intruder? What if his aim were better?"
"Ginny, stay with Hermione and Annie for now. Caterina is there as well. The cottage is well-protected and we'll send someone to the Manor to investigate," Harry commanded.
Ron looked at him with the questioning look of a superior.
"Harry, I'll send a contingent to her home and I'll make the arrangements. Ginny, you can stay at the Burrow."
"No. I would feel better with Hermione at Godric's Hollow," she replied. "Someone broke into my home and that someone tried to kill me."
"I'll call Hermione and let her know you're coming," Harry offered before turning to his partner. "Ron, we have to meet the two detectives. Ginny will be fine now."
"No, Harry, you go on. I'm staying here for now. I'll meet you there tomorrow, and that's an order."
"Ginny, I'll have Caterina come to help you with the kids. Ron, I'll check in at the Ministry then meet you at the 'Yard,'" Harry said with a mock salute to his supervisor. A snap of his fingers and he vanished before Ron could argue with him.
Harry reappeared outside the Ministry's atrium, in front of the security desk.
"Harry Potter reporting, I've been instructed to sign out one of the Ministry's autos for the day," he stated to the guard.
"'ere ya go Mista Potter, jest signs the log and ya on yer way," he replied, handing Harry a set of keys and a clipboard.
Harry signed the sheet, and slipped the keys into his pocket. "I need to stop at my desk for a moment to pick up some reports."
"No need, the 'ead of Aurors let this packet fer ya. He said yer to leave as soon as yer able. He also said Mista Weasley will be joinin' ya there."
Harry put the bundle of reports in his rucksack and slung it over his shoulder and left the building. The car was waiting outside the Ministry, it was a nondescript black sedan, similar to the same type Arthur Weasley had secured in Harry's third year.
His trip to the world-famous Scotland Yard was uneventful. The twenty story building on Broadway and Victoria Street was in contrasted starkly with the building that housed the Ministry of Magic. The shear glass wall of the building glistened in the mid-morning sun. He found the car park for visiting dignitaries and entered the building. The main foyer from the street entrance was full of activity; large numbers of uniformed and plain clothes officers remained engaged in their daily activities, unaware of the man who had just entered the building.
Harry walked across the foyer to the information desk. A surly sergeant sat at the desk, speaking into a telephone receiver.
"No, there's no one here yet, Inspector." He paused as Harry stood at the desk. "I'm certain, there's no one here from some outside service…"
"Pardon me," Harry interrupted.
"Just a minute sonny, I'm on the phone," he barked at Harry. "Yes, as soon as they arrive I'll send them both directly up." He hung up the receiver and gave Harry a questioning stare, "Now what's so bloody important that you couldn't wait?"
Harry simply handed his credentials to the officer, and waited. The sergeant looked at his identification and turned sheet white. "Pardon me sir, I had no idea. I was told there would be two of you."
"My partner was detained, he'll be along shortly. Could you ring up my contact?" Harry asked politely to put the officer at ease.
The desk officer picked up the receiver and dialed a number, "Inspector Wilson? Simpson here, your man is here… No, there's only the one, he said… Yes ma'm… I'll send him right up… Right then, you'll be here in a bit... "
Harry remained silent as the officer handed him his identification.
"The inspector will be here in a few minutes. Said something about securing transportation."
Harry nodded and stepped to the display on the near wall, filled with historical memorabilia. His wait was short; he heard a set of foot steps approach.
" Commander, we have been expecting you. I'm Inspector Wilson, " a woman's voice greeted him.
He turned to face her and both froze. She stared at him for a moment and finally at his forehead. He too tried to place her.
"Excuse me for staring, but I was told by my superiors there would be two of you, a Commander Weasley and his man from MI9. I can't help but notice that scar, have you had it a long while?"
"Nearly all my life. Ron Weasley's my mate - er - acting superior. I was reduced a grade recently. My name's Potter, Harry Potter," he replied as he held his hand out in greeting.
"Potter. That name's familiar, did you live in Little Whinging per chance?" she asked as she motioned for him toward the lift.
"My aunt and uncle live there. I use to stay there as a boy."
"You were there with a girl - yes, I remember now. She fancied you and you never noticed," she added as she pushed a button and flashed a card in front of a sensor.
"How would you know that?" he asked defensively, freezing in his track.
