The Lost Warning

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's note: This is the fourth of the series; it is highly recommended you read the first three, TheLost Wizard, The Lost Witch and The Lost Worlds for this to make sense.

---

Hermione Jane Potter lay in the stark white examination room, under the bright, harsh lights glaring down on her; only a flimsy paper shroud covered her body as a number of figures surrounding the table. Harry waited beyond the doors, to be allowed to see her. Through the doors he heard various discussions between the medical personal and, at one point, he heard her moans of pain as the doctors continued the procedure. His thoughts drifted back to a similar room, a similar time so long ago. Those memories were the direct result of a curse. That curse led them on a journey to where they are today.

They had been separated at the recommendation that both needed some rest. Harry had spent the past couple hours pacing the halls, unable to do anything except rest. The recent months had been calmer than the year before, when a discovery in a trunk changed their lives.

Hermione screamed, calling his name.

“You can go in and see her now. She’s been calling for you,” a nurse informed him.

He burst into the room as she screamed again.

“I’m here now,” he called to comfort her.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed hard, her face was covered in sweat.

“Bloody hell, Potter, this is worse than Dolohov’s spell,” she hissed in between the deep pain of her contractions.

“Doctor, she’s crowning. The baby’s presenting,” a nurse announced.

“Owww… “

“Push!”

“Arrrwww.”

“One more push and the head will be free.”

She gritted her teeth and bore down. Harry gripped her hands tightly as she grimaced.

“Stop,” the doctor ordered, as she screamed again.

“I can’t,” she yelled.

“STOP,” the doctor ordered again, “One moment… We have a cord prolapse. ”

Harry watched the miracle before him and in that instant his mind raced over the recent past.

---

He again held her hand tightly when they stepped into the veil. Again she had a cord tied between them and this time to a third figure had ventured into the unknown with them. They were hopeful this was the last time they would risk this trip.

This time he pulled her as close as possible and held her tightly. He smelled her hair and smiled when he caught that familiar fragrance of her.

The floor and walls disappeared in the void, again giving the sensation of falling from one world to the next. His arms around her moved as she breathed; each breath reassured they were still together. He could even imagine a smile on her lips as they remained joined.

Time passed.

Nothing.

His arms grew numb from holding her; the cord that kept them joined pulled hard, so Sirius was still with them. Harry tried to talk, as he had each time they made this unknown journey, and, again, no sound escaped his lips.

He closed his eyes and smiled as he held her close as a hand reached up and stroked his cheek. This time he was unafraid of this journey into the void.

He opened his eyes, her hand still on his cheek, as he felt the flapping of the veil. She turned in his arms and held him as tightly as he held her.

“We’ve gone through,” she said. He reached for the other end of the rope that was their link to Sirius; it had untied from the tension.

“Sirius? We lost him.”

“No, he will be along, shortly. You always managed to follow after a bit,” she said to reassure him.

“Are we finally home?” he asked.

The room showed no sign of damage or conflict. The raised dais they stood on still held the Stone Arch. She scanned the arch and shook her head.

“I really don’t know; every time we came through it was always the same.”

They stepped down and sat on the stone benches. He swung his pack off his shoulder and dropped it next to them, then reached in to find the parchment they had carefully hidden inside. He held it to see the page remained blank.

“There’s nothing, it’s blank,” he said.

“Hand it here,” she demanded. He handed her the sheet and the words swirled around to form the first clue to this world. She read each word out loud and, as she read, she began to smile.

As the one the Dark Lord fears most comes of age
He will be rejected and forgotten by his own blood;
One will come to his aid in time of need
Joined by a witch who shines above all others
Her intellect will give him direction and counsel
She will ease his pain
She will help find his life’s bond with the lost witch.
Ties to old blood will be forever lost;
Their blood to be joined with that of a past foe
Not of this world will the two be three
And the three shall wield the ultimate force as one.

“What does all this mean?”

“This was the same prophecy Professor Dumbledore told me before we left the summer of our sixth year. It hasn’t changed and obviously hasn’t been fulfilled. We discussed this, remember?” He nodded and re-read the words on the sheet as she held it.

“So the last part has not been fulfilled; this could be about our daughter.”

“Possibly, but we do need to make certain we are home,” she said.

At that moment they both noticed the veil blow forward, a bulge appeared under the ancient cloth and parted to find a single man stand motionless just past the edge of the arch.

“Sirius!” they shouted in unison, as he opened his eyes. The pair jumped up and ran to his side.

“Harry? Hermione? Are we home?” Arms reached out and the three embraced. The cloth of the veil stopped moving long before they released each other.

“It’s wonderful to have you back, Sirius,” Hermione finally said.

“Well, you need to get off your feet, mum,” he grinned and led the couple off the dais to the stone bench they had previously occupied, next to Harry’s pack.

“As best we can tell, yes. But the only certain way to tell is out there,” she said, as she pointed to the door.

“But I think it would be best not to take the risk of being seen if this is another reality. Sirius, you and Hermione stay here, in case there’s trouble. I will look around.”

“No, Harry, where ever you go I will be there at your side,” Hermione insisted.

“She’s right, Harry, we are in this together and only together could we stand a chance if we have to fight our way out.”

He was about to continue the argument, when the door to the Chamber of Death slowly opened.

“Alright, whoever’s in here, show yourself,” a voice commanded.

“Here, cover yourself,” Harry commanded as he threw his cloak over Hermione. Sirius shifted into his canine form to hide more easily. “I’m here on Ministry Business,” he called out. “Mind you wands.”

“Then stand in the light, where we can see you.” The voice now came from a silhouette in the door. Other voices and activity could be heard from behind this figure.

“Sirius, stay back with Hermione, please,” he whispered, “I’m coming out; I am an officer of the Ministry.” He gave Hermione a quick kiss on the cheek and stood up, walking away from them.

In the darkness he could see the man as he stood pointing a wand at him. Others outside the door provided additional cover for the wizard that gave the order to come forward.

“Step out of the shadows,” he commanded.

Harry took an additional step into the light from that flooded through the door. His hands up to show they were empty, but he was far from defenceless.

“I’m here alone,” he called out, “I’m unarmed.”

“Rubbish, we heard you talk to someone; tell them to step forward,” another voice commanded.

“Tonks?” he called to the second voice.

The wand that had been pointed at him lowered as he stepped forward. In the door he could now see the man that ordered him from his wife. That man approached and broke into a run toward him.

“Harry?” Ron called out, as he came within a few feet.

“Ron?” he said with a huge grin, “Is it really you?”

“Bloody hell, I was about to ask you that, how did you survive? Where did you come from?”

“The arch,” he tried to explain as Ron threw his arms around Harry. Others flooded into the room, not as cautious as Ron.

“Hermione? Is she alive?” he asked.

“Better then alive,” she called out, “I’m here as well.” She stood and dropped the cloak. Sirius remained next to her and followed as she ran to her friend.

“It’s bloody great to see you both, but how did you get here?”

“The Arch, it’s a portal of sorts.”

Ron noticed the dog standing behind her and looked puzzled at Harry. Harry was unable to comment with the other Aurors in the room, each with each with drawn wands pointed at the group.

“Stand aside, Senior Auror,” a voice bellowed.

Both Harry and Ron turned to the voice. “Yes sir,” they responded in unison.

“Bugger off, Ron, he was addressing me”

“There have been some changes, Harry,” Ron replied, as another figure approached.

Gawain Robards, the Head of the Aurors, walked past the others and directly to the three in the room. “Senior Auror Weasley, you were instructed to take the intruders into custody, not to welcome them with open arms. Perform your duty, or turn in your badge.”

He reluctantly nodded, “Harry, you and Hermione have to come with us.”

“Of course. Love, are you up to it?” Harry asked Hermione.

“Yes, as long as it doesn’t take all day. I want to go home.”

“It should be a standard de-briefing, beside I want you to stop at St. Mungo’s and make the initial arrangements.”

She nodded and noted a puzzled look on Ron’s face. Harry took her hand and they followed the Auror. The large dog also followed and stayed at Harry’s side. Ron led the procession to the interrogation rooms. Harry and Hermione quietly sat in the stark wooden chairs on one side of the table; Ron and two other Auror sat opposite. The dog obediently sat at Harry’s feet.

“And what will happen to us next?” Hermione asked.

“We shall be asking the questions,” a voice in a dark corner bellowed.

“Then get on with it.”

“Right. First what are your names?”

“Harry James Potter and Hermione Jane Potter,” Harry answered for them.

“Occupations?”

“I am a Senior Auror and my wife is a Healer.”

“Former Senior Auror, due to your unexplained absence.”

“Right.”

“How did you come to be in that chamber?”

“We came through the Arch,” Hermione responded.

“Impossible, no one has ever returned from the Veil.”

“Impossible or not, here we are as living proof. We entered from here, if this is truly our home, some five months ago. In that time we passed into the veil three more times to finally return here.”

“So you mean to imply you survived passage through the Veil and this ‘animal’ was with you as well?”

“No, we found him on the other side and he returned with us.”

“Ron, I’m sure you remember Sirius Black?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, he died twelve years ago,” Ron answered, as he looked closely at the dog. “No…” he muttered.

Hermione simply nodded as Sirius changed from his animal form back to his human form.

“Ron Weasley, it’s been a long time,” he said, as he reached his hand across the table.

From the shadows some muffled conversations and shuffling of feet told the tale of others in the room expecting answers. An ancient wizard stepped forward; a look of utmost pleasure broke across his face as he rounded the table. He was barely able to contain himself and unable to utter a word of greeting as the three stood and greeted him with equal enthusiasm.

“Professor,” Hermione said jubilantly.

“Minister Dumbledore,” Harry greeted trying to contain himself.

“Harry, Hermione, two of my dearest friends. Nearly everyone had given you both for death. Mr. Weasley refused to believe you had perished and he held fast to his loyalty to that belief. ” Nearly an hour passed as all pretence of propriety vanished on sight.

“Auror Robards, you may release them to their own recognisance; they are who they claim to be.”

“If they are who they claim to be, then I want an explanation on how they first came to pass into the veil more than five months ago?” Robards insisted.

“You are aware that was the anniversary of that incident,” Harry began, “And you are also aware I had requested a few weeks of leave knowing my wife’s general state of mind during that period.”

“Of course, you request your leave for those weeks every year.”

“And this was a milestone year, the tenth.” Hermione added.

“Yes, yes, I know all that…” Robards replied.

“We had gone into the Chamber due to a melancholy mood and at some point I must have slipped and fallen into the Veil. Harry simply tried to pull me back, but was pulled in with me.”

“I believe that is enough for now,” the Minister said, “I’m quite certain they both would like to spend the remainder of the day with loved ones and family, not in an interrogation cell. Although a brief stop at the Ministry’s infirmary for a quick check up should be in order.”

Ron took advantage, “Then I’ll be their ‘official’ escort. Harry and Hermione, shall we?”

“I expect a full and detailed report on this and your ‘adventures’ before you report for duty and I expect you, Weasley, to report first thing Monday morning,” Robards added, as the three detainees left with Ron.

---

“Mr. Potter, you have to leave, there’s a complication and we may need to perform surgery,” the doctor told Harry off to the side. Hermione had been instructed to lay on her side while the team prepared the necessary trays for the surgery.

“I want to stay, she is my life and I won’t leave her alone.”

“Harry,” Luna said, holding his shoulder, “I’m going to be here every second, she’s in the best hands available.”

“Please don’t worry; although this is a serious procedure, it is fairly common. We expect mother and child to pull through brilliantly,” the doctor said to reassure him.

“The surgeon she had retained for this possibility is one of the best in the medical profession. How she managed to convince him to leave his practice in America to stay here is astounding.”

“Never underestimate the power of wealth, or of my wife,” Harry said. His attempt at levity could not mask the concern in his voice.

“I’ll be here in case there is an issue and the surgery team has been fully prepared as to her full condition, Harry. You won’t be able to help, I suggest waiting in the observatory,” Luna added, pointing to the viewing area above them. Ron and a few select others waited and watched the drama unfold.

A technician was working on Hermione as Harry conceded and left the surgery arena. He glanced back at her as she tried to smile, but the initial pain from the thick needle in her back forced a grimace.

He quickly ran up the stairs to Ron’s side and watched the activity below. Hermione had been rolled to her back and her legs back in the stirrups. The stark white sheets that draped around her hid the activities.

“Easy, mate. This is the worst part, not being able to be there.”

Harry felt his best mate’s arm on his shoulder for reassurance. The flurry below moved along, the white sheets now stained red from her blood as the surgeon made his first cut.

“She’ll be fine, Harry. She’s strong and they are the best,” Sirius said, from Harry’s other side.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to push the image of her helpless form from his mind.

---

He turned over in his sleep, an arm crossed to the other, empty side. Hermione’s restlessness left her unable to sleep, even finally being in her own bed for the first time in months seemed unreal and slightly uncomfortable. A cup of warm tea called her away, leaving him alone.

He tossed and turned in his sleep, a cold sweat bubbled to his brow. Years had passed since he had been tormented by his visions. They had assumed they had ended with the death of Lord Voldemort.

"Moine," he mumbled. "Dumbledore…" he called out.

He felt the same nausea repeat from the journeys through the veil, the darkness engulfed him as he fell into the abyss of his dream.

Through the mist he could see several figures engaged in conflict on a distant tower. One man stood and seemed to throw another from the parapet. Harry heard a boy scream from the wall as the first man vanished.

"Tower… murder," he mumbled in his fitful sleep.

"He drifted from the vision of the tower to that of a clearing where a stark white mausoleum stood. Throngs of people gathered as an old friend carried a white shroud covered body to the marble slab. Harry watched the funeral as Hagrid turned to face the congregation. The gentle man's lips moved, but no sound reached Harry. A biting chill hit sending him back into that void.

He tossed the bed sheets away as he rolled over in his sleep. The images faded from his conscious mind as his body shifted on the bed and his body allowed itself to relax. Moments later the same bed sheets covered him, as a familiar form lay at his side, letting the mists fade into the remainder of the night.

“Good morning, darling. How did you sleep?” she asked, as she nuzzled into his side when day broke.

“Best sleep I’ve had in months, its strange how being in your own bed could be so relaxing.”

“I’ve missed this; even the time we stayed at the Burrow didn’t feel right; I was up half the night trying to convince myself we are home,” she said, as she traced imaginary images on his chest.

“There’s no doubt that this is home,” he reassured her.

“Yes, everything here is absolutely correct, except there are several small matters of a legal nature that must be addressed.”

“There is only one detail you have to address today; you have an examination, to be certain the baby is still healthy.”

“There’s really no need for that, I feel fine and I know the baby is fine,”

“Remember what you promised me that night you told me about the baby, no more risks?”

“Um-hum, but we’re home. Nothing is going to happen. I want to spend a few days in our home, at least for a few days; no doctors and no reporters, just the two of us and a few, choice friends.”

“Ron and Luna already planned to be here by lunch, I think she doesn’t believe we’re really back.”

“Then you had best get showered and dressed; I’ll pop down and make some tea.” She pushed him hard; the unexpected shove sent him over the side of the bed to the floor.

“Crazy witch,” he grinned, as he massaged his battered ego.

“Just try and get me away from here and see how crazy this witch can get,” she teased back, as a pillow hit him square in the head.

“Now be off,” she commanded triumphantly.

It was their first real day in their home. The first time they had hopes of a family in five years. She pulled on a dressing robe, her own dressing robe and rubbed her hands on the material. She heard the sound of the shower and smiled.

She left the warmth and security of their shared bed for the kitchen and a warm cup of tea. She remembered the recipe Caterina shared several days ago and found all she needed in the cupboards.

“Would Missus Potter care for some breakfast?” She heard from behind.

“No, Dobby, tea is fine,” she replied, as she prepared her cup and sat at the table. She pulled a large stack of envelopes and owl messaged from the centre of the table and sighed heavily at the volume of correspondence to be read.

“Dobby is pleased to see mistress back. And to see you happy makes Dobby happy.”

“Thank you, Dobby. And thank you for keeping my home from disrepair these past months.”

“Mistress never has to thank Dobby, Dobby is proud to serve a good family and kind wizard family.”

She smiled a reply to the faithful servant and pulled a large thick envelope with the Gringotts seal. She opened the letter to find a detailed listing of account debits during their absence.

She scanned the page listing household expenses and her smile faded.

“Dobby, have you been drawing your agreed salary?”

“Dobby has not needed wizard money, Dobby has been happy to live in this home.”

She shook her head, “No, you agreed to work for us for wages. I can’t allow you to work without being properly paid.”

She picked up a quill and wrote a bank draft in an amount far exceeding his unclaimed wages and handed him the paper.

“No, Dobby cannot accept this much. It is too much money.”

“That is yours, tear up the draft and it will repair itself until for exchange it.”

He nodded as he bowed and left the kitchen.

She pushed the unopened letters aside and picked up the copy of the Daily Prophet to review the recent events. Their return had been kept confidential and had not been announced in the Prophet. The peace of their world seemed to remain intact without them. The most pressing news item was the concern over the expanded size of the first year students for the following year. The end of the war had brought a surge of growth in wizard families.

She held her tummy and smiled, “You have eleven years to go, little one.”

She felt a familiar kiss on her head, “Talking to anyone in particular?” Harry asked, as he stood behind her.

“A certain future student,” she smiled and reached a hand to his cheek.

“I have a few days before I have to report to work, what time would you like to go for your check up?” he asked, as he poured a hot cup of tea and retrieved some fresh toast.

“I’m perfectly capable of going on my own; I do know how to get to my own offices,” she replied.

“Yes, I know, but I want to be there to hear any news.”

“You know this will be an uneventful examination and you have an errand to run of your own. I would like resolution on that matter right away.”

“Certainly, I hope I can convince them.”

“Finish your breakfast and ask them, I’m certain they will agree. I plan to see Ginny after I talk to Luna at the hospital.”

“I would not mention any details of our recent experiences, they would prove unsettling,” he cautioned, as she stood to leave for a shower.

“I know, I do have some tact,” she replied, “You might well take your own advice and be certain to let me know if they accept our proposals.” She reciprocated his affections as she left, leaving a kiss on the top of his head on her way out.

Harry quietly finished his toast and tea, scanned the pages of the Prophet and sipped his tea. He flipped through he pages reading the same articles Hermione just read. He skimmed through to the last page and closed the paper and sighed heavily.

Harry stood, walked to the fireplace and tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the fire.

“Professor, may I have a word in private?”

This was the third stop he made and still had not been able to complete his first task.

“This is almost as challenging as the Tri-Wizard Contest,” he mumbled,

“Possibly, but this should be the correct office,” his companion said.

He walked to the door and knocked firmly and waited. A middle aged woman greeted them. “The Professor has agreed to meet with you, but he will only spare you five minutes.”

“Understood,” Harry replied for them both.

“Please follow me to his private office.”

Together they walked through the narrow hall. The office they entered was a typical administrator’s office; rows of filing cabinets lined the wall. Book shelves lined the walls above the filing cabinets. On a podium lay several stacks of sheet music; in the corner stood a violin.

Harry’s companion began the conversation, “Professor, if I may introduce myself, my name is…”

“I do not care who you are, madam, you have no bearing on the proceedings of this establishment or its students. This letter my secretary delivered is outrageous.”

“Sir, I would be appreciative if you reconsidered your stand. I happen to know the work Miss Basile has done in the past and I am certain you are mistaken on that project,” Harry interjected, “And, I’m certain if you cared to examine her notes, you will see how she arrived at the same work as Mozart.” (This was brought in quickly…)

“So you are experts in classical music?” the Professor asked sharply.

“I am a simple educator myself, sir and I can detect when a student’s work is original and I can assure you this is original.”

The door opened to find a paunchy middle aged man standing in the door with a young woman. He quickly approached Harry with his hand extended.

“Mr. Potter, I had to stop by personally to thank you for your generous contribution. And I took the liberty of escorting Miss Basile to Professor Goode’s office personally.”

“We were just discussing a project that had been completed and the authenticity of the work involved.”

“Caterina, may I have a private word with you while my associate continues her evaluations of your work?”

“That is fine with me and you, Saul?” the administrator asked the Professor. A simple shoulder shrug was his reply.

“Sì, Signore,” she replied politely. Harry led her away leaving the others alone.

“Caterina, are you aware who I am?”

“No, Signore,” she replied shaking her head.

“Well, the important detail is I know who you are, and more precisely, what you are. I am here to offer you a position and career.”

“You know what I am?”

“Sì,” he said with a grin. “And I have a proposition for you, if you are interested in a position where you can learn and grow.”

“Signore, I am afraid I do not know who you are or what you are implying, but if this is a joke,” she said, a fire of anger began to burn.

“Your dean failed to properly introduce us, my name is Harry Potter and I’m certain you have heard the name.”

She stood slightly stunned, “Harry Potter? But…”

“You always believed it was not true.”

“Sì,” she said slightly confused.

“I can assure you what ever you may have heard, whether true or not, that I am Harry Potter and you are a witch. I as well am aware your brother shares your abilities.”

“No, he does not,” she said vehemently.

“My offer is for your services, as a nanny for our child, and for Rico to attend a school that will help his growth as a wizard. I have some influence with some friends that would be willing to sponsor Chiara as well.”

“But I have no experience with children.”

“Then we can call this an executive Household Assistant. My wife is expecting in May and I believe your education here is to end then.”

“Sì, but I had plans…”

“Daniel and Laura, yes, I know about them. They will be just fine. I have a debt to repay and I will not take no for an answer.”

She shook her head, “I must have permission from my papa, this is too sudden, he would not understand.”

“I understand, that is why I have a friend with me,” he nodded back to the room they left. “She is quite persuasive.” The door opened and his companion joined them.

“I believe I made our point, your grade will be reversed and your work is to be re-evaluated, Miss Basile.”

“Caterina, I’m afraid I failed to properly introduce you, this is Professor Minerva McGonagall. She is the Headmistress of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have made the arrangements for Rico to attend the school and he will have the finest instruction available.”

“No, he has not shown any abilities.”

“Miss, he will be examined first, but according to Mr. Potter, he has personally witnessed young Rico’s abilities. The concern is his age. He will be too old to enter as a first year and has missed three years of work.”

“Then there is no luck to him,” Caterina said.

“That is not entirely true; he will have private tutoring from the staff and from his classmates. They have already been instructed to spend time to help him learn.”

“But papa will never agree.”

“Leave him to us, I’m certain he’ll agree,” Harry replied. “Now, Professor, you have the Portkey ready?”

“Yes, please take hold.” She held a book to the other two, Harry placed his hand on the cover and Caterina cautiously touched the binding. Instantly they were whisked from the University’s offices to a dark alley. The three walked out into the street, letting the day’s sun shine down.

Harry looked at the building, the last time he saw it all that remained was a smouldering pile of rubble. Caterina led the group to an attached row building with a lime green front. She ushered the pair into the house and to the lounge.

“Please wait, I bring my papa here,” she instructed.

Within a few minutes she returned, her father close behind, still wearing his apron and covered in fresh flour.

“May I help you?” he asked politely.

“My name in Harry Potter and we are both here on behalf of your children. To offer Caterina and Chiara positions of employment and to invite Rico to attend a prestigious academy in Britain .”

“What academy?” he asked. Rico had wandered into the front room when he heard his name.

“Sir, I am the Headmistress of Hogwarts, School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Professor McGonagall, and on Mr. Potter’s reference alone, Rico has been accepted to attend the school.”

“Why would YOU want to give us money to send Rico to this Hogwarts? And what is this foolishness of witchcraft and wizards? ”

“Papa, listen to them; they know of my abilities and seem to think Rico shares them.”

“Rico has a special talent that needs to be nurtured and we can offer him that opportunity.”

“Then why can he not attend the schools here, they were good for Caterina?”

“Hogwarts will give him the special training and attention no other school can match, beside it would allow him to remain close to his two sisters.”

“And what of them? These ‘positions of employment’ you speak of, how am I to believe these are real?”

“My wife is soon to have a child and I am seeking a nanny we trust. And Caterina is that person. My wife’s cousin has two children that, too, need tending and has agreed to take Chiara as their nanny. She will also stay within the grounds of Hogwarts, as both parents are professors there.”

“Private accommodations will be provided for her comfort,” Professor McGonagall added.”

“And as well for Caterina, she will stay in our home after she completes her education at her University.”

“Madness, this is madness. How can we be certain this is not some plan to force them into an illicit life? I have heard of people being forced into unsavoury positions, before sending my girls somewhere to live with a family I don't know, I want to be a hundred percent certain they're going to be well.”

“That is exactly what I intend to prevent. Believe in that I have the best intensions for your family, you can visit any of them at any time.”

“So you expect us to fly to England anytime to visit? No, that is not possible. I can't fly, Mr. Potter. My diabetes forbids me to. And my wife here is scared about flying with planes.”

“We never mentioned flying, we do have other means. You and your wife will be instructed on the proper use when it is time,” Professor McGonagall answered.

“Even if I agree, what payment can you offer?”

“Papa, that isn’t important.”

“Shh, child, if you are to be their servants, you will earn a reasonable salary.”

“What would you think... 5 thousand per year?"

"Well, it's not that much, but I suppose that if she's living in your house and you feed her, she wouldn't need too many euros to live." Mr. Basile replied.

"Euros?" Harry asked slightly puzzled.

“Of course, in the UK there are the pounds! Well that is a little better." Caterina offered.

"How much would that be in euros?" Mr. Basile asked.

"Hum... probably about 7500?" she replied.

“Pounds? I was talking about galleons actually," Harry corrected.

"Dad, it's the wizard's currency in the UK . I've read about it in school," she answered. "Let me see, I think it is a one to five formula."

"If I may, I'd say about 37,000 euros," the Professor added.

“Each, I should have mentioned that as well, we’ll leave you to discuss the offers, however, we will require an answer about Rico’s offer quite soon, as the school year has started. He will need accelerated instruction to make up the years he lost.” Harry added.

“Good day, and when you have reached an answer, I believe Caterina is able to contact us with your decision. I believe an owl to Mr. Potter or to me would suffice.”

With a wave of his hand the pair vanished from the room, leaving the family behind in mild shock.

---

“Mr. Potter, you can return to the surgery, if you wear these.” The nurse handed him a set of surgical scrubs as she delivered the message.

He quickly pulled the lime green clothes over his regular clothes and followed the nurse to the delivery room, now converted to a surgery. He rushed to Hermione’s side and gently took her hand, as she turned her head and smiled.

“It’s ok; the baby’s going to be fine.”

“Shh, it’s my job to comfort you,” Harry replied.

“Scalpel, a number 3 blade, I believe, will do.”

“Suction, there, get the bleeder.”

“Got it.”

“Retraction, hold the incision open, a bit more. There, that’s the one.”

Harry tried not to watch as the surgeon had deliberately cut into Hermione. He knew this was how she wanted the baby, to be born in the same hospital she was born in. He held her hand tightly as he watched the blood, her blood from the wound.

“Scalpel, hold back the uterine wall, good, I’m through.”

“The cord, it’s too tight around the neck.”

Harry had been gone nearly two hours; Hermione knew he would be gone most of the day and planned her day accordingly. She answered many of the owl messages that arrived in the months they were missing. Hedwig nearly groaned under the stress of the deliveries Hermione had tasked the owl with; the bird was nearing twenty years old, quit past middle age for most owls.

She settled in her favourite chair in the lounge with a book and waited.

The time seemed to pass slowly until a knock on the front door roused her from the depths of the story she was reading.

“Hermione? Are you here?”

“Mrs. Potter is expecting you; please follow Dobby, Mrs. Luna.”

“I’m in here, Luna,” she called out and stood to greet her friend.

“You are alive! I never believed it. Ron was so convinced you were still alive. He said he had strange dreams.”

Hermione and Luna embraced briefly, before Hermione motioned her to a seat opposite her chair. “What dreams has he had?”

“He wouldn’t talk about them, just that you and Harry were alive. We had many discussions about that subject and it appears he was right.”

“I hope you didn’t force him to sleep on the sofa.”

“Not too often,” she said with a chuckle.

“I needed you here to ask a favour. I know this is not a normal request, but it is terribly important to me.”

“Anything, if I can, you know that.”

“Well, first I need a complete examination.”

“Is there something I need to look for?”

“I don’t want to taint your results; I want an independent confirmation. And then I’ll tell you what I need.”

Luna looked puzzled, but nodded. “Of course, do you want to go to St. Mungo’s or stay here?”

“Here, I don’t want others to know yet.”

“Then we’ll need some privacy, the spare room upstairs?”

“Yes, I’ve made necessary changes and left instructions not to be disturbed.” The pair left for the upstairs bedroom she had converted into an examination room. Hermione stepped behind a screen and changed into a dressing robe.

“A clue of what I’m looking for might help,” Luna said, as she waved her want over Hermione, starting at her head. The wand produced a blue glow over her body, old scars glowed red. The glow radiated from her skin as the wand passed over her abdomen and down her legs.

“Well, no new wounds, now to check for illnesses.” She passed the wand over Hermione again, this time a yellow glow radiated from her body. Luna passed her wand over Hermione’s head, then chest.

“You’ve had a bit of a cold?”

“Um-hum. A few months back.”

The glow continued to her belly and changed from the yellow to pink. Luna stopped scanning and looked up to a smiling Hermione. She repeated the spell and held her wand over Hermione’s stomach again; the unmistakable change in colour told Luna what Hermione wanted to know.

“You’re pregnant? But that’s impossible, that curse…”

“…Is gone. I believe I’m due to deliver in May. I wanted professional confirmation before we told anyone. It happened when we were in another world.”

“But still, this is extraordinary, does Harry know?” Luna asked, as she sat next to Hermione.

“Of course, we discussed this, and he’s as excited as I am. With our history, neither of us wants to take the risk,” Hermione replied, as she sat up.

“As far as I can detect, this is a healthy and normal pregnancy.”

“I want to have this baby in the same hospital I was born in; it would be the closest to having my mum there.” Hermione reached for her dressing robe and pulled it on while they talked.

“That is reasonable, although St. Mungo’s would be a safer option. They have been delivering babies for a few years, you know.”

“Yes, I know. But I have a personal request. I can understand if you can’t help. I want you there with us, when the baby is born.”

“I wouldn’t dream of letting you face this alone. Of course I’ll be there.”

“And one other request, this is for you both. We want you and Ron to be the child’s godparents.”

Luna sat back in surprise and barely thought the request in depth, “Wouldn’t Ginny be a better choice? You are closer to her.”

“Luna, I thought this through carefully and I want you to be part of my child’s life. Of course I can always count on Ginny, if you would rather not.”

“Of course, we both would be honoured to stand with you and Harry. It’s that this request is unexpected.”

Hermione nodded, “I have to shoulder the responsibility for that; when you and Ron first came together, we should have treated you better. I know what it feels like to be shunned. I learned many lessons recently that I could never learn from a book.”

“Hermione, I’m shocked to hear you admit you could learn something that was not in a book,” Luna smiled.

“It is terribly important to me that you and I be better friends and not just because you and Ron are together.”

“I would like that.”

“Good, then it’s settled. Now, I have an errand to run in the Ministry and then I will pop by the Hospital.”

“I will make what ever arrangements are needed for you and the baby. But for now, I have to report at the hospital myself.”

The two women stood, Hermione gave her friend an affectionate embrace before escorting her to the front door.

“Thank you, Luna, this does mean a lot to me.”

Luna nodded, as she left the cottage in Godric’s Hollow leaving Hermione to prepare for the rest of her day.

---

It was a beautiful autumn day when she entered the telephone booth, dialed the number she had dialed dozens of times before, 6-2-4-4-2, and waited.

“Name.” the receiver demanded.

“Hermione Potter, Healer.”

“That name is listed as deceased.”

“I assure you, that is an error. I am very much alive.”

The muffled voice on the other end lasted a few moments, obvious indication of a secondary conversation. “Purpose?” he finally asked.

“I have personal business with Ginevra Malfoy.”

A badge dropped into the slot identifying her and her purpose for entering the Ministry of Magic. She placed the badge on her cloak and passed into the Ministry’s doors.

“Mrs. Potter?” A voice rang out, as she entered the atrium.

“Yes?”

“Please follow us, the Minister is expecting you,” the security guard insisted. She acknowledged his instructions and followed him to the Minister for Magic’s office. Before she or the escort could knock, the doors swung open.

“Please come in, Mrs. Potter. I have been expecting you.” She heard from a familiar voice.

“Professor, my appointment was with Ginny Malfoy,” she started, as the elder man quickly crossed the room to greet her.

“Yes, yes… I am quite aware of that. She will join us shortly, but I needed a few minutes of your time first.”

“Certainly, exactly how can I help?” she asked, as he ushered her to a chair opposite his desk.

“I have had a long conversation with an old friend. He had all but admitted to interfering with your and Harry’s lives over the years. I can’t fully condone his actions, but I understand his motives.”

“Myddrin, is this ‘old friend’?”

Albus Dumbledore nodded, “Yes, he has been a strong influence in my life, and as it seems, in yours too.”

“Sir, exactly who is he? He implied at one point to actually be Merlin, but that has to be quite impossible.”

“No, that is the name most have known him as, only a few in the past several hundred years have known him.”

“Then he is real? He still exists today?”

“Of course, you can thank his testimony that released the three of you the other day. And before you ask, he wishes to remain anonymous.”

“I see, so he is allowed to meddle in our lives without repercussion.”

“That is essentially correct, as you can understand his abilities are beyond comprehension for most in our world. As I understand it, besides you and Harry, he has made himself known to only Mr. Weasley.”

She nodded, “I know. I had a dream when we were gone about Ron; it was comforting in a time Harry and I were apart.”

“I had a few conversations with Mr. Weasley that related directly to his investigations. He alone insisted you both were alive. Now, the reason I summoned you here, besides resolving this issue, is to ask a personal favour. I have a personal task I must tend to and I expect I will be gone for a few months; I have made arrangements for a transition of authority to the deputy Minister during my absence. And in his place, I have been asked for the name of a successor.”

“For the deputy Minister position?”

“Yes, there is little to be carried out and only administrative duties are required.”

“That’s all quite interesting, sir, but why are you telling me all this?”

“I wish for you to fill this post, although I expect nothing to come of it.”

She sat dumbfounded and shook her head, “No, I must decline. There are new circumstances and I’m afraid I won’t be fit to fill such a post.”

“Hermione? What circumstances? I do not foresee any possible reason or condition that would not allow you to handle this post.”

“Sir, Harry and I are having a baby. I had confirmation this morning.”

“Splendid, that is the best news I’ve heard in years,” he beamed with pride for two of his favourite younger people. “When is the blessed event?”

“In May, I believe, if all calculations are accurate,” she said with a hand to her stomach.

“That is as I expected, in that case, I shall find another to handle that position,” he said, as he held a pouch.

“Then, may I ask a personal favour?” the ancient wizard asked, as he handed Hermione the magically sealed pouch.

“There are personal instructions in this pouch I want carried out by you, if I fail to return before your child is born.”

“Professor?”

“My request should be clear, there are very few in this world I would trust, you and Harry are among those. This is to be kept in strictest confidence. I will arrange for your husband to be informed of my request. I do not want to be responsible for forcing you to withhold anything from him.”

“I appreciate that, but still, this is a most unusual request.”

“Yes, I know, but you must understand I have my reasons.”

She nodded and held the pouch tight to her chest.

“Now, I believe you have an appointment with Mrs. Malfoy?”

“She had owled me with a strange request of her own.”

“That request is not as strange as you may realize. I expect she will give you all the details. I believe she has some loose threads to tie up.”

Albus stood from his seat and walked around the desk to where she sat and held a hand to her. “Now, I believe she is on her way here.”

“Here?”

“Yes, I’m afraid you will require an escort until your status is cleared up, but I have expedited that process; Harry’s status has already been cleared. I’m certain your status will be corrected by the end of the day.”

“I see. So I’m still officially dead?”

“You and Sirius both are listed as deceased, yes.”

A knock on the door drew their attention from the conversation, “Come in Director.”

“Sir, I came as quickly as I could. You are aware of the regulations of leaving the department unsupervised,” the Head of the Department of Mysteries said, as she quietly entered the chamber. She wore the proper attire for an official of this level and the woman’s long, fiery red hair was wrapped in a tight bun. She saw Hermione sitting patiently and the two old friends shared a smile. Ginny held her composure, but her fidgeting clearly indicated she wanted to discard protocol and grab her friend the way two school girls would after a long summer break.

“I’m certain you have received word by now of our friends’ return.”

“Yes, sir. They sent a message last night when they arrived at home. I spent hours with that sorry sod of a brother getting details,” Ginny replied.

“I felt having Hermione brought here would be easier then being paraded through the halls to your office. I believe you both would like some time alone, I have a pressing appointment elsewhere, but I should return before you are ready to leave, Mrs. Potter.” The ancient wizard stood, shook Hermione’s hand, and left his office.

Ginny waited until the door closed before allowing her mask of propriety to vanish.

“I couldn’t believe you both are back,” she shrieked with joy, as Hermione took to her feet and found herself in a trademark Weasley embrace.

“When you two vanished, do you have any idea how we all felt?” Ginny finally managed to blurt out.

“I know, it was all my doing, actually. I had a horrific experience and couldn’t face myself anymore. As it turned out, I had no reason for such an attitude.”

“Tell me everything that happened, where you went, what you did, and don’t leave any details out,” Ginny said, as they sat in the chairs.

“I’m afraid I can’t relate too many details. Many of the events have been classified and we really can’t talk of them.”

“I see, but you did say you had exciting news.”

“Yes, Harry and I are having a child.”

“So, you’ve decided to adopt after all?”

“No, we are having a child, our child. Some time late April I believe.”

Confused, Ginny stared at Hermione, “But that incident, how…”

“It is one of the events I can’t explain. Simply accept that what Harry and I went through had certain effects that had wonderful benefits.”

Ginny sat staring in disbelief. “This is absolutely wonderful news,” she finally said, after shaking off the shock. “Have you planned to make an announcement?”

“No,” Hermione said shaking her head, “we wish to keep this confidential; we plan to tell only a few people, for now. Ron and Luna know, as does Professor Dumbledore and a few others we encountered when we returned.”

---

The days had passed into weeks. The weeks turned to months. The seasons turned from autumn to winter. The Christmas holiday was celebrated for the first time in known history without the shadow of the past to mar the festivities.

Luna had decided to stay home after the first of the New Year, their second child was due for a mid February delivery, and she wanted time alone with her family.

Hermione’s maternal condition had progressed normally and, as time progressed, she discovered the same truths that all expectant women knew. As wonderful as this event was, the process was not as pleasant. Her physical changes left her restless some nights.

She had again left the bed for a late night cup of tea and a book on one of these nights, leaving Harry to sleep.

His arm instinctively reached for his mate, as he rolled over. His hand fell onto an empty pillow, his mind, however, was not as easily satisfied.

His vision faded to see the stark stone chamber he and Hermione had known all too well over the past several months. The raised dais with the stone arch was now the centre of activity; a man dressed in black robes, buttoned to his neck, stood at the pulpit. His characteristic hooked nose left little room for doubt to Harry who this man was.

In the first row watching the drama unfold he saw three familiar faces, two lads and a young woman sat together; the face of the woman was obscured from view as her face was buried in one young man’s shoulder. The third man was all too familiar to Harry; he watched his younger self sit silently next to his two closest friends.

“Ron, Mione,” he called out in his sleep, but the bed was still empty and she never heard him.

Professor McGonagall sat on his other side, in quiet conversation with a man to her other side, a man Harry had known years earlier as the Head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour.

The drone of the assembled crowd died down as Scrimgeour stood to take a stand behind a pulpit on the dais. He noticed the old Auror walked with a noticeable limp, something he never had seen before. The old lion faced man with streaks of grey in his tawny mane of hair raised his hands to the audience.

“We are here to bear witness to the execution of a common murderer. The man standing here is responsible for the death of one the greatest wizard since Merlin himself.”

Harry watched from his dream, chuckled at the thought, and made a mental note to ask Myddrin about this in the future.

“Albus Dumbledore’s death shook the confidence of all, leaving a young man alone to witness the murder. As Minister, it is my duty to pronounce the sentence of death to a known Death Eater and traitor…”

Harry strained to listen, but the images faded.

He lay in his bed and moaned at the images. He felt a hand run through his hair, as his senses were tickled with the mixed memories of treacle tart the woody smell of a broomstick handle and a flowery scent reminiscent of the Burrow.

“Good morning.” He heard from a voice whisper in his ear. The warm breath on his neck preceded warm lips pressed to his skin. She kissed his neck playfully and nibbled at an ear lobe. That same flowery scent filled his mind as her nails drew light lines on his chest. Her long smooth hair glided over his bare skin as her head followed her hands down his body. Her hands paused at his waist, slipping under his pyjama bottoms.

He moaned as she continued to kiss him down his chest, to his firm stomach. Her lips began to follow her fingers, as his pyjama bottoms were pushed down.

“Hallo, what’s all this then, ‘Arry?” a voice rang out, “Got yourself a bird in the sack ‘ave we? You’d best get rid of ‘er before…”

“Bugger off Ron,” she said under the bed sheets.

“Ginny?” Ron asked.

His eyes burst open; that same scent lingered in his mind as he tried to focus. The room was dark; it was still night.

“Dream, it must have been a dream,” he muttered, as he reached across the bed to an empty space.

“Hermione?” he called out, as he threw the bed sheets aside and sat up.

She came through the door moments after he called out; her growing profile slowed her return.

“Harry, what’s the matter?” she said, as she came to his side.

“You’re here? But Ginny? Where did she go?”

“She’s home, you know full well she and Draco haven’t been here in a fortnight.”

Harry sighed heavily.

“I had the strangest dream. We were back in the Death Chamber in the Ministry. There was a meeting or trial going on. But it was so different.”

“Who was on trial?”

“I can’t remember.” But all I remember is a white crypt. Someone had died.”

“Who, any idea?”

He shook his head, “No, I can’t remember all the details. It’s the same as those dreams I had when we were young, of you…”

She nodded. “That’s ok, don’t think of it,” she said to console him.

“Now, please one last time, and it will be done,” she said, as she wiped her brow. The effort was clearly worth while, as Hermione pushed again.

She screamed at the effort, holding Fred’s hands tightly.

“Now bear down, come, one last time.”

“Hermione, breathe and push,” Fred coached, as he ignored her crushing grip.

She sat nearly straight up and gritted her teeth. She felt as if she were torn open, but that subsided as the child was delivered. Caterina quickly wrapped the infant in a clean blanket and tied off the umbilical cord as she had been taught, the times she assisted the birth of family and friends clearly obvious as she took to her task.

“Hermione, you have a beautiful daughter. She is perfect,” Caterina said, as she laid the child in Hermione’s waiting arms.

“Hi,” she whispered to her daughter, “I’m your mum.” She kissed her on the forehead, gently and gingerly, as she cuddled the baby.

“Please, let me take her now,” Caterina said softly, “She’s safe.”

Caterina took the child to a waiting crib while a second mid-wife tended to Hermione, cleaning the freshly soiled bed linens. Fred stood over the woman as she carefully cleaned the child.

“Blimey, she’s opened her eyes. Hermione, I think she smiled!” Fred exclaimed. His enthusiasm for this child could not have been greater, even if it were his own.

“Fred, she won’t be able to smile for some months, but it’s a pleasant thought,” she replied.

“Here, papa, is your daughter,” Caterina said, as she handed Fred the child.

Fred cradled the infant and gave her the same greeting her mother had moments earlier, “Hi little one, I’ll be your papa; he’s not with us, but I know he would have loved you.”

Fred carried the baby to Hermione as she sat up and stretched out her arms. He handed her the child and instinctively the child nuzzled to her chest. Hermione smiled and opened her gown, giving the baby her first meal.

“There, darling Anna. Easy, I know you’re hungry,” she cooed, as she nursed her daughter.

The surgeon handed the scalpel back to his assistant, who, in turn, put the blade on the tray with the other implements. The doctor diligently worked on his charge, with his staff watching every move. His surgical assistant and staff knew this was a wealthy and famous couple, although until a few months earlier very few of them ever heard of them.

More of her blood escaped and stained the sheets as he worked. Pads were placed around the opening to catch the draining fluids. She grimaced at the pressure she felt as the warm fluids spilled out from her skin.

“Here she comes,” the mid-wife called to Hermione.

“She’s out,” the surgical assistant assured Hermione.

“Apgar, six; she needs to pink up a bit.”

“Let mum see her.”

“She’s quite healthy; here’s your daughter.” The mid-wife placed the loosely wrapped child in Hermione’s waiting arms; Harry leaned forward as mother and daughter met for the first time. He gave both mother and daughter a loving kiss.

“She’s absolutely beautiful, just like her mum.” Harry beamed, as he stayed with his new family.

“She’s your legacy, Harry,” Hermione replied to him.

“No, she’s our legacy. She has made the past worth while.” In response, the third Potter made her voice heard; the newborn voice cried for the first time. Each new sound filled her young lungs with clean fresh air, bringing her colour to a rosy hue.

“Give her here, mum; she needs a good cleaning. She won’t even leave the room. And the surgeon has a bit of needle work to finish up,” a midwife insisted.

Harry smiled and kissed his wife, before giving his daughter to the nurse. “Here she is, and be extra careful, she’s my little girl.”

“Right, papa,” the nurse teased. “You can wait in the nursery and have a bit of a rest, while the surgeon finishes up. We’ll bring them both along shortly.”

“Go, darling, you’ve been up as long. Twenty hours is a long stretch, even for you,” Hermione said to reassure him. “We’ll be fine.”

The nurse took the little girl form the new family’s loving arms to a waiting table. A heating lamp glowed warmth over the child as the waiting team carefully cleaned her.

“Five minute Apgar, eight.” The nurse called out.

Harry lingered in the doorway and watched the only two women in his life being tended. He saw a smile on Hermione’s face as she nodded for him to rest. He finally left to find his extended family waiting for news. The room was abuzz with conversations with the exception of a young woman, with long blond hair who sat alone, unsure of the surroundings.

“Annie’s doing fine; she and Hermione will be out soon.”

“Annie?” Ron asked.

“Hermione’s grandmother, on her mum’s side. Anna Lily Potter, that’s the name we will give her on her Christening,” Harry said to Ron. He beamed with pride as he received numerous congratulatory back slaps from the other family and friends standing with him.

“Well now, Harry, how does it feel to be ultimately responsible for someone’s care and well being?” Sirius asked.

“When you put it that way, I’d as soon face Voldemort all over, again. It’s a terrifying moment, to be sure,” he replied, as they all laughed nervously as he spoke that name.

“Just put it out of your mind then, Harry, we’re all here behind you,” Ginny chimed in.

“Just like old times? Eh?”

Fred and George finally backed away as a tawny owl pecked at the window. In its talons a tightly wrapped package waited. Draco stepped to the sill and opened the sash to take the package, but the bird refused to release its charge; it simply hooted and flew to Harry’s arm.

“What’s this then?” he asked, as the owl released the package to Harry.

“Open it. It must be a special birthday surprise for your daughter,” Draco remarked.

He untied the string that bound the parchment and unrolled the scroll. One word in a fresh crimson stained the page and a broken pair of blood stained, half-moon glasses fell into his hand.

Harry read the one word and rewrapped the glasses into the parchment. The blank faces that surrounded him stared at him, begging for some explanation.

“Are those…”

“Professor Dumbledore’s,” Harry finished for Ginny.

“Does that mean he’s hurt?”

“More like he’s dead.”

“I wouldn’t cross him off just yet; the man’s a brilliant wizard.”

Harry raised his hand to stop the conjecture, “Please I must ask you all to treat this as a confidential matter. Ron, we have to treat this as an investigation, so secrecy must be established.”

“Right, Harry, we can trust the family to keep this secret,” Ron replied with agreeable nods and grunts from the other Weasleys in the room.

A tap at the window drew their attention once more; a fairly tiny and energetic owl rapped on the window pane. Ginny, now being closest, let Pig in to the room.

“He’s got a message, Harry,” Ginny called out, as the bird flew into the room, but falling to the floor before reaching Harry’s waiting hands.

He untied the message as the small owl lay motionless. Ron took over to tend to his old bird as Harry read the message.

H, tell Hr to rd. AD

“And there’s a symbol, a reversed Pertho,” Harry read from the scrap of parchment. The handwriting was strained as if written by a weak hand.

“Death,” Ginny muttered, “He predicted his death.”

“So, what does the rest mean? ‘…tell Hr to read’?” Ron asked.

“It obviously has to do with Hermione, she’s forever initialling notes with ‘Hr’ as a form of shorthand,” Harry replied, “I need to tell her…”

“You’ll do no such thing; she’s just had major surgery and gave you a daughter. And you want to disturb her rest for this? No, you’ll wait to confirm the meaning of that first message.” They heard, as Luna stood at the door to Hermione’s room. “She’s been asking for you, Harry.”

Harry let out a sigh and nodded his head, “Ron, go confirm what you can at the Ministry, there’s bound to be some message there.”

“Right,” Ron replied and gave a half hearted salute before disappearing with a loud pop.

“Stupid git should have found an isolated room,” Sirius said shaking his head.

Harry obeyed Luna’s instruction and carefully put the two missives in his pocket before returning to his family. He pasted a warm smile on his face to hide the grief over the possible loss of one of his dearest friends.

“Darling, what’s the matter?” she asked at once.

“I could never hide anything from you,” he said, as he closed the door. She lay in her bed nursing their daughter. A nurse had been at her side to offer assistance if she had difficulty on her first try.

“May we be alone, for a few moments?” he asked the care-giver. She nodded her consent and quietly left as Harry came to the bed that held his new family.

“It’s nothing for you to be concerned about; you’ve been through a fair bit today.”

“No, tell me what happened,” she said, the look of concern beginning to turn to fear.

He shook his head, “It’s not good.” He removed the first message and unrolled the parchment to show her the glasses.

“Those, they’re Albus’ glasses,” she exclaimed.

“Possibly, I sent Ron to confirm it.”

“Darling, I think he knew. He entrusted a package into my care when we returned. What was it he said?” she thought aloud. Annie stopped suckling and Hermione held her on her shoulder. A light, almost dainty burp escaped the tiny girl while Hermione continued to pat her back.

“When was this? I don’t recall.”

“When you left to find Caterina, Albus called me to the Ministry.”

“I remember you said you went to see Ginny.”

“Yes, but I was detained and brought to see Albus, I told you all that. And that’s when he entrusted me with a bundle of documents; to be ‘ carried out by you, if I fail to return before your child is born’ he said.”

Harry sat on the hospital bed with his wife and child. He gently stroked the child’s smooth head and kissed her, “Where is this pouch?”

“In the study, I left it in the vault with the manuscript. I felt it was important and must be safeguarded.”

“Then until we have confirmations, it will remain there.” He thought for a moment, “There was another note, a cryptic one from Albus. All it said was for you to read.”

“Then I can only assume he meant that pouch,” she replied. The finality of this request was evident. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Yes, that’s the appearance so far, but I still have hope he’s alive.

She nodded and reached a free arm to him and he took held both mother and child, while he tried to suppress his fear.

“Darling, we are in the best of care here, go report to the Ministry with this. Please go, I love you,” Hermione said from the family embrace.

“I won’t leave you alone.”

“Rubbish, Ron’s here and so are the others, I’ll be fine. Go do your duty.”

He nodded, “I had sent Ron off to verify this, so they don’t need me.”

“No, you have that message and you have to take charge, Leave Sirius and the others if you’re worried. Go,” she commanded.

Reluctantly he stood and left his new family alone for the first time, only a couple hours after his daughter was born. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers, disappearing with a pop.

---

As an Auror, Harry was able to Apparate into various areas of the Ministry, his first stop was to meet with Gawain Robards and relate the details of his first message. He quickly covered the distance to the Chief Auror’s office and knocked sharply.

“Come in Harry, we’re expecting you,” the voice on the other side commanded.

“Harry, you know everyone here?” Chief Robards asked. Ron and Shacklebolt stood to one side of the oak desk and to the other he could see a distraught Tonks next to a large wing-back chair.

“Of course,” he replied, “Ron, Kingsley.” He greeted both with a nod.

“Harry, we’ve just received word of a dreadful event, concerning a high ranking Ministry official who has been on sabbatical for the past six months.”

“The Minister, Albus Dumbledore. I’m aware of his recent absence,” Harry replied, but holding back his recent news.

“Yes, well, it seems he may have encountered some recent difficulty. We have a potential witness we were about to interview.”

“Difficulty? Difficulty? The man’s been murdered, he’s bloody well dead,” the voice from the chair broke out, as he stood to face the Auror Chief. In a flash Harry recognized his old friend.

“Remus, what happened?” Harry asked, his interrogative mode had been triggered.

“He asked me to meet him a fortnight back; it was just past the full moon so there wasn’t any danger there. I’ve never seen his so frail and drawn out in my life.”

“Where was this?”

“In Dover , we met there and he quickly took me to a cave in Wales , I think. There was evidence someone was living there, for quite a long time judging from the debris and accommodations.”

“Who was he looking for in the cave?”

“I haven’t a clue, but from the looks of it we had just missed the inhabitant. Albus and I spent a couple days searching through the objects left, there seemed to be a large cache of jewellery.”

“Smugglers or thieves? Why would Dumbledore spend his time on such trivial crimes?”

“It is hard to say, several pieces were damaged and some were left in a pile of refuse.”

“This makes little sense, why to some cave?”

“From there we found passages that had fresh markings and the address of a house where a Muggle family lived. We had to wait a few days for them to all leave, before we could search it. We found hidden passageways they obviously knew nothing about. These connected to a subterranean chamber that appeared to be a potions laboratory.”

“So this was a wizard’s home?” Ron asked.

“At one time, yes. We couldn’t find any evidence of the original owner.”

“Where was this house? What was the address?” Harry asked.

“Not sure, but it was in an older part of Wales , that much I’m certain. It was a dreary place, old and industrial. There were several mills on the stream nearby and a cobbled street to the house.”

“What of the house?” Chief Robards asked.

“The house itself was quite normal, a quaint cottage from the outside and the furnishing too was normal for Muggles. But in the chamber, the walls were completely covered in stacks of books, most of them bound in black or brown leather. It appeared as if someone had tried to store an old library there. There were two large tables covered in potions and fresh supplies.”

“Did you manage to recover any samples of the potions?”

“No. We found a list of items and the description of one object matched a piece in the caves.”

“Please say you recovered that list.”

Remus shook his head, “No, Albus insisted we left everything as it was, in case the owner returned.”

“Then how did the Minister actually die? None of this is making a lick of sense.”

“We returned to the caves, and Albus noticed a man near the entrance leaving. We followed for a while up the rocky embankment and found an empty cloak propped up with a small tree branch. While we were there, he started to write a message and tied it to the smallest owl I’ve seen and let it go.”

“Pigwidgeon?” Ron asked.

“Yes,” Harry interrupted. “I received a messaged from him less than an hour ago.

“And you haven’t told anyone this?” Chief Robards barked, obviously irritated at evidence being concealed.

“Go on, Remus,” Harry insisted.

“After he released the owl, he was shot in the neck from a crossbow’s bolt. He tried to scream and reached for me, but fell back, off the edge. I found him on the rocks moments later, dead.”

Chief Robards stood and glared at Harry, “Potter, you had deliberately withheld evidence. I would never have expected this from you.”

“I wasn’t certain of the facts and sent Ron here to confirm them.”

“Then why didn’t you come here yourself, or give that note to Auror Weasley to deliver? This is a serious breach of protocol.”

“Sir, his wife just had a baby, I think he deserves some leniency,” Ron interrupted.

“Baby or not, he should have brought this out to our attention.” The anger and frustration was evident, as Harry watched the veins in his supervisor’s neck bulge the same way Vernon Dursley’s neck bulged when angered.

“Sir, I simply felt I needed to stay with my family and tell Hermione about the messages,” Harry stated apologetically.

“What? You told someone outside this organization about this?”

“Sir, she’s also a fully qualified and trained Auror, she simply chose a different vocation. And that second message was more for her.”

“Second note? There was another? And you’ve not mentioned that? This is yet another serious breach of protocol. Hand over both messages and pray I don’t ask for your Auror’s Badge.”

Slightly stunned, Harry put the two messages on the desk. The first one he received was the first Chief Robards opened. He unrolled the parchment on his desk to reveal the blood stained spectacles and the word ‘Revenge’ written in the minister’s own blood.

“’Revenge’? What does this mean?” Chief Robards asked puzzled.

“That’s what Hermione and I tried to figure out.”

”Potter, I would recommend you refrain from further comment, until I sort out how to deal with your insubordination. Auror Weasley, you will be in charge of this investigation; any resources you require are approved.”

“Yes, sir. I fully understand and I have a team already selected,” Ron replied with a salute.

Chief Robards read the second note and furrowed his bushy brow as he tried to understand its meaning. “Potter, this note actually means something to you?”

“Actually, as I stated, it was a message to Hermione to read something. We both suspect Minister Dumbledore left another message in our home. My intention was to search the grounds as soon as I concluded my inquiries here.”

Chief Robards turned again away from Harry and addressed Tonks directly. “Work with Auror Weasley on this matter, I want you to personally conduct the search of the Potter Residence for this next message and report back to me personally. Weasley, I expect you to also keep me personally informed of any developments. Shacklebolt, take Mr. Lupin to an interview chamber and secure a complete accounting of this miss-adventure. You are all dismissed, except you Potter; I want a word with you.”

Harry remained where he stood, while the others left the Auror Chief’s office to tend to their immediate tasks. Once the room cleared, the Chief motioned Harry to an inner room behind a bookcase. He produced his wand and pointed it to the desk, his voice bellowed through the office as a pre-arranged dressing down he maintained played out.

“There, in case anyone is listening, they should hear this and assume you’ve been reprimanded for your ‘actions’. Now, I know the Minister left a bundle of documents in your wife’s care. He confided in me that this may well be as dangerous a time as when you faced Tom Riddle alone.”

“Sir?” Harry asked puzzled.

“Confused? Well, I’m not surprised; you really aren’t as clever as your wife. She approached me with the Minister’s approval shortly after you both returned from your little adventure. Neither would or could give any details, but I am under the strictest of orders to give the appearance you’ve fallen from favour. I have no idea why, but rest assured that personally I have every confidence in you.”

“So, is all of this some elaborate act the Minister is playing out?” Harry asked.

“No, I’m afraid he may well be dead as Mr. Lupin related, and as I’m certain you are aware the Minister prepared for this scenario. He specifically instructed me to take this action and seeing as he may well be dead, I have to consider it to be a last request. Now, I believe Auror Weasley will insist you’ll be placed on his team and, since I have already granted him any resource he required, I will have to allow that request, but I will do so with public reservations.”

“So you want the appearance that I have fallen from favour, should I at some point appear to abandon the Service and the Ministry?”

“I can’t tell you what to do from this point; the only two that you can inform are your wife, of course, and Ron Weasley. And I should make you aware that Mrs. Potter in unofficially attached to this office and will have authority of a covert operative.”

“I think I’m beginning to understand, Sir. Is that all?”

“No, I’m afraid I must ask for your badge,” he said reluctantly.

Harry removed the badge he had worn since a replacement had been issued, for the one lost, and turned it over to the Chief of Aurors. The older Auror passed his wand over the silver medallion and it reverted to the lower grade bronze version.

“There, if asked you offered your resignation, but I opted to lower your grade. And that should help the others look to Senior Auror Weasley, giving you more latitude in your investigations.”

“So the demotion is part of the cover-up?”

“Actually, the demotion is real. You really should have informed me at once when you received those two messages. We’ll see after this case is closed on any other actions. Dismissed.”

They both left the smaller chamber timed perfectly for the recorded disciplinary speech to end.

“Dismissed,” the recorded voice shouted, as Harry left the office.

Once outside the office, he was not very surprised to find the others, with the exception of Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus, still in the hall waiting for Harry to exit.

“Just like old times, ah ‘Arry? Except instead of Professor Snape’s office and his detentions, now it’s the ol’ man’s office. We all heard his shouting and ranting, he must have been…Bloody hell, Harry, he demoted you?” Ron began to blubber.

“Yeah, if the stupid git thinks he can come off dropping me back down, he’d best reconsider it.”

“We thought you were about to be sacked,” Tonks added.

“I did resign, but he refused it, said he didn’t want me running around causing more trouble than he could cover up.”

“Harry, I hate to ask this, but I do need to search your home. Do you know what he left there?” Tonks asked, as the group began to leave the corridor.

“No, I don’t and I’d thank you to wait a bit, maybe I can save you the trouble. I’ll go have a chat with Hermione and see if she has a clue.”

“Technically I can’t let you head off to interview a potential witness alone,” Ron began, as they came to the Auror’s Floo. The overhead sign clearly said Auror Business only, no unauthorized personal allowed.

“So, I can’t see my own wife and child alone? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, Harry, I’m just saying we need to find what ever Professor Dumbledore left in your house and we need to be there when Hermione tells you what she knows.”

The group left the Ministry through the Floo, to a secure fireplace prearranged in the hospital. After brushing the ash from their clothing, the Aurors unofficially escorted Harry to the maternity floor, to see a flurry of activity in the corridor.

Harry broke from the others and ran into the room where he left his family. A group of physicians worked on the hidden figure on the bed, only the heavy traces of blood on the floor left any hint of trouble.

The actions in the hospital ward were clearly focused on a woman that suffered severe trauma. The knot in Harry’s stomach tightened when he noticed a severed woman’s hand lying on the floor. Ron, noticing it as well, held his friend’s shoulder in an attempt to console him.

“Harry, she’ll be fine,” Ron said half heartedly. Turning to the other Aurors, his authority became clear. “Tonks, take the others and quietly check the area for who ever could have done this. Simmons, I want you to stand guard outside this room.”

Harry pulled away and tried to get to her side, to see her. “Hermione!” he called from behind the row of nurses. “Hermione, I’m here, please hold on,” he said, as he tried to strain to see over the doctor’s shoulder.

“Please, you’ll have to wait outside,” the nurse next to the doctor said over her shoulder.

“Get that bleeder, we’re loosing her.” Harry heard the surgeon call out.

“She’s lost too much blood; how can anyone do this much damage in such a short time?” a second surgeon said from the other side of the bed.

Harry closed his eyes and turned away and began to shake with fear and anger. He looked down to see the hand on the floor. Her wedding ring was missing. Harry knelt at the hand, almost afraid to touch it.

“Harry, let them work,” Ron consoled, “Go to your daughter. She needs you now.”

He nodded and stood to leave as the activity quickened around her, a steady beep from a monitor nearby slowed, and turned to a constant tone.

“That’s it then, time of death, 2.54 pm , 1 May.”

Harry froze in his track as he heard the pronouncement and turned to her side as the technicians began to abandon the effort. He looked at the bed where, only a couple hours earlier, he experienced one of the most wonderful moments of his life, sharing the joys of a child with her.

The last nurse had draped a sheet over her face. The outline of her face appeared quickly in blood as Harry looked on, a handless stump of her arm remained visible, still leaking blood.

Harry trembled at the image before him, “Hermione, I failed to keep you safe. I swear Annie will never be hurt,” he cried, as he fell to his knees at the side of the blood stained bed.

“I love you,” he yelled, as he started to reach for the sheet that covered her face.

“I love you too, Harry, and I’m glad to hear Annie will be cared for.” He heard from the door.

Harry sprung to his feet and turned, to see her standing just behind Ron, holding their daughter in her arms. Fred and George stood in the hall behind her with Auror Simmons behind the Weasley Twins as she walked to his side.

“But, you were here, I watched you die,” Harry stuttered , as he wrapped his arms around her.

“No, that was a nurse who was changing the sheets while I was with Annie; Fred and George never left my side. We heard a scream and returned to the room in time to see someone Disapparate. She must have been in the way and was murdered in my place.”

He held her, refusing to let her go and kissed her gently on the cheek. “I thought I lost you, I was terrified.”

“I know, I can still feel it, except it’s different. I could tell you were angry and scared, I had the same sensations in my stomach, as if the central point of focus shifted within me.”

She pulled away and with her free hand took his hand to lead them from the scene of death. “They moved me to another room, closer to Annie in the nursery,” she said, as she took him in tow to a room a few doors away.

Still in mild shock, Harry refused to release her hand as she walked stiffly to the bed. She sat on the side and scooted into place still holding their baby. “Now, what happened at the Ministry?”

Harry shook his head, “It’s not that important, you just had surgery only a few hours ago, how can you be up and about?”

“I closed the incision just after you left; I let the doctors think it was their skill. Now what happened?”

“He almost got sacked,” Ron interrupted.

“For gross insubordination for letting you see the messages first. I’ve been demoted because of it,” he said, pointing to his new badge.

“I’m afraid we’ll both be looking for new jobs, if we don’t recover whatever Dumbledore left with you,” Ron said.

“We have no idea what you mean,” Hermione started.

“He knows about the pouch and we do need to give Robards something to keep him at bay, while we find the Minister’s murderer,” Harry replied to her.

“Ron, can I have a moment with my husband alone, then you boys can go ransack the house if you wish?” she asked Ron. Nodding, he left the room and closed the door leaving the three Potters alone.

“Any chance you can let me see the papers first?” she asked.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t think Robards would openly tolerate it, but he did mention you have covert authority in this matter.”

“So he told you, did he? Have you told everything to Ron yet?”

“No, we came here directly, haven’t had time to talk in private.”

“Then I might be able to help there, tell Ron to leave the others here as security and the two of you go to the cottage. You know where the pouch is.”

“Yes, and that will give me the time to tell Ron everything I know of this incident.”

“Then be off, and Harry?”

“Yes?”

“I do love you, you know?”

“Yes, I know.” He grinned, as he kissed her again, stood and left his family.

He silently left the hospital room to find Ron anxiously waiting in the corridor. Ron had a small notepad out, taking notes of the events. In the room where they had watched the unfortunate nurse die, a group of constables had been called in to investigate the death. Harry motioned to Ron for a closer look, but he shook his head.

“No, I want you here,” he said to Harry and pointed for him to stand next to him.

Again bewildered, Harry complied and then noticed the unmistakable strands of Ron’s Extendable Ears and the spare strand he held out to Harry. He put the end in his own ear and gave a listen to the activities at the murder scene.

“Gruesome work, this lot.”

“Right, hard to imagine work this fancy could happen in less than fifteen seconds.”

“Easy, Dwight, if you can’t handle the sight, then you can wait outside.”

“I… can do… my job,” the constable named Dwight replied.

“If yeh're going to razz, go outside.”

“Sod off, just take the bloody pictures.”

“Down here, by ‘er hand, there’s some footprints in the blood.”

“That’s from the other bird’s ‘usband. He was here a bit ago.”

“All right then, pull back the shroud.”

“My God, who could do that to anyone?”

“Bloody hell, her face is gone.”

“Skinned, from the looks of it, but there’s no trace of a knife.”

“Then explain this cut up her middle, like she was dressed out like wild game.”

“Did anyone see any of this?” another voice asked.

“No sir, we was looking over the room and haven’t interviewed anyone yet.”

“I had an interesting chat with one of the day nurses, a friend of the deceased here,” the newest voice added. “She indicated this man simply appeared without warning, tall bloke with long blond hair, almost white she mentioned. And he had a fair limp.”

“Ron, I’ve heard enough; this was a deliberate attack from a dark wizard. I would almost say this was a warning to me,” Harry whispered to Ron, as he began to retrieve the cord.

“You’re right there, Harry, good thing we thought to leave the others here to protect Hermione,” Ron said, as he retrieved his cord.

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron’s remark, “Right, I’m off to my home, follow if you want.” He snapped his fingers and vanished before Ron could utter a word.

“Bloody hell, I wish he wouldn’t keep doing that,” Ron muttered, as he also vanished with a pop.

---

Harry quickly ran through the house, through the hall past the lounge and dinning room, to the rear of the house. It was deceptively large inside, the benefit of being a wizard’s home. The study was in the back, past the kitchen, and isolated from the daily activities of the household.

The walls were lined with leather-covered books, a testament to Hermione’s influence. She had the Black Library moved here from Number Twelve Grimmauld Place many years earlier and after Sirius had returned, he had begged them to keep the collection. ‘The most use they’ve seen in a hundred years,’ he had said.

In a far corner, next to the only window in the room, they had a matched pair of overstuffed leather chairs , separated by a side table. One corner of that table had numerous stains from forgotten beverages and a perpetual stack of books being read. Harry’s side of the reading nook seemed less worn.

In the corner opposite the chairs, and furthest from any prying eyes from the window, stood an antique roll top desk, one of the few possessions from Hermione’s parents she took from her childhood home. That desk held many tiny nooks for storing notes and documents, and the desk also held a secret she added. Behind one tiny drawer she hid a key. Only she and Harry knew of the key.

He nearly ran through his home, to the study and that desk, opened the small drawer and removed the key. He turned and held the key flat in his hand.

“Seek,” he commanded and the key floated from his hand to the volumes in the room. It passed from one to another, as if it were deciding which it wanted to read that day. Harry smiled as the book it selected was an old and worn favourite, ‘Hogwarts, A History’.

“Clever girl,” he muttered, as he looked at the numbers now visible on the key. He read the series of numbers and quickly flipped to the page listed as the first set of numbers, page 394. The second set of numbers listed what appeared to be a line number, 32. He counted down to that line and read up to the last number, 19.

…a smaller antechamber is connected to the Great Hall by a door behind the Head table, with a fireplace and many portraits…

“Fireplace,” he repeated and turned his attention to the large fireplace in the study. “Bluebell flames,” he said and waved a hand over the fire. The flames turned from the normal yellow to a periwinkle blue. The fireplace rose into the chimney revealing a strongbox. A quick tap on the lock with his finger popped the lid open. He picked up the pouch Hermione had placed in the vault six months earlier and the secret hiding place vanished as the fireplace lowered, the key floated back to the drawer and the book returned to its place on the shelves.

Harry held the pouch, and was about to released the latch, just as Ron entered the study.

“Bloody hell, Harry, the door wouldn’t open while you had your vault open. You could have warned me.”

“Sorry Ron, but this is what I needed to recover. Hermione put it there some months back, and I had to find the current location of the vault. Not sure where the thing went to this time.”

“So, hand over the pouch and I’ll bring it to Robards,” Ron commanded.

Compelled by duty and orders, he handed the pouch to Ron, and as Ron’s hand touched the pouch, a surge of energy pulsed through his hand, knocking him to the floor.

“Looks like Dumbledore meant for certain people to handle this. He must have known she’d be in hospital and unable to handle it,” Harry said, as he reached a hand to help his mate to his feet.

“So only you or Hermione can touch the thing?”

“Seems that’s the case,” he said, as he released the latch that held the leather bag closed, but the latch held fast.

“Looks to me like you’ve been made a delivery boy and she’s the only one to read whatever is in there.”

“Won’t Robards be upset if we bring her in this?” Harry inquired. He knew the answer; she was authorized, but needed to determine the extent of Ron’s personal briefing.

“Come off it, we both know Dumbledore left her as part of this operation. Robards hasn’t any choice.”

“Right, then to the hospital and we’ll see what’s in this.” With that, the two old friends vanished with a pair of pops, to reappear in a broom cupboard near Hermione’s room.

“That was bloody fun,” Ron said, as they left the cupboard. A constable stationed outside the room, where they were still investigating the murder of the nurse, listened and watched the two men leave the small room and shook his head. A couple of nurses standing nearby also witnessed them, sending the two wizards murderous glares as they passed by. One whispered something in the other's ear and Ron distinctively heard one whispering, "Disgusting and a new father at that..."

"Hey, mate, what d'you think they've thought us up to in that cupboard?"

"Dunno..." But Harry's face had gone red.

They crossed the hall, past Fred and George, into her room; a smaller bed stood next to her bed, she quickly raised a finger to her lips and pointed to the sleeping child. Harry smiled at the sight of the two most important witches in his life and raised the pouch, making it visible.

“Over there.” She pointed to a rather comfortable chair by the window. She stood over Annie, gently kissed her daughter and crossed the room to the chair.

“Have you opened it yet?” she asked.

“No, it’s charmed, only you or I can hold it, but I can’t open it,” Harry replied.

“Then hand it here,” she ordered and placed it across her lap. Taking a deep breath, she popped the latch and the flap fell open. Inside she retrieved a number of sealed envelopes, each bearing a different name. She thumbed through the stack and read the names.

“Harry and Hermione, Ronald Weasley. Rufus Scrimgeour, Tom the barman, Annie Potter,” she said, as she went through each envelope. She held each; the one for the barman at the Leaky Cauldron seemed to have substantial weight, as if there were several galleons meant to pay a debt. The most unusual of the lot was the one she held for their daughter, not yet eight hours old.

Hermione handed Ron his letter and then opened the one addressed to them. She pulled the single sheet of parchment and stared at the message.

“What’s it say?” Harry asked, as she handed the sheet to him. He held it and also stared. “This has to be some joke on his part; it’s only a hoof print.”

“No, not just any print, notice the cut on the side? That has to be Firenze . Dumbledore meant for us to seek him out. Ron, what does your message say?” she asked.

“All he said was ‘Stay true to your friends, and your convictions’,” he said, turning the sheet over.

“Open Annie’s letter,” Harry said to Hermione.

She tried to slide a finger into the gap, but found it quite impossible. Thinking only Annie could open it; she put the envelope in the baby’s hand and used the infant’s finger to open it. Under her name, the words ‘To be opened on your fifteenth birthday’ appeared.

“Guess he wanted to leave her a message for when she’s old enough to read it herself,” Ron commented. He took the remaining two envelopes from Hermione, “I’ll have them delivered for you, since there’s no way for anyone else to open them. Harry, you stay here with them until I return, and I’ll send a report to Robards.”

“Right, thanks Ron,” Harry said with a warm pat on Ron’s shoulder. In a wink of an eye, Ron left the room.

Now that they were alone, Harry turned to the crib holding their future. He gently lifted her, being careful not to wake her.

“Hi, sweetheart, daddy had to run an errand, but I’m back now.”

She made a tiny squeak in reply and opened her eyes.

“You have your mum’s eyes,” he whispered to his little girl. “If you grow up to be half the beauty your mum is, I’m going to have my hands full keeping you out of mischief.”

“I’m not a beauty, Harry, but that’s a nice sentiment.”

He walked to Hermione and knelt in front of her. “You are beautiful, both of you. Now, I think I know what that last line meant.”

“’And the three shall wield the ultimate force as one.’ It had to mean the three of us. I’ve never been as happy in my life. You filled what was missing in my life, eleven years ago, on Privet Drive, remember that day?”

“Um-hum,” she hummed.

“I was happy then, I never regretted being with you, but I do regret what happened to you in those months that followed. When we finally did marry, that was the happiest moment in my life. I never thought that could be topped.”

Her smile begged him to continue.

“But now I have two women in my life I can say I will love forever,” he said, as he leaned forwards and she met him with the child between them. They hugged as a family, the warmth and love they felt at that moment was more magical than any spell or charm.

“I never regretted a moment we’ve had together, Harry. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.”

That moment lasted as they embraced and created a lifetime memory Harry knew he would take to the grave; he was with his own family.

That moment was not to last forever, as all memory moments seem to do; this one was interrupted as the door opened. Instinctively, Harry pushed Annie into Hermione’s waiting arms and stood and turned to face the intruder.

His abrupt action startled the nurse that had come to check on Hermione and Annie. The tray of fresh dressings for the surgical incision fell with a clank of the tray.

“Bloody hell, you could have knocked,” Harry said, as he stepped forwards to help retrieve the medical supplies.

“I’m sorry, sir, I was merely following directions; shall I come back later then?”

“Just leave those here; I can tend to my own dressing, thank you,” Hermione addressed the nurse, who complied and left the tray on a side table.

“Jumpy, darling?” she asked.

“A bit, that business in the other room has me concerned and, with Dumbledore’s murder, this could turn into a difficult time for our world.”

Now, alone for the first time since the attack, she let the day’s events take hold as she sat back in the chair, still holding Annie as tightly as she could without crushing her.

“Any ideas who could have done either deed?” she asked tentatively.

“No, the woman’s assailant wasn’t seen, but for a brief moment. Ron and I did overhear one of the detectives mention she was attacked by a tall bloke with and a fair limp. It sounds like the same man Remus described, he was there with Dumbledore when he was shot.”

“He was shot? You didn’t mention that. Is there a description?”

“No, I didn’t. And I expect you are aware that you had been covertly assigned to this case?”

“Yes, it was something the Professor insisted on with Head Auror Robards. Now how was he shot?” she asked.

“A crossbow’s bolt in the neck. He fell into an embankment into a ravine. Last I heard a team had gone to recover his body. What is disturbing is I only know one person to own and use a crossbow.”

“Hagrid? But he would never willingly hurt anyone, beside he worshiped the ground Dumbledore walked,” Hermione commented.

“That’s the irony, I’m positive Hagrid is being framed for the murder.”

“But, by who?” Hermione’s rhetorical question would remain unanswered when a light knock on the door interrupted them

“Harry, Hermione? Sorry to bother you, I wanted to let you know I sent one of my men off with detailed instructions for Robards.”

“Good, that should give us some time to sort this out. Harry, you and Ron must find Firenze immediately, find out what he knows,” Hermione said.

“Ron, is there any way we can delay reporting back to Chief Robards until we find Firenze ?”

“I sent word that we had to follow up a lead or it would have been lost, yes I believe we can spare a couple hours.”

“Brilliant, then to Hogwarts with you both, last I heard he still taught Divination,” Hermione instructed.

With a nod and a kiss to her forehead, Harry stepped back, snapped his fingers and vanished. Ron followed a split second behind.

They reappeared at the gate to the wizard school, and walked across the threshold onto the grounds. The activity of the students studying for end of year exams hardly allowed any to notice the two wizards as they approached the castle.

“We’ll try his classroom first,” Harry commanded, to a sour look on Ron’s face. “Oh, sorry, sir shall we check his office first, commander?” Harry added sarcastically.

“Yes, that would be the logical place to start,” he replied with a grin.

Harry replied with a mock punch to the shoulder, with Ron feigning sever injury. Their playful banter continued until they reached the great doors to the castle, and were greeted by the Assistant Headmaster.

“Jake, good to see you again,” Harry started with a welcoming handshake.

“Congratulations to you and Hermione, papa, I understand you have a daughter,” Jake said.

“She’s perfect,” Harry replied.

“We’re here to see Firenze , it may be of importance,” Ron said changing the subject quickly.

“He’s not been here in a few days; he received an owl and then asked for a few days leave. He never did say where he was going,” Jake replied to Ron.

“Can we see his office? Maybe there’s a message of note that might help,” Harry asked.

“Certainly, you both know the way, let me know if you need anything else.”

After the pleasantries, the two Aurors entered into the Divination Professor’s classroom. It was still enchanted to appear as if they were in a field near an ancient oak tree. The table against a fence obviously served as his desk, student’s essays and assignments sat in neat stacks based on year. The orderly appearance of the Centaur’s office reflected his attention to detail.

“Nothing seems out of place, as if he plans on returning this afternoon,” Ron commented as they examined the table.

“Hallo, what’s this?” Harry exclaimed as he looked to the other side of the fence. An open field seemed to stretch on into the horizon; they both knew it was an illusion. Harry paused at the gate and found two objects, a party noisemaker fitting of a muggle child and a jar of overfed slugs.

“What do you make of it? The jar has a label, Ελληνική , It may be some form of Centaur writing.”

“Ron, it’s Greek or possibly Latin. We need to have it translated.” Harry produced a valise and placed the two objects into a small compartment.

They continued to examine the room, but found nothing else out of place or unusual.

“We need to go into the Forest and see if he’s gone back to his people, or if they have any idea where he has gone,” Ron finally said as they stared at the table.

“Yes, that is the next logical step. I got on with them well enough in the past, I’m certain we can at least find out if he’s contacted them,” Harry said as they left the classroom.

The journey into the Forbidden Forest brought back memories of early years with Hagrid. Harry thought about his first meeting with Firenze , in his first year when he was saved from Quirrell who when he was influenced by Voldemort.

The Centaur’s village was impossible to Apparate to, and almost as difficult to walk to. An invisible barrier stopped unwelcome visits. They both knew a sentry would be waiting to either escort them or repel them.

From the mist of the barrier, hoof sounds announced the sentry’s presence. The hazy form of a man peered out, the rest of the Centaur emerged from the mist. His long red hair and mane quickly identified him to Harry.

“Greetings Ronan, it’s good to see you again,” Harry said with his hand stretched out.

Ronan stood defiantly, refusing the friendly greeting. “Humans, what reason do you have to trespass on our holy ground?”

“We are here looking for Firenze , Albus Dumbledore left me a message to seek him for a message.” Harry replied.

“He cannot be disturbed.”

From the mist of the barrier, another figure appeared, another Centaur armed with their traditional weapon. The crossbow was aimed at Harry, as he was the perceived leader of the pair.

“Leave now, or prepare to die. Your conflicts are of your own doing, we have no part in them,” Bane insisted.

“Stay your bolt, Bane,” a third voice commanded from the mist.

“Sire, they have intruded upon our grounds,” Bane replied, as he maintained his aim.

“Neither of these two wizards is the one responsible for Firenze ’s attack. He was able to hide himself from us, and the stars were unable to forewarn of the attack.”

Harry stepped forward ignoring the blot aimed at him. “ Magorian, we are seeking information, if Firenze was attacked as you said, then we have a common goal. If we work together we can solve this mystery.”

“Nay, it was a wizard of the old magiks that charmed his mind into the future; only with time can we understand who the assailant was. There is nothing more to say. Now leave,” Magorian, the Centaur leader insisted.

“Aye, leave Harry Potter, and remember this day. We shall not meet again without loss of life.”

The pair complied with the demand, and backed away from the barrier to the Centaur’s village. They continued to back away carefully until the three also backed away into the mist. Neither Harry nor Ron heard the tale-tale sound of hoofs galloping away.

“They’re still watching us, Harry, be careful,” Ron whispered to his friend as they both continued the cautious retreat back to the castle. The two artifacts found in the abandoned office were safely tucked in a secure place in Harry’s home before proceeding to the Ministry.

The assassin watched as the bolt flew from his crossbow and struck the ancient man in the neck. The razor-sharp head of the shaft protruded from his beard. The killer lowered his black hood, leaving the white mask he had grown accustomed to wearing, as he watched his prey grasp the mortal wound in his throat, the snow white hair from his face turning to crimson. He teetered as he stood on the edge of the ledge outside the cave; the victim’s companion watched in horror as he could not help. The tiny bird the dying man held wiggled free and flew off into the blue sky.

Albus Dumbledore fell from the ledge to his death on the sharp rocks below.

Remus Lupin stood on the ledge from where he could see the assassin; even with the white mask and even from the distance that separated them, his features looked familiar. The black flowing robes were tattered and worn and his long black hair framed the mask. He let the weapon fall to the ground. The dull clunk of the wood against the stone echoed across the chasm. The crossbow came to rest precariously perched on a dirt ledge over the river.

The assassin sneered from behind his mask, “And so it is as it was,” he muttered, as he vanished from his vantage point, to reappear at the scene of gore. He callously stripped the bloody spectacles from the still warm body, dipped a finger in the fresh blood to write a single word on a sheet of parchment. The glasses were wrapped carefully in the message as he vanished from the scene of the crime.

Remus fell to his knees, helpless, as he watched the fine silken robes of the most famous wizard of the age turn red and the surrounding rock became painted in blood. There he remained, in shock.

A scream from the stone and iron bridge nearby drew his mind back to reality. Knowing the Muggle authorities would ask questions he couldn’t answer, his course of action was clear: he returned to notify the wizarding world a great man was gone.

---

The weather in Wales was particularly stormy for that time of year; thunderous cracks in the sky sent shivers of lightening into the air. The downpours seemed to begin when the great wizard died. The rains not only washed away any potential clue to the murder and threatened to wash his body into the ravine and down the river, but made the recovery process impossible for Muggles and difficult for the wizards investigating the incident. Around the time Remus had sought help from the Ministry, Harry received the tawny owl with the message of death. Precious time lapsed in those hours, precious evidence was either lost or in danger of being lost.

A contingent of constables had been called by a passerby shortly after the incident and had begun to arrive on the scene. They remained safely at the edge of the Three Bridges and set up a command and control centre; the main activity consisted of them mapping out plans to recover the body in the ravine.

The Wizard Investigative Task force arrived on the scene soon after the Muggle authorities. The task force had been divided into two distinct groups, the Field Operatives, charged with the impossible task of gathering useful evidence from the scene, and the Research and Evaluations team that remained in the Auror’s headquarters. Back at the Ministry, several team members of the R&E group had been hand selected by Ron Weasley and had been instructed to research any leads uncovered in the field.

Three junior Aurors, having recently completed training courses, were added to the teams by Ron, augmenting the staff of trusted Aurors. He had put Harry in charge of R&E, giving him the opportunity to stay with his new family while clues were uncovered. Ron and also taken this tact to further the illusion that Harry had fallen from favour and to give Hermione to chance to peer over his shoulder and assist when the time was right. Harry instructed his team members to contact him at the Hospital when evidence of substance arrived. Until then, he remained there with Hermione and Annie.

Despite the foul weather, Ron, Shacklebolt and the three junior Aurors spent several hours near the village of Pontarfynach . A fair number of parcels containing clues had been sent back to the Ministry, all trivial samples of the dirt and stone along the embankment, which still held the body of the deceased Minister for Magic. A large crack of lightening streaked through the sky.

The weather in Wales was to blame for the delays in recovering Albus Dumbledore’s body, the rain also threatened the Mynach River to crest over its banks and wash the body into the river, down the deep, rocky chasm it had carved into the rock.

“He’s too far to levitate, Ron,” Kingsley commented looking into the gorge.

“We can’t leave him there until the river washes him away,” Ron replied. A large umbrella covered the pair as they tried to work out the best method to retrieve the Minister’s body.

A bolt of lightning now drew a line from the heavens to the broken frame on the rocks below, the smouldering from his body bore evidence destiny wanted to remove all traces of his death.

“Sir, we could rappel down and use as series of ropes to pull him up, we could encase his body in a protective case to trap any residual evidence,” a junior Auror suggested.

“That’s the most ridiculous idea yet. Where could you have come up with such a plan, Wilson , is it?” Ron asked.

“My brother is on the search and recovery squad in our home village near Dover . That’s part of his Muggle training.”

“Right, you’re Muggle born, aren’t you?” Ron commented without wanting an answer.

“Yes, sir. My two older brothers are both in the public’s service and were excited to learn there was a similar branch with us.”

“Still, it’s too risky to try, we have no experience in those methods," Ron replied.

“We could use a Portkey and bring the body back,” Remus commented from the side.

“Sorry, Remus, your role here is only to show us the path to that cave and the house. Wait in the cave and we’ll search it once this task is done,” Ron replied, as he motioned to Shacklebolt to give it a try.

Within moments, the Auror had taken a discarded drinking cup and vanished to the point on the rocks. The rain beat down with a vengeance that seemed as if God were shedding tears at the loss of Albus Dumbledore. Solemnly, he levitated the corpse of the Minister into the relative shelter of the cave. The bolt remained in his neck, but the rain had cleansed all trace of blood from his robes.

“Use the shroud to cover him and bring him back to the Ministry; they will need to examine him,” Ron said. His command hid the hints of sorrow he felt, as he tried to prevent his voice from cracking at the sight of the broken body.

Shacklebolt and one of the junior field agents left with the body, leaving Ron with two lesser experienced men and Remus. “Now, Remus, let’s examine this cave of yours.”

“It’s here; there’s a hidden door, to a tunnel, on the wall in the back of the cave. That’s where we found his secret lair.” Remus pushed on into the black of the cave. Several wands had been pulled out and illuminated the chamber. It was a dreary looking cave; nothing seemed out of place, except for trails of footprints in the soil, leading into and out of a solid wall of stone.

He walked directly to a single rock in the wall that seemed to stick out slightly, pressed the tip of his wand to the spot and turned his wand as if it were a key. The solid rock wall swung open effortlessly giving the four wizards ample room to pass through.

“These walls seem crudely cut. Look there, sir,” Williams said as he pointed to the wall, “tool marks indicates this was Muggle made.”

Ron nodded at the junior Auror’s observation and smiled at his choice of team members. “Right you are, Williams, a wizard-dug tunnel might have residual magical traces that would have been detected. These are fairly old, several hundred years, I might think.”

They followed Remus through the narrow path for what seemed nearly an hour. The trail had a steady elevation to it; the ground seemed dry as desert sand.

“Here, round the next bend, I think, we’ll find that room with the trinkets and furnishings.”

His wolf–like senses proved true to the task, in less than a minute, they stood in a large cavern, a natural room in the geology of the mountain. The tunnel they had travelled was obviously cut to this very room at some point in time or at very least, dug from this chamber.

“Williams, look through the bed and wardrobe for any indication who had been living here. Be mindful of booby traps. Simmons, detail the other areas that may show signs of inhabitation, I want a look at that pile of jewellery.”

“And what should I do, Auror Weasley?” the werewolf said with near contempt.

“Senior Auror, Mister Lupin,” Ron replied back, “I want you with me.”

The three Aurors and one wizard set off to their assigned tasks of investigation. Once out of ear shot of his two subordinates, he leaned close to the elder wizard, “Professor, you do know I have to treat you that way in front of them,” he said apologetically.

The werewolf nodded, “I know you don’t have a drop of real disrespect in you. I know an act when I see it.”

They stopped at a pile of discarded gems and trinkets, some hopelessly crushed and others ignored. Ron picked up a few to sample and placed them in a glass vial. The amount of raw gold in that pile was more than the Weasley vault had ever seen when Arthur and Molly were alive.

“Nice pile of gold, must have taken years to acquire this much.”

“There’s more stored in crates in the far tunnel that leads to the house. And there’s a list of most unusual items in the house as well.”

“None of these seem terribly important, little of it seems of much value,” Ron commented.

“Sir,” Simmons called from the makeshift kitchen. “There’s been a recent fire in this stove, within the past day I would say.”

“Yes, Albus and I noticed that too, he thought the occupants had fled rapidly and might return for their piles of gold.”

“Anything of interest, Williams?” he called out.

“No sir, just this bloke was a bit of a slob. He must have left in a hurry; there are some bits of parchment here. It looks like he tried to burn them.”

“There’s bits of parchment here in the stove too, a right large pile,” Simmons commented back. And there’s a cauldron brewing on the fire.”

Simmons leaned into the cauldron to see what was inside; green whiffs of smoke still drifted from the simmering substance a nose full of the smoke struck him, paralyzing him to the spot.

“Leave the cauldron, there may be some harmful potion in it,” Ron called out.

“S–Sir,” Simmons squeaked out, drops of his blood fell into the cauldron before falling over, stone dead.

“Sir,” Williams barked out, “Simmons is down. He’s hurt.” The junior Auror rushed to his mate’s side.

“Leave him, there’s a dark presence here,” Ron yelled to his remaining man. Both Ron and Lupin left the gold to converge in the makeshift kitchen. The body of the young Auror lay on the ground, his blood still seeping from his nose and mouth.

Ron carefully looked at the cauldron, to see the thick mixture now bubbling and thickening where the red drops of blood fell.

“Bloody hell, it’s a jinxed potion. We need to send a sample back; maybe they can identify the source.”

“But it killed Simmons!” Williams muttered, “We shouldn’t touch it.”

“I’m aware of that, I never meant for you to get the sample.” He pointed his wand at the simmering substance and a small amount pulled itself from the cauldron to a waiting vial levitated over the bubbling pot. The sample slipped into the glass container without touching the sides.

“There, that should be enough,” he said, as he etched a warning of death into the glass. He placed the sample into a metal box that contained other evidence they discovered.

“Sorry Simmons, we’ll gather you along on the way back. Let’s push on to the house and that potions lab you told us about,” Ron commanded. The dwindling group pushed on to the tunnel and a deeper mystery.

The tunnel ended with a solid stone wall. Then dirt up to the wall was undisturbed, unlike the wall that hid the tunnel in the cave entrance.

“I don’t remember hitting this wall,” Remus remarked. “Dumbledore led us up a set of steps. We may have passed them.”

“It’s easy to see that you missed that, the tunnel walls are indistinguishable,” Ron remarked. “Turn about and find the spot, be careful to follow your footsteps.”

“Aye–aye cap’n,” Remus teased, with a mock salute.

“Just mind your tracks and cut the sarcasm,” Ron ordered.

The group carefully retraced their steps to find the spot where many other tracks merged. The additional tracks seemed to simply stop.

“This is the spot; I think Dumbledore detected an invisible stairway, or some hidden latch.”

Ron waved his wand, emitting a light blue glow in the tunnel. Nothing was visible, but after several minutes, a shadow appeared on a wall.

“There, it’s a chain,” Ron exclaimed, as he carefully felt the area for a thin chain hanging from the ceiling. He glanced to the floor to see several old tracks in the dirt. A quick tug on the chain revealed a door and stair way grow from the stone.

“This way; Williams, leave a marker for this spot.”

The junior member of the team nodded and pointed his wand to the wall, etching an arrow to the hidden chain.

The team climbed the stone steps; as the last man passed into the gap in the ceiling, the stones followed them to fill the entrance. The stairs seemed endless.

“Nine hundred ninety eight, nine hundred ninety nine, one thousand, one thousand and one, one thousand and two…”

“Stuff it, Williams,” Remus called back, “we know it’s a bloody long climb.”

“We’ll need to know how far, for the reports, Remus. Keep counting Williams,” Ron instructed, as they continued.

They eventually reached the top, after Williams announced the one thousandth eight hundred and thirty fourth step. The end of the stairs led them to a nondescript door that was left unsecured.

“Careful, we have no idea who may be waiting,” Ron cautioned.

The door opened to the potions laboratory Remus had mentioned. The small chamber seemed smaller with the Stacks of ancient books that lined the walls and the tables that held various cauldrons; vials stood away from the books, leaving just enough room to walk around.

Williams cautiously picked up a familiar volume and flipped it open to the cover page. “Advanced Potions For Second Level NEWTS, I had this in my seventh year, but this one was published in 1892.”

Ron picked up another from the other wall and noticed it too was a potions text, also well over a hundred years old. “Is there a name in that book?” Ron asked Williams.

“This one’s got the initials HS and 1919, but no name,” Williams replied.

“E Prince 1949, here. And this is listed as Property of the Knights of Walpurgis,” Remus said, opening another.

“Here’s another, The Autobiography of Hesper Starkey. Isn’t that the witch who studied the use of phases of the moon in potion making?”

“Yes, I think it was,” Ron replied to Williams.

“Hmmm, LM to my son for his outstanding achievements,” Williams read aloud.

“Leave them as you found them, I’ll have a team return and examine them all. The door out is just over here,” Ron said, walking to a simple door. He turned the knob and pushed, the wall itself moved. The simple door was the entrance into the house. That wall opened into a cupboard under the staircase in the basement. After quickly scanning the boxes stacked high in the cellar, the team moved forwards.

“Everyone, remain as quiet as possible,” Ron whispered hoarsely, “We have no idea who’s about.”

They crept into the cellar and waited for a moment. The room was silent and empty; not a sound was heard until a creak of the floor boards just over their heads alerted them the building was indeed occupied.

Ron pointed for the others to remain and after using a Silencing Charm on the stairs, slowly climbed fourteen more steps. The door leaving the cellar was locked, but a simple charm silently opened the door.

He entered the main floor, wand held out as he quietly walked through the hall. The lounge to his right was empty, but as he neared the area he mapped off as directly over head when they heard the floor creak. Before he came to that last corner, a large dog walked to him. Its head was bowed low as if he were not well. Ron stepped into the room, the kitchen of this house and the sight before him hit him hard. Sitting at the table, with a still warm meal on the table, sat three bodies. They had been dead only a short while. The roast on the table told Ron him this was quite recent.

“It’s clear,” he called to the others and proceeded to inspect the grisly scene. A man and woman of middle age sat at either end. A boy, possibly ten years old sat on the side between the two adults. As Ron approached the table, the dog followed.

“The place looks as if they were surprised in the middle of dinner, Remus, you said the house was empty when you searched it?”

“Yes, that was yesterday morning, before Albus was murdered.”

“How thoroughly did he search the house? And do you have any idea what he was looking for?”

“He was looking for any clues to the occupants of the chamber in the tunnel; he believed they were linked to this house.”

“And you found nothing?”

“I searched the upstairs; I noticed quite old traces of magic and a few bits of parchment in a cupboard upstairs. We both believed that a magical family once owned this house.”

“That much is obvious, that hidden door in the cellar was charmed on the cellar side. Where did Albus search?”

“The lounge and study, he said there was a hidden door in the study but we didn’t have time to search there, these Muggles were returning home, so we left the way we came. We stayed in the upper part of the tunnel, in the stair well for the night to wait for who ever has been staying in that cavern.”

“But he never showed and you left, correct?”

“Yes, that’s when we left the cave and he was murdered. I left for the Ministry to bring help and here we are,” Remus said, concluding his part of this investigation.

Ron waved the team into the study and they began to search the walls. Rows of books lined the walls, all typical books one would expect a Muggle family to own. Only one book stood out, an old leather bound tome with the words ‘Chinese Alchemy’ embossed on the spine.

Ron pulled the book from the shelf and touched the spot it covered with his wand. The bookcase pushed away from the wall and out, exposing a hidden chamber.

“Here, I found it,” he called out.

“Lumos,” Remus called, holding his wand up and fully illuminating the room.

The room held an old cot, a table and two broken chairs. On further examination, several broken bottles that obviously held a Muggle beverage lay shattered on the floor.

“Sir, are those potions? I don’t recognize them,” Williams asked, holding a small vial with a silvery liquid.

“I don’t know, collect them and we’ll have an expert examine them. It happens my brother–in–law has been the Potions Master at Hogwarts and he’ll be discreet enough,” Ron said, as he examined the vial.

“Professor Malfoy is your brother–in–law?” Williams replied with surprise.

“Yes, he did marry my baby sister, not that it’s any of your concern.”

Remus looked at his pocket watch, before interrupting, “It’s getting late, the others should have the Minister’s body back and should be waiting.”

“Right, bundle what you can. I’ll have a team out here before the locals arrive. Back out through the cave.”

“Sir.” Williams picked up a torn sheet of parchment from the floor, “Here’s something of interest. It appears to be a list of some form. A number of the items seem to have been scratched off.”

• Rejected – human bones
• Candidate – a pack of blood–stained cards
• Rejected– a staring glass eye
• Candidate – Hand of Glory
• Rejected– long coil of hangman's rope
• Rejected– instruments (rusty, spiked)
• Candidate – masks
• Confirmed – cup
• Candidate – opal necklace, ornate and cursed
• Destroyed – a large, black Vanishing Cabinet
• Rejected– shrunken heads
• Candidate – silver hand
• Rejected– poisonous candles
• Rejected– human fingernails
• Candidate – ornate crystal bottle, with a large opal set into the stopper
• Candidate – Foe’s bones
• Candidate – boxes of tarnished silver, inscribed with words
• Rejected– dusty box containing an Order of Merlin, First Class
• Destroyed – ancestral ring
• Candidate – china with the Black crest and motto
• Rejected– animal claws
• Candidate – rusty daggers
• Destroyed – diary
• Candidate – Hat – h/m’s office
• Candidate – family photos in silver frames
• Rejected– grandfather clock
• Rejected– spidery instrument
• Confirmed – heavy ancestral locket
• Candidate – music box
• Candidate – ring, large and golden, bearing the Black family crest
• Rejected– an ancient set of purple robes
• Rejected– several ancient seals
• Candidate – silver snuffbox, with Wartcap Powder from ‘RR’
• Candidate – sword – h/m’s office

“Strange, several are listed as confirmed and struck out, as if he’s on a hunt.”