"I'm Lillie, Lillie Evans, Wilson is my husband's name," she replied with a smile. "My little brother was being bullied by some thugs and you came to his aid one summer. He wasn't bothered since then, and I stopped to thank you the next year. You had a girl visiting - Hermoe, I think?"
"Hermione," he corrected as the lift door opened.
"Whatever happened to her? Did you ever tell her you fancied her, too?"
"Yes, I did - the next day, as a matter of fact."
She motioned for him to enter the cab of the lift and pushed the third floor button.
"And?"
"And we've been together since then; we were married a short time later and we just had a little girl," Harry said proudly.
"Well congratulations. Here we are, if you'll follow me."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, to a small office. The glass door had the name 'Inspector Wilson SO13.' They entered the cramped office; stacks of thick manila folders rose from the floor half-way up the wall, while smaller stacks nearly hid the desk from view.
"Please have a seat. We have a car waiting to take us to Heathrow as soon as Commander Weasley arrives. Mark has become extremely confident in himself after you helped him, he's doing quite well. He's found a girl he really taken to, her name is Emma Dobbs. They seem quite happy."
Harry nodded and smiled, "Ron - I mean Commander Weasley - had to see to his sister. She was attacked in her home last night."
"That sounds serious," she replied as she retrieved two cups from a small table. A hotplate with a pitcher of boiling water soon followed and she served Harry a cup of tea as they waited.
"I had her stay with my wife; she'll be safer there."
"That's noble, bringing a friend's sister into your home."
"Technically she's my sister as well; their parents legally adopted me shortly before they were killed."
"When was this? I remember a row after that time, a terrorist attack they said. Were they victims?"
"Yes," Harry said as his features began to lock. "Why the interrogation?" he finally asked.
"Simply interested in learning more about the men with whom I'm going to be working closely." She paused and looked over her tea. "What organization did you say you're with, again?" she asked nervously.
"I haven't, I'm not at liberty to reveal any more," he replied. "But as you can see, my identification is in order."
"In order, yes, but factual? MI9 has been non-operational since the end of the war. Do you plan to stand by that answer?"
"Technically the war never ended. We've been in a state of idle expectation for the past ten years…"
"World War II, MI9 was the 'Covert Operations and Prisoner of War Escape Operations' and was disbanded in 1947."
"True. However, if you are aware of that designation then you should be aware of the level of security involved. Any more information would have to be released from the highest of authorities."
She nodded and seemed satisfied. "My instructions are to accompany you to interrogate a detained individual in the United States , this seems too simple a task for two senior officers in a highly confidential organization," her tone rang out as if she knew Harry held the answers.
A knock on the door interrupted the conversation as a stocky, fair-haired man accompanying a slightly taller red-haired man in a dark over coat into the office.
"Inspector, this bloke was wandering the corridor and claimed to be looking for you," the fair-haired man said. Both Harry and Lillie stood to the introduction.
"This is my immediate superior, Ron Weasley. Ron, this is Inspector Wilson, and she will be accompanying us to speak to the witness," Harry said to stop any questions.
Ron pulled his shoulder from the constable's grip and presented his hand to Lillie. "Good day, Inspector, sorry I was delayed."
"I understand; how is your sister?"
Ron looked to Harry, and a nod from Harry was all that was needed. "She'll be fine, I still would rather she stay at my home, Harry, but Hermione seemed to handle the news as she always did."
"I suggest we get on our way. I have the dossier on this witness, and Harris here will be accompanying us. Have you ever been to America ?" Lillie asked as she and Harry stood.
"I have, but Ron hasn't. I spent that summer when we met in Florida with her cousin."
"Splendid, then this won't be a culture shock. I would guess you both have flown before," she asked rhetorically.
"I would worry about either of us, we've both flown countless times before," Ron replied in a formal tone.
"What Ron means," Harry interrupted, "is we've traveled overseas before."
"Right, well the plane leaves in an hour. We have just the time to collect our things and leave." She turned to her subordinate. "Harris, bring the Commander's bag out front."
"Yes, mum," he said with a stiff salute. "Excuse me, the Superintendent instructed me to deliver this message," he said as he handed her a sealed letter .
"Very good, please deal with the immediate logistics while I tend to the Superintendent," she ordered as she slit the envelop open.