---

“’Bugger off,’ she said, ‘go home and get some rest,’ she said, ‘You’ve been a pest,’ she said,” Harry muttered as he rummaged in his kitchen for his dinner. This was the one night of the month she forced Dobby to take off. This was one of the few times he was grateful he had been forced to learn how to cook at a young age.

However, Dobby had left a plate of sausages in the icebox; he only needed to heat them lightly. He mulled over the events of the past thirty-six hours, he and Ron briefed Hermione on the details of their expeditions. She too was unable to determine the connections between Dumbledore’s murder, the nurse’s murder, and the attack on Firenze . He quickly consumed his dinner before deciding to go visit a small corner of his property to reflect on the facts.

The walk through the canopy of woods was filled with the song of birds celebrating the coming of spring. His journey ended at the small bench he placed in this garden of reflection. He personally tended this small patch on Earth, weeding the grounds around the monuments by hand. It was an act of love, the love of a son for his parents.

“Hello mum and dad, I’ve been at the hospital. Hermione’s doing brilliantly, even though things were dicey for a while. You have a granddaughter, she’s absolutely perfect.”

He folded his arms and stared at the row of stones. The larger ones hadn’t been as painful as the small one he placed in this family garden nearly six years earlier. “Janet, Jason, you have a sister, Annie. She’s strong and healthy. She had a difficult time coming into this world, and I swear to you all she will be happy.”

He turned to another stone set off from the others and continued, “Hermione wanted you to know she wished you all could have been there too, I know she misses you both. She wanted our child to come into the world where you have brought her in.”

He pulled a small leather pouch from his pocket, but it remained sealed. The contents inside was the most precious soil he owned.

“You were the least fortunate, we never knew you. But you are part of this family, as much a part as Annie, Jason, or Janet.” The single drop that fell on the pouch was quickly joined with another. He felt tightness in his chest and a lump build in his throat.

Several more drops rolled from his cheek to his shirt. His precious pouch was carefully tucked back in his pocket, and he cradled his face in his hands. His chest hitching sharply as he continued to allow the end of his grief flow into the beginning of his joy with his family.

A wind gently blew across the small family garden; fingers in the breeze caressed his hair as he felt a presence with him. The wind slowed and stopped, but he still felt the gentle caress of a loving mother’s touch.

“Harry, we are proud of you. Your father and I have always been with you.”

His hands fell from his face and his body fell limp in the bench. His eyes closed as a smile grew on his face.

“M-Mum?” he stammered as he felt sleep embrace him.

“Yes darling. We’re here.” Two figures drifted from the mist of his mind into his thoughts, into his dreams.

“Why haven’t you come before?” he asked.

“Our ability to return here was weakened to protect you when Voldemort took us from you. Now that you and Hermione have brought Annie into this world, we can return to you briefly, but only here in our family grave.”

“Yes, but for now only when your thoughts have weakened in sleep can we visit.”

“Mum, I wish you could see her. She is beautiful,” Harry said in his dreams.

“I can, when you see her in you mind, we can see her too, and yes she is beautiful, just like her mother,” Lily said to Harry.

“We’re both very proud of you, son,” James said after Lily finished.

“But there is something you must be wary of; with Dumbledore’s death, there’s a dark force at work that is concealed even to the spirit world. We know he was murdered, but he has not passed into this realm,” Lily added.

“Then is there a possibility he’s alive?” Harry asked enthusiastically.

“Sadly, no. He is dead. All we can assume is he has chosen to remain as a spirit on Earth,” James said to his son.

“Yes, but he has remained hidden, so it is possible he has planned this,” Lily added.

“Do you have any thoughts where or how I can reach him,” Harry asked.

“Darling Harry,” Lily said with a sweet loving voice of a mother. “Let him go. You have given so much of yourself; you and Hermione should take this time to enjoy the child you bore into the world. Love them both as we love you.”

“Good bye, son. We won’t be able to see you again, not for a long time. Live and love to your fullest.”

“Mum, Dad, you can’t leave. Please stay. I have missed you both.”

“You have your family, it is time for you to let go. We love you, Harry.”

His dream faded as did the images of James and Lily Potter. He slumped over on the bench that overlooked the graves and slept soundly.

“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.

“Benjamin Albus Potter,” Caterina yelled from the side door of the cottage.

Nothing.

“Anna Lily Potter!” she called out.

Still nothing.

The brother and sister watched from the safety of a distant tree to make sure their nanny would not be able to follow them. The two grinned at each other, after the door they were watching closed.

“See, I told you she wouldn’t be able to find us. I left the drawer to my wardrobe open, the one with my swimming suits. She’ll be looking in the pond for nearly an hour,” Annie told her younger brother.

“That was brilliant, Annie, and you were right, he left his Firebolt in the cupboard again,” Ben said as he pushed his hair from his face.

“You first, you need the practice if you want to make the house team. I know we’ll both be brilliant on the Gryffindor team “

“It’s not fair you get to go in a few weeks, I have to wait two whole years,” Ben pouted.

“Benjamin,” she started with a look as firm as their mother, “you know the rules, I was born in May, and I’m already eleven. You won’t be eleven for a year and a half, so you have to wait two years.

“It’s not fair; daddy could have them make an exception, can’t he?”

“No, you know he can’t have the rules changed. You have to wait, and that’s all. Now are you going to take your turn?”

“Yes, but…”

“No buts, go, my stomach is queasy.”

“Again? That’s the third time this week you’ve been ill.”

“It’s only the second and I’m fine. You do want to try out for the Gryffindor team, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah. I’ll be the best Seeker since daddy. You wait and see,” he said as he grabbed his father’s broom and zoomed into the air.

“Ben, not too far this time, do you hear me? You’ll get us both caught this time!” she shouted as he disappeared into the clouds.

Ben ignored her warning as he skimmed the treetops, weaving between the branches at an ever faster rate. He loved the freedom of flight as much as his father and sister, a trait they both obviously inherited. He soared past a flock of crows that were quite startled to see a flying boy in the fringe of their fields.

He avoided the openness of the fields, in case Muggles were about. In the forest he could have been mistaken for a large bird. The cover of the trees was his safety. His father taught him how to control a broom almost from the time he could walk, and even had his own broom, but it was constrained to a mere fifteen feet from the ground and quite slow.

The twenty-seven-year-old Firebolt was still powerful; even for an adult. Harry had replaced it with a newer one, but refused to retire this broom for sentimental reasons. The nine-year-old boy straddled the shaft, and felt as natural on it as a Muggle boy would one

He soared as high as he ever dared until the trees appeared as tiny as matchsticks. His sister’s warning was forgotten as he spun through a large cloud and zoomed back to the tree line.

He glanced to the side and realized he had been in the cloud too long, the surrounding forest and landmarks were unfamiliar. He began to get nervous, being so far from home and from Annie.

He spotted and circled a small clearing in the forest, and from one edge he noticed a trail of smoke.

“A fire!” he exclaimed to himself and landed behind several large shrubs near the source of the smoke. He hid his father’s broom behind a large oak tree, noting its safe hiding spot before he approached the source of the fire.

Hidden under the canopy of the forest, a small cottage came into view. The bluish white trail of smoke seemed to invite him, and also frightened him. He crept to the edge of the woods, the ivy covered walls were less then a metre away.

‘Stay away from strangers, stay on our grounds.’ The words reverberated in his head, his mum cautioned him to be weary of any stranger. He had listened to his father time and time again telling his mum of people hurting others, evil people.

Ben remembered the stories told to them by Draco and Ginny’s twins, Radulphus and Lucia Malfoy, of the evil people his mum and dad fought.

He was scared.

He wanted Annie.

He wanted to be home.

“Well, my young friend, you’ve held you end of the bargain. Your true master would have been proud of you for once,” a voice loomed from an open window.

“I won’t be part of this; you can’t expect this plot to actually work? Once they discover your secret, you may as well crawl back into your hole and hide,” a second voice replied in a spiteful tone.

“You truly are spineless, and you have failed to grasp the real purpose of this endeavor. You have been a disappointment to us; I am almost ashamed to have taught you so poorly.”

He snorted, “I would expect you to have a few more events in your life to be ashamed of, the murder of those Muggles this past years, and the minister’s death still hasn’t been explained. Why murder him?”

“He was dangerously close to my home. And he had constantly come to the aid of the Mudblood bitch. She was the cause of the Dark Lord’s end here.”

“No, she aided in his death. It was her spouse that cast the fatal spell, or have you forgotten,” a third voice exclaimed.

‘They killed the Minister?’ Ben questioned to himself as he listened intently to the conversation; nothing made sense to his young mind, except that he found a group of killers.

“But still, you have access to information that Mudblood wench cannot provide us. It would be amusing to see the look on that whore’s face if she were to discover I used her to track the Potters. I expect she will find her end as all traitors do, at the end of a rope.”

Ben’s breathing increased and beads of sweat broke from his forehead as he started to back away. A twig under his foot snapped, sending waves of fear through him.

He froze in his spot hoping that sound wasn’t heard; he felt his stomach twist into a knot as he fought to control his breathing.

“Did you hear something?” the first voice asked.

“No, you’re mistaken; no one knows of this cottage, it’s shielded from Muggles, just as you insisted.” The second voice replied.

“You fool, someone’s lurking outside,” the voice grew closer.

Ben crawled under the row hedges, through a break small enough for him to wiggle through.

“There, I saw the scrubs move.” The voice loomed over the hedges.

Ben held his breath to keep from bursting into tears, and kept crawling away. A bright red flash struck the bushes he had just left, and they burst into flame.

“There, foot prints, a child’s foot print. I told you to find someplace isolated,” he hissed at his companion.

Ben kept silently crawling under the bushes, not making a sound as remained out of view. He heard that horrible voice scream something unintelligible and the second voice screamed in pain. Ben felt his heart bulge in his throat, choking off rational thought. The tears of fear now freely streamed down his cheeks as he finally found that small clearing.

A large oak became his sanctuary, as he jumped from under the shrubs to the tree. He raced around to find the broom he had hidden and waited only a fraction of a second.

In that pause, hardly a second had ticked by; a green bolt struck the ground opposite from the side he escaped. Had he not paused, he surely would have been struck.

He remained hidden by the tree and straddled the broom, kicked up and kept the tree between him and the attacker. The next bolt was aimed again, but at the ground, as if he were expected to be on foot. He soared overhead hoping not to be seen. He swerved and dipped the same way he and Annie played when chasing the snitch.

Another green bolt passed within inches of his head as he turned to look behind him. A tall man in a jet black cloak stood with a wand, trying to track the broom’s course. The only features he noticed were his hooked nose and his long black hair, peppered with grey streaks.

He shot as quickly into the clouds as he could climb, the broom sped upward leaving a blur that the man on the ground couldn’t seem to track. Ben raced as fast as the broom would carry him. The trees behind quickly disappeared as the clouds engulfed him.

The bite of the wind in his face burned from the salty trails on his face, but he wouldn’t let go to wipe his eyes. He held on and kept flying blindly.

“Ben! Benjamin Potter!” he heard after what seemed like an eternity in the clouds.

He kept flying.

“Benjamin!” the unmistakable voice commanded; the tone was guarded but stern.

He slowed and let the voice catch him. A familiar arm wrapped around his waist as another man flying next to him caught the Firebolt.

“Daddy!” he screamed as he tightened his small arms around Harry’s neck. Ben held tightly, more from fear of the scene he had narrowly escaped then from falling. He had, however, forgotten his peril was far from over.

The group landed in a nearby clearing; the young boy, however, refused to release his father.

“Now, Benjamin Albus Potter, do you have an explanation for taking my old broom?” Harry asked his young son. The anger in his voice reemphasized the terror in young Ben’s eyes.

“D-D-daddy, there were men, bad men,” he stammered, his shirt was drenched in sweat.

“What men? Where?” Harry interrogated. He held his son tightly by his arms, his tone shifted quickly from anger to concern.

Ben began to sob when he realized his folly was to land him in greater peril than then had he remained near the cottage. He let his chest hitch once before he answered, “I was lost and I stopped in a small field, and there was a cottage covered in vines.” He paused to let his voice calm.

“And you saw men there? Did you talk to them?” Harry asked in a calm, but firm tone.

“No, daddy, I hid until I could see if they were Muggles. They heard me and I heard one say something and the other screamed.”

“Then what?” Harry asked.

“Only one came outside, a red light hit the tree I was behind and I flew away. Then more lights flashed past me as I flew faster and faster. I thought I was lost again when you called me.”

“Ben, can you find this cottage again?” Ron interrupted.

“Leave him be Ron, I won’t put him in danger to chase down someone wanting privacy. Ben, what made you think you could take the broom?” Harry asked.

“Annie said we could practice and be on the House teams when we started school. It’s an old broom.

“That bloody Firebolt’s the fastest broom about, and you keep it locked up?” Ron asked.

“Hermione gets a bit nervous when I use it these days, she says I get reckless,” Harry said with a shrug.

“Daddy? When did the Minister die?” Ben asked the conversation still unsettled in his young mind.

“He’s not; he’s still in the Ministry, why?”

“The two men talking, one asked the other why he killed all the people and the Minister, and then I got scared.”

Ron’s ears burned at this tidbit, “Did you hear a name? Did you see them?”

“No, but one sounded familiar, but I didn’t hear him say much.”

“Bugger,” Harry muttered under his breath. “The man you saw, have you ever seen him before?”

Ben shook his head, “No, but he was very angry. But I don’t think he was strong, his flashes were green.”

Ben watched as his father’s face paled, “Ron, he tried to kill my son.”

Without a word, Ron mounted his broom and kicked off retracing Ben’s flight. As he grew smaller in the sky, Harry tied his Firebolt under his newer broom, and the two mounted the shaft to fly home.

The sun had settled to rest on the horizon, letting the day wind to its end. Annie and Ben sat on the sofa in the lounge of their home in Godric’s Hollow. The ordeal of the day had been discussed between Harry and Hermione while the children waited.

The dinner hour had passed as discussions continued with Ron and Sirius.

“Ben, why are Uncle Ron and Uncle Sirius here?” Annie asked in a whisper.

“I told you Uncle Ron was there, he must have called Uncle Sirius. Daddy and I came back to fetch you, and I guess they went to find those men.”

“Are you sure daddy…” Annie said, but approaching footsteps silenced her next thought.

Harry remained in the kitchen with Ron and Sirius listening to the upcoming fray, Hermione stood in front of her two children with her arms crossed. The stern look on her face told the brother and sister this wasn’t going to be easy.

“Anna Lily Potter, march to your room this instant,” she demanded.

“But mummy, we haven’t had supper,” he pleaded.

“I said to your room,” she hissed. Ron had looked up at them curiously at the manner of her speech.

“Harry, did she just…” Ron started to ask before he was shushed.

Annie quickly left her brother to face their mother alone. She knew that when their father delegated punishment to their mum, it was going to be very bad.

“Benjamin Albus Potter, what have you got to say for yourself?” she hissed at him. Ron looked at Harry again, and even Sirius picked up on her speech.

“What did she say?” Sirius asked

Harry simply pressed a finger to his lips.

“Mummy, I only wanted to practice. Annie said…”

“We’ve had this discussion in the past, young man, I will deal with your sister on this matter later. You, however, have lost your own broom until further notice, and you will have to remain home when we see your sister off to the train.”

Ben pushed the hair from his eyes and whimpered at the possibility of not being able to see Annie to the train.

“And further, you are to write two scrolls on exactly what happened today, by yourself.”

Ben’s eyes turned down to his feet, he had inherited his father’s love of writing. Two scrolls was nearly a death sentence if he couldn’t ask Annie for help.

“But mummy, two whole scrolls?”

“And neatly, any scribbling and you’ll repeat the work.” She unfolded her arms and reached for his hand. “Now,” she added loudly, “to the study with you.”

She held his hand and forcibly pulled him out of view and earshot from the kitchen. The library was her private sanctuary, and Ron had known to leave her alone once that door closed. Only Harry would be able to intervene.

She led him to the sofa under the main window, and sat him down. Her wand pointed to the door and a slight crackle and groan sealed the only exit from the room. She then sat next to him and put an arm around him.

“Ben, sweetheart, what you did was wrong. You must understand that.”

“Yes, mum, but I didn’t think it would…”

“Hush. I think not seeing your sister off would be punishment enough for you both. Merlin knows how you two manage to get in so much mischief. Now that essay, the conversation you heard may be a vital link to a great man’s murder and anything you recall might help your uncle solve the case. That is more for him then for punishment.” She smiled and kissed the top of his head.

“Mummy? I am sorry. But I love to fly so much.”

“I know darling. You have too much of your father in you. Now if you get started while the memories are still fresh, you can be finished quickly.”

Hermione stood and crossed the room to the door, and flicked her wand producing another light crackle. She turned the door knob and left Ben alone to his punishment.

As soon as she closed the door, both Ron and Harry confronted her. “Did you have to beat him?” Ron asked. “We could hear each time you smacked his bottom, and his cries....”

Harry gave her a knowing wink, “Spare the rod as they say.”

“Darling, leave him to his writing, I’ll see to him in an hour, he’s not to be disturbed,” Hermione instructed Harry as she left to deal with her daughter.

“Brutal, that one, I’m glad we didn’t get on like you two. I can’t stand the thought she’d actually strike Annie or Ben.”

“She’s a tough one Ron, but I do love her. She knows what she’s doing so leave it be. As far as I’m concerned it’s done,” Harry said.

“Mum, where are my new robes? Did they arrive from Madam Malkin’s shop yet? We have to leave in the morning,” Annie called down from her room.

“They’re in your trunk, dear. I’ve packed your robes already, you seemed disappointed again over the selections,” Hermione called back as she climbed the stairs.

“I just don’t fancy that color green. I would rather have the crimson,” Annie pouted, seeing her mother just outside her bedroom.

“It’s your House colors, there’s nothing to do about it,” Hermione replied.

“But why? Artemisia should be there, not me, her father’s Head of that House and he despises me. Why is she in Gryffindor?”

“Darling, the Sorting Hat is never wrong, there has to be a reason,” Hermione consoled her daughter.

“But I should be in Gryffindor. I’m positive Ben will be sorted into Gryffindor. Only dark witches and wizards come out of Slytherin. I don’t want to be like that.”

“It’s your choices that guide your life, not what House you were Sorted sorting into. You’re doing brilliantly from what Headmistress McGonagall tells us. We are both proud of you, now finish packing,” Hermione said as she stood to leave.

“Mum, I’ve filled my old trunk; there just isn’t any more room.”

“Use my old trunk from school, it’s in the attic. Now, I have to see to Ben’s packing.” Hermione smiled at her daughter as she left the bedroom to tend to her son’s trunk.

Annie remained sitting on her bed, and gave the trunk with the Slytherin crest a solid kick before she slumped back onto her bed. The calendar on her wall had September first blacked out, hoping to avoid the day.

She loved the school, but hated being in the Slytherin House. She hated living in the drafty damp dungeons of the school. She hated the constant smell of the nearby potions classroom. She hated her dorm-mates above all.

She refused to think of them until she had to return.

The pile of extra supplies she insisted on bringing lay on her bed. Her school trunk filled to beyond capacity. ‘Maybe if I use a reducing spell,’ she thought as she pointed her wand at the trunk.

Before she could cast the spell, a soft knock on the door forced her to quickly slip her wand back into her pocket.

“Annie?” her father asked from outside the door. Being a teenaged girl, she insisted on certain protocols being enforced, and her father complied.

“What is it?” she asked with a tone of annoyance.

“Your mum asked me to help bring a trunk from the attic. There are several and I thought we could rummage through the attic together,” Harry said.

The anger in Annie’s eyes began to cool at the thought of spending a few minutes alone with her father. She jumped from her bed into his arms, wrapping her shorter arms around his waist.

“I hate that place, daddy, I really don’t want to go back.”

“I thought you loved Hogwarts?”

“No, I can’t stand that house I been stuck in.”

“Slytherin? We’ve had this discussion before; the Sorting Hat put you there for a reason. You know it wanted to place me there too,” he said as she pulled away.

“Yes,” she said rolling her eyes. “You’ve told me countless times how you asked the hat not to put you in Slytherin. I nearly begged it to put me in Gryffindor after it said I belong in Slytherin, but it wouldn’t change its decision. Ben is probably going there, why can’t you ask Professor McGonagall to transfer me, or have me re-Sorted?”

“You know she can’t show special privilege to anyone, but if Ben is sorted to Gryffindor, I’ll see if she will consider having the hat resort you, that’s the best I can offer.”

Her eyes finally lit up at that possibility and together they climbed the stairs to the attic. The door opened to the dusty chamber at the summit of the house.

“Here’s your mother’s trunk, we can change the house standard and your name; I don’t think anyone there would remember who Hermione Granger was.”

Annie rolled her eyes, “Daddy, everyone still remembers you and mum. So leave her name on it.”

The chest in question was under a growing pile of cast offs and forgotten artifacts. Annie noticed a sealed box, off to the side. She picked it up and noticed it was fairly light.

“What’s in here?” she asked.

“That was your mother’s, she locked it up here quite a long time ago, she told me it was something from her childhood that greatly troubled her. She couldn’t bear the thought of discarding it, and she couldn’t bear to have it in the open.”

She nodded at the possibility some memories were difficult, reinforcing the stories she heard at school. As she replaced it where she found it, a bundle of letters bound with a silk ribbon fell to the floor. Harry’s attention had been drawn away for a moment when he spotted a worn rucksack giving her the opportunity to retrieve them and slip them unseen into the trunk.

“Daddy? What’s that?” she asked as he retrieved his old rucksack.

“It was an old pack I used when I had to spend a few days away; I almost never left home without it.” He smiled as he handed the empty bag to his oldest child. “Here, you can use it to carry your school books. It still has a few good years left in it.”

She took the pack and ran her fingers over the hand embroidered letters ‘HP’. “I love it, Daddy, it means more to me then the bag I have from ‘that House’.”

“I thought you’d rather have something without the Slytherin house emblem on it. Let’s get the dusty old thing downstairs.”

“Daddy, you’re not that dusty!” she said with a grin as she watched him levitate the trunk down the stairs. Once they were back in her room, he set the trunk at the foot of her bed.

The moment he turned to leave she threw her arms around his neck, “Thank you Daddy, I love you.”

He turned in his daughter’s arms and she knew that look, she was ready to take advantage of his benevolent mood. “Is there anything else you need to pack?”

“Isn’t Aunt Ginny and Arty coming tonight? I won’t be able to spend time with her when the term starts, they don’t like us associating together,” she pouted.

“Yes, they will be here soon, in time for supper. Now finish packing and help Ben. I’ll call you when she gets here,” Harry said as he kissed her forehead.

“I can’t wait to see her,” Annie exclaimed. “There’s so much I have to tell her.”

“Wasn’t she here just this morning?” Harry asked slightly puzzled.

“Daddy, that was hours ago. So much has happened. Now go, I have to change,” she commanded.

Caught off guard, her father complied and left. She used this rouse of needing privacy to change this summer after she and Hermione spent an afternoon shopping for clothing more suited from a teenage girl.

When the latch closed and he was safely outside, she threw the trunk open and removed the bundle of letters. She recognized the handwriting on the top envelopes immediately as her mum’s and naturally assumed they were the sort of steamy love letters young couples shared. Very little was told to her and her brother about their parents’ past, there were very few details about that period of time when they were only friends up to when they were married.

“Now to see what they’ve been hiding,” she said under her breath. She slipped the silk ribbon from the bundle and started to decide which to read first.

“Annie!”

“Bugger it all,” she said as she quickly put the bundle in her regular school trunk.

“Annie!” she heard again. Caterina’s voice carried through the house.

“What is it?” she asked sharply.

A rough knock on the door followed by Caterina entering without Annie’s permission sparked yet another battle of wills.

“What do you want?” she hissed.

“Your mother has sent me to help pack,” Caterina tried to say without any hint of bitterness.

“Well if you had a brain, you would see I have my things well under control. You might see to my owl.” She glared at her childhood caregiver before picking up a bundle of neatly folded clothes and slammed them into the extra trunk.

“Is there anything else you need? If not, then go away!” Annie ordered with a tone suitable for a servant or house-elf.

“Miss Potter, you would do well to remain civil,” Caterina snapped back.

“Or what? You have no authority over me. I could have you discharged if I felt like doing so.”

“Annie,” Caterina said shaking her head. “What happened to the sweet girl in you before you went to that school?”

“I learned that you are nothing more then a servant, with nothing in your life but this job,” Annie said smugly as she pushed Caterina from her room and slammed the door.

As always, she knew her mother would attempt to intervene, and as always when the nanny had disciplinary problems. Annie grabbed her wand and pointed it to the door, “Colloportus,“ she called out and the door groaned and sealed itself.

“I am not a child,” she yelled at the door. “Bugger it,” she said to herself, she suddenly realized she should have waited until she heard the footsteps disappear down the hall to the stairs. Caterina heard the spell and Annie was sure her nanny was on her way to report this infraction to her parents.

She threw herself on her bed, and thought, ‘I could blame that witch for locking me in.’ She sat and waited for the telltale footsteps of her mum.

She pulled a scroll from under her mattress and read it; the markings on the sheet were as cryptic to others as they were clear to her. She often wondered why it made sense. She made this phrase part of her life’s philosophy, it just sounded prophetic.

"There is no good nor evil, only power and those afraid to use it,” she read out loud.

Knock… Knock… Knock…

“Annie, can I come in?” she heard from outside.

“Arty? Just a sec.” she grabbed the other sheets she kept hidden under her mattress and also the bundle of letters from the nearly empty trunk. She took the entire pile and put them under her summer’s school work in the other trunk, leaving her mother’s trunk open and now empty.

She pointed her wand at the door. “Alohomora,” she said and the door swung open.

“Annie, you’ll get caught one day. You know you’re not supposed to use magic?”

“Arty, who’s too know? Mum and Dad use it all the time and no one will know it was me,” she said with a shrug.

“Annie, it’s against the rules, you know that.”

“I had to get that woman out of my room,” Annie replied.

“I don’t see why you dislike Caterina, her sister is quite pleasant. She’s been more of a sister than then Lucy. Chiara is just as concerned,” Arty said with a sigh of disapproval as she sat her bag on the corner of Annie’s desk.

“She thinks she can take my mum’s place, she orders me like a child.”

“Annie, you know your mum and dad felt some debt to her, Caterina is only trying to do her best. She really cares for you and Ben.”

“You only see how she acts with others around,” Annie replied, “she’s horrible to us when we’re alone.”

Artemisia gave up and shook her head in defeat. Most of Annie’s school books had been cleared and packed in her school trunk, a pile of additional books remained on the desk. “So you have a second trunk?” she asked staring at the open chest.

“Mum said I could have it, I’ve got too much this year for my one trunk, Annie said as she began packing the stacks of clothes she laid out earlier.

“Bringing an extra wardrobe full for our trips to Hogsmeade this year?”

“I just can’t stand those dreadful robes. Besides, you’ve been using three trunks since first year.”

“I’ve only had two and a small valise,” Artemisia said with a shrug and a grin. The two girls burst out in laughter as they finished loading the second trunk.

“We’d best hurry; we’re going to my house for the night, and Jerry will be there too.”

“Jerry?” Annie asked as her face flushed for a moment, and turned her back pretending to fiddle with some forgotten test books.

Artemisia grimed, “Yes, Jerry will be there, we’ll all spending the night before we leave for the train.”

Annie turned after quelling her excitement, “So, he’s they with the rest of the family.” She put the school book in her trunk.

“Don’t be a prat, you like him. Admit it, Annie.”

“What makes you think that? He’s our cousin.”

“Then why pack your first year Potions text? You’re the best at Potions, just like your mum.” Artemisia said widening her grin. Besides, he’s my cousin by blood and yours only because your dad was taken in by gram and pappa, and that was before the war ended.”

Annie’s jaw opened, in disbelief. “Artemisia, you dare breathe a word of this and so help me…”

“Annie, he fancies you too, I think you both are destined to be together. So don’t worry, I can’t reveal you ‘secret’ since the whole bloody school already knows it!” Artemisia replied and turned to an empty rucksack on the floor.

Annie’s reply came in the form of her pillow flung across the room, striking Artemisia on the side of her head; the retaliation was severe as the pillow fight brought rounds of uncontrolled laughter.

The following morning the large extended family converged in Kings Cross, and one by one vanished into a solid brick wall.

Annie sat in her place at the Slytherin table, hardly acknowledging her housemates’ glares. Real trust and true friendship within this house was as difficult to gain as the days of Voldemort. She pushed the portion of steak on her plate. ‘Hufflepuff, how could he be put in Hufflepuff?’ she thought over and over.

She had kept rubbing her stomach, feeling that same discomfort that plagued her since a few days before she began her school career. Occasional pangs of pain, cramps she always thought, became more frequent in the past months. When she mentioned having cramps to her mum, she received a detailed lecture on feminine hygiene and advanced anatomy, neither helped.

She pushed away from the table and stared across the room, Arty was sitting next to her cousin, laughing and sharing a sliver of pie. Jerry Weasley looked up at that moment and she imagined he smiled at her; she turned away and left the Great Hall. She attributed the single tear that rolled from her chin was caused by her cramps.

‘Bloody hell, my one chance to escape this dungeon and that bloody hat buggered it all.’ She thought as she descended to the Slytherin house. The hall was clear; all others were still enjoying the feast. Professor McGonagall’s welcoming speech had been as dreadful as watching her hopes shatter with a single word.

“Bloodlines,” she said to the gate in the musty corridors under the castle. The door swung open and allowed her access.

She walked with a quickened pace through the common room, past the large leather sofa that faced the hearth. She never noticed the man standing in the shadow, a glint of silver from his hand flashed as he pulled his hood over his eyes, hiding any recognizable feature.

Annie was oblivious to any details that had not crossed her path to the girls’ dormitories. She pushed on the large oak door, and it swung open allowing her access. The corridor past that portal was as dark and damp feeling as any dungeon.

She passed several doors, and stopped at a nondescript door on the right side of the corridor. With a heavy sigh, she kicked the door, and it too yielded to her allowing her to enter the room she shared with four other girls.

She stopped at the most isolated bed, two large trunks were placed at the foot of her bed, one had been opened and unpacked, the other remained locked. Annie produced her wand and tapped the lock, whispering the charm to upon the chest. As she rummaged through, the extra clothes that had been carefully packed littered the floor. Near the bottom, wrapped with several older text books, she found the object she had anticipated reading since she discovered them in the attic of her home.

The drapes around her bed were carefully drawn shut and she pulled her knees to her chest and sat with the pile of parchment at her feet. Anxiously, she picked up the first in the pile, “ 31 May, 1998 ,” she read to herself.

The sounds of others arriving in the common room forced her to wave her wand around her bed, “Silencio,” she whispered and all sound was deadened.

Her fingers quivered as she opened that letter from her mother to her father so many years before she was born. A special letter of love on his birthday, a romantic gesture that made her young heart skip a beat at the thought. She removed the sheet from the envelope.

My Darling,

I love you.

I have loved no other.

I will love no one else as long as I live.

This is why I must leave you and release you from your promise to marry me. You deserve what I can never give you, Lucius Malfoy saw to that. When we made love last night after Madam Pomfrey left for bed, I prayed there would be a way, but in my heart I believe I will never be able to give you a family of you own.

I have wrestled this from the moment you carried me to the hospital last week and I begged you to leave. I couldn’t allow you to see me in those hours after you and Ginny left me. The healers tried to help, but I wasn’t able to stop crying.

I love you, Harry. You truly deserve a wife that can give you what you need. I know I can’t.

By the time you read this, I shall be impossible to find. There is a charm I have heard of, one that will remove any trace of magic from me and cleanse it from my memory. That confession I found of that girl from the past is my clue to that charm and I intend to use it. I love you too much to want to remember this life.

I will love you forever,

Hermione

Annie’s jaw quivered as she read the words written from a broken heart.

‘They always seem so happy, I wonder what happened?’ she asked herself. The letter was carefully refolded and returned to the envelope. The next in the pile was dated 5 June, 1998 .

My Darling,

I love you.

I’m not certain I can give you this letter, but I have to tell you how I feel.

I couldn’t bear to leave after what you did for my parents. I was lost in thought yesterday morning while you held me. I wanted that moment to last the rest of my life, even though I knew I would never remember it.

Your love for me and my family made me want to delay my decision to leave. And your mother’s love for us both made me want to stay with you, at least for the moment.

We have a fortnight left here at school, I’ll stay till the end of term, and love you with all my strength for every second we have together. August 25 th is a lifetime away, but I will leave before then.

You have my heart forever and you will forever be in my soul,

Hermione

Frantically, she looked for the next letter, determined to discover more of her mother’s secret, ignoring the voices and whispers in the room with her. She wanted to learn what changed her views and finally marry her father. And what could have caused her this grief, enough to forego her own family. The answer was dated 29 June, 1998 .

My Darling,

I love you.

I can’t leave you alone. I can’t bare the thought of you being alone, not after our visit to Privet Drive this morning. Your only living relatives (and I refuse to call them family) are worse then I remembered. Although I am glad you aunt seems to have changed.

I haven’t told you this, but the handwriting of the alterations in the manuscript seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place them.

There’s bound to be a reason I was able to change that spell that you used to defeat Voldemort, and I must discover it. As if I feel a force pushing us toward a shared destiny.

Until I find the reason for this, you may be in danger and I won’t leave you until I know in my heart you will be safe. That city ‘Corrieban’ may have much to do with this, but I am unsure. It may be the root to all that’s happened to us and may be the answer I’ve been looking for.

Harry, you are my life, and my only love.

Hermione

The pure love her mother had for her father astounded her, she was willing to remain with him because of some imagined danger.

“Where’s the next?” she said as she looked through the pile, she didn’t recognize the handwriting on several envelopes, several seemed to be from a man’s hand, but not her father’s scribbled writing. There were several in an emerald green ink, and all sealed. The one that gave her pause had her own name on it.

Anna Lily Potter

Nervously she turned this letter over in her hand and tried to slide a finger under the flap. But she couldn’t force it open. She turned it over and the address now read:

Anna Lily Potter

To be opened on your fifteenth birthday.

(in private if you please)

---

Author's note:

Again, my apologies for the unplanned delay, I will be altering my previous schedule until further notice of one meaty chapter every other week, until I have a good deal more done and ready for your enjoyment.

The final Quidditch match of the year between Slytherin and Gryffindor had started the day before, but Annie remained in her room. The past two years since her hopes of leaving the dungeons and the Slytherin House were crushed had turned her into a recluse. There were only three people she trusted and still maintained more than cordial contact with. Her brother, Arty and Jerry had been her only lifelines from her self imposed isolation.

Jerry had promised, yesterday afternoon, to take her to Hogsmeade, since her birthday that year was on a Monday. The expectation she had for a quiet dinner with him was dying with every tick of the clock. The 6:00 PM curfew imposed on all fourth year and younger students to return from the village was only an hour away. The Quidditch match, she hoped to be over quickly, seemed deadlocked.

Jerry’s position as Keeper on the Gryffindor house team required he remain in the game, the House Cup was dependant on the outcome. Should Gryffindor lose, Slytherin could win this year if Ravenclaw were to lose their match with Gryffindor in less then a month. But if Gryffindor defeated their thousand-plus-year-old rivals, they would be awarded the House Cup, barring any mishaps that might take points from their tally.

She looked at the clock one more time, 5:30 . Her hope of spending the afternoon with him as he promised was dashed. The book that lay across her lap had been untouched for hours.

She glanced to the clock on her nightstand and fifteen minutes had passed, “Happy bloody birthday, Annie,” she said and rolled over in her bed, and cried herself to sleep.

She had days like this before, where she felt the world was fighting her, when she felt alone and vulnerable. Her tenuous relationship with the one boy she fancied for years was crumbling and she felt she was forgotten by all, even her best friend hadn’t stopped to see her that afternoon.

She slept while fitful images flooded her thoughts, dreams she remembered as a child had returned to haunt her thoughts.

The spinning of her bed felt as if she were thrown clear and completely missed hitting the floor or walls. The blackness of her mind was split with a distant sliver of light. It grew as she fell toward it.

She felt the cold stone floor through the nightdress she has never changed from the night before.

“Hello miss, are you in need of some help?” she heard from a deep voice.

“Pardon?” she asked. Her dreams never addressed her before.

“You have been troubled recently, friends and family seem to have abandoned you, correct?” the voice asked. She could see a handsome man addressing her, his hand out stretched to assist her to her feet. He was tall and lean, with dark hair and slender, sharp features. A young man barely twenty from his outward appearance.

“Who are you?” she asked as she stood and felt her nightgown change into her normal clothes.

“You have never met me, but rest assured I have known your family for generations, I had several particularly interesting meetings with your grandparents, and I have known your parents for a very long time.” He still held her hand as he directed her to a bench, the scenery changed from her dormitory to a peaceful park surrounding.

“You knew my grandparents?” she asked. His smile seemed forced and harsh and out of place.

“You have questions why you were placed in Slytherin House, even though your parents and both your father’s parents were in Gryffindor. You are here to help correct an injustice.”

“Annie, wake up!” She heard Isabella scream as she was shaken awake.

“Isabella? What’s happened?” Annie said from bloodshot eyes. She blinked hard and realized she was on the floor.

“You were shaking; we just came from the match and found you in the center of the room.”

“The match?” she said in a daze.

“The Quidditch match against Gryffindor, it just ended, their Seeker caught the snitch, but we had them on points. It looks as if we’re in a dead tie for the House Cup,” Allison added.

“What time is it?” she asked feeling less rested then if she had played in the match.

“ Quarter past midnight . It was one of the longest games in nearly fifty years,” Allison said as she removed her cloak.

“And Happy Birthday, Anna, although I doubt you’ll enjoy it much, you never seem too,” Michele added in a condescending tone.

Annie recovered her senses enough to interpret the tone and barely acknowledged the remark. She grunted her thanks and disappeared to the loo. ‘Quarter past midnight,’ she thought. ‘Fifteen years old and the same drab life.’

The other Slytherins were still in the common area, celebrating a non-loss for them and a non-victory for the Gryffindors. She could hear the merriment through the stone walls, and also heard her ‘concerned’ dorm mates leave to join the party.

She washed her face and returned to her sanctuary and isolation.

The vivid dream replayed in her head, but the images began to fade the harder she tried to remember it.

She tucked into her bed and sighed and reached for an old diary. As was her mother’s habit to keep a diary, it was Annie’s habit to nick them from the attic, magically copy them, and read them when she was depressed. The details of life in the years before the war were more interesting to her from an eyewitness rather then the drab and over-stated history text books of that period.

She opened her private trunk, to retrieve the latest volume she acquired, but a letter caught her attention. That letter she had discovered with her mum’s plans to leave her father before they were wed.

Anna Lily Potter

Please open at your earliest convenience.

(In private if you please)

She read the address and startled at the change, the envelope was quickly torn open, and she pulled the sheet free. Her hands seemed to tremble as she held the page. It was drafted in the same emerald green ink as on the envelope.

September the First, 2008

Miss Anna Potter

My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am, at the moment, the Minister for Magic within our world. I do not believe you have been told a great deal of me, as I’m certain I will have died the day you were born.

I know you are probably feeling a tad uncomfortable receiving a letter from someone who has been gone these past fifteen years, but first let me reassure you that I have looked after both your parents when they were in my care as headmaster, and feel as responsible for their well being as a parent. And as a parent, I feel privileged to have helped guide them to find each other.

And as a parent, I have done everything in my power to keep them safe, as I have been protecting you from the same evil they had faced. Only a few weeks ago I received warning of a plot to return our world to the darkness you father vanquished.

No, this is not a cheap prank; I had the aid of a gifted Seer who foretold your coming. I have also been told the time of my passing, but unfortunately not the means. I can only assume it will not be an easy one, as I plan to continue to fight for every second of life, until that moment I can be the most use to you.

I truly doubt your parents have talked of their past, being as modest as they are of their abilities, to you or your sibling. I’m certain you will have one by now, but that part of your future life is unclear. The details of those events are difficult to focus on, as I’m certain you will learn with time, but I digress. Your father is the greatest and most powerful wizard alive, and your mother is the brightest of her age, with powers that complement your father’s. The combination of their talents will be passed on to you and to your children in time. But remember they will always be your father and your mother, and they love you more then life itself. I am certain they would make the same sacrifice your grandparents made to save a young Harry Potter forty-one years ago. Do not forsake their love or devalue their willingness to give their lives to protect you and your brother.

You will soon be given a choice, and the ramifications will be wide spread and irreversible. The cost will be high no mater which side you choose, although I am certain you will make the correct one. But to make that choice, you must know and understand The Warning of Power.

I have entrusted specific details of the events that will lead to my death, to a dear friend. You must seek him out as he has knowledge critical to discovering the dangers you will all face before the anniversary of your father’s first victory over the dark forces. I have entrusted the location of a vessel I discovered to him and he will be waiting for you in time.

I have left clues to his identity with your parents, and I pray they have acquired that information before it was lost.

Please remember, you can do what is easy or you can do what is right. As I have told your father as a boy, it is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.

Your Protector,

Albus Dumbledore.

Annie read the letter again, to be certain she hadn’t made a mistake, but there is was in emerald green, the word ‘protector’.

“Why do I need a protector?” she asked herself. A quick thought and she began to review any reference her mother made to Albus Dumbledore in her writings. She re-read half of the manuscripts she had saved finding very little detail of this ‘Albus Dumbledore’. The copies she had from later years seemed to be copy-resistant, and only blank pages were produced.

“He must have been important to them later on,” she rationalized, “maybe there’s a biography in the library.”

She tucked her newest treasure into a pocket, and pulled a worn sheet with a phrase she had memorized. A saying she hoped would guide her through life, and thought of adding the new message from this former headmaster. She produced a quill and ink from her nightstand, and noticed the sun was cresting on the horizon.

The sheet read ‘There is no good or evil, only power and those afraid to use it’ and she started to add ‘It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities’.

“Bugger it,” she muttered. “What’s the matter with this bloody ink?” The words faded from the page as quickly as she wrote them, forcing her to simply use a fresh sheet to save this new phrase.

“Annie, you’d best get up, classes are in an hour,” Isabella called from the other side of the curtain. “And Happy Birthday, again.”

“Thanks, Izzy. I’ll be at breakfast in a few minutes,” she replied as she folded the two sheets and tucked them into her bag along with the letter from Dumbledore. She checked her secret library to make sure it was still safely concealed and finally dressed. The pain in her stomach surged, forcing a whimper of pain, heard by no one.

The halls were clear and she hoped she could avoid dealing with others from her house. She made her way half way through the common area when she helt a hand on her shoulder and heard his voice.

“Potter, a word if you please.”

She felt her shoulders droop and stopped in her tracks. “Yes, Professor Malfoy,” she mumbled. Breakfast will have to wait. Silently she followed him to his private office. Even though he was her best friend’s father and the Head of her House, for the first time she felt uneasy being alone with him.

He stood at the door and waited until she sat in one of the plain wooden chairs in front of his desk. Professor Malfoy’s lack of concern for the student’s physical comfort was well known, as was his cold and bitter nature. She began to fidget in the seat during the few seconds it took for him to close the door and take his seat behind his desk. He stared at a folder on his desk, and folded his hands resting on top of the folder.

“Miss Potter,” he paused after addressing her, not expecting a response.

“Yes sir?”

“I have noticed you are nothing like your parents, am I correct in assuming you wish to build a name of your own?” She was about to reply when he continued. “I am in a position to assist you in furthering your future, on your own. There have been rumors that I’m certain you’ve heard.”

“Rumors? Of what?”

He raised his hands; fingers still clasped together, to his face and rested his chin as he thought. The sleeve of his loosely fitting shirt slipped down his wrist exposing the head of a snake. Annie imagined it was moving, wiggling on his arm. Her attention quickly shifted before she was noticed staring at his unusual tattoo.

“Have you ever heard your parents discuss the dark times?” he asked quietly.

“No, all I know is what I’ve read in History Class. Dry stuff, really.”

“So you don’t know the roles your family had in the last war.”

She shook her head and waited.

“I lost my parents, to the dark forces,” he mumbled as he ran his fingers through his long blonde hair. “I may have lost my family because of that,” he said after a moment.

“Sir?”

His head snapped up as he stared in her eyes, “Do I have your word what’s discussed here will not be repeated to anyone?”

Confused she looked at him with a puzzled look.

“I need your word,” he insisted.

His cold eyes bored into her mind as she nervously she nodded her head.

“Say it; say you swear not to repeat what we discuss here to anyone outside these walls.

“I-I swear,” she said hesitantly. “Not to talk of this outside this room.”

“I want you to vow on your blood not to reveal any of these detail to anyone outside these walls.”

She nodded and he slid a small pocket knife across the desk.

“Prick a finger, and it will be sealed.”

She picked up the knife and opened the small blade. She pressed it to her little finger on her left hand and winced as it broke the skin. A tiny drop oozed from the wound, and Professor Malfoy then offered her a bandage.

“That is adequate; a tiny drop of your blood will act as your bond. Should you break that bond, the repercussions to you and your family shall be most unpleasant.”

She bound the small cut, and watched the small red dot seep through the bandage.

He showed visible signs of relief as he began. “I have many regrets, my greatest is Artemisia. I know she resents me for what happened, but there’s nothing I was able to do then.”

“Excuse me, sir. Does this conference have anything to do with my classes?”

“No, I need your help. You’re free to refuse without fear of repercussion. This is a personal matter, I want my family back. But since I know that will never happen, I’ll settle for them being safe.”

“Professor?” she asked.

“Your father helped me win my wife’s heart, but I know that has been lost. I wish I had better relations with my daughter, but she refuses to talk to me outside of required classes.”

“Uh, sir? None of this is any of my concern, Arty is my friend, and I think this is between you and her, not me.”

“Yes, I know. But if they find out, she and her mum could be in peril. There were things occurring just before you were born that I cannot talk about. That was why I had to leave, not because I wanted to, but I had to leave.”

“I still don’t understand,” she began before he cut her short.

“There’s no way you would. It was a horrible time, a time I never expected to relive. It all began shortly after the statue for your parents was dedicated in the Ministry. A few days later I noticed certain alterations in my stores here at Hogwarts. Not much, just a few difficult to find items. One item in particular is quite fatal if mishandled.”

He paused to reflect before continuing. “I had become involved with those responsible for murdering the Minister of Magic some fifteen years ago. They hid in a secret chamber beneath his family’s home, in a Muggle part of Wales . I wasn’t aware of any of it until they came to me and insisted I help. The bastard threatened my wife and children if I didn’t help, and I know for a fact he would have killed them all to get his own way. I personally witnessed him murder my mother.”

Her eyes widened, the look of disbelief washed over her as he continued his story. “Your mother, who did that?”

“Someone I thought I had dealt with in the past. He was ordered to take her life as punishment for his failures. I would have been next, if I refused to do as they ordered,” he said as he rubbed his left arm.

“What did they want you to do?” she asked.

“Never mind that, what’s important is Artemisia understands why things happened between her mother and me. All I ever wanted was to live with my family in peace. It is important to me that Artemisia and her mother are safe. Radulphus and Lucia have been safely hidden, but I cannot contact my wife and daughter. I need you to help them to safety.”

She thought for a moment before she replied. “So you want me to somehow convince Arty and her mum to go into hiding, and I can’t tell them why?”

“Essentially, yes. I’m not certain how much time we have, maybe six months. I’ve been watched recently so any discussions will have to appear to be a disciplinary action or an academic action. You must take extreme caution, I’ve recently learned how they knew about intimate details; innocent comments during moments of passion turned someone close to you into an unwilling traitor.”

“Six months? Then I have the summer to work it out.”

“No, I said maybe six months, it may well be less. There may only be a few hours advanced warning.”

‘Great, I get detention to help Arty hide,’ she thought before agreeing.

“Remember you cannot discuss this with anyone outside this room. Now, I believe you were to meet some people for breakfast. Thank you, Miss Potter.”

“Professor, can I ask why me? I mean Arty’s here too and she’s your daughter,” Annie asked before leaving.

“I’ve told you all I can. I’m depending on your discretion on this matter. As for why you, you’ve displayed the qualities I believe I can count on. Now go on, or you’ll miss breakfast.”

She stood as he looked back to his desk, and the closed folded before him. As she came to the door, a flash struck it and the wooden structure sparkled before it swung open.

“Good morning, Miss Potter,” he said in a dismissive tone.

She left the chamber, and passed through the potions classroom to the main hall that led up the stairs to the Great Hall and breakfast.

She found an empty spot near an end of a table, although they were separated by house for the dinner meal, the tables were rearranged for small clusters of students. Her table had a couple Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff sitting at the far end, but was otherwise empty where she sat. A plate of fresh eggs and sausages appeared before her as she sighed.

“Miss Potter is unhappy?” a voice squeaked from just under the table.

“No, Dobby, I just expected today to begin differently,” she sighed as she pushed a sausage around without intention of actually eating it.

“Friends have been asking for Miss Potter, does Miss wish for me to summon them?” the elf asked.

“No, I’ll see them later. Now leave me,” she hissed, her sudden anger startled her as she felt her finger throb.

“Dobby,” she said quickly, “Maybe a glass of pumpkin juice, if you please.”

“Yes Miss,” he replied and vanished with a pop.

She sat at the table and stared at the food before her and began playing back the events of the morning.

“Lost in thought, Annie?”

She turned to see a boy her age standing behind her, the crimson in his cloak matched his hair, as he sat next to her. She watched Jerry in near horror, when she thought her hair was in its normal disarray.

“I, um, had some things to think on, this morning,” she said trying to regain her composure.

“I wanted to wish you a happy birthday,” he said as he kissed her cheek, “and see if you would like to go into Hogsmeade tonight, after dinner. My uncles had told me of alternate methods to leave the castle,” he whispered into her ear as she blushed at his sign of affection.

“I-I umm. Yes, I would, but Arty has this surprise party she’s planned and…”

“Yeah, I know about it too, she’s not much for keeping secrets, that’s why I can’t let her know about these passageways.”

“We have to be back by 7:00 or she’ll have a fit,” she said as a smile crept onto her face.

“Then after dinner, I’ll take you for a treat.” He leaned in and left another kiss on her cheek, lingering an extra moment.

Annie sat, feeling her cheek warm as she blushed at Jerry’s affection. He left her at the table, her smile lingered as she watched him exit the Great Hall. Her euphoria lingered leaving her unaware another quickly sat next to her.

“Annie, what did Jerry want?” Artemisia asked, the grin on her face revealed she knew more then she let on.

“Just the date we missed yesterday,” she sighed.

“And?”

“And we’re meeting tonight, before the surprise party,” she said replied in a light daze. Annie’s daydream shattered when she realized what she just said.

“And how did you find out?” Arty snapped.

“Come off it,” Annie began, having been brought back to reality too soon. “You’ve never been able to keep a secret, besides, when Aunt Eileen asked me to be in her classroom tonight, because Uncle Jake wanted ‘potions’ tutoring, I guessed they were up to something.”

“Well, you could have played along, but since you know, you can just show up,” Arty replied in a huff.

Annie sighed, “Don’t worry, I’ll be there and I’ll be properly surprised.” She paused and remembered her conversation this morning. “Arty?”

“What?” she asked abruptly.

“We’ve been friends all our lives,” Annie said hesitantly.

“What of it?”

“I-I have a problem. I have a ‘friend’ that is in trouble, but has been sworn to secrecy. She can’t really talk about it, but she has to do something for someone else, I really can’t say anything else.”

“Who is this ‘friend’ and what kind of ‘trouble’ is ‘she’ in? She should talk to her Head of House or a Prefect, if there’s a problem in school.”

“I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. She can’t tell anyone, and really shouldn’t have told me.” She sighed heavily and propped her head in her hands.

“Annie, let it go, it’s your birthday, and you should be enjoying it. I do have a special surprise,” Arty said with hopes of cheering Annie’s mood. Before Annie could respond, Arty stood and left her friend alone at the table.

Annie struggled with her breakfast, pushed the conversation with Professor Malfoy to the back of her mind. The first class of the day was History of Magic, taught by the same ghost that taught her parents, and it was as dull and dead as the professor. The next lesson was Defense Against the Dark Arts. That post was still held by her mother’s cousin, but special treatment was not afforded to even the most distant of family. Her abilities in this subject seemed as natural as it did for her father and it helped distance her classmates, as they naturally all knew the details of her family.

Lunch on her fifteenth birthday was spent with the same group of classmates that she shared her educational labors with, she ate alone.

A double Potions class was to end the day, however on the way to the dungeons of Hogwarts, a sharp gnawing pain cut through her stomach. No one tried to help the Slytherin girl when she dropped her books and doubled over with the pain. The only acknowledgment was a sneer and chuckle from a passing Hufflepuff.

“Miss Potter!” a man’s voice bellowed, “You need to see yourself to the hospital wing if you’re unable to attend classes.”

Annie looked up through her tearing slits and could see his blonde hair, pulled into a ponytail. “Y-Yes prof-f-fessor,” she stammered.

“You there,” he pointed to that smirking Hufflepuff, “Escort Miss Potter to the infirmary and return at once.”

He turned and left through the oak doors to the Potions classroom leaving the two students alone.

“Well, might just get this over with, Potter. Faking some stomach cramp to escape class, are we?”

“Stuff it, Whitby ,” she managed to hiss. What was more startling to the boy was the trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth.

“Come on then,” he said as he picked up her books and grabbed her arm. She conceded and allowed him to lead her to the entrance of the Hospital wing, turned and left her at the door.

“Bloody git,” she muttered as he disappeared down the stairs. She remained at the door, and as quickly as it hit, the pain vanished.

“Don’t need this now, it’s a great chance to skive off class,” she said to no one as she followed her classmate from a discrete distance. Three sheets of parchment in her pocket drew her attention, but they remained hidden until she had managed to escape the cold walls of the castle for the view at the lake. A large oak tree stood less then 30 feet from a white marble tomb.

An old bench quickly called to her and she sat, grateful that seat was hidden from view of the castle. She pulled the letter from her bag and reread it, then read the messages on the other parchments.

“The Warning of Power,” she said as the reviewed Dumbledore’s letter. The sheets were carefully folded and she replaced them in her pocket. She picked up a small stone and tossed it into the lake, and sat watching the ripples grow. Each concentric ring spread outward from the cause of the disturbance. Another stone added more ripples, intersecting with the first group.

She sat on the bench, tossing stone after stone waiting for all the rings from the latest stone to fade, oblivious to the passing of time. The intersections that formed with each pebble tossed seemed dependant on those that had passed, as if each had a life that was dependant on those that preceded it.

The light of day began to fade; she pulled her birthday letter from her pocket one last time before having to leave to meet Jerry. The words began to glow with the gold of fading sunshine, the rustle of the trees behind formed a melody, but there was no wind to disturb the leaves. She closed her eyes and let the tune fill her restless soul.

The long forgotten song filled the air, the leaves swirled and fell. The moment was as intoxicating as any potion. She could feel her soul come alive, visions danced in her mind, there was a fountain that was not made by the hands of men, and there was a road that was found between the dawn and the dark of night. She could hear his voice come thru and held it near as it were her own.

“Lonely?” a detached voice asked.

Lazily she turned her head, breaking the serenity of the moment. The outline of a boy stood between her and the falling sun.

“Jerry?” she asked as she tucked the letter back into her pocket.

“Yeah, you never showed up for dinner, and I came looking for you. Remember we were planning to sneak into Hogsmeade?”

“Can we just stay here instead?” she asked.

He sat next to her, and put an arm around her shoulder. “You’re freezing, how long have you been sitting here?”

“Umm, I don’t know, what time is it?”

“Half past seven, I was getting a little worried.”

“Jerry? Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,” he said as he tucked his cloak around her. She nuzzled into his side and closed her eyes.

“Am I a bad person? I feel like no one wants me around.”

“No, you’re not. You’ve just been stuck in the wrong house. I’m sure if you were in another house you would have a better view on things.”

The letter felt like a weight in her pocket, and the warning from the morning’s conversation also weighed on her mind. “Jerry, I need help, I have a problem I can’t work out.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” she remembered her blood vow, but there weren’t any restrictions from Albus Dumbledore, “I had a disciplinary conference this morning that didn’t go well. I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”

“With whom?”

“I said I can’t discuss it, or I may have to spend all my free time in detention. I also may have learned of a murder plot.”

“Murder? Who was killed?” Jerry asked in near disbelief.

“I received a letter from a bloke that implied he knew mum and dad, and he was murdered when I was born. I thought it was a prank, but there was something about it.”

“Let’s see it then,” Jerry insisted.

Annie shook her head, “No, I need to research some of the details.”

The young couple sat in silence as the remaining light from the sun vanished. A chill blew through the trees.

“We should head to the ‘surprise party’, Arty really tried to pick up your spirits, you’ve been unhappy since the day you came here.”

“I don’t feel I belong here. Why did that bloody hat put me in Slytherin?” she huffed. An arm tightened around her shoulder drawing her closer.

“It doesn’t matter, you’re still yourself. Now shall we?”

“Jerry,” she asked hesitantly, “I…”

“Shh… Let’s go inside at least, you’re shivering.”

She closed her eyes and refused to move. Her grip around his chest tightened.

“Jerry, do you really like me or is it pity?”

The boy smiled, and answered her question in an unexpected manner, with a response of passion she never expected. Her reply was equally passionate.

“We really need to go to the party. There’s a surprise waiting for you,” Jerry whispered.

Annie refused to let him go, afraid this was a dream. “Jerry, I’ve wanted to kiss you for years.”

“I know. I wanted to wait until your fifteenth birthday for a proper kiss. Now, unless you want to hide out here for the rest of the term, we do need to return. Arty has arranged for a surprise.”

“Can we stay just a few more minutes?” she asked as she gently pulled his face to meet hers and again deeply kissed him. He eagerly responded, as one hand slipped from her shoulder to her waist. She shifted her weight just enough to let him gain a better position for his hands to wander.

He pulled back. “Annie, are you sure?”

“Um-hum, please don’t stop,” she whispered as she kissed him again and pulled his hand back to her waist.

“Annie, I know you better then anyone else, except Arty, and I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispered in her ear between nibbles.

“Jerry,” she moaned as he kissed the curves of her neck, his hand slipping under her jumper to her smooth skin.

“Annie, I’ve been…”

“Annie? Jerry?” a strong voice boomed from behind them. She pushed Jerry’s hands aside and tried to regain some composure.

“D-Daddy? Why are you here?” she asked.

Harry stood just behind the bench, taking his time to walk around to face them. A light, almost hidden chuckle escaped his lips as he watched his own daughter try to straighten her jumper. Jerry’s cloak was still draped around her shoulders, but the sudden interruption revealed a little more than any of the three were completely comfortable with.

“Your best friend had arranged for us to be here for your birthday party. After Jerry came looking for you, your mother was about to go fetch you, and it’s a good thing I came along. I don’t believe your mother would find any humor in this.”

“Sir,” Jerry started hoping to avoid any more embarrassment, “she was chilled, and I offered to warm her a bit before we returned.”

“Ahh, so you were only finding a way to keep warm? I see,” he replied in his stern voice of authority. “I think we should return.”

“Daddy, nothing happened. Jerry was, we were, I needed,” she sat speechless and mortified. ‘Anyone else but daddy,’ she thought.

“Annie, I think we can discuss this later, after your party,” Harry said, his tone still flat and unreadable.

“No, I can’t,” she screamed and pushed Jerry away, bolting toward the rim of trees. The Forbidden Forest was still forbidden and still home to dark creatures that would do harm if the opportunity arose. And this was a rising opportunity.

“No, Annie, wait!” Harry yelled as he began to run after her. The boy she had pushed aside sprinted behind her father into the dark wood.

“Annie, stop!” Jerry called out to no avail.

She ran. Her birthday had begun on a mysterious note, and now it had taken a turn she never would have anticipated. The trees blurred past as her eyes began to tear. Her silent sobs of the afternoon welled up and controlled her emotions as all sense of what normal and real was melted away.

“Annie!” her father called. His voice grew distant.

“Annie, come back!” a concerned voice called, but it was lost as she ran.

She quickly lost her way and tripped on a knotted root that rose from the ground. She felt a quick twinge of pain in her knee and her hand as she skidded on the dirt.

Her eyes still blurred with tears, she tried to brush the dirt away and felt the warm ooze of blood from her knee. She ignored the pain and tried to stand. But her leg couldn’t support her weight, and she fell back to her good knee.

“No, it’s not fair,” she screamed as she pounded the dirt.

“Annie!” her father called again, still distant but drawing closer.

“Here, she’s here,” a strange voice called out. “No, she’s away, in the tree,” the same voice called out in a chuckle.

“Stuff it, you’ve gone blind,” he called again.

Annie wiped her eyes and saw a kindly face leaning from a horse. When he lowered a hand to help her stand, she realized he was not sitting on a horse at all: He was the horse.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

Annie shook her head; the thump of her knee was beginning to ring through her head.

“Then climb on my back, and I’ll find us a save haven,” he said.

She noticed his head shook as if struggling; his hands were rough and strong, but kind and friendly. In a single lift, she found herself on the Centaur’s back.

“Who are you?” Annie finally managed to ask as he began to gallop further from the calling voices.

“Hold, Firenze ,” a new voice called from the path they followed. “You cannot be allowed to wander about alone.”

“Nay, I have business, Bane. Leave me to it,” he called back as he ran headlong into the brush. The calling voices of her father and Jerry all but vanished. He crouched behind clump of shrubs and held a finger to his lips, instructing Annie to be silent. Soon, the sound of hooves at a full gallop passed by their hiding spot as they waited.

“Now, young witch, how do you come to be so far into these woods without an escort?”

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“You should not be concerned with such details. Simply be thankful my brother Centaur, Bane, did not find you. He is not as forgiving as I. Now hold fast, and I will return you safely to your school. There are creatures here that might prove dangerous to a young girl.”

“No, I can’t go back. I’d rather die,” she commanded.

“And a forceful young witch at that. May I know your name?”

“Annie.”

“Well, young Annie, my name is Firenze ,” he replied politely.

“Forget the wench; she’s of no use,” he suddenly snapped. An arm reached for her and pushed her from his back.

“Oww,” she cried as her injured leg received another jolt.

“I-I can’t… leave…” he stammered as he collapsed to his front legs.

Annie sat on the ground, bewildered at his sudden change. She pulled herself to stand on her good leg and limped to him. “We both are lost and alone, aren’t we?” she said as she put a hand to his shoulder.

“I-I-I have…” he grabbed his face in his hands and screamed.

His scream sent a chill through her. His obvious torment was worse then her problems. She stood, leaning against him and wished she could help.

“Annie,” a voice called from beyond a thicket of trees and brush.

“Daddy?” she called back. “I’m here.”

“Stay where you are. We’ll be there in a moment.” Sounds of branches snapping and the glow of a light broke through the dense growth.

“My dad can help you. He’s a powerful man,” she said, consoling the tormented Centaur.

“No. I cannot let anyone see my trouble. You will be safe. I must leave you now. Goodbye, young Annie,” he said as he stood to leave.

“Please, stay, I know he can help.”

“Annie… Are you ok?” Harry called out. He and Jerry were within sight, and they broke into a sprint.

Firenze turned to leave, but Annie still held his mane. Harry and Jerry were close enough to see her wound, but they were too far to prevent this new turn in her birthday. A ray of light sliced through the trees, a lunar reflection from the moonless sky that sent a surge through Annie. Her hands began to glow blue, and her eyes locked into a deep trance. The radiating aura from her hands engulfed the Centaur’s head and upper body.

“Annie!” Harry yelled as he ran to his daughter.

The girl and Centaur were locked in a spell. Harry was afraid to try any spells of his own for risk of hurting her. All he could do was watch. Jerry pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the couple, but Harry blocked him before he could utter the incantation.

“Leave them, or you could hurt Annie,” he ordered.

An ancient wave of magic had engulfed them; the transformation that they watched was unknown to even Harry Potter.

Moments had passed, and Annie remained locked in her trance. Firenze gasped for air and finally fell to his side, breaking the connection. Annie fell as limp as a rag doll next to the Centaur.

Harry bolted the few remaining yards to her and carefully held his daughter, noting her wound.

“Jerry, run back and fetch her mother, and hurry!” Harry commanded, sending the boy back the way they came.

“Annie, you’ll be fine,” he cooed softly in her ear. “I’m sorry I made you think I was angry.”

“Harry? Harry Potter?” a voice asked.

With a rustle, the Centaur stood to his full height., Firenze gazed clear-eyed at the people huddled on the forest floor, his actions no longer those of a creature whose mind was locked in torment.

“ Firenze , what happened to my daughter?” Harry asked.

“Daughter? You have no daughter that I remember. I just met with Minister hours ago. He did say your wife was expecting in a month’s time,” he said bewildered.

“Minister Scrimgeour has not been here in some time, and Hermione and I decided two children were enough for us.”

“No, Minister Dumbledore. I left him only moments ago after learning of your return,” Firenze replied.

“ Firenze , Albus Dumbledore was murdered fifteen years ago,” Harry replied. Annie began to stir as she listened to the discussion.

“Then I must speak to you and your wife. If that is true, then there may be little time left,” the Centaur said. “We must leave now.”

“No, I sent for Hermione, and Annie can’t be moved.”

Firenze stepped back to give them some room.

“Dad? Albus Dumbledore? I’ve heard you and Mum talk about him, and I have a letter he wrote me.” She pulled the crumpled letter from her pocket, and the other writings unexpectedly also fell from her pocket.

“He was a great man — someone I looked to for advice almost all my life,” Harry said looking at the sheets. He smiled when he saw that the first held a message from Dumbledore. The other sheets caused him more concern, especially when he realized that she’s never intended to reveal the two messages, only the letter.

“Annie, I want to discuss this message later,” Harry said sternly, holding one of the notes. “And as for this letter, how did you find it?”

“It… was in a spare trunk I used last year, and I nearly forgot about it until this morning.”

“I see. Then you’ve read it?”

“Yes, sir. Daddy, my leg really hurts. Can we do this later?”

“Absolutely not, young lady,” another voice rang out from the brush. “First let me look at that knee, and then we’ll discuss the evening’s activities,” Hermione said sternly as she approached with Jerry close behind.

As she had many times in the past, Hermione held her child’s injured limb and began the process of repairing the wound. “It’s broken, but it should be better in a moment.”

“Ow, Mum, that really stings!” Annie pleaded.

“Good, maybe next time you won’t foolishly run off into the Forbidden Forest alone and at night. Or haven’t you paid attention to the Headmistress’s warnings?” she scolded. Hermione’s touch was a bit less gentle then Annie expected.

“It was my doing. I guess she never expected to see me. She’s apparently got a few issues on her mind,” Harry said as he handed the letter to Hermione.

“We’ll discuss this later, young lady, and especially where you found that letter,” she said, immediately recognizing the envelope. She read the message from their old friend and handed it to Harry, who read it outloud to the group.

The following moments passed in silence; the message made it clear that there was far more at work then a young girl’s misadventure.

That silence was broken when the Centaur addressed the family. “Harry Potter, I have known you man and boy, and I watched as you defeated the evil of your era. I cried at your shared loss and rejoiced at your wedding. I cried in later years when you again had a shared loss and mourned when word came that you had vanished from our world. Hermione Potter, there have been times of doubt in your mind, times you have questioned not only your judgment but your very purpose. Your daughter shares this doubt and shares your need for fulfillment.”

“Mum? What does he mean?”

“Please let me continue. That letter was written by Albus Dumbledore before he came to see me, before he knew certain details foreseen in the stars. He left clues for the three of you with the hopes that his fears might not come to pass and could pass without event. He was unable to relate every detail to me, as I was unable to relate my interpretations. He had promised to me that when and if he returned, all would be clear. To my mind, today is the tenth of April 2008 . But seeing the three of you, I know this is not true.

“He left a charm in my mind only he could remove, to safeguard these clues. And since that charm has lifted, it is safe to assume he has removed it.”

“No, it was Annie. Something affected her, and the two of you glowed,” Jerry said, interrupting the Centaur.

“The clue to that mystery is in the note, young wizard. He is her protector, preventing her from harm. Have you not felt strange at times of stress? Have you not questioned your own actions?”

“Well, I have had stomach cramps just before I find myself in trouble.”

“He has remained within you. His very soul watches over you as your protector, but I sense more,” Firenze replied.

“How can he protect me? I never knew him.”

“His letter said that he would die when you were born. Was it a difficult birth?”

“Yes, she nearly died that day. If I hadn’t had the foresight to have Muggle physicians on retainer, she would have died,” Hermione added.

“That could only mean that she was endangered from birth, and had Albus Dumbledore not been there, she may have died that day,” Firenze said. “When his body died that day, his soul could have been lost if he remained on this plain, unless he found a vessel to hold his soul.”

Hermione glanced at Harry, hoping their daughter didn’t notice. They had never talked of the specific events in the past — even to Ron.

“There are two ways, and both are devastating to humans. One method is employed by the Dementors where the soul is forcibly removed and is lost forever. Another requires a death and some object to contain that soul. Both are the darkest of magic. The actual processes are believed to have been lost to the ages. Before he left on his quest, Albus Dumbledore told me that he’d found out that these processes might have been rediscovered, if not practiced.”

“What is the sense? The soul cannot be restored, can it?” Annie asked as she sat holding her knee.

“That I do not know. For a wizard to attempt to remove his soul, that task would require him to surrender his life,” Firenze added.

“Then a normal, sane human would not consider such a process,” Harry stated.

“Harry, remember what Riddle and Malfoy did? That wasn’t the sign of a ‘normal’ or ‘sane’ person.”

“Malfoy?” Annie asked under her breath. “Dad, what does Arty’s father have to do with this?”

“Not Draco, but his father, Lucius Malfoy. Long before you were born, when we were still in school, before we were married, Draco’s father was in league with one of the most evil men that lived. He hurt us both,” Hermione added.

“When was this? Was it the Wizarding Civil War of the nineties? You never mentioned being involved.”

"Young Potter, your parents were in the very center of that war. Your father was the only wizard to face Lord Voldemort and live. It was his doing that ended the rein of terror that October night that also left him an orphan. It was he who fought to end it when that evil returned in the graveyard twenty-seven of your years ago. And if your mother had not joined his cause and combined their talents, the end would have not have been favorable.”

Annie looked at her father. “Why have you never mentioned any of this? And why isn’t any of this in my history books?”

“Annie, we tried to shield you and your brother from this. Things happened in those days that were quite unpleasant for us all. I had to do things I am not proud of,” Harry said.

“We were going to tell you, one day, if it was necessary,” Hermione added.

“So now there’s a need?” Annie asked with a tone of contempt.

“As long as there is evil, there will be a need. She should have been aware of her destiny,” Firenze said. He turned to the girl’s parents, “Please leave us. I must speak to the child in private.”

“Hermione, Jerry, let Firenze have some privacy; I think this may be part of Albus’ plan,” Harry said as he took his wife’s hand.

“Can you walk?” Firenze asked. Annie nodded as she stood. She tentatively put her weight on her sore leg, pleased that it was healed. They walked to the far side of the clearing, only yards from the lake. The Castle could be seen in the distance on the far bank.

“What is it?” she asked.

“There are things you must know; things that are known by others. First, you have questions that you believe no one can resolve; questions of a confidential nature. You have been approached for help by someone you believe to be distant and cold to you, and you have no idea how to solve that problem. The solution can be found only by revealing all to one you trust beyond any other.”

“What do you know of it?” she asked.

“I know what the stars revealed to me about you and your coming birth,” Firenze replied. “I, above all others, held the confidence of Albus Dumbledore and he confirmed the details as he was also told. He was your father’s mentor, and now he’s your protector. You must trust listen to his voice, he can help.”

“But, the bloody man’s been dead since I was born. How…” she began before he stopped her thought.

“Yes, his body has died, but he is still here. His very soul sought a new vessel, and that vessel was you. A fresh wound was needed for his spirit to enter your body; the moment you were cut, his soul gained refuge, and it remains within you.”

“Impossible, I have no scars,” she said disbelieving him.

“Have you not a scar of birth?” he replied.

“I have… a belly button? But everyone has one.”

“True, every human child is born of a mother is joined at birth until that connection is severed. He is as much a part of you as the blood in your veins and he will help you in your time of great need. Use that help when desperation comes and all seems lost. He alone will guide you to your destiny.”

She let this settle; it was a lot for her to comprehend at one time.

“ Firenze , his letter to me was written before I was born. Does that mean he knew he would die to save me?”

“Yes. He knew only because I had told him of the possibility of these events. He came to me and left detailed instructions with me to help you help all. Take heed of his warning.”

“What warning — that ‘Warning of Power’?”

“Yes, but before you learn more, your parents also must be aware of this. Come, let us rejoin them.” The Centaur took the young girl by the hand and traced their steps back to the clearing where the others waited.

“Now, Harry Potter, your heir must be told about the Warning of Power,” Firenze began once they rejoined the others.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“The Warning of Power simply states that there is no good or evil; there is only power. It’s the way that power is used that defines it as evil. I remember reading it in an old manuscript,” Hermione stated. “But the page was incomplete; it seemed as if there was more.”

Annie’s face blanked with sudden recognition, a minor detail missed by her parents, but noticed by the Centaur.

“You are correct. The most important portion from that warning,” Firenze added, “is if power is unleashed for evil, only the purest can defeat that evil. Albus Dumbledore knew of this warning, and he tried to prevent those from accessing power for evil.”

“Professor Dumbledore tried to have us stop Riddle from gaining that power,” Harry said.

“Yes, he did try to stop that servant from releasing that power, but the master remained hidden then, and he remains hidden to this day. He is the one you must be wary of. You must also be warned that if the servant’s servants gain knowledge of this power, they may become the means of destruction.”

“’Servant’s servant’? I don’t understand,” Annie asked.

“I would assume someone intends to bring Tom Riddle back, like Pettigrew did back in our fourth year,” Hermione responded to Annie’s question.

“That’s impossible. He’s been totally destroyed. I had him trapped,” Harry added.

“One cannot completely destroy evil without also completely destroying good; the balance of good and evil must forever remain intact. I have given you what help I can. Seek out the artifacts and there you will find answers. Goodbye my friends,” Firenze said as he bowed his head and turned to return to his kind.

Jerry had remained in the shadow of the conversation. Grasping the moment, he approached the girl he had held lovingly in his arms in the past hour. “Annie, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Annie started to smile for the first time since she ran off into the forest and glanced to her father. A single nod sent the two off for a few moments alone.

“Annie,” Jerry lifted her chin so he could look in her light brown eyes, “I know this is a huge burden on you. Remember, I will always be there for you. You never have to ask for my help, ok?”

Her smile warmed her face as she nodded.

“You’re a special person, and I really do care for you. Even if our families weren’t close, I know in my heart that I would have found you.”

She laced an arm around his waist. “I’m glad you did find me, you do make me feel tingly inside,” she whispered back and left a gentle kiss on his cheek. She laced her fingers through his and together they returned to the clearing where her parents waited.

The four left the tranquility of the Forbidden Forest and advanced toward an uncertain future, together.

The surprise party had proceeded once the group arrived in the Transfiguration classroom, a location offered by the Headmistress. Although Annie Potter was, at that moment, the only Slytherin to be allowed in the Gryffindor tower, all concerned felt a neutral location would be best. Arty’s concern for his?? friend was relieved at her appearance — an appearance that had been slightly delayed so the girl of honor could change out of her ripped clothes.

After allowing the cordial greetings and well wishes from those strongly advised to attend, the attendees began to dwindle to family and friends. Aside from favored professors spending time reminiscing with her parents in the far corner, only Ben, Jerry, Arty, and Annie remained.

Jerry took Annie aside and said, “Annie, I hope you don’t think I was being too forward, earlier. I meant what I said, and I have no regrets.”

“I have to admit that was the first time this year I’ve felt special,” she said with a light smile.

“You are very special. I really want you to be happy, and you’re so much prettier when you smile.”

“I’m not, please don’t play with me,” Annie said in a low tone. She felt vulnerable and helpless when he looked in her eyes.

“I’m not. I want you to believe that. You can trust me,” he said as he kissed her as gently as he had earlier. She wanted to stay like that all night, in his arms and protected.

“Jerry, I have a problem. And I have to tell someone.”

“You can trust me — you know that.”

“Yes, I know. You are one of the only people I do trust. But I can’t tell you because I care for you too much. I hope you can understand.”

“I know you’ll tell me when you feel the time is right. But for now, I want us to be more then friends, and I don’t care if others say you’re in the wrong house. I don’t care, and it’s never mattered to me.”

“Thanks, it means a lot to me. I really do like you, and as more then a friend. You’ve given me the best present I could have wished for,” she finished with a kiss.

“Annie, if this keeps up, you may never be able to get rid of me,” Jerry teased.

“I hope not. But, I hope you’ll forgive me, I have something I have to do,” she kissed his cheek and stood. She sighed heavily and turned to the group of adults in the far corner who were obviously trying to give the birthday girl a little time alone with her friends.

She summoned the Gryffindor courage of her parents and marched across the room.

“Mum, Dad, can I have a few minutes?” she asked with a tinge of fear in her voice.

“Of course, you know you can always talk to us,” Harry replied.

Hermione simply nodded and the three left the Transfiguration classroom. Annie managed to take her father’s hand and felt comfort at his touch. She felt that same comfort and sense of security earlier in Jerry’s arms, but for the moment, that feeling had been lost with her mother.

Annie led them down the corridor to another dark, isolated classroom. The short walk of a few dozen yards seemed to be a life-long trek into the unknown. Annie had known that the day would come when she would have to face her fears.

“Dad, can I have a moment with Mum alone?”

“Of course, I’ll wait outside.”

“Thanks, Dad. I love you,” she replied and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.

Annie opened the door, and the lamps in the classroom ignited as they entered, illuminating the furnishings of a typical room designed for study. Hermione walked to a table where they could sit together and stood at the nearest seat. She waited for Annie to select one before mother and daughter sat in silence.

The two sat alone, the crackle of the flames echoing through the darkness of the void that separated them. Mother remained like a stone, rigid and unbending. Daughter sat with arms crossed and fidgeted. Annie tried to tell herself that this was necessary and important, but she was terrified that anything she said would deepen the rift of the past two years.

Annie’s reserves of courage were nearly depleted; these past twenty-four hours weighted heavily on her mind, but they were inconsequential compared to what she knew she had to do. She looked down to the floor and tried to bring herself to say the words. She lifted her eyes and saw her mother sitting, arms folded, as if braced for a major confrontation.

“I’m sorry. I know I’ve said it before, but I am truly sorry,” she said, a tear leaking from the corner of an eye as she addressed her mother.

“For what? For tonight?” Hermione asked. She slowly unfolded her arms, exposing a crack in her armor.

“That, yes, but I’ve done something I’m not proud of,” she said softly. “I don’t want to keep on like this. I hate what we have become,” Annie said, raising her head and leaning forward.

“Annie, you are and you will always be my daughter. That will never change. If you are in some difficulty that your father and I can assist with, I hope you know you can come to us,” Hermione said. Her voice began to soften and her shields began to drop.

“I found some old letters, and I’ve kept them.”

“What letters?” Hermione asked sternly, but without raising her shields again.

“I found a bundle of letters and books — letters you wrote to Dad and I think your diaries,” Annie said as she backed away in her seat.

“And you kept them without my permission?” Hermione asked. Her voice softened and almost cracked at the announcement of Annie’s discovery.

“Yes,” Annie replied sheepishly.

Hermione waited for her daughter to continue. Annie appeared to be bracing for a major explosion.

“Mum?” Annie began with a note of hesitation in her voice.

“Yes?” Hermione waited for an explanation.

“Did you really want to leave Daddy?” Annie asked. Tears welled up at the corners of the girl’s eyes as she stared straight into her mother’s eyes. Annie quickly looked away and pulled her hands back into her lap.

Hermione sat back a bit and thought about each detail of the issue before answering. “I should have burned those,” she said under her breath. She looked up at her daughter, who met her eyes. “Yes, at one time I was ready to leave him and this life, and I hoped he would never find me,” she managed to say.

“I’m confused. Why did you want to leave? You two are so happy together,” Annie said, leaning forward once more. She felt she needed to know all the details; she needed to know why her mother once considered a different life.

Hermione looked down at her hands. “It was the end of the war and something happened. I was weak and didn’t have the strength to hold on at the time. I thought it would be easier to simply leave, but he did something so kind and so understanding that I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him. I hoped to wait a while, and I was going to leave. But he loved me so strongly that I couldn’t break his heart.”

“Why did you want to leave him? What did he do to make you want to leave him?” she asked as she pulled her chair a little closer. She could see the tears as they ran down her mother’s cheeks.

“He loved me, but I couldn’t give him the thing that I knew deep down in my heart that he wanted,” Hermione replied, still not meeting her daughter’s eyes. She brushed her hand across her cheek as she remembered.

“I don’t understand? If you loved him, why were you willing to leave?” Annie was confused and she expected another answer.

“You’ve read my diaries, haven’t you?” Hermione asked, meeting her daughter’s eyes again.

“I could only find the first five years worth. I assumed you stopped keeping one after that. The last was from the summer before your sixth year. You wrote an awful lot about Uncle Ron,” Annie said.

“Your Aunt Ginny suggested a better method of ‘concealment’ when one was almost discovered by a professor,” Hermione said with a light chuckle. “She suggested hiding them as text books. I assume you haven’t bothered to look through any of those?”

“Well, no. I did find it odd that a few old text books were in the attic while all your other ones were in the library. So what happened?”

Hermione sat forward. “I spent that summer at the Burrow. We all were concerned about your father because he’d lost the closest thing he had to a father a month earlier, and we lost contact with him. It took the entire year for him to recover. I knew he would be better after we talked through the night we spent on the Astronomy Tower .”

“Did you love him then?” Annie asked, eager for the answer.

Hermione nodded. “Yes, I knew that Christmas how special he was to me, but I couldn’t tell him. I didn’t have the courage. He needed me as a friend more then as a girlfriend then. He was so unsure of his abilities,” Hermione said.

“But you must have finally told him, didn’t you?”

“No, a dear friend helped push us together. He fooled me into believing that I had to help him fall in love with someone.” Hermione gave a soft smile and shook her head at her own naiveté.

“Who was it?” Annie asked, nudging her chair closer.

Hermione looked directly at Annie. “His name was Albus Dumbledore. He was our Headmaster and your father’s mentor. His little scheme left us together. In only a few days, we realized how much we needed each other. Your father had the courage to say what I was afraid to tell him.”

“Why were you afraid to tell him? You did love him, didn’t you?” Annie asked, persistent.

“Yes, but those were dark times. I was afraid to push him away, and I always thought he still would get back together with Ginny,” Hermione said delicately.

“Ginny? Aunt Ginny? They were together?” Annie said with a surprised tone.

“In our sixth year. The details are in the concealed diaries you must have missed. Your father was in a lot of emotional pain during the beginning of that year. He shut us all out, except for Ginny. It turns out it was because she was the only other person to know how it felt to have their thoughts controlled by another.”

Annie tucked aside the last comment for more careful consideration and proceeded in her questioning. “But they broke up. Were you afraid to push them back together?”

“Not exactly. He was afraid anyone close to him would be in danger. And he was correct.”

“So that was why Albus Dumbledore tricked you into staying with Dad? He must have known sooner or later you would tell him.”

Hermione leaned forward and put her hands on the table, one on top of the other. “Yes, your father and I did eventually confess to each other how we felt. But Voldemort wanted your father dead, and he also wanted him to suffer. He tried to hurt those people your father cared about, and your father knew I would be the first one they tried to hurt, if they knew we were in love,” said Hermione, her eyes full of the pain of the past.

“So no one knew? That must have been difficult to hide,” Annie said, reaching across the table to take her mother’s hand.

“Albus put a special charm on us that helped to hide our relationship from Voldemort. We spent our first summer together with Eileen and Jake, and it was your father who really brought them together. When we came back for our last year, Albus helped us stay together and still appear to be ‘just friends’ until the worst happened.” Hermione’s eyes swelled with tears. She started to pull back, but Annie held her hand fast.

“Mum, what happened to make you want to leave him?” Annie stared at her mother, desperately wanting to understand what had happened.

Hermione looked back up at Annie, her eyes shining, “We were so very much in love. We are still in love with each other, only now it’s far more solid and deeper. I wanted him so badly then, but he wanted to wait until we were married. We were only a couple years older than you and Jerry, but we were facing the possibility of dying.”

Annie’s eyes widened at that revelation, but she sat silent and reached her other hand across the table, feeling the reassuring warmth from her mother’s touch for the first time in nearly two years.

“In the last moments of the last battle of the war, an evil man set a curse on me.” Hermione glanced down towards her abdomen before returning her eyes to those of her daughter.

“A few weeks before the last battle with the evil your father had been destined to face, I vowed to myself to let his legacy survive. We made love that night for the first time, and I made sure that I would have his child.” Hermione’s head dropped and a few tears began to fall. “The following morning, my mother and father were murdered by those who were trying to find me. I had collapsed from the pain I felt when my mother died. I felt every second of her pain.”

“I never knew! You never told me how they died. You always cried when we visited their graves. Thank you for being honest with me.” Tears were welling up in Annie’s eyes, as well.

Hermione gazed straight at Annie again. “Darling, I never wanted to deceive you or Ben. I just couldn’t bear to burden you with this knowledge.”

“You said you ‘made sure that you would have his child,’ but that was ten years before I was born? Do I have another brother or a sister?” Annie asked excitedly.

“No. Your father and I were too weak from our wounds in the battle. I nearly died, but your father helped me hold on to that precious thread of life. A dark wizard, Lucius Malfoy, took advantage of us in our weakened state. He murdered the baby I carried and then cursed me to never have another,” replied Hermione.

Annie gasped, “Malfoy? Please tell me he’s not related to Arty.”

“Lucius Malfoy was Arty’s grandfather. Draco avenged the act by taking his father’s life.” Hermione grasped Annie’s hands tightly. “Now do you understand why we never told you what happened? We were far too young to have to deal with that evil, but we survived. It was a horrible time with horrible acts on both sides.”

“Your father refused to leave me, but I convinced him I would be safe. I wrote that first letter a few days later while I was still grieving. I wanted him to have what was taken from him as a child, a family to love,” Hermione continued, pulling one hand away to wipe her cheeks. “He told me it didn’t matter to him as long as I was with him, and you know, he was right. I spent years trying to give him that family until there was an incident that was very costly; your Aunt Ginny was badly hurt. I resigned myself to being his only family as we watched our friends have children of their own.” Hermione replaced her hand in her daughter’s.

“I was angry ever since I found the letters. I thought you didn’t want a family, and I thought you never wanted me. I’m so sorry I hated you for that. I was wrong. I really do love you now that I know you’ve always loved Daddy.”

“No, we should have been honest with you when you were old enough to fully understand. Maybe one day I’ll tell you the rest of the story and how you broke that curse. Now, I think we’ve left your dad alone long enough,” Hermione said as she stood to leave. Annie stood and threw her arms around the woman she had alienated; the embrace was reciprocated with equal enthusiasm. They stood there for a moment, enjoying their renewed closeness.

Annie looked up at her mother, with her arms still around her. “Mum, I need your help. I can’t tell you much. But I have a huge problem.”

“Then you must tell your father as well,” Hermione said as she let go and went to open the door.

Annie stopped her with a touch. “No, I can’t risk it. There might be too many questions. Please, I need someone I can trust.”

Placing a hand on Annie’s shoulder, Hermione said, “Then I’m certain you’ll tell one of us when you are ready.”

---

Annie slept soundly for the first time in the past couple years, as if a weight had been removed from her shoulders the moment she opened her feelings to her mother. The lateness of the hour and a nostalgic desire had led Harry to request accommodations for the night, a request that was heartily granted by the Headmistress.

Annie woke that Tuesday morning after her birthday in a calmer frame of mind. She was in Slytherin for a reason, and she resolved to discover that reason. She began her routine as she normally did to prepare for the day’s classes. She realized the day would be different once she entered the Great Hall. Halfway to the table where she usually sat, she noticed it was occupied.

“Jerry?” she called, “you’re not with your other friends?” she asked as she sat next to him. A warm smile from him in reply was all she needed to know.

“I wanted to let you know I meant what I said last night. I don’t care what others think,” he replied. Oblivious to any other student’s opinion, he kissed her gently on the cheek.

She heard whispers and giggles from the onlookers, but this time she didn’t care. Slytherin or not, she was the daughter of the two most famous people in their world. She was determined to live up to their standards and simply be who she was — not what others thought she should've been.

“Jerry, I don’t care anymore what others think; I’m only concerned with those people I care about. And I’m so happy last night wasn’t a mean joke.”

“Good morning, Annie, mind if we join you two?” a voice asked from behind.

“Mum, Dad? You stayed over night?” she asked surprised, and threw her arms around her mother first.

“Well, it was late, and neither of us has pressing business to tend to today, so we decided to extend the visit,” Harry replied for them both, as his wife was otherwise engaged.

“Mum, I have a few free periods today, and I would love to spend them with you and Dad.”

“Of course,” Harry replied as he speared a sausage from the serving plate on the table.

“Ben has Potions after lunch, and then we are both done for the day. We usually go flying with Arty,” Annie said enthusiastically.

“Mind if I join you?” Jerry asked to Annie’s delight.

“If there’s enough room, I’d love to have a go with you, but I think your mum would be happy to watch,” Harry added. Hermione gave him a grin while Annie nodded happily.

In the span of only one day, Annie’s life changed. She now had the attention of the boy she’d fancied for several years and she reconciled her issues with her mother. The whispers of others never bothered her before, and now they seemed even less significant. They enjoyed their breakfast together; every moment of that time spent seemed important to their future, and it also seemed so insignificant.

Annie and Jerry sat next to each other on the bench — noticeably close, Harry thought — and neither seemed interested in actually eating the meal. The only interruption came when Professor Sinistra stopped to chat with Harry and Hermione.

“It’s so nice seeing you both here again, but next time, might I suggest a Silencing Charm? The walls may be stone, but the doors aren’t ,” she said with a grin. Hermione turned beet red at the comment, while Annie started to choke on a mouth full of eggs.

“Annie, I have to run. The Gryffindor team has a special meeting before classes. I’ll see you at lunch?” Jerry said, taking that moment to change topics.

“Of course, I’ll be waiting,” she replied. He kissed her on the top of her head as he left for his meeting.

“You know how happy this is going to make his father?” Harry asked as he scooped some eggs on his fork.

“Dad, he, and I do like each other. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were kids,” Annie said as she sipped a cup of tea.

A muffled snicker from Harry and a raised eyebrow from Hermione added to the conversation as Annie continued. “I mean, I’m not a child anymore. I hope you both realize this.”

“Oh, of course,” Harry said with a grin as he sipped his tea.

The three members of the Potter family laughed and joked in a fashion they hadn’t experienced in several years. The details of the conversation Annie and her mother had seemed, for now, to be between them.

Annie left the Great Hall, leaving her mother and father alone. The morning’s classes passed uneventfully, and even lunch that day was the most pleasant time she’d had that year.

---

“Annie,” Ben said as he stuffed another handful of crisps into his mouth, “I need to finish a Potions exercise before class. I don’t think anyone’s there. Did you finish that list I needed?”

Annie, who had been preoccupied in a nonverbal conversation with Jerry, sighed deeply. “Yes, I listed the ingredients for you and left the list in your book.”

“Thanks, I only have an hour to finish this. If I finish it then, maybe I can get away earlier,” Ben said as he thumbed through his book, his lunch now forgotten on his plate.

“Then you’d best be off. That potion will take every bit of an hour. And don’t forget to pick up the extra items I’ve circled from the storage room before you start,” Annie said as Ben began to gather his books.

“Thanks, Annie. You’ve really been better since Jerry finally worked up the courage to take you off for a good snoggin’.”

“Ben, you little snot!” Annie shouted as he ran off.

“The little prat’s right, you know. I do like you much better this way,” Jerry said as he tried to pull her closer.

He was greeted with a sharp prod to the stomach. “That’s for taking his side,” she said, smiling wickedly.

Ben retreated from the Great Hall and glanced over his shoulder to see his sister and her new boyfriend in a play fight that was quickly followed by a cuddle. “Good for her. She needs him,” he said to himself as he descended into the dungeons.

There was still an hour before the class, which was just enough time for his work. His first stop was in the storeroom outside the classroom and laboratory. The first shelf held the simple ingredients needed; the daisy roots, rat spleen, and leech juice were common enough. He scooped several measuring spoons full of each into individual jars. The other materials were not as easy to spot. The whole Shrivelfig and jars of live caterpillars were procured from bins on the far wall.

He retrieved his cauldron from a storage bin he shared with a couple housemates from Hufflepuff and placed it over a small open flame on a table in the rear of the room.

He set to work chopping the daisy roots into a consistent size, and then he set to skinning the Shrivelfig. He only needed the outer skin, so he saved the flesh for another assignment. He carefully measured each ingredient and added it to the boiling water in the cauldron. A careful stir, twice clockwise and thrice counterclockwise followed by a simple figure 8, was required between each ingredient. Lastly, he sliced the caterpillars, since it was best to use them while they were still squirming.

Crash.

A distinctive sound of shattering glass drew his attention from his work.

“Crucio,” he heard from the office; the word was followed by screams of pain.

“Easy, you fool. You don’t want to kill him. He just needs to be taught his place.”

The potion began to boil over, and an extra measure of sliced caterpillar fell into the pot unnoticed as he cautiously walked toward the Professor’s private office.

“I’ll do as I like to this worthless Muggle-loving filth. After his betrayals, I’d be in my right to end his miserable life if I chose.”

“We still need his eyes and ears. That Mudblood wench I’ve been forced to shag since we arrived is worthless for information,” a dull voice replied.

“You bastard, you leave them…”

A loud thud and the sounds of a struggle from the office pulled Ben away from his work. Purple smoke flowed from the cauldron; he’d forgotten to add leech juice, spoiling the potion. Knowing there were more important things afoot than a spoiled potion, the young student spoke an extinguishing spell and moved the cauldron to the table.

“Professor Malfoy?” he hesitantly called out as he approached the door.

A muffled groan and the dull thud of something being struck was his only reply.

“You fool, there’s someone out there. I warned you to check the classroom.”

“You finish with this pile of dung, and I’ll deal with the intruder. It’s probably just a worthless student.”

Ben froze in his tracks as a muffled moan came from the room. He wanted to run, but one of the voices was familiar. He turned take stock of his position: the classroom door was too far away and closed. And in the dungeons, no one would hear his scream for help.

Another loud thump and groan sounded. ‘Is someone being beaten?’ he wondered.

Ben wasn’t allowed the luxury of thinking of a way out, as the door burst open and a tall man covered in a black cloak stood before the boy. Ben looked up and saw a white mask under the cloak as a wand slid from the man’s belt.

“Potter, run!” he heard from the office. A glint of steel and another thud silenced the warning. A man in the office turned to look at him; he too wore a white mask, but his long blond hair was clearly visible.

Ben drew a breath when a sharp biting pain tore through his young body the instant a word met his ears.

“Crucio.” He felt his body boil in pain. He fell to the floor; star bursts of light numbed his vision. He lay there quivering uncontrollably; all sound blurred as he tried to fight this strange sensation.

The quivering slowed and stopped, but he remained on the floor, tears filling his eyes from the torture spell. He started to lift his head from the floor, but a sharp snap and searing pain through his chin and cheek left him on the floor.

“So, we have yet another Potter playing at being a hero. Malfoy, would you bring that worthless trash here so he can witness this Potter’s destruction?”

Now he remembered! It was the same voice he’d heard years before when he lost his way on his father’s Firebolt.

Ben’s body felt as if he had been dropped from a tall building, and every muscle ached. A sharp, metallic taste in his mouth told him there was blood from somewhere. He tried to swallow a breath, but felt something foreign in his mouth.

“Tell me boy, how long have you been spying?” that voice ordered.

He laid still and opened his mouth to speak but only managed to retch bloody bile. He realized where the blood was from as his tongue flopped in his mouth. Footsteps from the office grew louder as he heard the other man quickly approach.

“This little fool knows too much, Malfoy,” Ben heard as he opened his eyes to see the same tall man standing over him, wand pointing down his chest. The white mask seemed to snare a laugh of pain and death as Ben quivered on the floor.

“Avada…”

“Wait, Severus, I have a better idea — a message to that meddling father of his. Hold his left arm steady.”

Ben tried to fight, as the man standing over him lowered his wand and kicked the boy’s arm out from under his body and stood on the young boy’s hand. The crunching of bone sent new waves of pain through his arm as the heel of that man’s boot ground into the back of his hand. A dagger flashed in front of his eyes as he felt the blade cut into his arm, and then the sleeve of his shirt was roughly torn away.

Ben laid there as blood from his tongue ran down his chin. He waited for the next painful act, and his mind raced to think what they would do. Sever his arm? He thought he’d heard one man say something like “server.”

His wait was brief as he felt his arm burn, and he smelled singed flesh. When he tried to fight with his free hand, it was pinned down as well. The burning continued slowly. He was afraid to look, expecting to find his arm burned to a stump. The new pain was far more then the young boy had ever experienced, and he began to lose consciousness when a glass jar exploded as it struck one of his assailants, shattering the white mask he wore. Shards of the mask and glass cut into the man’s face, leaving the fading image of a thin hooked nose dripping blood burned into his mind.

“Ben! Benjamin, wake up,” he heard as he felt his body shake again.

The distinctive taste of blood had faded, and his arm felt cool. He was too afraid to open his eyes; his body was stiff and sore from the punishment he’d endured. He thought he must have been hurt quite badly, as he could no longer feel the hard, cold stone floor.

“Ben, can you hear me? It’s Mum. Can you tell us what happened?”

He managed a moan, but he quickly held his breath, fearing being struck again. His chest hitched with the stifled sobs, as he remembered the beating.

“Ben, you must tell us, what happened,” he heard a man’s say. It must be a trick because it sounded just like his father’s voice.

He felt a cool, moist cloth dab his forehead and discovered he was able to move his arm now. Mustering what little courage he could, he opened his eyes. He found he was looking up to the same honey brown eyes he’d watched as a he drifted to sleep when he was a baby.

“Mum?” he squeaked.

“Yes. Your father and sister are here, too. Arty found you in the Potions lab. Can you tell us what happened?”

“My… arm,” he began, realizing he could speak, although his speech was a bit slurred.

“You nearly bit your tongue through. I’ve dealt with it and your arm,” she said. His free hand crossed his body to find his left arm still attached but heavily bandaged.

“Your hand was crushed, as if a boulder sat on it,” Annie said, trying to be calm and soothing.

“Hand, the man, foot…”

Hermione nodded. “Someone did this to you. Do you remember anything? Did you see who it was?”

“The severer, tried to cut off my arm, and then he tried to burn it off,” he said as he managed to see the bundled limb.

“Who is this ‘severer’? Can you describe him?” Harry began only to be shushed by his wife and daughter.

“He had a funny nose, and Professor Malfoy was there, but he looked strange, old,” he said as he tried to remember.

“Professor Malfoy has disappeared, and his office showed signs that he’s been up to mischief,” Harry added.

“Harry, you can interrogate your son later. He needs to rest and recover. Whoever did this to him obviously has no respect for life. If you need to do something, then go find that bastard,” Hermione hissed at Harry.

“Dad, it was that same man I heard in the cottage, when we took your broom.”

“Are you certain?”

Ben nodded. “I can’t forget his voice; it was like fingernails on a chalk board.”