Harris saluted one last time and began to gather Harry and Ron's bags while she read the letter.
"Never mind that. Harris, please leave us for a moment," she commanded, countering her prior command.
She paused until the door was closed and the three were alone, "Gentlemen, it seems our trip has been canceled. This witness we were to interview has been found dead in her home. She was strangled, from the coroner's initial reports."
Albus Dumbledore was laid to rest in a white tomb made of stone; the snow that covered the tomb looked like a soft blanket covering him with icy warmth. The crypt was in a field on the Hogwarts grounds, very near a large stone with a mysterious three inch slit cut through it. His final resting place overlooked the lake where countless couples met and shared a fledgling love.
Two such couples accompanied a lone woman as they overlooked the now frozen lake where they played as children, gathered as friends, and then met in secret as lovers.
"Ginny, how long has he been like this? I always knew Draco couldn't…"
"Don't even finish that thought, Ronald Weasley, he is still my husband and the father of my children," Ginny hissed at her brother.
"Don't pay any mind to him; he hasn't been right in the head since he's taken this case last April," Harry said to defend his friend. A tiny squeak from the bundle in his arms drew a warm smile as he gave Annie a father's kiss.
"Does he know the baby is due soon?" Hermione asked.
Ginny shook her head, "I don't even know if he's aware I'm having his daughter. We haven't spoken since the funeral."
Harry looked across the lake to the castle; his pretense of visiting the tomb was only meant to coax Draco from his self-imposed isolation and to his family. "You need to tell him, he does deserve at least that much."
"No, I won't, not after he humiliated me in public like that," she managed to say. Her puffy nose and eyes appeared to be from a cold, but only her closest friends knew the real reason she spent nearly every night crying herself to sleep.
"He's far too proud to apologize," Luna offered. "Have you thought of a simple hex to snap him out of this lunacy?"
"I've written him a number of times, but I won't send them off."
"Now that's the Weasley pride in the way," Ron chipped in.
"Stuff it Ron," Hermione shot back. "Go on, Ginny, there's bound to be something else."
"No. He had been on edge; it began a few months after you after you both disappeared and he's only got worse since. When Dumbledore died, he stopped… well, we stopped being together. He refused to talk to me like he use to. He completely closed up."
"And that's when he moved into the Slytherin House permanently?"
"Yes, about that time. Something has happened to him. I still love him, but he's changed," Ginny said, trying to contain her emotions; her last confession was more than she could bear, and she sought a comforting shoulder.
Harry stood by his friends and stared at the castle, hoping to catch a glimpse of the blond wizard.
Hermione noticed Ginny shiver. "I think we need to get her out of the cold. Lunch at the Three Broomsticks?"
"Brilliant idea," Ron said, perking up.
"Now, only one sandwich. You promised to start watching your weight," Luna scolded her husband, who merely nodded his submission.
The walk back to the front gate and to the tavern was longer then remembered; the cold helped hurry them along. The tavern was fairly empty, being a Thursday.
"Here's a good spot, near the fire," Harry said as he motioned to a large table before the warm fire.
Madam Rosmerta looked up from the article in the Daily Prophet, to see her only customers of the day. "Welcome and have a seat. A round of butterbeers to start?"
"Yes, please," Hermione replied.
"And fish n' chips for everyone," Harry added as they all sat around the table. He waved a hand between the two chairs he and Hermione sat, and a small seat materialized. He gently unsnapped the warm snow suit Annie wore and put her in the high chair.
"Ginny," Hermione said to her oldest girl-friend, "I know this is a difficult time, and you know we will stand with you."
She nodded. "I know. You all have been the strength I lost when he left me."
Harry looked up to see Rosmerta had lined five bottles on the counter. "Ron, give us a hand."
"Bloody hell, for five bottles?" he asked, and then noticed the glare from Hermione. "Oh, right," he said quickly, and the two men stood and left the table.
"Ginny, there's something Harry and I need to ask," Hermione once the three women were alone.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Ron and Luna are godparents to Annie, but I wanted to ask if you would be our next child's godmother."
Ginny gave half a smile. "Of course. When you are ready for another child, I would be happy."
"Actually, you had best be ready soon. I expect near the end of September or early October."
Ginny looked up puzzled. "September?"