Ben watched his father as he thought for a moment. A look of horrific enlightenment flashed across Harry’s face, and he leaned over to Hermione and hurriedly whispered in her ear.

“Are you certain? I thought that wouldn’t be possible,” she said.

“I need to find Ron; he may have some notes from past investigations that might help.”

“And don’t forget to tell him about your meeting with Firenze . I’m certain he’ll need to know about that. I’ll stay with Ben; he is still a bit weak,” Hermione said as he stood.

Harry grabbed his ever-present rucksack and cloak and vanished through the heavy oak doors of the infirmary. Ben looked up from his bed to see his mother’s worried smile as he heard a final word of affection from his father to his mother.

“Mummy, I’m scared,” Ben finally said as his father left.

“Easy, darling, you need some rest. You’ve been through an ordeal. We’ll be here, so don’t worry,” Hermione cooed to her son.

“One of us will be here, so don’t worry, ok?” Annie added.

A light knock on the door announced Arty’s desire to share this moment, “Ben? I came as soon as my class was dismissed. They brought in another professor to finish the year. My dad’s gone missing.”

“Arty, I’m sorry to hear that,” Hermione commented before Ben had a chance to realize Arty’s meaning. The young girl sat at his side, and he thought she seemed more concerned for him then her own father.

“Thanks, but Mum says I’ll be fine,” Ben said to her, smiling for the first time since his attack. Ben’s attention was drawn away by his sister’s whisper to their mother and the two of them leaving the hospital wing.

---

Annie’s insistence and her obvious distraught appearance convinced Hermione to leave her son’s bedside, but the reasons were still unclear.

“Do you think Arty’s dad is involved in any of this? Ben did say he heard his name. I’m concerned for her sake.”

“It’s difficult to tell without knowing what actually happened; he was a good and trusted friend at one time.”

“I do hope he’s not involved. You do know that Arty’s told me she fancies Ben, and she’s been as close as a sister.”

“Arty’s mother has mentioned that to me as well, and I must admit they do look good together, even at thirteen.”

Both mother and daughter nodded. The implied match of the two youngest members of the extended family combined with Annie and Jerry finally growing closer helped repair the damage of unspoken and erroneous assumptions.

“Mum, there’s something more. I’m worried because of the things that have been happening. Last night I dreamt about a man who acted as if he knew you and Dad, and he said he knew both of your parents. He also said he knew why I was put in that house,” Annie blurted out as soon as they found an isolated room.

Hermione thought for a minute. “Describe him; it may be important.”

“He was tall and fairly handsome, about Arthur’s age. He made me feel different — like I was important to him.”

“We never told you, but your dad and grandmum were seers. It’s quite possible you have that gift, too. I never believed it until the images your father had all came true. I suspect he may be someone we all knew, a professor maybe.” The quiver of recognition and denial came through to Annie.

“Mum,” she said while trying to find a solution to her dilemma, “what can happen if an oath is broken?”

“Oath? What form of oath? There are many types, such as those between casual friends. Did you and Jerry promise each other something?”

“Mother, no. I mean Jerry means a lot to me, and I think… well, he’s special. No, I mean a magical oath.”

“Explain what happened, and I may be able to help,” Hermione said softly, offering compassion and understanding.

“What would happen if I broke such a magical oath even if others already knew about it?” Annie sat and stared at her mother, obviously struggling with her blood oath but needing guidance.

“It would depend greatly on the precise wording,” Hermione replied.

Annie’s look of frustration lingered, as she tried to remember the exact wording. In a flash it dawned on her. “Mum, come on, and hurry,” she exclaimed as she tugged her mother’s arm. The two witches left the small chamber as Annie led them both to the dungeons.

“Where are we off to — your dormitory room?”

“No, mother, I can’t say yet. Just please follow me, and don’t ask me why.” Her stoke of brilliance inspired her to take the chance, as she continued leading her mother down to the dungeons. At the end of the steps, the stone columns to the left led to Slytherin House; the corridor to the right led to the Potions classrooms. Annie turned to the right and continued to the door of the classroom. The Auror standing at the door stopped them from entering with a raised hand.

“Entry is not allowed during the investigations. I have my orders,” he said looking at Annie.

“Excuse me, my husband is inside, and our daughter needs to see him,” Hermione said in a commanding tone. She gave Annie’s hand a squeeze to let her know to remain quiet.

“There’s no one inside except Senior Auror Weasley and Auror Potter, but neither mentioned expecting a visit,” he replied.

“Mum, I really need Daddy; can he and Uncle Ron meet us here?” Annie pleaded.

The guard’s eyes widened, as Hermione continued, “My husband is Harry Potter, and I’m certain any regulations you believe you have to follow can be bent this time.”

“Mrs. Potter? Hermione Potter?” he stammered out.

“The same. I take it you do know who I am. Now may we see Harry?”

“I’m really not allowed to let you in, but Senior Auror Weasley is the authority in charge, I could ask if…”

“You do that, and be quick about it,” she snapped. The guard slipped between the doors, leaving the way unguarded. The pair followed silently behind the Auror seconds later.

The first thing Annie noticed was the spilled cauldron on the table nearest the door. The ingredients that had not been added still sat on the table. A dark red spot on the stone floor lay directly if front of them; a trail of blood left a line from the office door to the door they just entered.

“Hermione, Annie?” they heard moments after entering the classroom.

“Daddy, I needed to talk to you, both of you. Can we use the office? It’s important.”

“ Williams, I’ll be in the office with my wife and daughter, Ron, care to join us?”

Annie grabbed Harry’s arm and whispered, “Dad, I can’t tell him, please?”

He looked in her pleading eyes and nodded. Ron had quickly joined them, but Harry pulled him aside for a brief but confidential chat. After a moment, Ron also nodded. “I’ll brief you afterwards,” he said just loud enough for Williams to hear.

Harry ushered his family into the Potion Professor’s office, it was one of the few places in the school that he still dreaded. That was a lifetime ago. This wasn’t the same office; it wasn’t occupied by the same man.

“Now, what’s so terribly important to interru…”

“Dad, wait,” she held up a hand to stop his questions, and pointed her wand to the door and sealed the chamber with a single word.

“Please, help me; I have no idea what to do. Firenze told me to tell the one person I trust the most, and yesterday that would have been just you, Dad, but Mum and I have a better understanding. It was my fault. There was a misunderstanding that I’m glad we worked out.”

“Annie, this is all fine and wonderful, but I suspect there’s something else troubling you,” Harry said.

Annie nodded. “Yes, I don’t think there’s anyone I trust more then the both of you.” She looked around the room nervously and sat them on a bench. She pulled a small stool and sat facing them.

“So what is this about?” Harry asked.

“Mum, Dad, I had given my word on something. I made a blood oath. I have to tell you — Firenze told me that I have to tell someone.”

“I see,” said Hermione. That’s why you were interested in the subject earlier.”.

“You see, I was told I can’t tell anyone outside this room, and since you are not outside the room, technically I’m not breaking the oath. I think my exact words were that I would ‘Not talk of this outside this room.’ So if I tell you inside this room, then the oath is maintained.”

“You’re clever, just like your mum, to twist things to your benefit,” Harry said as Hermione gave him a patented death stare.

“So, what happened that was so important to have to make a vow of that nature? And who could have talked you into such a thing?” Hermione asked.

“Professor Malfoy. He said things were going badly; I have no idea what he meant. I can only guess that what happened to Ben is part of it.”

“So what does he want you to do? I know your mum told you about his father’s role in the dark times,” Harry said.

“He wants me to get Aunt Ginny and Arty away to someplace safe. He thinks they may be in danger. He looked extremely worried. He said he ‘regretted’ Arty. I don’t know what he meant. He did mention that Dad helped him and Aunt Ginny get together. I never really thought about them together before. He seemed quite upset over what happened between them.”

“What happened to them occurred just a few days after you were born at Albus’s funeral. Draco and Ginny were the two happiest people we knew outside of your Uncle Ron and Aunt Luna. Something happened in those months that changed him and split them apart. Draco would never talk to anyone about it. Even Ginny still has no idea why he left,” Harry said.

“I do know that Ginny asked for a divorce several times, but he refused. Draco did leave them financially secure, and he remained in the dungeons at Hogwarts since then. He even refused to be there for Arty’s birth,” Hermione added.

“Then why is he so secretive about keeping them safe?” Annie asked.

“I wish he had come to us. Now he’s the main suspect in your brother’s attack. As for Ginny, I sent an owl to her brothers to stay with her. Fred and George should have gotten there by now,” Harry said.

“Arty is safe here at the school,” Hermione added.

“As safe as Ben was?” Annie asked.

“Security has been tightened since that attack, so this shouldn’t happen again. He mentioned two names of people I had thought to be long dead. The past has taught me not to completely trust what you believe is true, but to believe in truth,” Harry said as he stood.

“So that’s it?” Annie asked slightly surprised. “I had the scare of my life when Professor Malfoy had me swear that oath, Ben is hurt, and there’s nothing else to be done?”

“Did anything else happen that might shed some light on this?”

“Nothing I can think, although his arm bothered him. He kept rubbing it as if there were a rash. And I noticed a strange tattoo on his arm,” Annie said, trying to find some rational reason for this.

“Tattoo? What was it?” Harry asked. .

“I think it was a moving snake.”

“A black snake moving in a skull?” Harry asked.

She nodded, “I thought it was unusual. I only noticed part of it. I didn’t see a skull. But the snake was moving on his arm.”

“It is the Dark Mark,” Hermione added. “It was the mark Voldemort gave to his followers. The mark was forced on Draco by his father.”

“Mum? Last night you mentioned Professor Malfoy’s father and what he did. Then you are convinced that he was involved in Ben’s attack.”

“We need to hear his side before any judgment is made. His disappearance doesn’t help his case,” Harry added as Hermione also now stood. Together they began to walk toward the door with Hermione pausing and reaching a hand to her daughter.

Annie sighed as she stood and took her mother’s hand, and the three Potters left the office of the Hogwart’s Potions Master.

---

“You both go tend to Ben; he’s quite shaken and needs family support. I have to brief Ron on these developments,” Harry instructed outside the Potions master’s office. Hermione nodded her acceptance.

“Dad, you can’t tell anyone the thing I told you,” Annie protested.

“You’ve upheld your end; you don’t have to worry. I think Draco intended to leave that clause open. He knows how clever you are,” Hermione said, holding Annie’s shoulder.

“We don’t have that restriction, but you still can’t tell anyone, and I wouldn’t let anyone else know. Hermione, I’ll meet you in McGonagall’s office in one hour.” Harry then turned to his daughter. “You need to be careful and not talk about any of this to anyone, especially the incident in the Forest yesterday.”

“Can I talk it over with Jerry? He was there.”

“I think under the circumstances that might not be a good idea. You never know who is listening,” Hermione answered while Harry nodded his agreement.

Harry watched as mother and daughter left the Potions classroom together and smiled as Annie causally held her mother’s hand.

“Well that’s a bloody miracle. How’d you pull that off?” a familiar voice asked from behind him.

“It’s all Annie’s doing, Ron. She took Hermione aside and worked out their issues. Hermione won’t tell me what they discussed. She said that as a man I wouldn’t understand. So I let it go.”

“It is good to seem them like this,” Ron replied. After a brief pause, he continued. “How’s the boy? I haven’t had the chance to see him yet.”

“He’ll be fine — he just needs some bed rest. We’ll keep his arm bandaged so he won’t see it. Hermione’s been looking for a counter curse to remove it.” Harry knew more of scars then anyone; his forehead and arm still bothered him, even though he knew they were now imaginary pains.

“When can we question him? The trail is getting colder by the moment. I understand this involved Professor Dumbledore’s murder.”

“Ron, there’s nothing else you can get from Ben, and as his father, I forbid it, at least for now.” Harry held up a hand to stop the protest he expected. “There may be some details we’ve overlooked in that initial investigation; it has been suggested we reevaluate the artifacts we discovered.”

“Suggested by whom?”

“That’s a long story, and I intended to look into it. Ben’s attack has prompted me to reconsider the urgency of the matter and the possibility that we were given false information at the time.”

“What the bloody hell are you talking about, Harry?”

“Do you still have access to all the items and evidence from the initial investigation?”

“Of course; it’s still an open case.”

“Then there’s nothing left for us to learn here. Come on,” Harry said as he quickly turned and sprinted for the door. Without a word, Ron followed on his heels to the Apparation point at the school’s front gate.

The pair reappeared in the alley next to the Ministry and entered the building. The buzz of activity in the atrium continued, and people were oblivious to two Aurors passing through to the lifts. They arrived at the second level quickly and rounded the corner to their desks.

“I’ll retrieve the boxes from storage, Harry. Check to see if there’s any new information posted,” Ron said as he passed the desks and disappeared through a door.

Harry sat at down at the desk he’d used since becoming an Auror. A wizard picture of Hermione waving sat next to a picture of Annie and Ben flying together on their brooms. Stacks of documents from past cases littered his work area, but he was careful not to let them block the family pictures.

His wait was brief as Ron hurried back with several large crates, each labeled ‘Dumbledore Homicide – unsolved.’

“Oi, Harry, lend a hand with these,” he called to his friend and subordinate.

“So, what’s all this?” Harry asked as he grabbed the top crate.

“That one is from our meeting with Firenze . I put all our notes in each crate. Those two have all the notes and samples we took at the scene,” Ron replied as he put the two larger crates on his desk.

Harry looked into the box he’d placed on his own desk first. “This should be quicker. I would like to review those boxes in detail.” He pulled out a matched set of notepads, one with his distinctive scrawl and the other equally sloppy scribble of Ron. A small plastic bag contained the still stained glasses and the note.

“According to this,” Harry said as he read his notes, “we arrived at Firenze ’s classroom less then four hours after the murder. I never realized that so little time had elapsed that day.”

“You did have more important things on your mind,” Ron said with a grin.

“When did these end up here? I left them at home,” Harry said as he picked up a jar and child’s toy horn.

“Hermione brought them to me shortly after Ben was born; she felt they would be safer in the Ministry away from little hands. She relabeled the jar, but it’s remained sealed,” Ron replied as he set aside his crates.

“Well, looks as if the slugs should have been let go, they’ve all died. There’s something else inside. What do you make of it?” Harry asked as he held the outer jar.

“It’s some silvery liquid. I think we should remove it for further examination,” Ron commanded.

“That may not he the smart choice; it may be harmful,” Harry warned.

“I doubt Firenze would have deliberately kept something harmful in his office, and didn’t you say it was Dumbledore that left this clue?”

Without waiting for a reply, Ron opened the outer container and carefully removed the smaller jar. The silvery fluid seemed to be continuously swirling inside the vial. Ron was about to pry the stopper out when a cry from Harry stopped him.

“Wait!” Harry called, as he looked in the larger container. “There’s a message, where that jar sat. Part of the parchment seems to have been eaten by the slugs. All I can read is ‘It's a special m… Use a Pe... AD.’”

“’Use a Pe’ doesn’t make any sense. What’s a ‘Pe’?” Ron asked.

Harry took the jar from his old friend and looked through the thick fluid. Something seemed oddly familiar; he held it to the light and scratched his head as he tried to remember where he had seen something like this.

Ron flipped the piece of parchment over several times and set it on the desk. With a fluid motion of a skilled wizard, he drew his wand and pointed it to the scrap.

“Repairo!” he commanded.

Nothing.

“Renovo!” he said, tapping the parchment three times.

Still nothing.

Harry shook his head, “Those bits are long gone, Ron. Nothing can bring them back. I’ll let Hermione examine it tonight; maybe she’ll have an idea. There’s nothing much in here, so let’s have a look at those two boxes,” Harry said as he set the silvery vial down.

“Hermione had a go at these already; the log has her checking that one box out several days after the funeral. This other was still being examined by the WCIS team,” Ron said as he reviewed the logs. They both began the tedious task of the re-examination of the evidence before them.

“Did the Wizard Criminal Investigation Squad report anything unusual?” Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. “No, there was just a collection of books — some from the scene and some from a chamber in the house. They didn’t list anything extraordinary except some unusual inscriptions. One was charmed and encoded. They never did figure out the code; it was one more forgotten bit.”

Harry continued his investigation of the various containers; each had an individual bit of parchment attached with a distinctive and neat handwriting. The hours that passed seemed to be unnoticed. He smiled occasionally at seeing Hermione’s handwriting on the notes, as if she were standing next to him guiding his search. He scanned the reports from each team member that investigated the scene and the death report for Simmons.

“So the reports were inconclusive?” Harry asked after reading the documents.

“Completely. It’s as if all evidence of those involved vanished. There’s not a single living wizard that could be traced to that cavern,” Ron replied.

“So, Hermione’s actually seen all these books? She’s never mentioned them before.”

“No, they weren’t available when she was reviewing the other items. That was about the time Annie had the stomach flu and couldn’t keep anything down, remember?”

“Right, she was only a week old, and she scared us silly that week. Not even Hermione could figure out what was wrong. I think we should have her look through them now once Ben’s out of the hospital.”

Harry started looking through the titles; many of the books were well over a hundred years old. The first was a typical student’s textbook, Advanced Potions for Second Level NEWTS with the initials H.S. and date of 1919. A second potions book had the name E Prince and date of 1949 written inside the front cover.

“Strange these all seem to be Potions textbooks from different eras. And this is listed as Property of the Knights of Walpurgis. I’ve never heard of that group,” Harry commented as he continued to sift through the stack of books.

“We never found any connection to a real organization. I assumed it was like your father’s Marauders when they were in school — some small group of students that formed a club of sorts,” Ron said as he read the reports of the initial investigation, hoping he had missed something.

Harry picked up a book that was older than the others. It was a rare collector’s item — an old leather-bound tome with the words Chinese Alchemy. The last inscription he read drained his face of colour. He handed The Autobiography of Hesper Starkey to Ron.

“Read the inscription,” Harry ordered.

“LM to my son for his outstanding achievements. Does it mean something to you?” Ron asked.

“Lucius Malfoy. You said ‘ a single living wizard that could be traced,’ so how about a dead one? Or one that we assume was dead. Remember Pettigrew?” Harry asked, hoping to stir Ron’s mind.

“Bugger it, Harry. Do you think Draco faked his father’s death?” Ron asked when he realized the error.

Harry thought and shook his head. “No, he was quite dead that day, but Hermione and I did encounter him in other realities where he was very much alive.”

“You don’t suspect he managed to find his way here?” Ron asked.

“It’s possible. Ben said his assailant looked like Draco, but older,” Harry said.

Ron thought about the details, and shook his head. “No, Ben also said he had a metal arm. It may be Pettigrew; his hair would be quite grey by now.”

“It has to be Malfoy from one of the alternate worlds. We fought him in the second, and he lost an arm. Ginny hit him when he tried to strangle her son,” Harry said, remembering his battle in the Ministry.

“Good for her. You don’t happen to remember which arm?”

“Right, I believe. I’m certain he’s acquired a replacement,” Harry said.

Ron blew a lungful of air through his lips and ran his hands through his hair. “Then we need to work out where he’s gone off to and what he’s doing here.”

Harry set back to his task and began examining the remaining books in the crate while Ron read the list out loud.

“It appears that several items came from Grimmauld Place — some china and alarge golden ring with the Black family crest are listed . Some was from the Head's office at Hogwarts. A sword and hat are included as candidates, but of what?”

“I’m more interested in those items listed as destroyed — a diary?”

“I don’t think it could be Riddle’s diary from the Chamber in our second year, do you?”

“It’s possible. What I find most interesting is many of the items rejected are organic. I think we can scratch off any other biological item from the list; bones, eyes, shrunken heads can all be eliminated.”

“I believe the key to this list is in that vial. We need to determine what to do with it,” said Ron.

“Then I suggest we pack this kit and get Hermione’s keen insight. I’ll put the books back into the crate while you bundle the items we need to take.”

Harry started to put the books back into the crate when he noticed a couple they hadn’t reviewed. Curious at the find, he picked them up and read the titles. They were more Potions texts, except for the last; it had a second smaller book inside.

“Strange, Harry, we never noticed that one before,” Ron commented as Harry opened the black leather book.

Inside it was a handwritten journal written in a familiar hand. “Bloody hell,” Harry exclaimed, “it’s in Parseltongue.”

“I never knew it was a written language,” Ron exclaimed as he rushed around the table to inspect the new find.

“Only a few people can read this. It’s as if it waited for me to find it,” Harry muttered.

“Well, go on and read it,” Ron nudged.

Harry opened the book and turned to the first page. As he scanned through it, his face drained of colour. He flipped through the next few pages reading quickly and stopped. He closed the book and looked at his hand shake. He fell back into the chair he had pushed aside to examine the crates and closed his eyes.

“So, what’s the book about,” Ron asked.

Harry sat with the book on his lap and shook his head. “Ron, you have to forget you ever saw this. I can’t really explain what it is, not yet anyway. But if my suspicions are correct, we may be looking at something far worse then Voldemort. I have to get this home and let Hermione verify it. She knows a bit more about this then I do.”

“Brilliant, maybe she can figure out what all this means,” Ron said.

Harry nervously put the book and vial of silvery liquid in his rucksack. “I can’t let you come along. Go to the school and keep an eye on the kids. There may be someone lurking there looking for this.” He patted the bag and stood to leave. He scanned the table’s contents and added the list to the collection in his pack.

“Harry, can you at least tell me what you suspect?”

He shook his head and whispered, “No.” Harry quickly left the office, leaving Ron to finish storing the evidence back into the cupboard.

“Mum’s still with Ben. He’s finally awake, but he doesn’t recall any of the past day,” Annie said, finding comfort leaning into Jerry’s shoulder.

“He’ll be right as rain soon. Your mum’s quite a gifted healer,” he reassured her. His fingers ran through her hair as he held her. His gentle touch was more soothing then she realized.

“I think you need to get some rest, too. You’ve been up for nearly two days,” he said softly in her ear.

“Um-hmm,” she mumbled, snuggling into his side. A second offer wasn’t needed; her slow breathing and relaxed body told Jerry she was almost asleep.

“Rest,” he whispered. “I’m glad we’re together.” He gently kissed the top of her head and kept stroking her hair.

She felt his touch and smiled. Her arms tightened around him, and she knew she was safe. She felt herself drift into sleep. A feeling of calm flowed over her; the troubles of her world seemed to melt away. Distinct images flooded her mind.

She saw Jerry as he spoke. She heard him clearly, but his words were as foreign to her ears as those from another continent.

“Annie, rest. I do love you,” he whispered to her.

She stood on the landing in the main staircase of the school. A tall man with long auburn hair stood before her. He stared over his half-moon spectacles up into the stairwell.

“Where have you disappeared to this time, Tom?” the man asked.

“I-I was completing my rounds,” a voice above them replied. A young man, more of a boy, with strikingly sharp features, approached them. He had a Prefect’s pin on his cloak just above the Slytherin emblem on his chest.

Annie looked at the boy. ‘A fellow Slyhterin,’ she thought.

“I believe you have been instructed to monitor the hallways between your dormitories and the Great Hall. Please explain why you were on these floors.”

“I saw one of the Gryffindors heading here from a chamber in the dungeon to these corridors, but I lost him as he passed the third floor staircases. It was that Hagrid fellow.”

“And what did you discover he was doing? I saw Rubius in his own room just ten minutes past.”

“Professor, I thought it was him. I may have been in error due to the darkness,” the boy replied.

‘This professor doesn’t believe him, how odd,’ Annie thought.

“Tom,” the man said as he put an arm over the boy’s shoulder. “It is not that I do not believe you, but you have promised me in the past to obey the rules. And as a Prefect, you are looked to for guidance by your younger house members.”

“Yes, sir, I do understand that responsibility, and I take that very seriously.”

“I have been hearing disturbing remarks from members of your house; some older members told Professor Slughorn about unusual disappearances of personal items. I trust there isn’t any involvements I need to know of,” the professor said. A gleam in his eye left a doubt that any reply from Tom would be believed.

Annie listened to the conversation with keen interest and stepped closer to hear Tom’s reply, but the scene vanished as she slipped into a deep black void in her dream.

A sparkle of light danced in the distance and rapidly opened to her mind. She stood in a different room; that same boy sat on a bed and stared at a ring. He slipped it on his finger and sighed. It was a gold ring with the Peverell coat of arms carved into a black stone.

“This is all I have for my birthright,” he mumbled to himself. His trunk sat on the floor, obviously packed and ready to leave. The other beds in the room were empty, and the other boys’ possessions were gone.

Annie watched and felt herself drawn closer to this boy. He looked up and smiled.

“Hello, you’ve returned,” he said.

“You can see me?” she asked.

“Of course. I can help you, and you can help me. I know why you were put in Slytherin House, and our destinies are intertwined.”

“You said you knew my parents and grandparents? How? You can’t be more then a year or so older then I am.” She winced when a flash of pain tore through her stomach.

“He has been called the saviour of the wizarding world and the ‘chosen one,’ but without me he would have been just another wizard seeking his fame. He used me to find that fame. He had been obsessed with power without regard for the consequence of that power.”

Sweat broke on her brow. Jerry still held her as she slept. She held her stomach tightly, and he felt her struggle.

“Annie, wake up. You’re having a bad dream,” he said as he gently shook her.

“Jerry? Where’s Tom? I was just talking to him,” she called out as her head snapped up.

“Who’s ‘Tom’?” Jerry asked.

“I’ve had this dream about him, but I have no idea who he is. He said he knows Mum and Dad.”

“There’s no one else here, just me. Your mum said Ben was resting, and we could see him in a bit.”

“Ben?” she said, a look of confusion flashed on her face.

“Your brother. He was attacked yesterday, remember?”

She shook her head again. “How could I have forgotten him?” she said as she looked into his eyes. His warm, light blue eyes always melted her emotionally.

“It was a bad dream, that’s all,” he replied. She lowered her head back to his shoulder.

“Annie, I want you to know that I’ve always lo---“

“So, here you are,” a voice shouted.

“Arty?” Annie replied to her friend’s sudden outburst.

“I’ve been looking for you ever since you had the nerve to blow off my party for you, and I thought you were my friend.”

“We’ve been here with Ben…”

“Don’t bloody lie to me. You’ve been off snogging your brains out like a couple eels since you two got together. My father’s gone missing, and you don’t even care!”

“Come off it. You’ve hardly said a word to him in the four years we’ve been here. You can’t say that now you’ve become concerned?” Annie screamed, while pushing off Jerry. She stood and faced her friend; one hand still cradled her stomach.

“He may be a worthless lot, and what he did to Mum was wrong, but he’s still my father.”

“And he’s being sought for my brother’s injuries,” Annie shouted. The cramps now became stronger, and she held her middle with both hands.

Tears streamed down Arty’s cheeks. “If you were any sort of friend, you would have been there for me, just as I’ve always been around when you needed a shoulder. Or am I no longer needed as a friend because you have him?”
“Arty, that’s not fair,” Jerry yelled back. “Her family’s been attacked, and we all need to stay together.”

“You mind your own, Jerry Weasley. Your father’s just as big a failure as his father was in the Ministry, and he’s never been able to solve the murder of that Minister fifteen years ago.”

Annie swallowed hard. She fought the knot in her stomach. “Arty, that was uncalled for,” she said coldly. A trickle of crimson leaked from the corner of her mouth.

Arty looked at Annie, her oldest and best friend. “How could I ever have trusted you? You’re just a Slytherin after all.”

The one insult that hurt most froze Annie to the spot. Her mind raced as it replayed the memories of the past few days. Her single reply came in an uncontrolled action. She doubled over, retched and collapsed in her bloody bile.

---

Harry returned to the hospital wing after his detour to find his wife and mother of his children gently stoking their son’s hair. The boy was sleeping soundly, thanks to a Dreamless Sleep potion.

The Headmistress also stood by to offer comfort to the parents of an injured child in her care. Harry’s agitated state led the elder witch to think she was to fault for Ben’s condition.

“Mr. Potter, I’m terribly sorry for what happened to your son. I wish…”

“Professor, I appreciate your concern, but I have to talk to my wife. If you’ll excuse us for a moment…” he said, interrupting the school’s matriarch.

Hermione joined him in an isolated corner of the hospital wing and was about to ask about his behavior when he began his story.

“We reviewed all the artifacts, just as Firenze suggested, and we found several items.” He removed his rucksack and held it open. “There were a number of old text books, all Potions books. They weren’t available that day you had to research them.”

“Why…”

“Let me finish, please. I think I’ve found another of those books — the kind that only we can read.” His voice quivered as he spoke. “It was hidden inside another volume, and I think you’d best read it. I’ve only read the first bits, but if my suspicions are correct, Tom Riddle is the least of our concerns.”

“Let’s have it then,” she said taking the small book out of the pack. The bottle of silvery fluid remained with the other items Harry obtained. As Hermione read the first page, she turned as white and pale as Nearly Headless Nick. Her legs wobbled where she stood, and she would have collapsed if Harry hadn’t held her steady.

Professor McGonagall watched from a distance and noticed her favorite pupil’s momentary lapse. “Please, if you need a place to converse in private, my office is at your disposal. I shall watch over young Benjamin until you return.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Harry started, “but I think we…”

Hermione grabbed his arm; the look on her face was all he needed.

“I think we’ll accept your offer. Can you let us know if there’s any change?” Harry asked.

“Of course. I believe your daughter is waiting outside with Mr. Weasley,” Professor McGonagall replied.

“Please keep her informed as well. She needs to know how her brother is doing,” Hermione said.

“Do you remember the password to my office?” Professor McGonagall asked.

Hermione nodded, slid the book into his backpack, and took Harry’s arm for support. Once in the hall they noticed that Annie was fast asleep with Jerry’s arm around her for comfort. As they passed, Harry patted Jerry’s free shoulder and gave the boy a smile and nod.

The couple walked quickly through the corridors they’d passed through as children. Out of remembrance for a lost friend, the phoenix statue that protected the Headmistress’ office remained.

“Horntail,” Harry said to the statue, and they watched the stairs appear behind the stone figure. They took the all-too-familiar route up to stand before the large oak doors to the headmistress’s office. Harry opened the door and held it as Hermione walked through.

“Harry, she has a reading table set in the alcove we can use,” she said quietly as they passed through the outer office and walked by the portraits of past headmasters who were snoring loudly on the wall.

Harry set his pack on the table while Hermione pulled two chairs next to each other. They stared at the bag and then nervously opened it. He carefully removed all the objects and set them on the table. He placed the book between them.

“I think we both know the meaning of this, and as much as I want to know why, we need to determine how these other things fit,” Harry said, putting a hand on the book to prevent Hermione from reading further.

“Harry, this is the most disturbing information we’ve seen. I don’t see how these other things compare. A list, a vial, and some jewelry; no, that book is the key,” she argued.

“If I may make a suggestion, that vial may well be the key you’re looking for. If I’m not mistaken, it contains a memory. I would recommend using my old Pensieve to view that memory,” a voice from the wall offered.

Harry turned around at the familiar voice, expecting to see a familiar form standing behind them. “Professor!” he called out, only to find the space empty.

Hermione simply rolled her eyes and walked to the portrait on the wall. “Professor Dumbledore, why do you believe it’s a memory?” she asked.

The image pointed to the vial, “It is a simple conclusion. First, all memories may be stored in a vial of this nature. Second, I personally have stored several in this manner myself. And third, that happens to be one of my personal vials. Unfortunately, I have no way to determine which memory you have in your possession.”

Harry picked up the scrap of parchment, and re-read the message, “It's a special m… Use a Pe... AD’,” he said.

“It's a special memory. Use a Pensieve,” Hermione corrected.

“…to learn its secrets,” the portrait added.

“But, whose memory? There’s nothing here to indicate who it’s from — or when, for that matter,” Harry said.

“There is one way to determine the identity. You can view it; there’s bound to be a reason it was left for you,” the portrait added.

“He’s right, Harry, we could use his Pensieve. It’s still in the cupboard in the outer office. We both could see it, and between us we should be able to get to the bottom of this mystery,” Hermione said, turning with the vial in her hand and walking directly to the resting place containing the stone basin. Once exposed, they looked into it together, but it was empty.

“I am sorry. I had removed my thoughts from the Pensieve when I left the school,” they heard from the distance. “But if you just pour the memory from the vial into the Pensieve, there shouldn’t be any preparation required.”

“Thanks, Professor, we can manage,” Harry called back. “Hermione, I’ll go first and you follow if everything seems safe.”

“Ok, just please be careful. We have no idea who this may be.”

Hermione took the vial and removed the stopper, then poured the contents into the shallow stone basin. The odd carvings of runes and symbols around the edge reminded Harry of the first time he encountered this object.

The bright, whitish, and silvery light from the basin's contents moved ceaselessly, beckoning him. Harry bent closer, his head right inside the cabinet. Hermione stood at his side, watching his every move, her wand out ready for anything. The moment before his face touched, he distinctly heard someone enter the office, but he was already committed to this endeavor.

Once he touched the liquid in the Pensieve, he felt his feet leave the floor, and he fell through darkness before he landed in an office. It was obviously many years earlier because the conveniences of the modern wizarding world, some borrowed from the Muggle world, were missing. Magically illuminated lamps were still being used instead of electric lights.

Sitting in a comfortable winged armchair in the office was a man with thick, shiny, straw-colored hair and a gingery-blond mustache. His name appeared on several awards that hung on the wall: Horace Slughorn. His were feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, and he held a small glass of wine in one hand while the other rummaged through in a box of crystallized pineapple. A half-dozen teenage boys were sitting around Slughorn; Tom Riddle was in the midst of them, and Marvolo's gold-and-black ring gleamed on his finger.

Harry listened just as Riddle asked, "Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?"

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said Slughorn, wagging his finger reprovingly at Riddle, though winking at the same time. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.

"I have to return to see Ben," a quiet voice said in Harry’s ear.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't and your careful flattery of the people who matter — thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favorite —" Several of the boys tittered again. "— I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple. I have excellent contacts at the Ministry."

Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader.

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," he said when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."

A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader's famous ancestor.

"Nonsense," said Slughorn briskly, "couldn't be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom. I've never been wrong about a student yet."

The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock behind him, and he looked around.

"Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going boys, or we'll all be in trouble. LeStrange, I want your essay by in tomorrow or it’s detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Slughorn heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind him made him look around; Riddle was still standing there.

"Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a Prefect."

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away..."

"Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?"

Slughorn stared at him, his thick ringers absentmindedly clawing the stem of his wine glass.

"Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?"

Harry could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork.

"Not exactly, sir," said Riddle. "I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."

"No... well. . . you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom. That's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed," said Slughorn.

"But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you - sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously - I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could, so I just thought I'd..."

It was very well done, thought Harry, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone. He, Harry, had had too much experience of trying to wheedle information out of reluctant people not to recognize a master at work. He could tell that Riddle wanted the information very, very much; perhaps he had been working toward this moment for weeks.

"Well," said Slughorn, not looking at Riddle, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystallized pineapple, "well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."

"I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir," said Riddle. His voice was carefully controlled, but Harry could sense his excitement.

"Well, you split your soul, you see," said Slughorn, "and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form..."

Slughorn's face crumpled, and Harry found himself remembering words he had heard nearly three decades before: "I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost… but still, I was alive."

"... few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."

But Riddle's hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, and he could no longer hide his longing.

"How do you split your soul?"

"Well," said Slughorn uncomfortably, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation; it is against nature."

"But how do you do it?"

"By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil; by committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: He would encase the torn portion —"

"Encase? But how —?”

"There is a spell. Do not ask me — I don't know!" said Slughorn, shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. “Do I look as though I have tried it — do I look like a killer?"

"No, sir, of course not," said Riddle quickly. "I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to offend..."

"Not at all, not at all, not offended," said Slughorn gruffly. "It is natural to feel some curiosity about these things... Wizards of a certain caliber have always been drawn to that aspect of magic...."

"Yes, sir," said Riddle. "What I don't understand, though — just out of curiosity — I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces. I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven —?"

"Merlin's beard, Tom!" yelped Slughorn. "Seven! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case... bad enough to divide the soul... but to rip it into seven pieces..."

Slughorn looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing at Riddle as though he had never seen him plainly before, and Harry could tell that he was regretting entering into the conversation at all.

"Of course," he muttered, "this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic..."

"Yes, sir, of course," said Riddle quickly.

"But all the same, Tom… keep it quiet, what I've told — that's to say, what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about Horcruxes. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know.... Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it."

"I won't say a word, sir," said Riddle, and he left, but not before Harry had glimpsed his face, which was full of that same wild happiness it had worn when he had first found out that he was a wizard, the sort of happiness that did not enhance his handsome features, but made them, somehow, less human…

“Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” – J.K. Rowling ; page 494-499, U.S. Hardcover edition.

He looked one last time at the room where Horace Slughorn now paced. He looked up to the ceiling and felt himself rise into the blackness. He lightly landed flat on his feet back in the headmistress’s office. The stone basin was shimmering in the cabinet in front of him, but the room was now empty; his pack and all the evidence they brought were missing.

“She had to leave. There appears to have been an altercation with your daughter,” Dumbledore’s portrait said when Harry began searching the room.

“Did Hermione say where she was going, Professor?”

“Yes, I believe to the hospital wing, and she wanted me to tell you she gathered your things for safe keeping. Out of curiosity, which memory did you see?”

“It was one of Tom Riddle and Professor Slughorn. Riddle asked about a device, or spell, that the good professor was kind enough to explain,” Harry replied, not wanting to reveal too much in the open.

“Slughorn? Horace Slughorn?” he asked in amazement.

“Yes, sir, the very same.”

“Quick, retrieve that memory and destroy it as soon as possible. I believe I know the one in question, and if it is, then you must seek...”

“The objects on that list, yes, I determined that myself,” Harry replied.

“No, talk to Professor McGonagall for advice. Ask her to help you contact an old mutual friend. Tell her you need to speak to Gnome.”

---

Hermione sat between the hospital beds of both her children. Ben was still asleep, but Annie was restless. Her retching had stopped, but the effect remained. She was terrified: Her nausea never produced these results, and she had turned on her best friend.

Hermione managed to calm and comfort the girl as only a mother can.

“Mum, what’s wrong with me? Why is all this happening?” Annie whimpered between silent sobs.

“Your father and I are looking into a possible reason, but it’s nothing you need to be concerned about yet.”

“But… the… blood…” she stammered.

“Yes, that’s a sigh there’s something wrong, a conflict we think. Firenze mentioned the other night that an old friend is helping; that may have something to do with your stomach cramps. I’m surprised I hadn’t worked that possibility out before,” Hermione said.

Annie thought for a few moments and then looked at her sleeping brother.

“Mum, why is all this happening to us? Why our family?” she asked.

“The answer to that would take a lifetime to answer, but the simple answer is that your father is the chosen one predestined to balance the evil of the world. It’s been my good fortune to be his friend when he desperately needed one, and it is my honor to be the one he wanted to spend his life with. You know my fears of that time; he wasn’t concerned for anything else except how I felt. And all I wanted was to give him what he needed. In that, we both realized we needed each other.

“When we decided to marry, we expected to be able to put all this behind us and just live our lives together. Over the years, there have been only a few isolated events. But things are beginning to happen now that seem to point to a return of the forces we fought in our youth. So why are you involved? Because you are our daughter, just as I am his wife. It’s our destiny to be the ‘good guys,’” Hermione said as she held Annie’s hand.

“So whether we want to or not, Ben and I are forced into this ‘superhero’ fight of Daddy’s?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

The conversation helped draw Annie’s attention from her personal problems, allowing her to focus on the larger picture. “So that’s why Ben was hurt — because we’re the good guys?”

“I know that’s an overly simple explanation, and there had been times I couldn’t understand either. Now, try to rest. If my suspicions are correct, your stress might be because you weren’t aware of what has happened and so you weren’t able to cope for yourself.”

Hermione stoked her daughter’s hair and smiled weakly when she felt a presence she assumed was long gone. She closed her eyes to concentrate and hoped to glimpse an old friend. Her hands began to glow as she felt a familiar hand press on her shoulder.

“Love, we have to go. The kids are safe for the moment,” Harry whispered in her ear.

She nodded lightly, breaking her trance. Harry left her side and quickly crossed the room to where the headmistress was grading essays. Hermione watched as he asked the elder witch a question only to be answered with a blank stare and a nod.

Harry waved Hermione over and the three left the hospital ward for a small conference chamber.

“Mr. Potter, I have no idea how you know about Abraham — that is his true name — but I haven’t heard his name in some time, before your parents attended this school.”

“Professor Dumbledore’s portrait suggested I seek his advice. I’m afraid there’s little else I can tell you at this time,” Harry replied.

Professor McGonagall nodded her understanding, “If he told you to seek out Abraham, this must be a grave matter. The poor man has asked to be left to his own devices. As I understand it, no one has seen him in all that time, more then fifty years I imagine.”

“What do you know of him?” Hermione asked.

“He is reclusive; he prefers to live as a monk. He was horribly disfigured and physically twisted in his youth. Albus knew him better then most.”

“What caused him to abandon contact with others? There’s something more, isn’t there?” Harry asked, his tone flat and close to his interrogation voice.

“Please, Harry. I will tell you what I know of him,” the Professor said with a tinge of annoyance.

“I’m sorry, but this may involve the children. I hope you can see that,” he apologized.

The school’s matriarch nodded and continued. “Legend has it that he had a brother who died under mysterious circumstances. As I understand it, he was advanced in his research on all levels of magic, including the Dark Arts. His early research is still used as the foundation for current curriculums throughout our world.”

“Abraham Kristiansen? He was reported to have died nearly a hundred years ago. This research you mentioned took place in the Middle Ages, in the mid-sixteenth century,” Hermione added.

“That would put him at more then five hundred years old,” Harry said in slight disbelief.

“Five hundred and forty-nine, I believe,” McGonagall added. “He had isolated himself from all outside contact except for school officials and has asked the world to believe him dead. I came to know him through, and now I send him occasional owls with news. The last note I sent was to inform him of Albus’s death.”

“How can we contact him? This is of the utmost importance,” Harry said.

“All I can offer is to send him an owl. There’s one that is used here to deliver messages, and I do keep him stocked candy — the one habit he shared with Albus. Lemon drops are one of his weaknesses.”

Harry pulled a sheet of parchment from his pack and quickly scribbled a message. He folded it and pressed his thumb to the opening; a raised seal bearing his name appeared on the sheet.

“Send him this message. Only he could open it,” Harry said, handing the note to the professor. “We’ll remain at the school with our children until he replies.”

“If he replies, Harry. It has been more than fifty years since he has returned a message.”

“He’ll reply; he has no option but to,” Harry said. “For now, can you make arrangements for Annie and Ben to stay with us in one of the private guest chambers in the school?”

“Of course. You may use your usual rooms,” McGonagall replied. She stood and nodded her head, understanding the gravity of Harry’s request, and set off to personally see to the delivery of the message.

The Potters retired to their prearranged suite of rooms on the third floor. The lateness of the hour left them both emotionally and physically drained, but Harry needed to relate all the details of the memory to his wife.

Neither of them managed to sleep that night as they waited for a reply. Hermione, however, spent that night reading.

The knock on the door sounded more like the pounding of a battering ram.

“Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter, the headmistress has asked me to fetch you,” a young man’s voice called out.

They had expected to remain for several days. Dobby had anticipated his employer’s needs and delivered a week’s worth of clothing the night they decided to stay. Neither slept soundly, and they both had been dressed for the day quite early.

“Easy, son, no need to break the door,” Harry called out. He grabbed his bag, and Hermione crossed the room to join him.

A young man, his robe bearing a silver pin with the letter ‘P’ over the Hogwarts shield, stood in the doorway.

“My name is Andrews — Jason Andrews. I’m the Prefect for Slytherin house. I stopped by to check on Miss Potter and ran into the headmistress there; she seemed to expect to see you visiting your daughter.”

“We left there late last night, and she and her brother were resting,” Hermione replied. She was careful to not reveal too many details to this student.

Although they knew the way, possibly better then young Andrews, they followed him to the Hospital Wing. Once there, the Prefect excused himself and left for his classes. Annie was in better spirits, and she had a visitor of her own. She sat up in bed holding Jerry’s hand.

Ben remained turned away from the others, trying to hide his arm. The bandages appeared to have been poorly replaced during the night. Hermione went directly to her son, leaving Harry to speak to Professor McGonagall.

“Ben, you need to keep that covered. The salves will help remove it,” Hermione said to comfort her son.

“But Mummy, it’s hideous. I’d rather they cut it off. Why did they put a black skull and snake on my arm?”

“It was a terrible message to your father and me. That is the sign used years ago to instill fear in others. We explained how you received that mark to the Ministry, and they agreed that is was not your choice, so charges will not be pressed,” she confided.

“Charges?” he asked nervously.

“It’s called the ‘Dark Mark,’ and it has been outlawed. Anyone bearing this mark has been placed under close watch by the Aurors,” Annie said, having heard the conversation.

“Yes, you are correct. Your father and I expect this to remain confidential, and that includes you as well, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione commanded.

“Yes, Mrs. Potter, I do understand. My father gave me explicit instructions this morning,” Jerry replied.

“Annie and Ben, your father and I have some business to tend to. I understand that Madame Pomfrey is planning on letting you both return to class today. We should return in a day at most — ok love?” Hermione said and kissed her son’s forehead.

“Yes, Mum. I’ll keep an eye on Ben until you return.”

“We are in our usual guest quarters. I’ve made arrangements for you both to stay there for now, until we know more,” Hermione said. She gave her daughter a hug and kiss and then Harry’s conversation with Professor McGonagall.

“Darling, what is it?” Hermione asked once she was next to Harry.

“He’s replied,” Harry began.

“Replied? This is nearly unheard of. He’s actually begged to see the two of you. In all these years, I doubt I’ve seen more then a dozen written words from the man, and you received an audience,” McGonagall rambled in a loud whisper.

“Where and when?” Hermione asked in a lowered tone.

“He said, ‘Stay with the Headmistress. I will send information shortly.’”

“Is that all he said? How do we know it is from Abraham Kristiansen?” Hermione argued.

“I would know his handwriting, and as an extra security measure he put his seal next to Harry’s,” the professor said, pointing to the tab of hardened wax.

“What else did he say?” Hermione asked.

Harry handed Hermione the parchment and read Harry’s message first, even though he already told her the details.

Abraham Kristiansen,

I have been instructed to contact you by a mutual friend who passed on some years earlier. He left a message that I have only recently received for me to contact you. This pertains to information passed to my wife and myself of a process mentioned by Horace Slughorn to another individual.

We need this information to determine if there is a malevolent intent behind this knowledge.

We will await your reply.

Harry J. Potter, Auror.

‘Concise and to the point,’ she thought as she read past Harry’s note loud enough for them all to hear.

My dear Mr. Potter,

I will indeed grant your request for the information you seek. I know the mutual friend to speak of; he and I had many long chats about you. And I am looking forward to seeing your lovely wife again.

Abraham Kristiansen

Both Harry and Professor McGonagall waited for an explanation, one that Hermione could not provide. Noises from the other side of the room drew the attention from the note.

“I suggest we adjourn to my office to wait for his instructions. Your children seem anxious to return to class,” the headmistress observed.

“I can have some breakfast brought up if you like,” she said when they reached her office.

“That would be lovely. We both left this morning without as much as a muffin.” Hermione smiled as she replied.

The couple sat in a matched set of large, comfortable chairs. The sounds of the day’s lessons rose from the courtyard through the open windows. After a few minutes, one of the house-elves delivered a tray of fruits and pastries; another carried a tray with a large tea pot and three cups.

Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head. “Thank you both. I trust you both are happy in your work?”

The smaller elf’s eyes widened in near fright that someone actually addressed him; the other recognized her and lowered her head. “Yes, maim, Missus Hermoney.”

“Winky? You’ve stayed on?”

The elf nodded and she and her companion vanished as quickly as they appeared.

“Don’t tell me you’re still concerned over the welfare of our elves?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“She’s been trying to get Dobby to take an extra day off a month for years,” Harry joked.

A forced chuckle from the three lasted only a moment. During their second cup of tea, a large tawny owl flew into the office, a note dangling from his leg. It swooped past the two women and lighted on Harry’s arm. He quickly opened the note, and read it aloud. “It says ‘Meet me in your ‘uncle’s’ safe house in thirty minutes.’”

“Your uncle? I fail to understand the meaning of this,” Professor McGonagall started to say.

“No, professor, I don’t believe he means Vernon Dursley. The word uncle is in quotes. No, I think there’s another meaning,” Hermione observed.

Harry thought quickly. “You don’t believe he is referring to Sirius?”

“No, he specifically said ‘safe house,’ but you may be on the right track. I think he’s referring to where Remus use to stay during the full moon,” Hermione corrected.

“The Shrieking Shack?” Harry asked.

“It is a perfect spot to meet — isolated and everyone still avoids it. Plus it is off the grounds, and he could Apparate directly in or out without being seen,” Professor McGonagall added.

“Then we’d best be on our way,” Harry said

“Minerva, thank you for helping us,” Hermione said, embracing her mentor. The simple act was enough for the elder witch to break down her personal barriers.

“Hermione, I would and I will do anything in my power to help you and Harry. I’ve always thought of you as family, more then students.”

“I know. We have to leave,” Hermione said. She wiped her cheek and joined her life’s partner.

They left the headmistress’s office and continued down the staircase to the statue of the one-eyed witch. Harry looked around the hall, and satisfied they were alone, nodded to his wife.

"Dissendium!" Hermione whispered, tapping the stone witch with her wand. The statue's hump opened wide enough to allow them both to enter. They slid down on the stone slide, landing on cold, damp earth. Hermione held up her wand and muttered, "Lumos!” The narrow, low, earthy passageway twisted and turned exactly as they remembered, and they were careful not to trip on the uneven floor.

Soon the passage began to rise. They climbed worn stone steps until they felt hit something hard, the trapdoor of the cellar. Slowly, Harry pushed the trapdoor open, listening for any sound that they’d been seen. Once satisfied the cellar was empty, they crept slowly toward the wooden staircase, and he removed his old Invisibility Cloak. They emerged into the store unseen and waited a moment until the door opened allowing them to leave Honeydukes.

Together they left the small village, passed the Three Broomsticks, and climbed a slope to the Shrieking Shack. The windows remained boarded, and the dank, overgrown garden was in more need of attention than ever.

“Do you think he’s here already?” she asked.

“There’s one way we’ll know,” he replied, leading the way to the door. It swung open without a touch, allowing them to enter. He pulled off his Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it back into his pack. They looked around on the first floor for a moment. A creak of a board above them drew their attention and their defenses.

“He’s upstairs. We need to be cautious,” he whispered.

“Please, fear you should not have. In the front room I wait,” a strange voice croaked.

They climbed the stairs to the same room where they had first met Sirius Black so many years before. Inside sat a strange elfish-looking creature: his skin was pale green and thin wisps of grey hair stood up on the top and sides of his head. His large ears, although smaller than a house elf’s, had a curious point to them, and he was shorter than most men. He leaned on a gnarled wooden staff; his hand trembled under the stress he applied to the crutch.

“Greetings, my young friends. Remember me, you do not?” he asked.

Harry stared at him and searched his memory. “I’m afraid we have not met,” Harry replied.

“Memories of the past repressed have you. Remember back to a time when you were lost to yourself. A dear friend asked my help to guide you back to the path of the light. Remember now?”

“I remember a dreaming of a house-elf when I was a boy. But, that couldn’t have been you, could it?” Harry asked.

“And remember me not? This surprises me not. My face see you did not.” The strange creature said to Hermione, “Assistant in a trial to you I was. Speak not did I, my face hidden I kept.”

“I don’t…” she began.

“No, of course remember me you do not. Outmaneuver the judge you did, used words not yet written. Clever plan it was, worked quite well. Remain unknown I must now as I remained then.”

Hermione looked puzzled, “You were there? I almost forgot that detail. I used the text from the Malleus Maleficarum in that proceeding, but you’re right, it wasn’t written yet.”

“Watch you both I have. Years passed and closer you grow. Please call me by the name my friends use, Gnome.” He paused to allow the silence to envelope the room. “Many years have I lived, and much knowledge I have gained. Knowledge I have shared openly, but I observed you to use knowledge secretly given, and freely trusted the source. I hope the manuscript helped you,” Gnome said.

“How would you know about the manuscript?” Hermione asked startled.

“Passed to you to pass to your future husband I had. Studied this book with many unanswered questions, you have,” Gnome said.

“You gave her that book?” Harry asked also surprised at the revelation.

“Yes, from Dumbledore I received it, given to him by a friend he said. When I inquired to the origin, he said Minerva McGonagall received it from a classmate. Albus mentioned this first before he dealt with the evil of that era, nearly eighty years ago, when Minerva was a student. Dumbledore was the transfiguration Professor, and as I understood him, Minerva was his best student,” Gnome replied.

“Then how did she acquire it?” Hermione asked.

“That I personally asked, since the contents were unintelligible to any of us. She believed it to contain dark knowledge. Scared she was, afraid her companion would be exposed. Assurance of confidentiality I gave. Minerva revealed she befriended a classmate in another house that originated the copy she gave,” Gnome said.

“Copy? We have a copy? Where is the original?” Hermione asked.

“That I was unable to discover. It may have been destroyed or simply hidden where no Gryffindor can find it. The classmate, as I understand, was a Slytherin, with the initials EP,” Gnome added.

“EP? Is there any other information?” Hermione asked.

“That it was a young witch scorned by her housemate; nothing more of the identity I know. Now, please sit and tell me what knowledge you seek,” he replied.

Harry and Hermione sat on a pair of chairs that had been neglected for many decades; the cushions were old and tattered, but still provided a place to sit and talk. After a moment of reflection, Harry said, “I have learned of a spell through a message left to me by Albus, one that an old foe may have employed. It is called a Horcrux.”

“I’ve never heard of this one either. We have an extensive library in our home, and I’ve never encountered this,” Hermione added.

The ancient wizard sat silent and bowed his head before he replied. “Ask me not of this; any other information tell you I could. This is the darkest of spells, not to be lightly experimented with.”

“Then you have heard of this before?” Hermione asked.

“Yes. Purest of evil it is. Once evil is unleashed, forever a servant you are, locked in a hell of your own creation,” Abraham Kristiansen said. The hesitancy in his voice gave indication to Harry this was a difficult subject.

Harry leaned forward. “Sir, we have no intention of using this process. We need as much information as possible on how to deal with a wizard who has made a Horcrux, and we believe someone has used this process. Further, I believe he made seven Horcruxes at some point, and they are being sought for some purpose.”

“Please, if there is anything you can tell us on how to identify and then destroy them, we must know,” Hermione added to the plea.

“Seven you say. You believe one man has created seven? Unheard of this is; dangerous this wizard has become. Avoid him you must. And above all, remember should you face him, destroy him you cannot if as much as one Horcrux remains,” the ancient answered.

“No, that’s impossible. I killed him myself. Is it possible he survived?” Harry asked. A look of disbelief spread across his face.

“If a Horcrux he has made, then yes, I say it is possible face him again you will. Completely destroy him you cannot — not if his immortal soul hidden he has.”

“Harry, the children! You don’t believe he’s the one that attacked Ben, do you?”

“We can’t rule out that possibility,” Harry replied.

“Help you I will, and thank Dumbledore you must for this meeting. I know of the one you speak. Unaware I was he succeeded in his quest. But I must also warn you there is another manipulating all; known this other you have, but who he is I cannot say.”

“Is this ‘other’ connected in any way to the issues we have to resolve?” Harry asked.

“Create conflict in your lives together he has. Created conflict in your family he has. Care you must take and trust no one,” Kristiansen said as he stood. “Now, training you requested and training shall begin. Please take my hand, and we shall leave for my home. First in more then two hundred years to see my home, you both are. Not even your mentor allowed to visit my home. Hidden I prefer to remain, but great is your quest.”

Abraham stood and stretched a hand to both of his new friends. In a blink of an eye the three vanished from the room.

The journey was brief and unlike any other form of Apparation either experienced before. A biting wind blew in their faces, and a salty mist told them they were near an ocean. But all that was visible to the three was a shear rock cliff, with no apparent exit or shelter.

“Harry, I feel strange, cold, and sad. Much like when we lost the babies,” Hermione commented.

“I do as well. Something about this place seems so uninviting — the way I felt when I fought the Dementors away from Sirius. I can see why no one has heard of Gnome before,” Harry replied.

“Good, attuned to your senses you are. Skills of this form need you to succeed in your quest. Now please follow me to my sanctuary,” Gnome instructed.

The short man waved a hand across the stone face, and the solid rock began to move and shift until a gateway appeared. He waved his hand again, and the touches on the walls ignited. The tunnel appeared to descend i into an endless chasm.

“Alone I prefer. Inhospitable it may be, but home it is. Please walk quickly, the passage will close behind us,” Gnome said, urging them forward.

They walked behind their new mentor in this endeavor, deeper into the rock face. Hermione held Harry’s hand, and tightened her grip. An icy cold feeling ripped through her stomach; she knew Harry was concerned.

The tunnel opened into a large chamber. The underground complex seemed impenetrable, a smooth, featureless wall impeded their progress. Again, Gnome raised his hand and performed a sweeping motion, revealing another temporary gateway.

“Please enter my home, comfortable to your tastes find it you will,” he said as the trio passed through the wall.

Inside the accommodations, although sparse, displayed reasonable taste in simple furnishings. The main lounge area held a fireplace and a well-worn chair; a seldom used sofa sat opposite the chair. A small table separated the two pieces of furnishing, and a pile of books sat on the edge of the table next to the chair. Hermione’s eyes were drawn to the floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with very old volumes. A corridor passed between the lounge and another room that doubled as his kitchen and sleeping quarters. The corridor between the two rooms remained dark, and it was as foreboding as the tunnel they passed through to reach this subterranean dwelling.

“Please sit. We can discuss all without fear of others overhearing conversation. To begin, tell me all you know of Horcruxes and correct your knowledge I shall,” he said.

Harry and Hermione sat on the sofa, still maintaining physical contact, and Harry began. “All I know is from viewing a memory left in my care by Albus Dumbledore before his death fifteen years ago . This memory was from an old professor’s view. He was asked directly about Horcruxes from wizard who was a student at that time.”

“And this memory, how was it acquired before it passed into your possession?” Gnome asked.

“I have no idea. I never heard of Professor Slughorn until that time,” Harry replied.

“I understand. This minor mystery easy to solve once all information needed you have. He was the Potions professor nearly one hundred years ago, know him I do, former student he was. Tell me of this student he instructed.”

“This student’s name was Tom Riddle. He asked Professor Slughorn for information about Horcruxes and said he ran across the term in his reading. Personally, knowing Riddle as I have, I believe he was intentionally searching for that process and discovered the professor knew details of is as well,” Harry said.

“Assumptions you make are true. There has not been written information of the Horcrux creation in more then seven hundred years. Of this I am certain,” Gnome said.

“I remembered thinking how skillful Tom was at pulling the information; I did notice the professor was reluctant to discuss the matter with Tom. Professor Slughorn finally told Tom a Horcrux is an object used to conceal part of their soul. The soul had to be split and then stored in that object. I also remember him saying if the body is attacked or destroyed, that person cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged.”

“True that is. Not completely dead that person is, and cannot die until returned as a mortal.”

“The professor said only the darkest act of murder is powerful enough to split a soul and then encase it. The disturbing point was that Riddle specifically asked about creating seven separate Horcruxes,” Harry said.

“This point above all disturbs me,” Gnome began.

“Excuse me,” Hermione interrupted, “but now you have me curious on how you’ve become a recommended expert on this matter.”

He sat, silent for a moment, before he answered the question he’d expected and dreaded. “This knowledge is passed from master to apprentice, but only one that has actually performed this can know the dark secrets I am prepared to tell you.”

Hermione stared at their host for a moment, and let out a gasp of realization. “Then you have made one?”

Abraham Kristiansen’s only response was a simple nod; his eyes were fixed to a spot on the floor in shame.

Harry sat, also in disbelief, before he resumed the discussion. “I’m slightly confused: You’ve made one? I was under the impression that only dark wizards would consider it.”

“Today that is true. I had a mentor when I was a youth who told me of a process to gain immorality, but he was not aware of the risks involved. Since that day, my life has been spent atoning for that dark deed. The only one alive that knows all the secrets I may be. These I shall pass to you only with your solemn vow to never create one.”

Harry arched his back to sit as formally as he could. “Sir, you have my word. I do not wish to use this information for any other reason then tpreventing an evil from continuing and harming those I care about.”

Hermione also nodded and added, “I also give my word. As a healer and a mother, I cannot find pleasure in taking a life.”

Gnome raised his head to look Hermione in the eye. “But you gained pleasure in taking a life once. I understand the circumstances behind it, and I would not have been able to make another choice either.”

Now Hermione’s eyes began to fill; she had nearly put that incident out of her conscious memory. “I didn’t intend to take his life, but you are right, I was responsible. Harry, learn what you can. I am not worthy to learn his secrets.”

“No, you have shown in your life your true alliance is to life, not death. You have chosen to follow the light side of the path of your life, not the dark. But beware of the dark side. Anger... fear... aggression. Forces of dark magic are they. Easily they flow into your soul, difficult to remove. Flawed and imperfect is your soul, but intact it remains. You must struggle to retain your soul or lose what makes you human,” Gnome said to Hermione before he turned to Harry, “However with your soul I also see it is imperfect and not complete. I can feel what is missing is near, but not as a Horcrux. I sense it was a gift.”

The couple glanced at one another before Hermione answered. “Yes, when we were children something happened between us that has helped to keep us together.” She reached and took his hand.

“If my soul is incomplete, does that mean I cannot die?” Harry asked, slightly startled.

“Understand you did not. Your soul, although not whole within you, has been part of the two of you. Die you can, your soul again complete when you both leave this life. Understand the constraints of a Horcrux first before one you can identify.”

“The wizard to create a Horcrux must personally cause a death. This death must be violent and from a dark act. Taking a life in defense of one’s own safety or to save another cannot create the forces required. Yes, life-changing any death caused personally can be, but a Horcrux it cannot create,” Gnome began his teachings.

Harry opened his mouth to ask a question, but a raised hand stooped his query.

“Once the soul is split, healed it can be over time, repentance and atonement are required. Time is precious; if too much time passes, the soul fragment may vanish from this life. Should too much of your soul cease in this fashion, forever lost you will be, unable to journey to the next adventure you become. Forever bound to fruitless searching of the afterlife for escape; forever searching for the whole.

“This object must not be made of a living entity, if forever expected to last it is. Flesh can die, and die that soul hidden within. A living being can be used and moved to another object if time is short and nothing else is possible, but dangerous it is. Knowledge of one could be shared with the other. Simple to connect one mind to the other this becomes.”

“Is it possible that a portion could be removed without harming the host?” Hermione asked, her thoughts of Harry’s initial torments came back into her mind.

“Possible, but to die is preferred. Should the host die, the fragment could escape from a fresh wound and transfer to another object.”

Hermione gasped and grabbed Harry’s arm, “Harry, when you tried to take your life in the chamber in our sixth year, you must have been guided to cut yourself by Riddle’s soul.”

He pulled the sleeve back to reveal the long scar on his arm.

“Contain a soul you had once before, gone it is, what object caused this mark?” Gnome asked as he gently touched Harry’s scar.

“A dagger. I sought it to destroy it but failed,” Hermione added. “It was used later to murder others. I was the last to be attacked with it, and it left a scar.” She raised a hand to a nearly forgotten wound.

“This dagger, has it been destroyed?”

“I don’t believe so. It may still be in the school’s archives in the headmaster’s office,” Harry answered.

“Destroy it you must. A Horcrux it may be, and that risk you cannot take. That evil return from that weapon may be possible. Tell me the objects and the order you believed to be used. I will try to identify them if I can.”

“Why is the order important?” Hermione asked.

“The first Horcrux created would be the strongest and most difficult to destroy, since it contains the largest portion on the soul split from the whole. Each subsequent Horcrux has a diminished portion of the soul to reflect the order of its creation. The first would contain half of the soul; the second would have half of the remaining half, and so with the others. If seven portions you say he wanted, then six Horcruxes he created. More than that would render the remaining portion of his soul too weak to survive without other means,” Gnome stated.

“So, if we can destroy the first, then the others wouldn’t be as difficult?” Hermione asked.

“Not as difficult but still dangerous. Caution must be taken to use only magical means to destroy one, or that portion of the soul survive it could,” Gnome answered.

Harry thought back. “Sir, there was a diary I destroyed, that may have been one; I stabbed it with a Basilisk fang. Would that have been sufficient?”

“Yes, a Basilisk is a magical creature. The venom would have been sufficient to kill that portion,” Gnome answered. “One last detail of a Horcrux: The creator cannot destroy his own creation. Suicide this would be and impossible to do it is. Well hidden it must be, or destroyed by another it could be.”

“Then if it is hidden, how can we find them?” Hermione asked.

“Simple is the task it seems, but first find the Horcrux you must. Clever the dark wizard is to hide and protect his soul. To find the object, first you must determine what is most important to the creator. Special to him it must be, important to maintain control it is,” Gnome said.

Harry stood and began to pace between the sofa and the chair, the scarce furnishings left ample room. “What you are saying, if I’m not mistaken, is we have to find objects that Tom Riddle considered personal and important, to him, and there’s no bloody way we can do that. Anything he used has got to be at least fifty years old, if not older. And even worse, he’s been ‘dead’ now for thirty-five years,” Harry ranted.

“Old they may be, but find them you must. First identify possible candidates you must,” Gnome said.

His comment struck a memory. Harry walked back to the sofa in only a couple steps and reached into his rucksack. He read through the sheets he extracted and held one to the ancient wizard.

“This list, where did you find it? Gnome asked.

“We found it in a chamber near where Albus Dumbledore was murdered. Actually my best mate found it while investigating the murder. I was busy elsewhere; Hermione was having a baby that day,” Harry said.

“A child you had on that same day? Was the birth a difficult one?” Gnome asked.

“Actually, both were difficult. But our daughter Annie nearly died. Ben took his sweet time before he decided to pop out,” Hermione replied.

“Hmm… a difficult birth and the death of a powerful man; care must be taken, possible guardian he has become for the girl. Have there been any unusual indications or abnormal occurrences?” Gnome asked, still holding the parchment.

“We encountered another old friend that gave us a message from Albus that he would protect her,” Harry answered.

“Seen this he has, a good man he was,” Gnome answered. He began to ponder the list and wiggled his fingers. A quill appeared and he began scribbling on the sheet.

“What do these mean?” Hermione asked.

“This list is as old as the girl? Found it you did on the day she was born?” Gnome asked without looking away from the sheet.

“Yes, in a cavern dug into a cliff, near Wales,” Harry replied.

“Others seek these items, hope the Horcruxes they find. Mistaken are they of some, correct they are of others. But they have been seeking them for fifteen years. Recovered some I fear they may have,” Gnome said, looking up to the couple.

“How can you tell by simply looking at it?” Hermione asked.

Gnome looked to her and grinned, “These two, the cup and locket, Horcruxes they likely are, good choices, not obvious. This one,” he said pointing to the list, “this cabinet is a poor choice and unlikely to have been used; too large to conceal. The other two listed as destroyed I believe are correct.”

“So, if Riddle created seven, and we have four identified, which three items would he have used?” Hermione asked.

“Two, there are two unidentified items, not three. If seven parts he created, then six Horcruxes at one time existed. Two are destroyed, three identified, leaving one left. You say you took his life, twenty-five years ago? Did his body remain intact?” Gnome inquired.

“Harry’s destroyed his body in an energy sphere; as far as we know nothing remained. And only two have been identified, not three,” Hermione said, correcting the obvious error.

“No, three identified have you, the dagger you have forgotten. A Horcrux I believe it to be, and safe in Hogwarts it remains. Two others are known and must be found. The last will be the most difficult to find.”

“Then which items should we focus on?” Harry asked.

“List of items rejected is good; none of these would be used. Too large or too easily damaged; also remove from the candidates any organic items, bones and this hand can be removed. Also remove any item not old enough or that may have been cursed. Virgin it should have been before used to store a soul’s portion,” Gnome replied. He placed the parchment on the table, and the three circled the table to read the list closely.

“Then we can eliminate the cards, this necklace, the china, and crystal bottle. The cards have blood stains and can be considered organic; the others can be easily broken,” Hermione said.

“Why is the ‘Order of Merlin’ rejected? I would expect it would fit the list?” Harry asked.

“Merlin in this world represents good, as a symbol containing evil it could not serve,” Gnome replied.

Then that leaves ten items we have to research, we should get started as soon as possible,” Harry said.

“First, you must be able to identify if a soul fragment it contains. Would you destroy all these artefacts?” Gnome asked.

“How can we tell?” Hermione asked back.

“A charmed talisman is needed, one that can sense one’s soul. The problem with such an object is it would also detect the soul of anyone holding it. This is why a Horcrux is difficult to find,” Gnome replied. The corner of his mouth curled upward in a slight grin.

Hermione sat back on the sofa, forgetting the list. A few moments of thought produced an idea. She quickly stood, startling Harry at her abruptness, and paced around the room. She stood at the wall lined with books, and closed her eyes.

“Help you I can, if you tell me what you seek,” Gnome said.

Hermione smiled and continued her search. She raised her hands as they began to glow. She slowly moved across the wall, her hands outstretched as if feeling the air. She passed to the next wall of book, and stopped.

“Harry,” she called out, her finger pressed a knot in the wood panel and opened her eyes. The wall of books sprung open, leaving a secret door ajar.

Gnome stood and quickly crossed the room to where she stood, but froze when she entered the tiny room behind the bookshelf.

“Hidden room?” Harry asked.

“Private that is, allowed you are not. Interfere in my personal life I will not allow,” Gnome protested.

Hermione stepped into the small room, and a blue light illuminated the room. Harry and their host followed close behind her.

The small room held a simple table, a framed portrait of a handsome young man in medieval dress, and a chair. A cloak hung on a hook on the wall, and a pair of boots sat beneath the garment. The handful of items on the table had remained undisturbed for centuries. She passed her hand over the items, being careful not to disturb them.

“You used this?” she asked softly her hand hovered over a silk pouch.

“Stephen. His name was Stephen,” Gnome replied. He pulled the empty chair from the table and sat, his head reverently bowed. “Stephen was my brother. Identical we were, twins.”

“This was your brother?” Harry asked in disbelief.

“Twisted and deformed you become, as I have, when a Horcrux you create. Age your body continues, but death does not come.” He picked up the pouch and emptied the contents into his hand. He gently held the object, hiding it from view.

“What happened?” Harry asked as Gnome let a gold chain slip through his fingers.

“Researchers we were. We learned all we could of those subjects taught in the same school you attended, satisfied we were not,” he paused for a moment when a soft click filled the silence.

“Unsatisfied with what we knew, we sought more. Stephen found the secrets first, untested they were. Immortality the spell claimed for the caster, but unclear the procedure was. Another was needed as a catalyst, and Stephen insisted we work together. If one was successful, the other would repeat what we learned. Lots we drew, two sticks, one long, one short,” he pointed to two twigs on the table.

“You and your own brother?” Hermione asked. Concern and comfort rang from her voice.

“Yes, neither of us knew what to expect. ‘Dark spells are required to cause the rift to isolate a portion,’ the spell instructed. Turns we took. I used the torture spell on my own brother first, without success; he used the mind control next. Again we met with failure. Try and fail, until the last I used, and he died at my hand.” Gnome never looked up as he related the story. He carefully placed the chain on the silk pouch, and then gently laid an open locket on top.

“My brother died, and I used this to store my shattered soul.” He pointed to the locket.

“A locket?” Harry asked.

“He planned to marry the girl he loved the next day, this was the ring he planned to give her,” Gnome replied, and removed a gold ring from the locket. “Devastated she was to learn of the act. Face her myself I could not. Her own brother was left to break her heart.”

Harry and his wife stared at the golden ring in silence, uncertain what to do next.

“What became of her?” Hermione asked, the question was hard and the answer would prove harder to hear.

“Alone she was, because of me. Arrested and tried for witchcraft, suffered untold pain for a fortnight. Died she should have, but confess she refused. I sought to free her, but then she signed the confession and was freed. I watched her live with muggles until her death.”

Abraham did not allow the topic to continue, “Never before have I seen one that could sense a Horcrux, and hidden, how this is possible?”

“I have a special talent. I have no idea how I gained this ability, but I can sense and manipulate energy fields. The life energy is tied directly to the soul, and I can isolate and detect that energy,” Hermione explained.

“Heard few have this ability, never met one. Never knew of one as strong in this as you. Special gift this is, quite rare,” Gnome replied.

“I know, I’ve researched this ability since I discovered I had it. It has been useful when my husband or children limp home injured, and I do not like to invade in another’s privacy unless invited or threatened,” Hermione said.

“Useful it will be to find and truly identify what you seek. More I cannot tell you then you already know. Remember this: What those who create a Horcrux seek is power. Power creates fear, and fear is the dark path; fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate; hate leads to suffering. Fear, anger, hate, and suffering you have known, but also you have avoided. Remain true to each other and together you will triumph. Now it is time to return to the school and your children. I wish you both good fortune on this quest,” Gnome said.

Annie’s trip to the hospital wing after her fight with her best friend a few days earlier had cooled her budding relationship with Jerry. Although they remained together as a couple, she pulled back her feelings into a comfortable cocoon in her mind. She push hard to isolate herself, but Jerry pushed back harder, refusing to give up on her.

A new Potions Master had been engaged to serve as a temporary replacement for the missing Draco Malfoy for the remainder of the year. His disappearance and the attack on the Potters’ son resurrected memories of dark times for the older staff members, and talk of an investigation into the return of the Dark Lord was quickly squashed within the faculty. Security, however, had been tightened to the level imposed during the last Wizard Civil War.

The older students prepared for their OWLs and NEWTs in a flurry of activity, while the fourth years and younger merely had normal end of year examinations. Annie retreated to the library in preparation for her examinations, knowing no one would disturb her in that sanctuary. But as had become the new norm, Jerry Weasley accompanied her nearly every day. Today, however he had Quidditch practice in preparation for the end-of-year match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw to decide the House Cup.

She needed to study for her Astronomy and Divination exam, two of her weaker subjects. However, after several hours of fruitless effort, she felt compelled to read Hogwarts, A History. She searched for details during the years her parents were students so she could learn more of Albus Dumbledore’s role in her life.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore – Date of birth is unknown, but assumed to be in the spring of 1844, and his only known relative, Aberforth Dumbledore had been reported as missing since near the beginning of the Second Wizard Civil War of 1994.

Albus Dumbledore had also earned recognition as the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He also gained prominence for his discovery of the twelve uses for dragon’s blood and for his work on alchemy with his friend Nicolas Flamel. In the years that followed, he accepted the teaching post as Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in 1938. Albus Dumbledore served the Ministry of Magic with distinction in the defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, earning the Order of Merlin, First Class before resuming his academic pursuits. In 1958, he accepted the position of Headmaster of H ogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

At the end of the Second Wizard Civil War of 1994, he accepted the position within the Ministry as the Minister for Magic until his reported death on the first at 11:30 in the morning of May 2009.

Annie looked at that date; it was her exact time of birth. She found another volume that detailed his life, but it did not shed any new information on his part in the war with her parents. Her frustration at failing to solve this puzzle fueled her desire to dig deeper, but the school library was devoid of the details she sought.

Annie reached into her father’s old rucksack and pulled an old black leather bound book. She’d tried to read it before, but she never fully understood the text. None of it made sense: The descriptions of far away lands and tales of past adventures were without foundation.

The idea of knights serving as guardians of peace and justice intrigued her. The tales left visions of faraway lands as alien and mystical to her as her world was to Muggle children. It didn’t seem rational to her; the names were so unusual, even for her world.

A noble order of protectors unified by their belief and observance of their power hearkened back to a more civilized, classical time in history. Their order is ancient, spanning over a thousand generations. As the Republic thrived and grew over the centuries, these knights came to serve as guardians of peace and justice.

Headquartered on Crescent, the knights trained, studied, and planned from their impressive Temple, a towering edifice rising high above the surrounding structures in the city. They are governed by the High Council of Twelve – all of them Masters – who contemplate the very nature of their power.

The origins of the order are forever lost to time, but much of their early history has been recorded in specialized information modules that can only be activated by those so talented, and exploring its deepest confines requires the skill of a trained Knight.

Crescent — there was another place mentioned, she thought as she thumbed back a few dozen pages.

“Here it is,” she said. “Corrieban, some far off land or ancient kingdom.” She read further, trying to identify they exact location to no avail. She was quite puzzled because the book contained writings from several authors; two identified placed she knew, but the first was as foreign to her as if it described living on the Moon.

She closed the book and laid her head on the cover before she closed her eyes. Maybe she’d absorb the information as she napped.

The places she read began to focus into her mind, and ancient buildings and people strangely dressed passed before her. She was unable to understand a single spoken word, as each individual seemed to converse in a different language or dialect only they knew.

Wizards from a distant time, she thought, seeing one holding a massively thick wand. She stood before a towering building that resembled a temple of sorts; people of all ages walked past. Children in small groups followed a single adult; each wore a robe that flowed as they walked.

She walked to the main gate and entered the massive steel doors. Once inside, she found herself standing inside the Great Hall of the school. The outer most walls were missing, but workers labored to repair the gaps in the masonry.

“No, Helga, all the tables must be the same size. I do not care if Salizar thinks his house should be larger,” a tall man with shoulder-length auburn hair said to a slightly plump woman.

“Godric is right, Helga. You can’t accept everyone in your house,” the other witch said.

Annie watched the conversation with keen interest, but the voices grew faint as the people faded from view. The world around her remained silent, and the light of day began to fade into twilight. All images left her thoughts as she slept.

A hand gently stoked her hair and a soft voice whispered in her ear, “You need to wake up, we need to talk.”

She raised her head from the manuscript and looked into dark eyes set in a handsome chiseled face framed by jet-black hair. The young wizard’s black cloak hung from his neck. His long, thin fingers softly caressed her cheek.

“You found my book. I’d hoped that someone I could trust would find it and keep it safe,” he said.

“You look familiar,” Annie said.

“My name is Tom. I’ve spoken to you in the past,” he said.

“Are you a dream?” She felt a strange, new sensation twist in her stomach, much the same as when Jerry first kissed her.

“No, not a dream. For now, I cannot exist in your conscious thoughts. I have tried to reach you before; but I had been prevented by those wishing to withhold the truth from you.”

“Why me? What’s special about me?” she asked, her head jerked over in a nervous spasm.

“Family helps family, which is why I need your help. We are cousins separated by prejudice. Your parents and those that have aided them in the past have sought to murder me and have seen to the death of my family,” Tom said. His face turned stone cold at the revelation.

“I don’t understand,” she began. But he stopped her.

“Of course not. Do you expect the entire truth to be told by those who have plotted for nearly a century to steal what is our birthright? I can help you restore what has been taken; and once balance has been restored, we both can share the rewards,” he said.

“Your grandfather’s father betrayed my father and stole my birthright. Aided by those who claimed to act in the name of righteousness, he discredited me after murdering my family. They ingeniously shifted the blame to my uncle, sending him to his death in Azkaban. No one believed anything I said or did to bring that truth to light,” Tom added.

Annie felt his icy cold boney fingers on her cheek; she felt a warm trickle run down her chin at his touch.

---

“Remember, Harry, we need to locate these other objects before anyone else discovers them,” Hermione said while they quickly walked together to Professor McGonagall’s office. She was hoping everything they’ve learned was wrong.

“I still think you should have stayed with her until she woke up,” Harry said.

“Madam Pomfrey gave her a potent Dreamless Sleep potion. She’ll be unconscious for a day at least — maybe two,” Hermione said.

“Still, I don’t feel right leaving her alone,” Harry replied.

“She’s far from alone. Jerry, Arty, and Ben are with her. Jerry won’t leave her, that boy’s quite taken with our daughter,” Hermione replied. “I’m more concerned with what I couldn’t sense when I tried to mend her injury.”

“Love, you search the office,” Harry said. “I need to search the Chamber; there may be something we overlooked the last time we were there.”

Hermione shook her head, “No, I won’t let you go there alone; you need someone else with you. Do remember the last time you went there alone?”

“Yes, I do, but that was nearly thirty years ago, I’m more careful now,” he replied.

“Absolutely not. We’ll search it together after the office. This should be quick. I expect we won’t find anything here,” she insisted. “Besides,” she added, “you might not be able to identify a Horcrux on your own.”

“Gnome felt that dagger is possibly a Horcrux. I would feel better if that one item were finally destroyed. I don’t want it to hurt any one I love,” Harry argued.

“It won’t. We’ll search it together, and together we will destroy all the Horcruxes Riddle left. I won’t let you take any more risks then necessary. You made a promise to me, and I intend to make sure you honor it,” Hermione said.

“What promise?” Harry asked.

She laced her arms around his waist and held her husband. “That we would be together forever. I won’t risk losing you,” she replied.

A gentle kiss to her forehead was his reply. She turned the chaste kiss into a deeper one..

“Darling, I think we should get this over with before a student catches us snogging outside the Headmistress’ office,” Hermione cooed.

Harry simply nodded and paused a moment to catch his breath. He lightly tapped on the door with his knuckle and paused again.

“Come in, I’ve been expecting you both,” Professor McGonagall said from the other side of the door.

“Professor, we just left Annie asleep in the hospital wing. Although she’s physically better, I’m afraid her emotional state is in question. She’s got too much of her father in her and won’t tell us what’s really troubling her,” Hermione began.

“There’s a strong chance she’s sensitive to Tom Riddle’s presence, which may well be one reason the sorting hat put her in Slytherin,” Harry added.

“I never expected that possibility, but you may be correct in your assumption. I will discuss this with Professor Stevens and whomever I appoint as Head of Slytherin next year about transferring her to Gryffindor at the beginning of next term. For now, I suggest she stay in the quarters you have been using. Shall I have Benjamin stay with her?” the Headmistress offered.

Hermione thought for a moment. “Yes, it may be best to have her brother stay with her for the remainder of this term.”

“Professor, she’s been through quite a bit the past fortnight. I would feel better if we had everything arranged before we told her. We’ll tell her since she’s having stomach issues, having her out of the Slytherin dungeons would be better for her immediate health,” Harry added.

“Harry, I think there’s another issue you both need to address,” Professor McGonagall said. “I know how painful the past has been for you both, and I look on you not as former students, but as family. I think she needs to know her heritage as well as your history. I’ve had concerns about your past requests to shield your children from knowing the details, but she is fifteen and very strong willed, not unlike the both of you.”

“Annie and I have started that discussion. She is aware of some details,” Hermione replied.

“As much as I would prefer to put it all behind us, Professor McGonagall is right,” Harry said. “Trying to shield them from our past may have prevented them from being prepared, much the same as what happened when Professor Dumbledore was not being completely honest with us. We may have done more harm then good.”

“There’s a great deal that could cause more harm to her emotionally. I really don’t think now is the time for this,” Hermione said rejecting the suggestion.

“You’re reacting as a mother protecting her young, and I understand your concerns,” Professor McGonagall replied.

“We could spend time this summer telling her what has happened to us, so she knows and won’t be shocked to hear or read about the past,” Harry said.

Hermione began to shake her head again, but looking into his eyes, she felt his fear. She sighed deeply. “Maybe you both are right, but I want this business we have at hand finished once and for all before we traumatize our children with the past. So, with that, there are objects we need to find, Professor. They may be here in your office or in the Chamber.”

“Objects? What sort of objects?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“That is more between us and Abraham Kristiansen. If he is correct, there’s a chance we could put a quick end to what’s been happening,” Harry said.

“Then tell me what you need. The school is at your disposal,” the headmistress said.

“We have a partial list, but only Hermione can verify the object. It seems like she even startled Abraham with her ability,” Harry said.

“Then I shall leave you both to the task. If there’s anything you need from me, please ask,” she replied before leaving her office.

---

Annie woke to the sound of her mother’s voice; she recognized the tone, but not the words. She lay on the bed, keeping her eyes shut, feigning sleep, until she could understand what was happening. She gently tried to move her arm under the sheet, but it was restrained.

“Once she wakes, we should be able to get to the bottom of these events; this third documented incident shows a pattern,” an unknown voice said.

“I would rather deal with this with my daughter alone,” Hermione said. Annie could feel someone sitting on the edge of her bed.

“That is not wise; these occurrences are becoming more frequent, since her birthday.”

“She’s never shown any prior symptoms. Nothing in the past would indicate…” Hermione started.

“Ahh, but you’re wrong. I have seen her exhibit unusual stomach cramps and nausea when she believed she was alone for as long as she’s been here,” a distant voice interrupted her mother.

“Albus? When did you notice anything wrong?” Hermione asked.

“Nearly the moment she set foot in the castle, Phineas has allowed me to use his portrait from time to time to keep an eye on your little girl. She has had constant tummy problems. At first, I attributed it to her being unaccustomed to the food here, but then I remembered that Dobby has been with you for nearly thirty years,” that same voice replied.

“Yes, she’s had minor tummy aches whenever there was a task to complete. I had assumed she used that to escape what ever chore she…”

“Healer Potter, she’s awake,” another voice said, interrupting Hermione.

“Annie, are you feeling better?” Hermione asked as stroked her daughter’s hair.

“Mum, why am I tied down?” she asked.

“You started thrashing about and threw a glass across the room at Madam Pomfrey. You scared us all,” another voice on the other side of the bed replied.

“Daddy?” she asked, startled to see him there.

“You were in the library, in a bad state. Arty found you when you failed to show for dinner, and I brought you directly here,” he replied, all the time starting to untie her bonds.

“We’ve both been concerned. Headmistress McGonagall has excused Arty from classes at your father’s request,” Hermione said as she untied the other bonds on Annie’s arm.

Annie looked at her father. “What happened? And I heard a strange voice a moment ago,” she asked him.

“An old friend has been watching to keep you safe: Albus Dumbledore,” Hermione said.

“But, isn’t he dead?” Annie asked.

“I can assure you that I may not be part of this world, but I’ll always be around to watch over my favorite two protégés,” a voice from the wall said.

Annie turned to the portrait and saw a kindly old man with a snow-white beard and hair that disappeared to the bottom of the picture. He adjusted his half-moon spectacles on his crooked nose and smiled at her. “Yes, my dear. I’ve been watching not only over you, but your brother as well. Professor McGonagall also has inquired to your safety from time to time. And like the others, I misread your nausea as something other then what it may be.”

She sat up in the bed and turned to face him. “A centaur told me you have been my protector. Is this what he meant?”

“Firenze is an old and trusted friend. As for protection, I have no idea to his comments. The memories and thoughts of my physical self were added to this portrait several months before you were born. I was not able to discuss the current issues my physical self had become concerned with at the time of his death,” the portrait replied.

“Annie, your father and I may need to spend some time on a special mission. We may be gone for a while, so we asked Ron and Luna to watch over you and your brother when the term ends in two weeks. We planned to let you know the other day, but this latest episode is far more important. I won’t leave until I know these seizures have stopped,” Hermione said.

“What about Ben’s arm, Mum? What’s happened with that?” she asked.

“This is part of what we need to discover. We think these are connected. Your stomach problems and bloody vomit, Ben’s arm and the attack, and what we learned from Frienze points to a conclusion I would rather avoid,” Harry added.

“One critical bit of information may rest with Draco. He’s our first objective. And since he may be involved, your Aunt Ginny and Arty will be staying with you and your brother at the Burrow. It’s one of the safest locations we know,” Hermione said.

“Aunt Ginny and Arty? Because of what I…” Annie started.

“No, because they are family, and they are as important to your mother and me as anyone else in our extended family. You should realize that,” Harry said cutting Annie off.

“We’ve arranged with Professor McGonagall and your professors to allow you a lighter exam schedule,” Hermione said.

“Mum, I’m fine. I can deal with my own classes,” Annie protested.

Hermione shook her head. “No, as long as these incidents continue, you will be allowed a lighter schedule. You’ll still have to take each and every exam, but they will be over a longer period, no more then two per day. That should help reduce the stress,” Hermione stated as she stood.

“Annie, remember we both love you dearly, and we will ensure nothing else happens to you or your brother. Now as I understand it, Arty’s been waiting to see you. She’s gathered your things from the library. Keep a watchful eye open; we should be back in a fortnight at worst,” Harry said.

“Mum, Dad, I do love you both. Please come back safe,” she pleaded, sitting up in her hospital bed.

Harry smiled and nodded as he took his wife’s hand and the couple left. Annie noted his rucksack seemed fuller then usual.

---

The next weeks passed with out event, Annie was allowed back to her room for her personal things. She was instructed to pack with the expectation of being sent home early. The exams for most of the students were administered normally; except for one student that remained isolated. She received her exams privately. Annie grumbled at being restrained from the others, but was relieved to have a lighter overall schedule.

The end of June witnessed the departure of the students from the school, each relieved and each saddened to leave another year behind. Annie rejoined the student population on the train, the coach she was assigned also held the familiar faces of her closest companions. Her friendship with Arty remained tentative, neither dared discuss that day. Annie sat next to Jerry the entire trip home.

“Professor McGonagall informed me that we’re all staying at my home for a few days until your dad and mum return,” Jerry said, trying to break the ice.

“I hope there’s room enough for privacy,” Arty snipped. “I really wouldn’t want to get in anyone’s way.”

“There’s plenty of room,” Jerry replied. “I expect Ben will share my room and you two will be together, so you’d both best find a way to resolve your differences.”

Annie shook her head and tried to pull away. Jerry’s arm had a tight hold of her. Arty simply stared out the window; no one said another word for the next several hours.

The scenery turned from countryside to the outskirts of the city, and a familiar building came into view. The Kings Cross station was minutes away, prompting the passengers to gather their personal effects. Annie never moved; her slowed breathing as she rested quietly against Jerry was proof of her physical and emotional exhaustion. Neither had the chance to change from their school robes before the train came to a stop.

“You should change out of your robes. You know the rules,” Ben said to his sister and Jerry.

Jerry quickly pulled off his robe and tucked it into his bag. Annie ignored the warning and climbed out of the carriage, leaving her belongings behind. She exited the train before anyone was able to stop her, as if she were locked in a trance.

“Annie! Wait,” Jerry called. But he was caught in the crowd as they exited the train.

“Yes, Tom, you’re right. They don’t understand,” she mumbled to herself. She drew her wand from her cloak and left platform 9 ¾ for the Muggle portion of the station.

She walked aimlessly through the crowd of Muggles who stared at the girl in a black flowing robe. Her surreal appearance startled all that watched her cross the platform to the stairs that led to the walkway crossing the tracks.

“They are frightened,” she whispered.

“There up ahead, the fat one, kill him.”

“Kill?” she asked.

“There standing like a worthless buffoon. Kill him.”

“Tom, I can’t,” she whispered back.

“Then I shall, but first a little sport. Crucio,” her hoarse voice uttered as she raised her wand. The large man screamed once and fell to the ground. His body quivered as every muscle vibrated under his skin.

“Stop, I beg you,” Annie heard from a young boy, who ran to his father’s side. The boy’s appearance broke her concentration, and she lowered her wand.

“Fool,” she said and raised her wand pointing it at the fallen man; a deadly grin grew on her face, “Avada Ked…”

“Hurry, darling. The train will arrive at the station soon. I would like to see the children safely to the Burrow before we have to meet him,” Hermione called to Harry. He was still rummaging through the potpourri of trinkets and talismans he’d collected, searching for one item that he’d nearly forgotten with time.

“I’m just going to be a moment. I can’t leave without it. You know perfectly well it’s important,” Harry called back.

“Just hurry! We have so much to do,” Hermione called back. She had packed her rucksack for a brief adventure. All the clues they’d gathered in the past weeks had led them on a circular path, but there was still a ray of hope.

“Abraham’s note seemed urgent, but why would he want to meet in Diagon Alley?” Hermione asked when Harry returned from his study.

“I agree. As careful and cryptic as he had been, to meet in the open implies he’s discovered something huge. There, I think I have everything,” Harry replied while walking into the lounge.

Hermione stepped to the large fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. She pulled her arm back slightly to toss the powder into the Floo, when an untimely interruption in the form of a pounding on the door stopped her action.

Harry opened the door and stood face-to-face with a man he had nearly forgotten.

“Malfoy,” Harry said coolly. And because of the wizard’s painful actions to his own family, Harry blocked his entrance.

“Please, there’s little time. I may have been followed,” Draco said as he quickly pushed by Harry and entered the Potter home.

“Why are you here?” Harry asked bluntly. Hermione left the lounge for the hall and joined the growing conversation.

“I came to warn you and because I need your help,” Draco said, nervously rubbing his hands together. “They forced my compliance. I never wanted to help.”

“Who forced you? A name, give us a name,” Harry insisted.

“It was Severus Snape and my own father,” Draco whispered hoarsely. “I thought it impossible. They both died more than twenty-five years ago. I watched Severus bleed to death, and I… after what my ‘father’ did... At first I believed it to be an inhumane prank, but they appeared a couple months after you both vanished the summer before Annie was born.”

“So this is why you abandoned your family?” Harry demanded.

“T hey threatened my wife and the children if I didn’t help. I wouldn’t take the chance, so I had to find a way to leave them and make it appear as if I didn’t care. I regret having to deceive them and having my daughter despise me. I kept telling myself as long as she hates me, I know she’s safe,” Draco answered.

Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm and caught her breath. “Harry, you don’t suppose he followed us…”

Harry thought for a moment. “Your father — was there anything unusual?”

“He had a metal arm, quite articulated, and he had a look in his eyes I couldn’t recognize,” Draco said.

“What about Snape? Did you see anything unusual?” Harry asked quickly.

“He was as insane as my father. They both seemed intent on killing the lot of you.” Draco paused to peer out the window. “They both seemed different — angry, obsessed. I never saw either like this.”

“I have a fair idea about where Lucius may have come from, but not Snape,” Harry said.

“You have to stop them; they have a plan to resurrect Voldemort. It’s some scheme with a number of artifacts.”

“Yes, we know. We discovered the artifacts recently and have most of them. They can’t do any harm,” Harry said.

“No, they found eight, and another was hidden when Dumbledore was murdered. I don’t know of that one,” Draco said.

“Eight? There should have been six and Tom Riddle,” Hermione replied startled.

“No, they have eight items from the founders and from you, Harry. They were identified by the Mirror of Erised. Please, there’s little time before they find the last items they need,” Draco pleaded.

“The Mirror of Erised shows neither the truth nor the future,” Harry muttered to himself. “How did they know to use the Mirror?” Harry asked.

“Snape seemed to know far more about it then my father. I made certain it was accidentally destroyed a few days ago,” Draco replied.

“Draco, stay here until I send for you. We have a meeting with someone that hopefully can shed some light on this,” Harry insisted.

“No, I have to find Ginny and make sure they haven’t gotten to her. She and my children are all that’s important now,” Draco said, shaking his head.

“They are safe. Your little conference with Annie saw to that,” Hermione said with a wink.

“She told you? How did she manage that? She was under a blood oath. I didn’t want her to risk anyone knowing,” Draco asked.

“She as clever as her mum. Your little oath had a loophole. She couldn’t tell anyone outside your office. She maneuvered us there to tell us without ramification,” Harry answered.

“So, Draco, stay here. Don’t let anyone in, and for Merlin’s sake stay out of sight,” Hermione added to Harry’s instruction.

She and Harry then turned and left the cottage, leaving Draco to ponder his future.

---

“Ginny, you need to stay here with Luna. We’ll get the kids at the station,” Ron ordered.

“Ron, you can’t order me around like one of your henchmen. I need to get Arty; I need to tell her…” Ginny began.

“She’s been told. McGonagall told her and the others to travel together,” Ron interrupted. “I’ve sent one of my men to watch for them and keep them safe until we get there.”

“Ronald Bilius Weasley, I will not just sit here and wait. I intend to meet my daughter at the train. Radulphus and Lucia both vanished without a word six months ago. I won’t lose my youngest daughter, too,” Ginny scolded in a tone reminiscent of her mother.

“Ginerva Malfoy, I can’t allow it. You’re safe as long as you remain in the confines of the Burrow,” Ron commanded. His air of authority never intimidated his younger sister. But this time, she knew he was right and conceded the point.

“I’m beginning to know how Harry felt when he was forced to stay with that uncle of his,” she mumbled.

“Harry and Hermione should be arriving at the Ministry in a moment, so we need to leave. We’ll be back before you know it,” Ron said, apologizing for this action.

“Hey, red, be careful,” he heard from behind his sister, and simply grinned at his wife.

“Caterina, Chiara we’ll meet up with additional security at the Ministry. I have several agents waiting. You both will be responsible for securing their trunks. I know it’s a servant’s task, but Harry and I both feel only someone we trust should handle this,” Ron said as he walked to the door. Apparition would be faster then the Floo.

He opened the door and spotted two figures on the steps, one being carried.

“Sirius? Who…” Ron began until he saw the long blond locks of hair.

“Don’t just stand there, Weasley, lend a hand,” Sirius commanded.

“Dying… poison... no antidote…” Draco said with a grimace of pain.

“I don’t believe that. There’s always…” Caterina said, offering hope.

“Just stand aside. It’s not good,” Luna commanded.

Ginny watched from a distance as her brother helped Sirius carry her husband’s limp body to the sofa in the lounge. She gasped at the sight of bloody froth oozing from his mouth.

“Two bezoars… just enough to slow the effect… pain intense... caught me leaving Godric’s Hollow. I must warn Harry. They know…” Draco said, stopping to cough hard.

“Who did this to you?” Luna asked as she pulled her bag of potions. “I must have something here that can help.”

“No, the pain keeps me focused,” Draco said. This time his cough was wet and harsh.

“I stopped by Harry’s home and found him just outside the gate. I thought he was already dead, but he’s managed to hold on this long,” Sirius added.

Luna busied herself trying to determine what happened to Draco. She passed her wand over him several times and shook her head with each pass.

“No, that just isn’t correct,” she mumbled. She passed her wand over his stomach and paused.

“Irukandji Tentacles,” he wheezed. “They used the toxin from Irukandji Tentacles.”

“What are Irukandji Tentacles?” Ron asked.

“Irukandji, or Carukia barnesi, are tiny box jellyfish found in Australia. Each tentacle contains many millions of nematocysts, and each is filled with venom. The venom causes Irukandji syndrome when applied externally, but internally the effects are far worse,” Luna recited from her toxin training.

“What’s ‘Irukandji syndrome’,” Ron asked.

“It is a set of symptoms that includes lower back pain, muscle cramps, vomiting, fluid in the lungs, hypertension, and heart failure. You say you’ve used two bezoars?” Luna asked.

Draco managed a single nod. “It’s a fatal toxin.”

“How long ago?” Luna asked.

“This morning, two hours,” he replied with a cough. “I’ve not long… must see Ginny...”

Luna opened her satchel of potions and held a bottle of silvery-green fluid to his lips. “Here, this might help for a little while.”

“No, the pain keeps me focused,” he said.

“You won’t be able to manage the pain long. Ginny’s here,” she said.

Draco reluctantly drank the potion. The anguish and pain eased, but he remained aware of his situation.

“It’s a concentrate of bezoar and Muggle antibiotic. It will help ease the pain, but I can’t eliminate the toxin, the infections are too great,” she said. A tear streaked down her cheek; he was still family.

Ginny stood motionless out of view and listened while tears began to fall from her chin; the long lonely years without Draco flooded her thoughts. She hoped and prayed one day he would return to her, and she could find a way to forgive him. She slowly entered the room and looked at Draco.

“Gin, he’s been poisoned,” Ron said.