"As best we can tell, yes," she said with a smile. "Apparently someone is trying to make up for lost time."
Ron and Harry had returned with the drinks and lunch, to a table of women all grinning. Harry knew Hermione's plan so only Ron was unaware of the news, a situation remedied before anyone had lifted a fork.
Eight months after Annie Potter's first birthday, her parents left her in the care of her nanny and trusted friend. Caterina loved the girl as her own and would protect the child with her life.
Hermione insisted on returning to the same hospital where Annie was born to deliver their second child. She had been up all night, the intense pain of the contractions were worse then with Annie. After nearly thirty hours in labor, she wasn't much further then when they arrived.
"Oh, damn it, Harry, why did I talk my self out of another drug-induced stupor?"
"You did have the option," he replied as she squeezed his hand to help control the pain.
"Sod off - owww, there's another -" she screamed.
"Remember what the doctors said, short, sharp breaths, come on," he encouraged.
She winced as the sharp contraction eased, and she looked in her hand. Harry's hand was being crushed in her grip.
"You should have said I was hurting you," she said as she released him.
"Its fine, love; it barely stings," he said, while rubbing his fingers.
She puffed sharply as he was also doing, from their lessons on childbirth. "Harry, it's been more then a day, and the contractions are still only forty-five minutes apart. I'm afraid this is going to be a long one. Go get some rest, please. You haven't eaten since we arrived."
"No, I'll stay where I'm needed. You need me," he replied.
"Harry, go home, for a little while at least, see how Annie is doing."
"Ron's talked to Caterina an hour ago and Catty brought Annie here. They're in the play room."
She shook her head, "Harry, listen to me, get some rest, I'll be fine. The nurse will get you if anything happens. Please go," she insisted.
Reluctantly he complied, and after a comforting hug and loving kiss, he left the delivery suite for a smaller room that held a 'father's bed.' His eyes closed moments after his head touched the pillow and he was soundly asleep.
The fog of his mind crept into his dreams, images of Annie and Hermione danced in his mind. He watched from a distance as the image faded. Dark clouds blocked all light. His mind flew through the darkness seeking an image. Pinwheels in the distance beckoned him.
He found himself in a room he had spent many dark hours. The cold cauldrons sat on the rows of tables, except for one that sat bubbling over a blue-green flame. Next to the cauldron several platters of finely chopped ingredients waited to be mixed into the potion.
Harry looked around the room; he was back in the old potions classroom from his youth. A young boy, second or third year, he guessed, returned to the cauldron and carefully stirred the mixture as he sprinkled the small pile of chopped Windtree root into the cauldron.
He watched the boy carefully perform his work, adding each carefully measured item into the pot. The organization and focus reminded him of Hermione's work in potions in their early years in Hogwarts. The boy's concentration broke as raised voices in an adjacent room drew the attention from both.
A scream of agony startled the boy into dropping the unmeasured contents of a vial into the cauldron, bringing to contents to an immediate boil as purple steam choked the air. Both Harry and the boy went to the source of the scream. Harry could see his face for the first time as he pushed his poorly kept brown hair from his face, running around the table. His bright green eyes burned into Harry's mind, as the boy passed through him as if he were a ghost. Harry followed the young boy as he peered around a corner to see a man dressed in a black cloak strike another man repeatedly; the glint of a steel gauntlet flashed as the man on the floor tried to prevent the next blow.
The young boy screamed at the sight; the man on the ground looked up, his bloodied face twisted in pain.
"Run, get away, now!" he barked.
The cloaked man turned to see the intruder, blood dripping from his steel arm as he abandoned his pray.
"Potter," he said as he stepped toward the boy.
A shrill scream pierced Harry's mind as he snapped awake to see a nurse shaking him.
"For God's sake, she's having your baby," the nurse said, a look of concern on the her face confused Harry as he pushed his sweat matted hair from his face. He could hear Hermione scream in the other room.
Author's note:
I must beg forgiveness from my readers; unexpected events and personal needs have delayed progress in this tale. In order to maintain the quality I demand for this work, this is necessary. I plan to continue the story, and I promise to complete it. Keep watching for updates, I expect a four to six week hiatus, and after that time this story will continue.
Again, my apologies for the unplanned delay, and be prepared for the unexpected.