“P-Poisoned?” she stammered. “Will he be…”

Luna held her sister-in-law by the shoulders and stared into Ginny’s eyes. In that brief moment, she understood.

“Noo…” she screamed, pushing Luna away and falling to Draco’s side; her hand wiped away the residue of sorrow as she took her husband’s hand.

“Draco? It’s Gin. I’m here,” she cooed in his ear. As if she’d uttered a secret charm, his eyes opened. The spark of love she first saw from behind a mask still shown, but was fading.

“Ginny?” he said. He took a laboured breath and continued. “Ginny, I’m sorry. I never stopped loving you. They said you would die if I refused.”

Ginny looked to Ron, “They? Please, Draco, what happened?”

“They threatened you and the children if I didn’t help. I did it all to keep you and the children safe. Tell me, was it was worth it?”

“Artimesia is on the train. I haven’t heard from the twins in six months,” she said.

“Good. They are still safe. If you haven’t heard from them, they are still safe and hidden. But Artimesia is in danger,” he said, stopping to cough. His pain eased, but his condition worsened.

“Do you know where they are?” she asked.

“No, but… haven’t heard from them, then they are safe. Hagrid knows where to find them. Ginny… love you, never stopped. Missed you…” he said between gasps.

“Shh, save your strength. I’m certain Hermione and Luna can help,” she said, looking to Luna. Ginny saw the sorrow in her face, and the finality of the moment truly hit.

“I’m dying. No one can help,” he said. He struggled to pull a worn picture from his pocket and managed a smile, “Artimesia is beautiful like her mum. I’m glad I had a couple years to know her. I know she hates me for what I had to do. Please try to explain. I tried to tell you that last night we were together.”

“You can’t die, not now, not once you finally returned to me,” Ginny said. She gave up the resistance of crying, and her tears moistened his robe.

“I was forced to help. They murdered Dumbledore, and I couldn’t risk your life,” he said.

Ron’s ears burned red when he heard. He turned to Draco on the sofa, but Luna stopped him and whispered a message in his ear. The Senior Auror looked at his wife and nodded.

“The came to me and threatened you. They wanted my help. I made it appear you threw me out, made it appear as if you hated me so they would leave you alone. It worked,” he said with a grin.

“Not well enough. I would have had you back in a moment,” she said.

“They didn’t know that, but I did. That was enough.”

“Who was it? Who did this to you?”

“Snape gave me the poison, and my father stood and assisted. Snape said he had a source close to Potter that knew everything,” Draco said, turning his head to the others. “You,” he leaned forward and pointed weakly to Caterina, “had an affair with a stranger.”

Caterina’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped, “ Sì, a distinguished gentleman, he seemed sad. He said... he was... Principe . He was Principe Severo.”

“Prince Severo?” Chiara asked.

“Sì, prince Severo. He was good and kind and gentle when he spent the night with me. He made me," she paused with a deep blush. “He loved me. We had a beautiful year together, but after that, I never saw him again.”

Draco looked her, and his eyes began to dull. “Prince is his mother’s name, Eileen Prince. His name is Severus Snape. It was Snape that murdered the Minister ,” he said, falling back. His breathing slowed, and he coughed hard.

“Severus Snape? He murdered Dumbeldore?” Ron ranted, while Luna held him back.

“Draco, please hold on. Don’t leave me again!” Ginny shouted.

He looked into her moist eyes and smiled one last time. “I love you, Ginerva.”

Ginny placed her lips to his, and tears fell from her cheeks as she kissed him. His last breath left his lips into hers. His arm fell limp to the floor. Ginny let herself fall onto his still chest and collapsed sobbing.

---

Harry and Hermione Apparated directly to a small waiting room inside King’s Cross Station. This was a brief but planned detour before their scheduled meeting.

“The train should have arrived, darling. We need to hurry,” Hermione insisted.

“We can only spare a few moments to let them know to stay with Ron and Luna,” Harry replied as they crossed the room to the double doors. “The train is scheduled to arrive at 4:45, and Abraham insisted we meet him at 5 sharp.”

“Darling, it’s ten minutes to five now. The train’s surely arrived. We’d best hurry,” Hermione said.

He nodded and opened the door for her, but found the way blocked. The tiny mass before him was barely recognizable.

“Dobby!” Harry yelled.

“Master Harry Potter, Dobby has failed,” he managed to say. The thin body was scooped up by the wizard before the elf collapsed to the floor.

“Harry,” Hermione called from behind. “Over there, it looks like Malfoy.”

“I told that git to stay put. Take care of Dobby, and I’ll get Draco,” Harry said, carefully laying the elf down.

“No, not Draco, but Lucius Malfoy,” she corrected.

A tall, cloaked man stared at them from a distance, his hood pulled over his eyes, and the glint of a sliver arm revealed his identity.

“So he was telling the truth,” Harry muttered as he took chase.

A demented grin spread on his prey’s face as Harry drew closer. The Auror raised his wandless hand and thought the spell he needed. A blue bolt of pure energy danced from his fingers. Harry watched the grin vanish as Lucius Malfoy Apparated from the platform before Harry’s spell hit.

The extra heart beet it took to cover the distance seemed to be an eternity for Harry, knowing he was too slow on the attack. The crowd largely ignored him; their attention thankfully seemed to be drawn away. Harry looked at the ground where Malfoy had last appeared, hoping to find some clue.

“Harry, come back,” Hermione called. “Dobby’s not responding.”

Harry returned to the visitor’s lounge to find Hermione bent over the ever-faithful house elf. Green blood pooled under the small creature, and Hermione seemed powerless.

“I can’t stop the bleeding,” she said to Dobby, more apologizing then informing. “Did Malfoy do this?”

“Please Missus Potter,” the elf wheezed, “don’t worry for Dobby. I have been happy to serve the great Potter family.” He stopped to gulp a breath. “It is time for Dobby to end his service. But Dobby did a bad thing.”

“No, Dobby, you haven’t done anything bad,” she said to comfort the elf.

“Dobby stole, Missus Potter,” he said.

“Missus Potter, Dobby took this,” he said. His eyes stared at Hermione, his green blood stained fingers opened to reveal a button. A final sigh from the small body was his last.

“Harry,” Hermione said without looking up. “He’s dead, and I couldn’t save him.”

“I know, it was Malfoy. he must have used a severing spell, one that he knew you wouldn’t be able to reverse,” Harry consoled, holding her shoulder.

“He said he stole this,” she held the button, “but from whom?”

Harry took the button from his wife and looked carefully. “It’s a silver button, with the initials LM. He took this from Malfoy,” Harry exclaimed. “Do you have your wand?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,” she replied and handed her wand over.

He held the button in his hand and placed the wand over it. “Point me,” he ordered. The wand began to move, slowly rotating in his palm.

“It’s pointing North by east,” Hermione said, also pointing out a window. The London skyline loomed in the distance.

“Damn it, he’s trying to escape. We must hurry,” Harry said, running to the window.

“What about the kids and our meeting with Abraham?” she reminded.

“Ron and Luna should have the kids safely at the Burrow by now, and I’m certain Abraham will understand. We have to stop Malfoy before he attacks others or realizes the power hidden in the Horcruxes,” Harry insisted.

She stood, took her place at his side, held his hand, and they both vanished with a loud pop.

---

Ron gave his newly widowed sister a loving kiss on her head before he managed to state his decision. “I’ve got to warn Harry, and tell him what we know.”

“No, Ron. Bring my daughter home — bring them all home,” Ginny managed to say, her voice broken with grief.

“Ron, fetch the children. That’s more important. Harry must already know about Snape and Malfoy. Bring them all home,” Luna pleaded.

Desperate to grasp the moment, he conceded, “The children do need us right now. Caterina, are you able to come with me?” Ron asked.

She nodded and looked at her sister, who also nodded. The three left the ancient Weasley home and vanished once they left the gate.

They Apparated directly into an isolated corner of Kings Cross station. Caterina and Chiara quickly ran toward Platform 9 ¾, vanishing into the stone wall. Ron noticed a commotion in the distance, and something seemed quite out of place. He swiftly drew his wand and rushed into the gathering crowd.

“Avada Ked…”

A red bolt struck the girl from behind, and her wand slipped from her fingers. The young boy stared in horror as she fell to her knees, and he noticed her eyes had an eerie red glow. Her body was struck again, and she fell completely limp to the ground. The man on the ground quivered in fear.

“No, not them. They promised never to return,” the rotund man cried.

“Daddy? What are these people?” the boy asked.

A tall man with long, flowing red hair ran to the girl and gently lifted her. He looked at the man and a hint of recognition sparked a single word.

“Dursley?”

“D-Dudley D-Dursley,” he managed to say.

“Bugger, of all the people, you’d best forget you saw any of this. I have to bring Harry’s daughter home,” he said and scooped her in his arms. With a loud pop, the man and girl vanished.

---

“Annie? Are you awake,” Jerry asked gently.

Her eyes finally opened, “Tom?” she called.

“Who’s this ‘Tom’? This is the second time you’ve mentioned him,” Jerry asked with a tinge of hurt in his voce.

“I-I don’t know, I-I… she stammered.

“You’ve been calling for ‘Tom’ ever since we got you home,” Jerry replied.

“Home? Are Mum and Dad are here?” she asked from her daze.

“No, we’re at the Burrow; Mum’s been tending to you since we got here. You were…” He hesitated and tried to choose his words carefully. “You had a relapse.”

“H-How long?”

“Two days. The others have gone to the fu—service, someone needed to stay with you. I couldn’t leave you with that goon Dad stationed here to ‘guard’ you,” Jerry said.

“Goon? Service? What happened?” she insisted.

Jerry took her hand and contemplated his reply. “There was a murder, and you… attacked a Muggle.”

Her eyes widened, a sickly knot twisted in her stomach. “I thought it was a dream,” she muttered softly.

“It was real. It was some bloke Dad seemed to know. You were in a trance when we left the train, and we couldn’t keep up. You used the torture spell and almost used… Annie, Dad seems to think you were under someone’s control, that’s how he managed to convince the Ministry to leave you here instead of Azkaban,” Jerry managed to say.

“Who was… you said the service was for someone who died, who?” she asked tentatively.

“Uncle Draco,” Jerry said as softly as he could. “They won’t tell us what happened, but Aunt Ginny was devastated. He died in her arms the same time the train incident occurred, which delayed Dad from arriving. She’s been in St. Mungo’s since then.”

She gasped at that news, and her hands began to tremble. Jerry sat on the edge of her bed and stoked her hair. “I have to leave. I need to find Mum and Dad,” she said. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

“No, Mum said you need to stay here. Something happened to you on the train. The Healer-experts on trance and possessions weren’t able to determine what caused your incident.”

“Possession?” she asked.

“You couldn’t have been in control. You used the unforgivable curse, something none of us have been taught. Dad knew it straight away and stopped you. He had to stun you twice, and that was enough for him to convince the Ministry someone else was controlling you.”

“I need to find my Dad,” she insisted and pulled her hand away from him.

“Not until the healers clear you. They won’t be back until after the funeral,” Jerry said, trying to pull her close.

She pushed him off. “Stop it. I’m fine,” she screamed as she tried to get up from the bed. Her sudden move left her too weak to fight him. Her knees buckled under her when she set foot on the floor. She steadied herself and tried to gather her clothes.

“You’re not fine. You’ve been found lying in a pool of your own blood twice and have no recollection of nearly killing an innocent man,” he yelled back. Jerry grabbed her arm. “You’ve been avoiding me since you and Arty had your row. If you want me to leave you alone, I will. But you owe me an explanation why.”

“Leave it alone, Weasley. It’s of no concern to you,” she snapped back and pulled her arm free.

“So, you’re going to act like your dad, then? My father told me how close they were until your father did exactly what you’re doing. They mended their friendship, but my dad never really forgave yours for not being a good enough friend to accept his help,” Jerry blurted out. His words cut into Annie deeply, freezing her in her tracks.

She spun on her heals to face him. “And what do you know of them? From what I understand, it was a simple misunderstanding,” Annie hissed back.

“No,” Jerry said shaking his head. “No, Dad told me how much he regretted losing your father’s trust. Even after he broke Aunt Ginny’s heart, my dad still tried to keep the friendship alive.”

Annie stood and let his comments sink in. “You’re having a go at me.”

Jerry stared at her; his anger at her stubbornness began to fade with his revelation. “They never told you any of it, did they?”

Annie stood stone still; a dozen answers ran through her head, and she tried to calculate the results of each possible choice. She final picked the one that had the best possible outcome.

“No,” she said in an almost whisper.

Jerry nodded and walked to her, standing face to face. “Nothing?” he asked.

She shook her head ever so lightly, but just enough for her hair to spill over her shoulder. Jerry raised his hand to her cheek and brushed the strands from her face. “Annie, I always thought they were honest with you about what happened to them. Mum and Dad used to tell me stories of their adventures when they were in school, and even the time Dad almost died. He would have if your mum wasn’t there.”

“I… they never talked about it. All Ben and I know is they had difficulties and Dad loves Uncle Ron as much as he loves Mum. But even the books we have barely mention them,” she replied. Jerry’s hand lingered at her cheek, and she turned her head slightly to feel is touch.

“Annie, please don’t try and push me away. I do love you. I guess I have ever since we were kids.”

Annie felt her eyes fill with tears, and she nodded. Jerry’s other arm found her waist, and she felt his tightening embrace support her. Her knees were on the verge of abandoning their duty.

She opened her mouth to reply but discovered a pleasant obstacle to continuing the conversation. She returned his kiss with more enthusiasm then she expected. Even at fifteen, he knew how to kiss her and hold her like she was an extension of his own body. She enjoyed this sensation more then the queasiness of a few minutes ago.

“Annie Potter, I do love you,” he whispered.

“Then tell me what they won’t. Tell me who I am,” she whispered back.

The Hall of Mysteries was eerily silent. It was the middle of the day, and there should have been someone around. But that day, no one watched the door crack open and a figure slip out. The protection wards signaling an intruder had not been corrected to watch for those assumed to be dead. The lone man donned a cloak and vanished from view in a practiced move. The lift doors opened silently and closed with no visible occupant.

---

“Where did those two vanish to this time?” Sirius said as he paced in front of the fireplace, his formal dress robes flowed behind him as he walked.

“You know them; they may well have found some quiet spot for a private rendezvous,” Luna said. She carefully hung her robe in the hall cupboard.

“Not with their daughter in this state. They would never leave them if they knew. No, something’s happened, and they took off to deal with it alone, again,” Ron said, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Do you suspect they know about Draco?” Luna asked softly. Ginny remained in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea alone.

Ron shook his head in reply. “No, we never got the chance to tell them, although they must know about Dobby. Someone tried to help the little blighter. If they knew, they would have been at Draco’s funeral today.”

“I suppose,” Sirius said, contemplating the recent events.

“Has anyone checked on her since we returned?” Luna asked.

The silence from the others confirmed her concern for the girl. Caterina stood and turned to the stairs. “I shall see to her. She is still my charge while her parents are away.”

The others watched her suspiciously. Draco’s accusations and her confessions had damaged her reputation and trustworthiness. Caternia made it to the first landing only to be surprised to see Annie walking down the stairs, supported by Jerry.

“I want my Mum and Dad. Where are they?” she demanded. The weakness in her voice left little doubt that she was far from able to find them on her own.

“We really don’t know. They weren’t at the…”

“Service,” Luna finished for Ron.

“Right, service. We haven’t seen them for three days,” Ron added.

Annie looked at Jerry puzzled, “Three? You said two.”

“You’ve been asleep here for two. Dad brought you home a day after we all returned home,” Jerry said.

“I simply took you to St. Mungo’s for an examination. You were in a bad way,” Ron said in a tone to end that conversation.

“I see. Am I free to go, or am I under house arrest in your care, Senior Auror Weasley?” she asked in a spiteful tone.

“No, there’s no pending action to warrant it, but everyone is confined to the house and immediate grounds. No wandering off flying for a while,” Ron added.

“Your father was quite strict about that,” Sirius added. “They were more concerned for you and your brother’s safety than comfort.”

Annie let out a deep sigh, and Jerry felt her body lean into him for support. His arm around her waist held her steady while he guided her to a waiting chair near the fireplace. Even in June, the warm glow was comforting.

“Stay here, Sweetie. I’ll fetch you something warm to drink,” Jerry said, ignoring the smirks from several adults about his attentiveness to the girl.

She settled in the chair and let her shoulders sag; being unconscious for three days was tiring. “Has there been any word?” she asked to no one in particular.

“Ben received an owl yesterday. The bloody bird refused to give the note to anyone but him. The little bugger refused to give a clue who sent it,” Ron answered.

Annie leaned forward and called across the room to the kitchen, “Jerry, can you fetch my brother right away?”

“Of course, let me finish this first. You need to eat something,” he called back.

Sirius shook his head. “She’s got ‘im wrapped round her finger already. That bloke’s in for a rough one.”

Jerry was quick in his work bringing Annie a sandwich and cup of warm tea, and he spent a moment reheating his aunt’s tea. He largely ignored the comments and glares from the adults; they were not of concern to him. “Stay here. I’ll fetch Ben,” he said softly to her before turning and bolting up the stairs.

Annie sat quietly and nibbled at her lunch. She was hungry, but she felt as if she were on display. In only a few moments, the sound of two boys running down the stairs rattled the house. It was a sound familiar to Ron and Ginny, having grown up in that house.

“Annie, you’re better,” Ben exclaimed. His left arm remained bandaged, more to hide the scar than for the wound.

“Ben,” she called out and tried to stand.

“Sit! You’re still not well,” Luna commanded.

Annie sat without an argument. “I understand you received an owl. Who sent it?” she asked.

He looked at the others in the room, “Can I have a moment with my sister, alone?” he asked the adults.

“If it involves your parents, we all need to hear,” Ron commanded.

Ben looked at Annie for guidance, and she nodded that it was ok for them to know. Ben pulled the letter from his pocket and carefully unfolded it, keeping it hidden from view.

“It says Mum and Dad missed an appointment, and this bloke insists we meet him as soon as you’re able. He said it was of the utmost urgency,” Ben said, handing the letter to Annie.

Jerry picked up the envelope. “ It says, ‘To Anna Lily Potter or Benjamin Albus Potter.’ Who writes in weird green ink?” Jerry said.

“Green ink? Emerald green?” Ron asked.

“Right, it’s a bit faded, but it’s emerald green,” Jerry confirmed.

“Annie let’s have the letter,” Ron insisted.

“No, it’s only for one of us,” she replied, holding the sheet close to her chest.

“At least tell us, was it sent from Albus Dumbledore?” Luna asked.

“No, it’s not,” Annie said. “But this bloke asks for confidentiality, so I don’t expect we can tell you much. He says we need to meet him in Diagon Alley the Saturday after I read this note; he seemed quite explicit in that detail. Uncle Ron, that’s tomorrow. I’ll be better by then, is there any way we can go?”

Ron stood there for a moment and nodded. “But I insist Luna and Sirius accompany us, or I’ll have other Aurors standing by. Can you at least tell us who sent the note?”

She stood with renewed energy and threw her arms around Jerry’s neck. “I want Jerry to come, too, and Ben of course. His name is Abraham Kristiansen, and he said he’ll find us,” she replied.

“Can Arty join us? She’ll be bored to tears here alone,” Ben asked.

Reluctantly, Ron nodded his head in defeat. “Tomorrow then, did this Kristiansen bloke give a time?”

“No — just sometime Saturday,” Annie replied.

“Then we’ll leave first thing in the morning.” Ron turned to Luna, “Dear, I think a day in Diagon Alley might help Ginny. Why not bring her along and spend the day shopping.”

“Splendid idea. We’ll spend the morning in the shops and all meet later for lunch at the Cauldron. She needs to report to the Ministry. Those owls asking for her top return have piled up. I’ll pop into her office and make an appearance, and that should suffice until she’s up to resuming her duties,” Luna answered.

“I’ve some arrangements to prepare; can you have a chat with Ginny and convince her to go?” Ron asked. After a quick peck on the cheek, he left for his study and a bit of privacy.

The rest of the younger occupants disbursed to various areas of the home to anticipate the coming events. Annie remained dependant on Jerry’s support. The young couple found an isolated corner and cuddled. Annie’s eyes heavy with fatigue.

“Annie, can I talk to you?” a voice asked.

Annie’s eyes managed to open, and she nodded, but she refused to speak.

“Annie, I’m sorry. I blamed you for my father disappearing. After what’s happened, I know it has to do with your family, but not you. I should have been a better friend,” Arty began.

“Arty,” Annie choked out. “I can’t accept any apology from you. We both were to blame. I should have been honest with you. Your father wanted me to find a way to protect you and your mum, but I couldn’t tell you.”

Arty froze at that news. “He talked to you?” she asked.

Annie nodded, “On my birthday, he made me promise to find a way to get you two away safely. He was quite distraught.”

Arty stared at her old friend and thought. “Is that why you almost missed the party?”

Annie nodded again. “I had too many things on my mind. If it wasn’t for Jerry, things could have been worse.”

Arty nodded her reply. Her throat began to tighten as she tried to hold back her tears. “When something happened at the station, I thought… I thought…”

“What? Please, that still seems like a dream,” Annie said.

Arty looked from Annie to Jerry. His look of determination made Arty pursue a different path. “It will come to you, I’m certain. Let’s not dwell on it. Look I hate that we’ve been at odds, and we both said hurtful things. Can we put it all behind us?”

Annie nodded, and the two girls fell together in a long-needed hug. Jerry gave Annie a peck on the head, stood, and let the two girls reunite.

The following morning the four youths were invigorated by the thought of going to the Wizard’s portion of London . And for Annie and Ben, the chance to reunite with their parents was incentive enough. Jerry’s devotion to Annie became more obvious that morning, when he accompanied her to the breakfast table.

“Sit, I’ll fetch you a plate,” he said softly to her.

“Jerry, I’m capable of doing for myself. You can’t keep on like this,” she said.

“Annie, you’re important to me. I want you to know how much.”

“You like havin’ a snoggin’ partner?” Ben chirped.

“Sod off,” Annie said as she threw a slice of toast at him. Her aim was off, and the toast skipped off his chair to the floor.

“It appears that someone’s in good spirits today,” Luna commented. “I hope one of you will clean that up before we leave.”

Jerry replied with a well-placed pat of butter, hitting his mother on the cheek. Luna slipped her wand into her hand, unseen by her son. A quick flick of her wrist sent his breakfast plate into his face. The grins and laughter began to infect the others as the remains of breakfast flew through the air, random bits hitting random friends around the table.

“What the bloody hell is going on in…” Ron began. He was stopped from completing his thought by a face full of porridge.

“You’re on your own, Love. They’ve revolted,” Luna said as she ducked to the side, avoiding another barrage from the table.

Ron backed away, trying to avoid the bombardments, but he slipped on the piece of toast that began the melee. His falling weight was partially blocked by his sister, who had been drawn to the disturbance by the noise from the kitchen.

Annie ducked to the far side of the table and she and Jerry fired another assault on the growing ranks of adults. She laughed as hard as any of the others, giving as well as she got. Ben and Arty sided together, and the three-way conflict left the kitchen and portions of the lounge covered in bits of food.

The advanced experience Ron, Luna, and Ginny had proved to be formidable, as Ron directed the two witches to flank the other combatants, and at a prearranged signal, buckets of water appeared over the younger family members’ heads and drenched them. The adult children stood from their positions, each still laughing.

“We’d best clean this place up before Mum gets home,” Ginny said, still laughing.

Her comment sobered Ron and Luna, leaving the children jovial but oblivious to Ginny’s remark. Before any remarks were made, Luna tapped her forehead with her wand and uttered “ Tergeo,” cleansing her clothes in a wink.

“Come on, who’s ready for Diagon Alley? Leave this for Catty. It’ll be our surprise for her,” Luna said with a wicked grin.

“She’s right kids. You’d best clean up, and we’ll pop off to Diagon Alley,” Ron said still smiling.

Ginny put her arm around Ron’s shoulder and leaned up. “Thanks big brother. I love you for being there,” she said softly and gave him a warm hug.

One by one, the group used either Tergeo or Scourgify to wipe off the muck that was intended to be breakfast and congregated around the fireplace. And one by one they stepped into the fireplace and each vanished with a brilliant green flash.

The fireplace inside the flat above Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes at number 93 had been properly abandoned as living quarters; its sole use was for family rendezvous for excursions into Diagon Ally. The success of the jokester business allowed for more comfortable accommodations for the owners. Each had a larger flat on the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

“Gather round and brush off the soot. I need to check on security before we can leave,” Ron insisted.

“Security?” Annie asked. I thought we’d have a free go to the shops?”

“With in reason, yes. I’m still responsible for you both, and I bloody well don’t want to explain to your mum should anything happen. Your dad I can handle,” he said with a grin and stepped to the back room.

“Here, dears,” Luna said handing Annie and Ben each a scroll of parchment. Your father left this draught for Gringotts should you need anything.”

Annie unrolled her sheet and smiled. “It’s nice being wealthy. Dad left instructions for up to one thousand Galleons per month.”

“Yes, but it also says we have to keep a detailed record of what we buy and why,” Ben said reading his further.

“So, I think our first stop should be to draw funds from the bank. I’ve only a few Knuts,” Annie announced.

Arty looked at her mother, and with a nod from Ginny, also grinned. “Brilliant idea. Mum, can we stop at Madam Malkin’s for some new outfits for the summer?”

“I think we all could use a day of shopping. Your father wanted us to be happy. I know that now. And there’s so much about him I’ve never told you. Annie, you may find some of it equally interesting,” Ginny said.

“Right,” Ron announced, “The day’s set. I’ve plenty of security watching, so we shouldn’t worry. Shall we, or do you all wish to stay here all day?”

The crowd sprang to their feet. The day’s mischievous beginning looked to only be the opening act of a full day’s activities.

The stop at the Wizarding Bank was brief. Annie and Ben each withdrew a few hundred Galleons for the day’s shopping. Ginny made certain Arty had enough for a frivolous day’s shopping to try and forget the past week’s pain. She gave her nephew an equal amount when he promised to hide it from his father.

“So, Annie, where to first?” Jerry asked.

“You kids have some fun, Arty. I’m taking your mum off for a bit. See you all at lunch at the Cauldron. Say half-past twelve?” Luna said as she pushed Ginny along. Neither woman waited for a reply before they vanished into the crowd.

“Florean Fortescue’s. breakfast wasn’t as filling as I would have liked, she grinned, as the four teenagers left the adults for the ice cream parlor.

Annie began to relax and sighed deeply, ignorant of the hooded man approaching. He leaned on a gnarled wooden staff as he walked.

“Oh, pardon me. I never saw you coming,” she said after running into the man.

“I have waited your arrival, follow me now, you must. Your brother too shall join us. Concerns him to this does,” the strange man said in a low husky voice.

“I beg your pardon?” Jerry said as he pulled Annie aside. The minor confrontation drew the attention of people surrounding the teens.

“Annie,” Jerry said quietly to her. “Look, those are members of Dad’s squad.”

The hooded man looked up to Jerry and stared at him. “Then join us you must. I sense your conviction to accompany Miss Potter regardless of the consequence. Your help she will require to survive,” the strange man said.

Annie looked puzzled and glanced at Ben. Her brother reached into his pocket and pulled the letter, sparking the original reason for the trip. She looked at Ron and whispered hoarsely, “It’s ok, Uncle. This must be Abraham Kristensen.”

“Yes, Abraham my name is, but please call me Gnome, as all my friends do. I have a place we can talk without interruption. Follow me, please,” he said and turned to Knockturn Alley.

Jerry grabbed Annie by the arm. “You can’t go there. Do you have any idea what’s down there?”

“I really don’t care. He has a message from Mum and Dad, and I intend to find out where they are,” she replied, tugging her arm free.

Jerry stood for a moment and shook his head before following her. Ben quickly followed, still holding Arty’s hand. The four disappeared in Knockturn Alley before Ron had a chance to stop them.

“Follow me quickly you must,” Gnome said. He turned into the solid wall across from Borgin and Burkes. The wall shimmered as they passed through. “Solid the wall will be once the last has passed. Come I have a table waiting,” Gnome said to urge them forward. Inside the chamber, a table with six chairs waited. One chair was occupied.

In the corner, a lone figure remained in the shadows and waited.

“Annie,” Jerry shouted, “It’s some kind of trap.” He pulled his wand and pushed Annie behind him.

“Please, Mr. Weasley, put your wand down,” a familiar voice from the table commanded.

“Professor McGonagall?” Annie asked, leaving Jerry’s protection.

“Yes, when Abraham told me your parents failed to meet with him, he took the intuitive to contact me. I sent his letter to you at his request. You can trust him. I have known of him for many years,” Professor McGonagall said, easing the quickly built tension.

“Yes, sit you must, all sit. In danger you all are,” the man said. He removed his hood to reveal his face and leaned his staff on his chair. His skin was pale green, and thin wisps of grey hair from his head made his large ears stand out that much more. He was shorter than most men, barley as tall as Ben.

“Danger? From who?” Ben asked.

“A dark wizard, more powerful then the one your parents faced has been recently discovered here in London . Your parents may be unaware of him and his intensions. I have been asked here by Abraham to convince you to help us warn your parents of this development,” Professor McGonagall said.

“Then you know where they are? They left without say a word,” Annie said.

“Unfortunately, they had tried to meet you at the station before they planned to meet Abraham, but something happened that caused them to change their plan,” Professor McGonagall replied.

“Dark wizard I have know, but not met. Tracked him in the past, but elusive he has been. All I can tell you is he has been present through all recorded history. Time travel I have long suspected, but this too is unclear. Many times i n the past I falsely assumed him to be dead,” Gnome added.

“Time travel? That’s absurd. No one can travel in time. It’s impossible,” Ben said.

“I assure you it is not. Your mother had, with the Ministry’s permission, used a time turner in her third year to augment her studies. With Professor Dumbledore’s assistance, she and your father used that time turner to free an innocent man,” Professor McGonagall answered.

“Let’s say, for argument’s sake this is true,” Jerry said, “Why the covert activities? Why not just go to the Ministry? My father should be able to help.”

“Fifty years ago, a great man created a group called the Order of the Phoenix in answer to Tom Riddle’s rise to become Lord Voldemort,” Professor McGonagall started.

“Tom?” Annie muttered under her breath.

Professor McGonagall looked at her with a questioning stare. “Have you heard of him before? Your father was explicitly clear about avoiding that topic with you and your brother. Tom Riddle murdered both your father and mother’s parents and tried to murder your father when he was but a babe. Your father was ultimately forced to kill him to prevent more from dying,” Professor McGonagall said.

“No, correct this is not. Destroy his body your father did, but kill him he did not. Tom Riddle’s soul did not die that day. Hidden the truth had been, but discovered by Albus it was. He took matters into his hands to inform your parents, but he died before all the artifacts were recovered,” Gnome interjected. McGonagall questioned that remark with a glance.

“Albus Dumbledore? I was told he was killed when I was born, and a centaur named Firenze told me he has been my protector,” Annie said.

“Albus discovered a secret that cost his life, and in his loss his soul transformed into a shield of protection over you. You are that precious spark he felt he must protect,” Gnome said. “But more I cannot tell you or others may wrench that from your mind. No, I cannot tell you all; however, rest assured your parents know.”

“Why not just tell the Ministry? My dad can help, he’s a Senior Auror,” Jerry said.

“The Ministry is powerless, and it’s quite possible that high-ranking members may be working with this dark wizard. So, we must work on the fringe of legality,” Professor McGonagall answered.

A pause filled the room with a roaring silence; it was finally broken with the Gryffindor confidence and courage. “Tell us what we must do,” Annie insisted.

“I believe they returned to a forgotten place while pursuing another. There are few in this world that know this secret. You must seek out one who has traveled there before your parents and returned with them, and have him lead you to them. Seek your Grandfather’s oldest and dearest friend," Gnome said.

“Who? Please stop talking in riddles and just tell us,” Arty finally said.

“Riddles are meant to confuse, to succeed you must be clever. If you were told explicitly, others could gain that knowledge and use it against you,” Gnome replied. “I wish I could lead you, but I cannot. Passage for me would certainly end tragically. More I can do on this side to keep you all safe, now it is time to leave.”

“Please follow our associate. He is aware of your plight. Abraham and I must remain for a bit,” Professor McGonagall said as she stood.

An unseen figure stepped from the shadow and motioned the four teens to follow him. They retraced back to the stone wall and he touched his wand to a series of points, allowing the wall to open. Without a word he motioned them to pass through.

The darkness of Knockturn Ally concealed their initial passage, and they were again unseen until they left the dark alley.

“Where the bloody hell have your four been?” they heard Ron shout. The Auror approached with his wand drawn pointed at the man leading them.

“Put that thing away, Weasley, before you hurt someone,” the stranger ordered. He dropped his hood to reveal his scared features.

“Lupin?” the Auror exclaimed. “Where the bloody hell did you pop in from?”

“There’s no time for pleasantries. We have to hurry. We’re being watched,” the werewolf said.

“Of course we’re being watched. I have my people stationed around us,” Ron replied, refusing to lower his wand.

“Not them, you idiot. There’s someone else here. But I haven’t been able to spot him. Sirius, talk some sense into him,” Lupin insisted.

“Remus? What is this?” Sirius asked, not countering Ron’s authority.

“It’s Order business, we’ve re-banded. Harry called several of us together shortly after Annie’s birthday. Ron, you were kept out because you’re too close to the ministry. There’s a spy in your office. Harry wouldn’t risk the exposure,” Remus explained.

“I don’t buy it. He would have told someone. I am his supervisor,” Ron said.

“How dense are you? Can we at least find a more secluded spot, possibly King’s Cross?” Remus said sarcastically.

With a grunt of approval, Ron motioned the group back to his brothers’ shop. Without a word, they all climbed the stairs to the flat above the shop.

Once the door shut, Ron stood toe to toe with his former professor. “Explain yourself. We’re quite secure here.”

“That day Harry was dressed down by Chief Robards, the day Annie was born, when Harry was bumped down from his Senior Auror rank…” Lupin began.

“Yes, I remember that day, what of it?” Ron interrupted.

The four teens listened intently; every word spoken was new information that had been kept from them.

“Hermione was unofficially given the task to help solve the mystery of Dumbledore’s murder. Yes, I know officially you were in charge, but Chief Robards was instructed by the Minister himself to keep this confidential. It seems Dumbledore was on to something huge,” Lupin said.

“So all along I’ve been played the fool, while Harry and Hermione undermine my investigations?” Ron asked.

“No, you missed the point. Dumbledore’s murder was the tip of the iceberg. Someone’s come through before Harry and Hermione returned. That someone has been ransacking our world for certain artefacts. That someone almost murdered young Ben twice. And that someone murdered Draco Malfoy,” Remus replied.

Arty gasped at the reminder of her father’s death. Ben, too, appeared dazed at the reality he had been involved in this play.

“Sir, you mean to say the man that put this on my arm murdered Arty’s father?” Ben asked.

“Yes, we believe so. No one’s used the Dark Mark in years, and this means someone has found a way to resurrect Tom Riddle from the grave,” Remus said.

“Boy, let me see that arm,” Sirius insisted, grabbing Ben by the arm. He pulled the sleeve from his wrist and stared at the mark.

“See, the mark is there clear as day,” Ron said.

“Yes, I see it. And that’s the problem. The mark fads until Voldemort called for his disciples. This is perfectly visible. No, this was a different message,” Sirius said, pointing to the writhing snake on Ben’s arm.

“Sir, I saw the same tattoo on Professor Malfoy on my birthday. It was moving too,” Annie said.

“Draco’s mark was real enough, but this one is fake,” Sirius said. “Look here under the skull. The image is faint but obvious.”

“It’s a bird,” Annie said, this being the first time she’s seen it clearly.

“No, your mum noticed it first. It’s a Phoenix. This was a warning or message for the Order,” Sirius said.

Dumbfounded at the revelation, Ben sat staring into empty space. “Who could be trying to warn us?” Annie asked.

“I believe Draco delivered that answer. He said his father and Snape were behind Dumbledore’s death. If I were to guess, I would say this may have been planted by Snape. He was working for Dumbledore in the war,” Sirius said.

“I know what Draco claimed, but they were both killed twenty-five years ago,” Ron said. “If they died then, how could they rise from the dead?”

“Have you not learned? Where did Harry and Hermione vanish too, fifteen years ago? Where was I trapped as well?” Sirius asked.

“The veil?” Remus answered.

“Yes, I believe they spotted either Snape of Malfoy at the station. Remember Dobby was found dead in a waiting room. Knowing my godson, I’m certain he took off after them, and they returned to wherever they came from beyond the veil. That is were we will find them,” Sirius said.

“Then we must find a way into the Ministry and to the Hall of Mysteries. That is the only hope of finding Harry or Hermione,” Remus said.

The teens sat and listened. “This is madness,” Jerry finally said. “Everyone knows the veil is the gateway to death.”

“Not exactly,” Ron said. “I was there when Harry, Hermione, and Sirius returned. And they were very much alive.”

“Will entry into the Hall of Mysteries find my husband’s killer?” an angry voice from the hallway asked.

“Ginny, how long have you been here?” Ron asked and quickly went to intercept her.

“Long enough to realize Draco’s death might not have been meaningless, if he was able to lead us to this conclusion. I can get you into the Hall, if that is truly what you intend to do,” Ginny replied.

“I intend to find them, but I will need some help. Sirius, Remus, are you willing to help?” Ron asked.

Sirius sighed heavily and shook his head. “I never thought I would intentionally return there. But I do know the conditions where I was trapped. Harry told me they ended in three different worlds, each different due to a minor change in their history. Yes, I’ll go.”

“Aye, the marauders will be together again,” Remus said.

“Then it’s set. We’ll all go, with Ginny giving the kids here a tour. After all, their parents have a rich history in that chamber. The three of us will go, and Ginny will take charge of the children and return to the Burrow,” Ron stated as he planned the upcoming events.

“There’s no way to know how long we will be trapped. I suggest we each secure a rucksack of supplies before we head out,” Sirius added.

“Fred and George always kept a couple bags ready for an unannounced escape some where. They will have to do,” Ron said as he began to search the rooms. A few minutes later the trio had procured the meager supplies they scrounged from the flat, not wanting to leave for fear of tipping their hand.

“Then, I would say we’re set. The fireplace will get us to the main atrium and from there to the lifts. I’ll stop at my office for a few items that may come in handy. I believe it’s time to go,” Ron said, concluding the expeditionary planning.

“Ginevra Malfoy, Directoy of the Department of Mysteries, and family,” She said identifying herself and the group.

“Very good ma’am,” the guard said as they passed.

“Ronald Weasley, Senior Auror, and family,” he said as he too exited the floo and displayed his identification.

The second guard looked at him and then the children that accompanied him, before waving them all through. Remus and Sirius entered the Ministry from a different floo, being careful not to draw attention to the fact they all arrived at the same time.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” a voice addressed from the far end of the corridor. “I hardly expected to see you back so soon after, umm, you’re not expected back for at least another week.”

“Minister, there are some items of a personal nature I must retrieve from my office, and then I’m taking my daughter and the Potter children on holiday. It has been a traumatic month for us all,” she replied.

“Yes, yes, I fully understand, take all the time you need,” the Minister for Magic replied.

“Come, children this should not take long,” she said and continued past the Minister.

“One more thing,” he said as she passed, “Even though it is a Saturday, if you require a port-key to anywhere special, it will be arranged. Just pop into their office on six and any request will be approved on the spot.”

“Thank you, we may well accept that offer,” she replied and ushered the kids along. Within a few minutes they were in her office, just a few feet from the chamber. Ron, Sirius and Remus soon followed.

“Sirius, Remus, there’s no reason we all have to do this, they are my best mates and I have to help,” Ron said, holding a hand up to block them all from leaving.

“Bugger that, he’s my godson and all I have left,” Sirius said.

“And I can’t let you two have all the glory,” Remus offered.

“We’re all going, to watch each other’s backs,” Sirius replied.

“No, it may be too dangerous, Ginny, talk some sense in these two,” Ron argued.

“He’s right,” Ginny said.

“Then it’s set, I’ll go in and look for them and bring them back,” Ron started.

“No. I meant Sirius was right, you can’t go alone, you need each other,” Ginny corrected.

“Then we best get it done before we have a change of heart, Sirius, since you have been through before, any suggestions?” Remus asked.

“Only that we best go through together and maintain contact, I do remember Harry mention when they separated they came thru at different times. The three of us went in together and came out on this side together,” Sirius said. “We should simply end up on the other side of the Arch in what ever reality we’re destined to go, just be on your guard.”

“What if we are separated?” Remus asked.

“Good point, Harry said he and Hermione always sought out familiar points, Godric’s Hollow or the Burrow and derived clues from there. I suggest we do the same,” Sirius replied.

“Then we’d best get on with it,” Ron insisted, his voice showed a touch of nervousness and directed his team from his sister’s office down the hall.

They found these halls as empty as the other halls, with the exception of the second level where the Department of Magical Law Enforcement resides. Level nine remained quiet as a tomb, waiting for this band of adventurers to cross the hall to the Chamber of Death.

The Death Chamber remained to this day, unexplained to the general population of the Wizarding World. The Chamber was still considered a passageway to death itself, where death is studied. Only those present when Harry and Hermione returned sixteen years before knew differently, and the Aurors present were required to have those memories removed for security reasons.

They all entered the large circular room thru the oak doors. Ginny led them to the third door on the left, and tapped it with her wand. It gently swung open to reveal the large, rectangular room. Stone benches set upon each tier descending to a steep amphitheatre. The raised stone dais in the center of the pit of the chamber held the ancient, crumbling stone archway. A tattered black veil hung from the archway, fluttering as if in a light breeze.

Annie stood in total fascination, sporting a giddy grin. Jerry was the only to notice and held her closer, letting her feel his presence. The others remained back, unsure of the stories passed from generation to generation of the Veiled Arch.

“Do you hear that?” Annie asked softly to Jerry, “There’s some one whispering in here.”

“There’s no one else in here,” Jerry replied quietly.

“So you really intend to do this or are you two going to stand there?” Sirius said, breaking the silence.

“Then on three… two… one…” Ron counted before the three stepped into the veil together.

They watched the veil flap from the nonexistent breeze in silence and slowly stop to hang dead still. No sounds were heard in the room.

“There it is again, someone’s whispering,” Annie said to Jerry.

Ginny turned to the girl, “You heard whispering?” she asked in astonishment, but never added ‘too’.

Annie nodded.

“So what now? Are the coming back?” Ben asked curiously.

“Only time will tell. Your parents were gone for nearly five months,” she said absentmindedly before she stopped.

“Five months?” Ben asked.

Ginny turned to Ben and said, “They asked that you both not know any of this, but seeing as you’re here and obviously have been told some details, the stories they told us of that adventure were astounding. They haven’t told many others, just your uncle Ron, Albus Dumbledore, and me.”

“Uncle Sirius said he had been there too,” Annie added.

“Yes, although he was stranded there for more then twelve years,” Ginny said.

“Mum, Lucia use to tell me stories of dad. She said he changed just before I was born, does this have anything to do with him leaving us?” Arty asked.

“And who is this ‘Snape’ Uncle Sirius mentioned?” Ben asked.

“Severus Snape, if you don’t mind. My apologies for this intrusion but as I’m certain you are aware the security in the Ministry in still sub-standard,” A tall man said as he stepped from the shadows and slipped a watch into his pocket.

“Snape?” Ginny exclaimed in disgust. Ben’s eyes widened with the sudden recognition, and then grabbed his sister’s arm and stumbled away. Arty watched Ben shaking in instant fear, and quickly went to them.

“That’s him! That’s the Severer, he’s the one that did my arm,” Ben screamed and fell backward over a stone seat, fortunately away from Severus Snape.

“Foolish boy, of course I was the one that left that warning,” Snape replied.

Ginny had her wand out the instant she heard his name, “You bastard. You murdered my husband! Explain yourself, or I’ll not leave much for the Aurors to deal with.”

“Easy woman, I left a warning, and if I hadn’t taken that intuitive, Lucius Malfoy would have killed the boy on the spot. He would have killed his son, if the boy had not interfered with our ‘meeting’,” Snape replied, holding his empty hands out in the open.

“Warning?” Arty asked.

“I altered the traditional Dark Mark to include a message for the ‘Order’ your former Minister had formed. Apparently they never received it, which explains my exposure to you now. I must warn you we have little time, as I believe I have been found out,” Snape said.

“Liar, Draco said you poisoned him with Lucius standing there to help,” Ginny screamed.

“I must claim a degree of responsibility for his death, it was most unfortunate,” Snape replied.

“Unfortunate? Unfortunate? You cold hearted bastard,” Ginny screamed. Her wand arm began to visibly shake, unable to control her temper.

“Yes, it was unfortunate Malfoy senior discovered my ‘other’ self and released him. I was, however, able to prevent my identity from being discovered,” Snape replied. “May I explain before you do something we both may regret?”

“Thirty seconds…” she said.

“How gracious; I received this letter more than fifteen years ago,” he started and carefully reached into his breast pocket to retrieve a worn letter and handed it carefully to Ginny. “It was addressed to me, with a provision to remain sealed until the First of May this year. I had nearly forgotten of its existence, until it surfaced on my desk on that day.”

“Here, Annie, read it for me,” Ginny said handing the letter to Annie, but keeping her wand pointed at Snape.

“My dear Severus Snape,” Annie began nervously. “My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, currently the Minister For Magic of the reality the Potters originally departed from. By the time you are able to read this, I shall have left the mortal plane for a purpose of great necessity. My departure from life will have been assisted by you, or at least your counterpart from some other reality, but that is expected and of little concern.

“I understand you had been instrumental in assisting them in their quest during their visit to your reality in the past. The reason for this correspondence is to request your aide once again. I fear my warning to the Potters may not have been discovered in time to save them from the events that are unfolding.

“I have been aware for several months since they returned of attempts to recover certain artifacts necessary to resurrect the past. My personal efforts to deny access to these artifacts has been marginal, as I am not as capable at positive identification as others may be.

“If I am correct, and I am afraid I am, their first born child is in mortal danger, and I will be in a position to protect her until her fifteenth year. Past that I shall be too weak to remain effective. I have warned their daughter as best I could, but I must have your help in this matter. You must leave the peace of the world they began and do all in your power to prevent unnecessary deaths at the hands of those intent on returning the Wizarding World into darkness again.

“I hope that faith alone will convince you this quest is necessary and I further pray you are willing to aide the Potters, all of them, in their quest.

“Yours from beyond the Veil, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Minister For Magic.”

“That is impossible,” Ginny said, “It’s a forgery.”

Annie shook her head, “It’s the same as the one I received on my birthday, shame green writing, and the same parchment.”

“If I may explain,” Snape said, Ginny nodded and cautiously lowered her wand. “I received an owl near the end of April, 2009 with this letter. The envelope contained specific instructions not to be opened for fifteen years. In that time, I had observed unusual activity in my world and investigated the possibility the Potter’s story was far more truthful then I originally gave credit. In my world, I was an advisor to Lord Malfoy, before his demise at your parent’s hand. Lord Malfoy in turn was one of Lord Voldemort’s lieutenants.”

“Mum and dad killed him?” Ben asked, finally breaking his silence.

“Of course, you can’t believe they are unable to kill, they have done is so efficiently in the past. But, that is not why I am here. I believe Dumbledore wanted me to assist in your endeavors. He seemed to have placed a substantial about of trust in my counterpart from this world. I have researched his background in my brief stay,” Snape replied.

“You claimed there’s another of you here, and he’s the one that murdered Draco, how can we trust you are not him?” Ginny hissed.

“The fool used our ancestral family home to hide, and that is where Dumbledore was killed. There is a large chamber under the dwelling at Spinners End. There I discovered his obsession with the dark lord, and the images used to mark his followers. I planted that image on the boy’s arm with a minor modification,” Snape replied.

“The Phoenix,” Ben said as he rubbed his arm.

“Yes, he has an original mark on his arm,” Snape said.

“Like the one I saw on Uncle Draco’s arm?” Annie asked.

“Yes, exactly the same. And as you can see,” he said as he bared his left arm, “I have no suck mark.”

Finally convinced, Ginny fully lowered her wand, “Then what to do from here?” she asked.

“Wait, and pull all the known pieces of this puzzle together. While I searched that cavern under my family’s house, I believe that my counterpart and Malfoy are being guided in their endeavor, someone that obviously has knowledge we do not,” he said. “I was fortunate at one point to overhear the conversation with this individual, but I managed to hear the name ‘M…’”

A red flash blew past his chin, leaving a gash in his cheek. A blue bolt shot out from the doorway above them, disappearing behind Ginny. Her eyes widened and a trembling hand withdrew her wand again. She managed to turn as a yellow flash engulfed her left side. Arty reached to her mother’s back, only to find a warm sticky ooze.

“Run!” Snape commanded, and snapped a pair of purple bolts to the door; another red flash sliced the veil from the arch.

“Where? There’s no where to go?” Ben screamed.

“Come on,” Jerry called and pushed Annie toward the arch. “We can follow dad and the others.”

“Mummy?” Arty called as she watched Ginny fall to her knees and then face down. The stone floor now christened red with her mother’s blood.

Jerry tightened his grip on Annie’s arm and with his free hand pushed her into the arch. Ben grabbed Arty’s arm and followed his sister and Jerry, and he glimpsed the tall man they met moments before fall to the floor as a purple beam passed through his chest.

Arty turned her head as she fell into the opening in time to watched her mother’s eyes close. That image burned into her mind as she was pulled into the arch.

A final flash from the doorway was unseen as the remaining portion of the veil flapped in an unfelt breeze.

---

The darkness was deafening, the silence was blinding. The emptiness bore thru her mind and soul, emptying both.

Annie screamed, but no sound escaped her lips.

She reached out into the darkness, and felt nothing.

Nothing, but tightness around her wrist; it hurt, as if her hand was torn from her arm.

She continued to fall into the darkness, no one heard her screams.

There was nothing.

Now her life was simply an empty void.

“Annie, I’m here.”

“Tom?” she asked.

“I’m here, we have much to do.”

“Why did you make me hurt that Muggle?” she screamed.

“You are above them. They are nothing to us.”

“You murdered my grandparents, why? What do you want with me?” she cried.

“History is re-written by the victors, it is true I took their lives, but they attacked me without provocation. I merely defended myself. Their son, your father was the one that sought me out for his revenge.”

“No, you’ve lied to me, leave me alone!” she screamed.

“Annie, stop,” she heard. She felt a pair of familiar arms hold her tight.

“NO, go away!”

“Shhh… it’s over, Annie, it’s me, Jerry,” she heard. She finally opened her eyes to see his concerned face. All she knew was she was kneeling on a cold stone floor.

“J-Jerry? Where are we?” she asked, her chest hitched as she spoke.

“Still in the Chamber, as best I can determine. But there’s something wrong, Aunt Ginny and that fellow aren’t here,” Jerry said as he loosened his hold on her arm.

“That hurt, but I’m glad you didn’t let go.” She paused a moment and rubbed her wrist, his grip left red marks in her skin. “Jerry, he was there again, in my head. I hate him.”

“That ‘Tom’ bloke came back?”

“Yes, but this time he frightened me. I-I don’t know how he gets into my mind,” she said, the fear now evident in her voice.

“I’m certain we’ll figure that out soon,” he said as he held her tenderly. “Come on, we need to figure out where we are, remember what Sirius said? With luck we’ll find them at the Burrow,” Jerry said and stood, helping her to her feet.

They quietly left the raised dais up the sloped aisle. The massive oak doors seemed to have been un-touched in decades. Jerry cautiously pushed one open a slight crack. He leaned forward, forcing him to let go of Annie’s hand.

“It looks empty out there. No one’s about,” he said.

“Well it is the weekend and Aunt Ginny…” she stopped and froze. “Aunt Ginny… she…” Annie tried to say what neither wanted to hear.

“Shhh, we don’t know. All we can do is hope and pray to Merlin she’ll be fine,” Jerry reassured.

She nodded and held her tears, knowing the only thing they could do was find her parents, Jerry’s dad, or some friendly face. They found their way quickly, Jerry had spent many days with his father and aunt in the Ministry when he was younger; the Department of Mysteries was his favorite part of the building.

They soon came to the last landing in the stair case, and the voices on the other side of the door was evident the atrium was not empty.

“Annie, trust me, if we stay close to the wall and act as if we belong there, no one will question us. We should be able to make it to the door before any one stops us,” he said and gave her a quick kiss. “Now, ready?”

“No, but we do need to go, promise not to leave me?” she asked.

“Promise. I love you, ok?” he said and they left through the doorway.

Once out the door, they walked through the hall, past the rows of fireplaces on the either side. Their trainers left little noise on the polished dark wood floor. Soon they were past the Fountain of Magical Brethren and more than half way out.

Just as they reached the golden gates and freedom, a hand reached out and held Annie’s shoulder; she let a slight squeak of shock and surprise.

“Wait there, Miss Weasley, if you don’t mind,” a voice called out.

Her eyes grew larger as she and Jerry stopped and turned to see the security guard standing behind them.

“Pardon me?” she asked nervously.

“Next time you sneak a friend in to see your mum’s statue on a Sunday, you’d best register him,” the man said sternly.

She nodded and looked to his face and noticed a wink.

“Now be off and tell your mum to take care of that young babe,” he said with a grin.

She nodded again, unable to utter a word and quickly left the Ministry. The sun hung just over the roofline.

“He said this is Sunday? But, it was just Saturday afternoon?” she questioned.

“Aye, and from the daylight, it must be before noon . The Leaky Cauldron is only a few minutes from here, we could use their Floo to get home,” Jerry said as they walked down the block.

“Do you think we’ll find the others there, at the Burrow?” she asked nervously.

“I hope so, I wish I knew what’s happened, Sirius did say to find a familiar point, the Burrow has been there for centuries,” Jerry said. His reassurances helped for the moment. They quickened their pace until they were on Charing Cross Road . The deserted appearance was normal to them, as they walked to the familiar door of a tiny, grubby-looking pub.

“Ready? Once inside we’ll head directly for the Floo, before anyone can stop us,” Jerry said as he opened the door.

The dark and shabby room remained abuzz with the many conversations between the patrons. Jerry and Annie’s entrance appeared to have been totally unobserved. The fireplace across the room seemed protected with the formidable obstacles of the patrons; each could have stopped them with a single question.

“Come on, we have to go now,” Jerry whispered.

“Weasley,” a voice bellowed from the bar.

Jerry turned to face the man that called his name, a tall, thin man with a great deal of long grey hair and a beard wearing glasses left the sanctuary of the bar and walked quickly toward the couple.

“Sir?” he replied.

The man ignored Jerry and walked to face Annie, “It’s Sunday, you know you have the day off, is there a problem at home?” he asked.

“Dumbledore, leave the girl be, she’s here with her young man,” an old woman called from the bar. Her pipe danced in her teeth as she spoke.

“D-Dumbledore?” She mumbled.

“Don’t be daft, girl. You’ve never given ol’ Aberforth such a cold greeting before,” she said as his beard parted to reveal a wide grin. “Give us a hug, girl.”

“Excuse me, sir, we were heading back home, she came with me to find my dad,” Jerry intervened.

Aberforth gave Jerry an examining glance, “And who might your father be?”

Jerry thought quickly, and glanced around for a clue, “O’shay’s the name, me dad’s an Auror from Erie,” he said quickly, “We have to return to her home, me mum’s there waiting on us.”

The elderly man looked at Jerry to determine the authenticity of the boy’s claim, before he nodded, “Then be off, and Anna, I’ll expect you tomorrow at your normal time?”

She nodded, without knowing what that normal time was. The couple felt every eye on them as they walked across the room to the fireplace.

“You first,” Jerry said handing her the basin filled with the glittering powder.

She took a pinch of the powder and threw it into the flames. An emerald green wave of flame engulfed her when she said ‘The Burrow’. Jerry quickly repeated the spell and vanished in the same manner.

Annie arrived first, and stepped forward to help prevent a collision when Jerry arrived. In the hall, she saw a very familiar sight, in an unfamiliar place.

“Mummy!” she screamed and ran to Hermione. “Mummy, I missed you. Where’s dad? Ben’s off lost, I couldn’t stay with him, some one was there, and hurt Aunt Ginny,” Annie blurted out as she hugged her mother.

A whoosh from the lounge announced another arrival, this one brought Hermione’s wand out in defense of her home.

“Stop there,” she commanded.

“Annie, tell your mum it’s me,” Jerry said.

Annie stopped and looked at her mother, “Mum?” the realization hit hard as she backed away, Hermione stared at her with equally wide eyes. Hermione’s wand lowered but remained in her hand.

“No, you are not my daughter, who are you?” Hermione demanded.

“Aunt Hermione?” Jerry asked.

“Mum? It’s me, Annie Potter, you and dad told Ben and me to stay here because you had to go somewhere,” she said, her voice began showing signs of stress.

“Oh my God,” Hermione muttered, “What’s your father’s name?” she asked.

“Harry?” Annie asked hesitantly.

Hermione nodded, and her cheeks instantly began to moisten from the fresh tears. “I knew your parents, they saved my life. They were here almost sixteen years ago. Please sit,” she said and motioned them both to a table. Annie and Jerry pulled their chairs close as they sat down, opposite of Hermione.

“Anna, I mean Annie,” Hermione began, leaning forward, “have they ever explained their past to you?”

Annie leaned forward curiously and shook her head, “No,” she finally managed to say.

“Nothing of their life at Hogwarts, or later?” she questioned, surprised, with the same reply.

“Excuse me, I don’t understand what’s going on here,” Jerry interrupted, looking between Annie and Hermione.

“Obviously, none of this is normal for either of you,” Hermione began and looked at Annie. “I know you and who your family is, but I can’t say I know who you are,” she said now looking at Jerry curiously.

“Jerry Weasley, my dad’s Senior Auror Ron Weasley, and my mum’s Luna Weasley,” he stated.

“Ron, dear Ron,” she said softly, looking down momentarily. “Is he, are they happy?” she asked.

“Of course, why?” Jerry asked, puzzled.

“It’s a long story, but all I can say is I’m certain your father is fine, wherever he is,” Hermione said, not quite meeting Jerry’s eyes.

“Wherever? And exactly where are we?” Annie inquired, looking around and noticing for the first time the many differences she had overlooked initially.

“This is the reality that would have existed had certain events occurred differently.” Annie’s eyes locked onto Hermione’s face. “Your parents traveled here from the world you knew and in the course of their brief stay, saved a good number of lives.” This last bit did not surprise Jerry at all, his dad having referred to Harry’s “saving people thing” occasionally.

“Yes, as I understand the way it worked, my life was the same life your parents had, up to the time Voldemort attacked the school and I was nearly killed,” Hermione explained, speaking slowly, knowing that they needed to understand what she was saying.

“Killed?” Annie asked, startled.

“Technically, yes, I had died,” she paused, “In your world, your mother died in your father’s arms while I was left alone at that moment. I, and she, have a special power that can draw life’s essence from any living thing surrounding me. In your world, that was Harry, in mine, Ron and Ginny came to my side,” she said and stared directly at Annie. Annie had tensed up, the revelations starting to overwhelm her; Jerry wrapped one arm around her protectively.

Jerry’s brow tightened, and his lips pursed, as he looked back to Hermione.

Hermione started again, compassion showed on her face for the daughter of those who saved her, “In your world, and this is from what your mother had told me in the weeks she helped bring me back to rationality, your father’s powers were great enough for them both to survive, but just survive. They were weak and vulnerable.” Annie tried to interrupt, having relaxed somewhat from Jerry’s comfort, but Hermione continued, “Here Harry was pulled from my side, and I called out to the closest souls I could, Ron and Ginny.”

“My dad and Aunt Ginny?” Jerry said softly. “They didn’t live, did they?”

Hermione reached for Jerry’s hand, and he offered it. “No, I wasn’t in control of that ability and they sacrificed all so I could live. When Harry was pulled from me, he snapped and was unable to control himself.” Hermione stopped, gnawing on her bottom lip pensively, “I was the only one able to stop him, and to him I was dead.”

Hermione paused and wiped her cheeks with her free hand, “My cousin and her future husband took me away to his home,” she said.

“Eileen and Jake?” Annie asked.

Hermione nodded and finished quickly, “Yes, they took me to safety, and it took Harry awhile to find me. He never was able to forgive me for Ron and Ginny, and I spent ten years trying to repent that action. That is when your parents found me and saved my life.”

“But I don’t understand,” Annie interjected, leaning forwards, putting her hands on Hermione’s, “why did they need to sa—“

Hermione shook her head, “Let me finish. What they did in those weeks changed this world for the better, they ended Harry’s tyranny.”

“How?” Annie and Jerry asked together.

“They killed him,” a voice in the hall replied.

Annie and Jerry turned to see the exact duplicate of Annie standing in the entrance. The young woman walked in and stood behind her mother, “My name is Anna, and my mother has told me the story time and time again. I never really believed it, but the fact the two of you are sitting here is proof of sorts.”

“Anna? You’re the one the guard and that man, Dumbledore, though I was,” Annie said.

Hermione turned to her daughter, “Guard? Still visiting that statue?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Mother, that’s not important. They are, if they are here now, there must be a reason, like when the others came,” Anna said.

“Yes, I know. The question is why the two of you are here. What happened to force you into the veil?” Hermione asked.

“Dad, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black went to find Annie’s parents. While we were there, someone named Snape showed up. He claimed Arty’s grandfather was to blame for the things happening at home,” Jerry said.

“Tell me every detail, maybe we can determine why you are here,” Hermione said.

---

Author's note:

First, I must apologize for the extended delay in this chapter. I have been feverously working on this story, trying to maintain the level of my past work. I have (at present) six additional chapters being reviewed, with an anticipated (at lease) five remaining after that. Once those chapters are completed and I feel they are satisfactory, they will be released for your reading pleasure.

Next, I must now ask for your patience and ask your all to wait a little longer, I want these chapters to be as perfect as possible and to do this, I must complete them all to maintain the story line.

Do not give up hope for this story, as I have not abandoned it. I want the ending to be worthy of the story.

As for Ginny… her outcome is uncertain at this time…

The thin sheet of cloth continued to wave in the absent breeze; a lone couple stood motionless at the base of the raised dais. The hush of silence engulfed the room. A thin cord joined the pair at the wrist.

“Bugger that. I forgot how much I hate it. It seems worse then before,” Harry said.

“We were fifteen years younger. We may be magical beings, but we are only human,” Hermione replied while untying her wrist.

“Glad you remembered the cord. I can bear the lost feeling better knowing you’re still there. It makes arriving easier when we don’t have to wait,” he said.

“Umm-hum.” She looked about for a moment. “Darling, look for an indication of which of the many possible worlds we’ve fallen into. With luck, this may be the only one we have to go to.”

“Right. It all appears normal — no signs of that battle we had,” he said.

“My, you are getting old. Those battles were always in the court rooms, not in here,” she corrected.

“I was… just checking to see if you remembered,” he said.

“I see,” she replied with a smirk. “I think we’d best see what’s out there. It’s obvious no one’s been here in a while, the dais is covered in an even film of dust.”

They left the dais that held the Arch and walked up the steps of the pit. They both held their breaths as he pushed the door, but it refused to move.

“Alohomora,” she said, and the door opened. The corridor at first appeared to be empty, but then they heard voices and sounds. The doors to the Hall of Prophecies were slightly ajar, and the sounds emanated from that chamber. Move voices from several other rooms on the floor indicated they we not alone.

“We’d best stick to the stairs instead of the lift, less traffic,” Harry whispered to Hermione.

“Right, and if we run into Umbridge?” she said with a grin.

“We’ll deal with her if that happens. First, I think we should determine what changes have occurred here. I think it would be safer if we slipped into Muggle London and begin our research there,” Harry said.

She nodded as they both slipped thru the door and into the stair well. This time their luck held. No one else decided to climb the stairs that day. The journey up to the main floor seemed endless.

“Harry, best use the cloak to get out of the building. If we Apparate, it may trigger some wards.”

Harry pulled the old invisibility cloak from his pack and covered them both.

“Brings back memories.” He grinned and waited for someone to leave the building. Soon a distinguished looking wizard left through the main door, unaware that two others left with him.

Within moments they found an isolated alley and removed the cloak. “It’s lighter out then when we left. How long were we in ‘transit’,” Harry asked.

“It’s hard to say — at least twelve hours, maybe more.”

“So where to first? A Library?” he asked.

“No, we always got a clue from home, so it’s off to the cottage,” Hermione replied. She produced her wand and gave it a wave. Harry nodded and with a snap of his fingers they vanished together with a familiar pop.

Harry materialized on the front stoop, but he was quite alone. “Moine,” he called out.

“Here, I couldn’t make it all the way. I seem to be blocked,” she called from the tree line in the distance. Harry left the porch and met her half way.

“That’s quite odd; there must be a reason,” he said.

“You don’t think I’m not alive in this world,” she said with a bit of nervousness.

“One way to find out — the garden, mum and dad,” he said.

“Cemetery, you can say it,” she grinned. Together they followed the overgrown path to the now neglected family grave site.

“Only your parents are here, mine and the babies are missing,” she said, her voice now sounded slightly disturbed. She also felt a sharp icy twinge shoot through her stomach.

“Could be your parents are still alive and the twins were born,” he deduced.

“Then why are the grounds overgrown? You always took pride in the appearance of our home,” she said. “Ron, we must try the Burrow next. I would rather not look inside my home in this world.”

“Come, love. We’ll leave together,” he said as he took her hand and smiled. They vanished as quickly as they appeared. Before either had a chance to blink, a familiar oak tree stood before them.

“Well, at least that hasn’t changed. Let’s see who’s still here,” Harry said. They walked past the unfamiliar grounds where they had spent countless hours in another life. The tree was still there, but Sirius’ memorial was gone.

“This doesn’t look promising,” Hermione said as they came to the edge of the woods closest to the house. The garden remained as it had, the wooden gate still required significant repair.

“Shhh.” Harry stopped in his tracks and held Hermione’s hand tight. “There’s someone in the garden.”

A tall woman with long flowing blonde hair stood with her back to them. She held a basket of vegetables freshly picked for the day’s meal.

“It’s Luna,” Harry said softly. “At least that’s not changed.”

“Merde, je lui ai dit qu'il doit supprimer les gnomes! ” the woman said. – “Shit, I told him to clear out the gnomes.”

“Harry, wait, she’s French,” Hermione said, holding Harry’s arm.

“French? Luna doesn’t speak French. Who could that be?” he asked softly.

The woman turned, and they saw her face. She was a beautiful woman, breathtaking to the point where Harry gasped at the sight. Hermione looked at him slightly puzzled.

“You never have that reaction when you see me,” she teased.

“Who is she? She looks familiar,” Harry said to change the topic.

The woman turned at the voices in the brus, and peered into the tree line. ‘Allo, who ez there?” she called in broken English, and put down her basket.

“Stay put, love. Let me deal with her,” Harry whispered as he stood.

The woman pulled a wand from her apron the moment Harry stood up, his hands were empty.

“Come ‘ere where I can see you,” she called out.

“I’m a bit lost,” Harry said as he approached.

“Are you alone? I ‘erd you talk to someone,” she said, holding her wand at Harry’s throat.

“Yes, there’s no one…”

“Stop,” Hermione called out. “We’re a bit lost.” She stood and joined Harry.

“’ermione, what are you doing in ze wood? And with a strange man?” she asked.

Hermione froze and stared hard at the woman, a glint of recognition burst through decades of memories. “Fleur? Fleur Delacour?” she asked.

“Delacour? What foolishness is zis? You had best get back inside before you ‘usband finds you with zis man.”

“Husband? Oh my God, Harry. She thinks I’m married to a Weasley,” Hermione said.

“Weasley, yes. Ronald will be furious with you for zat, but I will not tell on you. We are zeezters,” she said.

Harry chuckled. “Then I think we need to clear this mess up.”

Fleur looked at Harry, and listened to his voice. Non, is cannot be, you are ‘Arry Potter? No?”

He looked at her, and nodded.

“My God, it iz ‘Arry Potter,” she exclaimed. “Bill, Come ere, quickly,” she called out.

Bill Weasley lumbered around from the rear of the house; a wide brimmed hat was pulled over his face, leaving only his chin exposed. “What’s the commotion, Fleur? Another garden gnome?”

“No, silly, look, ‘Arry Potter and ’ermione,” she said excitedly.

“Are you daft? Hermione’s in the house tending those brats of hers. And Potter’s as good as dead,” he said.

“Bill? Bill Weasley?” Harry said confused.

He limped to the gate and looked up, deep scars from an unknown battle distorted his face. He wiped a constant line of drool from his chin and stared at the Boy Who Lived. One look at Harry’s scar convinced him.

“It is you, Hermione. You did know where to find the prat. So, Potter, why return now. Haven’t you caused enough damage to my family?” The grin on his face was more of a snarl, indentions on his lower lip of elongated canine fangs were clearly evident.

“Bill? I… I don’t…” Harry started, seeing him alive after watching him die twenty-seven years earlier left him speechless.

“Harry he’s not the Bill we knew. This is a different reality,” Hermione whispered to him.

“You’d best get back inside, Hermione. If my little brother sees you with him he might not be able to hold back this time,” Bill warned. “And if I were you, Potter, I’d crawl back under what ever rock you were hiding under and stay there. Fleur, forget him, and you’d best bring those inside.”

Hermione left Harry’s side and walked directly to face Bill. “Bill, you have to listen. We look like people you know, but we are not from this world. We’re here to stop some of Voldemort’s followers from bringing him back. They’ve found a way, and we have to search for any remnants of him they can use. I can’t be specific, or you may all be in danger,” Hermione said.

“That’s pure foolishness. If you’d rather not listen to reason and heed my warning, then have at it. Fleur, are you coming?” he said and turned to leave.

Both Harry and Hermione followed. “Bill we can prove what we’re saying if you give us a minute,” Harry said.

Bill simply waved his hand as if to motion them on into the house. “I can’t stop you, Hermione; this is your home too.” He and Fleur left them alone in the house.

Once inside, the Burrow looked the same as it always had. The familiar smells from the kitchen brought back memories. Harry put his arm around her waist as they walked into the lounge, raised eyebrows from several teen aged children led Harry to rethink his normal affectionate interactions with his wife.

“Dinner will be ready in a bit. Fleur, did you bring the vegetables I asked for?” a voice from the kitchen croaked. Age had set in, but nothing would keep her out of her own kitchen.

“Gram, Mum’s got a friend here,” a tall, red haired boy called from the lounge.

Molly Weasley left the kitchen to see who he referred to and dropped her pot on the floor.

“Merlin’s Beard, it’s Harry Potter?” she exclaimed.

“Mum? Looks as if you and Ron have been busy here,” Harry teased.

“Harry, that’s not funny. Molly, can you tell me where Ronald is and when he’ll return?” Hermione asked.

“Children, run along. You shouldn’t be here,” Molly said to the children in the lounge. Once they left, grumbling, she continued. “You know full well he’s tending the store. If it wasn’t for everyone helping, Fred’s shop would have gone under,” Molly replied. “Now can you explain yourself, Mr. Potter?”

“Excuse me, explain what?” he asked turning to face her.

“I don’t have time for this. I would like to ask you to leave my home, but if you’re still as hard-headed as you were when you left, then I suppose there’s no getting rid of you,” Molly said as she turned her back on him.

“Darling,” Hermione began grabbing his arm, “remember, this isn’t our life. Whatever happened here in the past has happened. We can’t change it; just correct the outcome.”

“Darling?” they heard from the doorway, “Darling? I always knew there was something between you two, and here it is. I suppose you’ve decided to return and steal my wife, eh Potter?”

“Ron,” Hermione called in surprise. “We have to talk to you. Please listen. We are not who you think we are. Yes, I am Hermione, and this is Harry, but we are not the Hermione and Harry from your reality. We crossed into yours hoping to find answers and help.”

“Potter, I want you out of my house and life. You have no business here anymore. And as for you, Hermione, try to remember we meant something to each other once. Try to remember I loved you. If that’s not enough, then leave with him like a cheating slut. Obviously, you’ve decided your wedding vows to me aren’t important any more,” Ron screamed at them. The thick veins in his neck bulged in protest.

Harry noticed Ron’s hand now held his wand, shaking in anger.

“Ron. I’ll leave it that’s what you believe,” Harry began and paused as the door opened.

“Mum? How did you arrive so quickly? I left you arguing at the market over the price of the roast?” The girl that stood behind Ron was unmistakably Annie.

Ron turned to the girl and started, “Ann, go to your room, your mum and I have some things to discuss.” He stared at her for a moment, then to Harry and back to Ann.

“Ann, do as your father asked,” Hermione insisted.

“Bloody hell. You worthless, cheating bitch. She’s his daughter, isn’t she?” Ron screamed.

“Ron I can’t answer that. I am not that girl’s mother,” Hermione said, now standing in defense. Harry stood as well.

“You’ve lied to me all these years, you… Mudblood. And you use to call yourself my friend. Shaggin’ my wife behind my back, and now you show up with some worthless story?” Ron cocked his hand back and swung, the blow was aimed perfectly at Harry’s jaw. Harry’s reflexes betrayed him, as he ducked at the precise moment, Ron’s fist struck Hermione in the nose. The distinctive crunch told the story of the injury.

The blow caused her to stager back a step, and flashed Harry’s furry to boil. The moment Ron raised his wand, Harry pointed his hand at his oldest friend, striking Ron with a bolt of pure energy.

“You ok, ‘Moine?” Harry called.”

“I’m boody fine, just don’t let him near me or so help me, I’ll…” Hermione said, as she held her nose.

Molly Weasley, on hearing the confrontation rushed to Hermione’s side. “Ronald Weasley, how dare you strike a woman, and your own wife?” Molly said as she helped Hermione to her feet. “Potter, let him go after I get Hermione away,”

Harry held Ron suspended for a moment, letting tempers cool while Ann watched from the landing on the stairs.

“Ron, as soon as you calm down, I’ll let you go. Maybe then you’ll listen to reason,” Harry commanded.

Slam.

The front door slammed shut, breaking the tension. Ann watched in disbelief at the newest player to enter.

“Molly, I’m back. That prat of a butcher raised his prices again. But I managed a fair cut,” Hermione Weasley called from the foyer.

She passed the staircase to see her daughter watching, mouth agape. Harry released Ron the moment she rounded the corner. Hermione had a puzzled look to see Ron home so early.

“Ron? Why are you…” she started until Harry’s green eyes caught hers. Her bundle of groceries slipped from her grasp as she stood and stared.

Ron, too, stared.

“Ron, this is your wife. The Hermione you hit is in the kitchen; she is my wife. Now do you believe me?” Harry asked as he stepped toward Ron with an open hand.

Hermione Weasley stared at Harry. “Harry? You’re here? Your memory, they said it was irreversible,” she asked startled, a nervous hint to her voice tainted her surprise.

“Hermione, can you come back. It may answer all their questions,” Harry called into the kitchen.

Hermione Potter returned to the lounge, a cold clothe pressed to her nose. “This won’t stop; there’s something wrong,” she said, the rag she held was quite bloody.

“Would someone explain what the bloody hell is going on?” Ron demanded.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” Hermione Weasley asked.

“As we tried to explain, we are not from this reality. We are your parallel selves. Hermione and I had been forced to travel to three other such places; each had some different path in history. What we need to determine is where history changed from our world,” Harry began.

“That’s the easy part,” Hermione said with a nasal twang as she pinched her nose. “We think we may have let the secret of these parallel worlds out at some point, and someone from this world is trying to bring Voldemort back. We learned in our world that he may have split his soul and portions may be hidden,” Hermione added.

“Horcruxes?” Hermione Weasley asked. She stepped forward over the forgotten roast. Ann inched closer to the conversation, keenly interested.

“Yes, you know of them?” Harry asked.

“What do you know about ‘Horcruxes’?” Ron asked bewildered.

“A Horcrux is a very advanced, very dark bit of magic. A Horcrux refers to an object used to conceal a part of one’s soul,” Hermione Potter said as if reciting from a textbook.

“You know of them then?” Ron asked.

She nodded and addressed Ron directly. “Harry told us after our sixth year, don’t you remember? Some sort of a quest he said he had to complete alone. He left weeks after Professor Dumbledore was laid to rest.”

Ron stepped forward. “That’s right; you missed half the seventh year. It wasn’t a surprise, since most of the students stayed away after the Professor was murdered.”

“How and when did he die?” Harry asked.

“You should know, you were there when it happened,” Ron replied.

“No, that was your Harry Potter. We need to find him. He may be able to help if we pool our powers,” Hermione Potter said.

“He’s disappeared more than twenty years ago; no one has seen him since,” Ron said.

Hermione Weasley shook her head, “No, that’s not quite right. He wanted to forget this life so he had his memory cleansed by a Ministry Obliviator. His whereabouts has been hidden with a secret keeper, not even the Ministry Obliviator knows. He’s been living the life he always wanted, in peace. I won’t let you break that.”

Ron looked at her., “Is this the dark secret you’ve kept from me? You couldn’t even tell me?”

“I made a promise to him, to let him live his life in peace. I was the only one he trusted after… when it was over,” she said.

“So do you know who his secret-keeper is? Can you take us to him?” Hermione Potter asked her counterpart.

She shook her head. “No, you can’t bother him. All he knows is the life he’s lived for the past twenty years. I can’t let you hurt him,” Hermione Weasley said.

“You’re his secret-keeper?” Hermione Potter asked.

She hesitated before she nodded. “I know where he is. But…”

Hermione Potter held her hand up. “You can’t tell us, and we shouldn’t force you to tell us or help us. But…” she looked to Harry then to Ron, “if I can talk to you in private, for a moment.”

Reluctantly she nodded her head, and turned to Ron for a moment, “Please wait, I’ll be just a moment,” she said then turned to lead the other Hermione to the porch.

---

The two identical women stood on the porch, one stared at the other.

“Hermione, this will sound unbelievable, but I am you from another reality,” Hermione Potter began.

“You’re accurate there; this is as far fetched as…”

”Using a time turner for lessons or to help free an innocent man?”

She stared at herself before answering, “I guess anyone could have discovered that.”

“What about your daughter. Ron seems to have noticed,” Hermione Potter said softly.

Nervously she replied, “There’s nothing for him to be concerned about.”

“So he doesn’t know she’s Harry’s daughter, not his?”

Hermione Weasley shuddered and shook her head. “He won’t believe a word of it. You can’t tell him.”

“Relax, I won’t. We’re not here to disrupt your lives, but we will need your help. We have to find Harry. We had been drawn here for a reason, and I think getting our counterparts together is part of it. It has worked before.”

“Before? When?”

“This is just one of the parallel worlds we’ve been to. In the last we were in we encountered ourselves, but something had gone horribly wrong. I’ll spare you the details. Just understand that whatever happened in other realities has also happened here and in my reality. Harry and I have a daughter too, and her name is Annie. We left a Hermione in another reality with child, and I believe she had a daughter. I believe certain events occur in all realities for a reason. Fifteen years ago, you and Harry must have been together to have a daughter her age.”

“No, there’s no proof to that accusation. He’s been living his life in peace. That’s all he wanted,” Hermione Weasley said as she turned to leave.

“Your Ann is identical to my Annie, just as you and I are identical. There’s no doubt in my mind that she is Harry’s daughter. You must have been with him at least that one time. But don’t worry, that secret will be safe,” Hermione Potter said. “Remember this: you and I shared identical pasts up to a point. I was in love with Ron at one time too, but what I felt for Harry was much stronger. Maybe that was the choice that altered our lives, or maybe there was some other decision made by some one else. What I do know is we must find the Harry of this world, and we’ll do it with or without your help.”

She reluctantly nodded. “He’s found a place far away where he’s happy. There’s an island in the Caribbean, in the British Virgin Islands. He’s there.”

“Can you take us there? Would he remember you?”

“No, I pretended to be a tourist there for a fortnight. He has probably forgotten me,” she sighed.

“I’ll see to it Ron doesn’t find out. I think we need to return,” Hermione Potter said, to reassure her counterpart.

---

“So, how did you pull it off, finding a look-alike for Hermione?” Ron asked once the women had left.

“Ron, you and I had our differences in the past, but we’ve always been friends. When did you and Hermione get together?” Harry asked.

“In the summer before our seventh year. You disappeared, and she came here for your birthday. It was to be a surprise. Ginny hoped you would change your mind and stay together,” Ron said.

“I remember. She was there when I needed help. I went through a rough time after I lost Sirius. I tried to push you and Hermione away to keep you from getting hurt. She spent that summer at the Burrow with you,” Harry said.

Ron shook his head. “Dumbledore came round to Privat Drive and brought you to the Burrow. Hermione was there most of the summer, and Ginny kept complaining about Bill and Fleur.”

“Dumbledore did come to Privat Drive, but if I remember I tried to run off. He took me to the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of the break. I didn’t see either of you until Sirius’ will was read. I wasn’t ready to be with you both then and stayed in my room alone. The day we all were to return, there was an attack on the train,” Harry said relating that summer.

“That year was one of the most difficult I had. If it wasn’t for you, Hermione, and Ginny, I wouldn’t have gotten through. Dumbledore sent Hermione to Privet Drive the following summer to help me keep my head,” Harry added.

“No, Dumbledore was murdered when the Death Eaters attacked the end of that year. You were there when Draco and Snape attacked him,” Ron said.

“Draco and Snape? They helped us defeat Voldemort. Snape was killed trying to help… members of the Order. Draco warned us of the attack and has proven to be a loyal friend. He was murdered a few days ago, and he died in Ginny’s arms,” Harry said.

“Ginny? My sister and a Malfoy?” Ron yelled.

“Yes, they were quite happy,” Harry said.

“Don’ tell me anymore. Next you’ll say I’m married to Cho,” Ron said.

Harry’s face blanked. “She was murdered by Krum at the End of Year Feast in our sixth year.”

Ron crossed his arms, still unconvinced. “That didn’t happen here. Cho’s in London, last I heard. What happened in the fifth year?”

“Professor Dumbledore was pushed out of the school by Umbridge. She nearly allowed the school to collapse on itself in suspicion and mistrust,” Harry replied.

“What else happened?” Ron asked, continuing his interrogation.

“We all followed Harry into the Ministry where we fought Bellatrix and others there. Sirius was hit and fell into the Arch. Dumbledore showed up and dueled Voldemort to save us all. Most of the Death Eaters were captured, but a couple escaped,” Hermione Potter replied, announcing their return..

“Yeah, that’s what happened,” Ron said. “What were you two talking about?” he asked.

“The same thing you two are discussing,” Hermione Weasley replied curtly.

“Ron, I need to know what happened here. The end of the war you had, it seems to have gone poorly?” Harry asked.

“You can say that. Dumbledore was dead the end of the sixth. That summer Voldemort’s agents systematically began attacking members of the Order. The Auror ranks were decimated early on and were disbanded by Rufus Scrimgeour. He hoped that those who remained alive could survive long enough to recover. You vanished until after Christmas holiday. When you did return, you were different. You seemed older and beaten. You kept saying you couldn’t find them all. No one else knew what you meant,” Hermione said.

“But Hermione and I knew you left to find the Horcruxes on your own,” Ron added. “You wouldn’t let us help you.”

“I guess I was luckier in my reality. If it wasn’t for all my friends in the sixth and seventh years, it might have turned out differently. Eileen’s help and confidence in the seventh year…” Harry began.

“Who is Eileen?” Ron asked.

“She is my cousin and our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in the seventh year,” Hermione Potter replied. Her counterpart looked at her with a questioning look.

“There wasn’t anyone teaching that spot for us. No one would take the position after Snape,” Ron said.

“Snape? He taught that class?”

“In the sixth year. They found Horace Slughorn to fill the Potions spot.”

“Slughorn? I know of him. Dumbledore left a message from him for me to find,” Harry said. “He is the one that told …”

“Yeah, Harry told us about that memory too, but that was back in the sixth year,” Ron said.

“We just discovered it recently; apparently it had been hidden so carefully no one knew about it. The best we know, it was hidden close to sixteen years ago. Dumbledore left it in Firenze’s care just before Snape killed him,” Harry said.

“Snape killed Firenze?” Ron asked.

“No, Professor Dumbledore was murdered by Serverus Snape from one of the alternate realities,” Hermione Potter added.

“He and Malfoy are working together. We’re not certain which reality he actually came from,” Hermione Potter added.

“We do have an idea Malfoy came from here since we’ve been brought here, and we’ve recovered a portion of his cloak at the scene of a recent attack,” Harry said.

“Who did he attack?” Hermione Weasley asked.

“He killed Dobby. But before the killer got away, Dobby nicked a monogrammed button from his cloak, and we, that is Harry, watched him Disapparate from the scene,” Hermione Potter said.

“From what you have said, there’s little we do to assist you on this quest,” Ron said.

“Help us find Harry. His abilities and mine are identical, and we will need all the help possible to prevent either Snape or Malfoy from bringing Riddle back,” Harry said.

“She’s told me where he is. Hermione, Ron, I think it best Harry and I deal with him privately first and see if he’ll return on his own,” Hermione Potter said.

“No, I’m the only one he’ll trust. He has no memory of this world and this life,” Hermione Weasley said.

“You forget. I am you, and I know Harry better then anyone else,” Hermione Potter said. “Well, at least I know my Harry. Your Harry can’t be much different. Besides, I’ve worked with the Healers on ward 49, so I know how to deal with these forms of memory loss,” Hermione said.

“She’s one of the top Healers in our reality, along with Luna. Ron, you and I became Aurors straight from school. You even became my supervisor in later years,” Harry said.

“Please be careful with him. I doubt he’ll remember you. Ron, they’re right. We should wait here,” Hermione Weasley said.

Ron shook his head. “No, I lost my best mate, and I want to see him again.”

“And greet him the way you greeted us? No, it’s best for all if you remain here and we deal with him. We’ll bring him back on a Muggle flight if we are successful,” Harry said.

“Then we all go, but please let me deal with him first. I’m the only one he trusted enough. Ron, he was afraid you would have tried to stop him, that’s why he never wanted you to know,” Hermione said. The obvious emotional stress was evident.

“So where do we go? He’s not hiding in Hogwarts,” Ron said sarcastically.

“To the Caribbean. There’s an island we need to visit first,” Hermione Weasley said.

“Darling,” Hermione Potter said turning to Harry, “we really need to find him and get home.”

“Right, I don’t fancy the children are keen to us being gone this long,” Harry said.

“Kids?” Ron asked.

“Two,” Harry began before he caught Hermione’s glare. “A boy and girl, but they’re staying with you at the Burrow.”

“I’m certain they’re fine. We really have to get to Heathrow,” Hermione Potter said, hoping to change the topic.

“No, we need to wait until Gringgotts opens in the morning,” Ron said, “We haven’t that much Muggle currency here.”

“We made a stop before we came. We’ve been here before,” Harry said as he patted his trousers pocket.

“But, isn’t that currency from your world? It won’t work here,” Hermione Weasley said.

“We have observed many points of commonalty, and the currency from all the realities we’ve experienced has been the same, or at least usable in the others. Although that is an interesting point,” Harry said. “If there’s been activity in his account, we might be able to track him through his accounts.”

“That won’t work. His financial details have been sealed by the Wizengamot and the goblins in Gringotts, by his request,” Hermione Weasley said.

“You certainly know a lot of details for someone you haven’t been in contact with,” Ron saidjealously.

“Ron, it was more then twenty years ago. You went off with the Cannons as their keeper. He had left Ginny and turned to me for help,” Hermione Weasley said to Ron.

“It still doesn’t explain why he won’t return. When Dad passed away, we expected he would return,” Ron said, his pent up anger began to surface.

“He couldn’t. He has no idea who he is; his memory was cleansed of all wizarding knowledge. All he knew was he was an orphan with distasteful relatives in Little Whinging,” she replied.

“Then I suggest we quickly pack what we need and make arrangements for the next flight to where ever he is,” Harry said and stood. “Where shall I say we are going?”

“The British Virgin Islands ,” both women said together.

---

The trip from the Burrow to London and ultimately Heathrow was uneventful and equally quiet. Ron and his wife had gathered a few items they knew they would need, and out of pride, Ron liberated what little household funds they had. His brother and mother contributed what they had, all under protest from Harry that was unnecessary.

The plane they boarded for the crossing was like any other Muggle craft. The Potters had more experience in this manner of flight then Ron. Unfortunately, as they managed to arrive as the plane was boarding, they were unable to purchase four seats together. Ron and Harry chose to sit together. Even with his pent up anger, Ron still loved Harry as a brother.

The two Hermiones sat together and when asked by the flight attendants, a simple tale of identical twins separated by fate satisfied the curious.

“You still haven’t told me what happened to Harry. I do need to know,” Hermione Potter said.

“Ron and I started dating after Bill and Fleur’s wedding. It took some effort for him to take that first step,” she began.

“Yes, Ron is stubborn,” Hermione Potter agreed.

“Harry and Ginny tried to make a go if it, but there was always something holding him back. I really believed she was in love with Harry since her first year. After their experience in the Chamber, his concern for her safety seemed to indicate more then just friendship.” Hermione Weasley stared out the window. “Harry didn’t seem to be concerned that she…”

“She wanted him more then he wanted her. He had that crush on poor Cho. Her death hurt him, and I think that’s why Dumbledore had me stay with him that summer,” Hermione Potter said,

The other Hermione shook her head. “No, I never spent the summer with him. When did this happen?”

“Cho was murdered the end of our sixth year, and I left to stay with Harry that summer. We’ve been together since,” Hermione Potter said.

“Cho is still alive. She had a difficult time of it after she left school, but she met a bloke from Belgium, and they’ve been together, as far as I know. He was a Muggle, I think. Harry had left to find the Horcruxes, and he succeeded. There was a cup, locket…”

“The diary, ring, a dagger, and a silver snuffbox,” Hermione Potter said, finishing the statement. “The dagger was Godric Griffindor’s; it matched the sword Dumbledore kept in his office. It was the same one Pettigrew used to sever his hand when he brought Riddle back after the Triwizard Tournament. It had been used time and time again for such evil,” Hermione said reflecting. Her right hand slipped under her blouse to an old scar.

“Is something wrong?” Hermione Weasley asked, seeing her counterpart lightly rubbing a spot on her chest.

Hermione shook her head. “No, not anymore. The dagger almost took my life before we knew what it was. It was locked away for years before we realized what it was.”

“Harry never mentioned what he found; he wasn’t certain he found them all. He must have destroyed those items and others to be certain,” Hermione replied. After he returned, he was changed; nothing could raise his spirits. He muddled through the remainder of the yea, until he faced Voldemort alone. Those from the DA went with him, but ultimately they fought alone in a sealed chamber under a house in Wales.”

“ Wales? Near a ravine? Was there was a long stairway from the chamber to the house?” Hermione asked excitedly.

“No one knows, Harry sealed that chamber, and the house was left in ruins. He wouldn’t talk of it to anyone. Ginny tried. She said the first night they made love, he had a horrible nightmare of that chamber. She was terrified from his screams,” Hermione Weasley replied.

“How long…”

“They were together for a year after that, but Harry couldn’t put the past behind him. He drifted from relationship to relationship leaving broken hearts behind. Ron and I had been together for a couple years by then. Harry and I spent many nights talking when Ron was off with the Chudley Cannons, mostly about nothing. It seemed to calm him when we sat alone and talked. Most nights he would fall asleep with his head in my lap. He never had a nightmare those nights,” Hermione Weasley said.

“That summer I stayed with him, he screamed in his sleep, and I crawled in bed, and held him. His nightmares never came back when we were together,” Hermione Potter reminisced.

“You do love him. It shows,” Hermione Weasley said softly.

“And I know you did too, and you must still love him to want to protect him,” Hermione Potter replied. Her twin nodded lightly.

“But there’s Ron. He is my husband and the father of our children,” she said.

“But not Ann’s father. Tell me what happened,” Hermione Potter said.

“Five years after he emerged from the chamber and Voldemort was gone, he was on the verge of insanity. Ron was off with the team, and Harry came to me. He did not know I was carrying Ron’s child then. He was far worse then I had ever seen him. I suggested using a Penseive to store those memories he was fighting. He asked, no he begged me for help. I had little choice and brought him to see an old friend at the ministry to have his memory Obliviated. He wanted to forget everything from his eleventh birthday. Nothing of his life as a wizard,” she said.

“Who was the Obliviator?” Hermione Potter asked.

“He wanted no one to know. I was the only one he trusted anymore. I convinced him to see her, and she promised to keep his secret. We set up a Muggle trust fund for him from his accounts at Gringotts and arranged for his retirement. When she was done, I took him to the Islands while he was still unconscious. I spent the next month crying., Ron thought it was the child and hormones, but it was Harry,” she said.

“You never admitted to anyone you were in love with him, did you?”

“Only once. I told him before he forgot me. I couldn’t forget him, and a couple years later when Ron fell from his broom and couldn’t play anymore, he became distant. I still loved him, but the passion was gone. When he was off watching the World Cup, I left to find Harry again,” Hermione Weasley admitted.

“Five years after you left him on the Island. Who was the Obliviator?” Hermione Potter asked again.

Just as the intercom announced they were in the final approach to St. Thomas, Hermione Weasley said, “Luna.”

The girl screamed through the darkness; her lungs felt as if they were about to burst as they filled with the emptiness of the void. She tumbled uncontrollably and quickly became dizzy from the loss of equilibrium. Time no longer had relevance, leaving her confused.

She reached into the endless darkness until her hand briefly brushed against something.

“Mummy,” she cried out, the image of her mother’s body falling to the floor remained burned in her mind.

“BEN!” she screamed, “Annie! Jerry!” she yelled out with no reply. The darkness engulfed her senses. Time passed, reality seemed shrouded in mystery. She realized she was no longer falling, but kneeling.

“Mummy… Help me,” she called out again before finally slumping to the icy stone floor. The only sound she heard was the echoes of her sobbing from the walls of the dark chamber. Arty sat there, confused for what seemed to be days; and now, her grief was compounded with the ache of hunger.

A dull thud nearby snapped her mind from the fog, “Who’s there?” she screamed.

The low moan nearby guided her in the total darkness as she cautiously slid her hand across the floor, until she felt something different from the stone floor.

“Ben?” She called excitedly, but only heard a low moan of obvious pain. She crawled to Ben’s side, and felt what seemed like rubble.

“A-A-Arty?” he whispered.

“I-I’m afraid, I can’t see anything,” she said.

“I can’t see anything either, it’s dark in here. Are you ok?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she whimpered, “I hurt all over.”

Ben moved closer to her voice and now he could feel her near his side. He tried to reach out to her. “I can’t move my arm, it hurts,” forcing his voice to sound strained

“W-W-Where are we?” she asked. Ben pulled himself as close to her as he could and put an arm around her.

“I wish I knew. We may be miles from where we started, I felt like we were falling for hours,” he said.

“Ben?” she said softly, “I’m scared,” and laid her head on his shoulder. “I saw my mum, she was…” Arty stopped and started weeping.

“Your mum will be ok, we’ll find out what happened first off,” Ben said to comfort the girl.

“Do you think we’re dead?” she whispered.

“I don’t think so, but we are together. Have you seen Annie or Jerry?” he asked.

She shook her head, and then answered ‘no’ when she realized he wouldn’t be able to see her. They sat in silence for several minutes; he shifted his weight to pull a sharp stone fragment from under him, and felt something poke his side.

“I wish I could see again,” Arty mumbled.

Ben reached to his side and realized what they both had forgotten, “My wand!” he blurted out and pulled the thin shaft from his pocket.

“Lumos,” he said and held up his wand. The rays illuminated the chamber, causing them both to squint as their eyes grew accustomed to the light. “See, it was just dark in here,” he said.

The two children looked about the chamber; it was the same Chamber they were in before they escaped into the Arch, except this room remained as if was abandoned nearly sixteen years before. Gashes and craters in the stone pillars stood witness to an ancient battle; a dark patch on the floor was all that remained of a dried pool of blood. Several stone benches were shattered, and left in disrepair.

“What happened in here?” Ben asked.

Arty sat silently and stared at the spot where her mother fell, that spot remained clean of debris or stains. Ben leaned closer to her and could see the streaks on her cheeks.

“Come on, we need to get out of here,” Ben said and tried to stand, deliberately allowing his leg to buckle under his weight, almost pulling her down as well.

“Can you stand? I want to get home,” she asked, and wiped her cheeks.

“Yes, I think so.” He leaned on her as they both stood, forcing her to support him.

His wand’s light began to fade, but remained strong enough to point to the doors. Ben held his left arm cautiously as they hobbled up the steps.

“How bad is your arm?” she asked at the top of the steps.

“It hurts, but I don’t think it’s broken. My leg feels a bit worse,” he said.

Arty looked at him as he tried to hide his pain, and then she glanced back to the spot she last saw her mum, “I have to find my mum,” Arty mumbled, her voice cracked on her last word.

Ben nodded and replied, “I promise, we’ll find out what happened.” He put an arm around her to offer a different kind of support, and gave her a tender kiss on her cheek.

She turned to better face him and returned his kiss with a hug, “Thanks Ben, I feel a little better. Can we try my home first?”

“Of course we’ll try your home, can we find Aunt Luna first for my leg? St. Mungo’s is nearby, your mum may be there,” he offered.

She reluctantly nodded and they climbed the remaining steps to the heavy oak doors. Ben hobbled on one foot while she pushed on the doors.

The left side swung open freely, into an abandoned hallway. The scattered debris showed little evidence any human had been in the area in a long time. The darkness of the corridors mirrored the chamber. Neither of the two young teenagers noticed the slight disturbances in the dust on the floor.

Ben’s stiff leg proved to slow them down some but the shattered doors to the lift further curbed their spirits.

“What the bloody hell happened? This place looks as if it’s been abandoned for years,” Ben commented.

“No…” she cried into Ben’s shoulder, “what’s happening to us?”

“Arty, please, I need you to be able to focus on us, I can’t walk very well, and I’m afraid the stairs are our only choice,” Ben pleaded. “You have to be strong.”

She blinked her tears free, and nodded again, “Ben, I’m sorry, I’m not good enough…”

“Bugger that, you’re a Malfoy and a Weasley. You can do anything you have a mind to do,” he said. He leaned on her shoulder and guided her to the stairwell doors, and began the climb.

“I don’t think anyone’s been here in a very long time,” Ben commented inside the stairwell. Several piles of papers lay on the floor nearby; other miscellaneous debris scattered the floor.

Together they hobbled up the stairs to the Atrium, finding it equally abandoned. They moved as quickly as they could past the security desk, ignoring the old and yellowed copy of the Daily Prophet, and finally out the main door.

The outside Muggle world mirrored the desolation of the interior of the Ministry of Magic. The streets were deserted and litter strewn. The surrounding buildings appeared as if ravaged by a war; windows were missing, and gaping holes in the structures left little room to wonder if they were occupied.

Arty froze at the curb; her chin began to quiver again. “Ben, the world is dead, mum’s dead, dad’s dead…” she sobbed.

He pulled her to his shoulder, “It can’t be, there’s bound to be someone here,” he said, but his voice lacked the confidence to convince her.

“No, it’s useless,” she screamed and bolted up the street leaving him alone.

“Arty, STOP!” he yelled. He watched her disappear from sight.

Ben stood for a moment and planned his course of action. He abandoned the guise of his injuries to quickly run back inside the Ministry and searched briefly, until he found his goal, the visitor’s broom closet. He grabbed the only intact broom in the cupboard, and ran back out side, quickly mounted it, and after kicking off the ground he flew up the street and around the corner. He quickly caught her jogging down the street.

“Arty, stop!” he repeated from the air.

She froze and stared up to where he flew as he descended to hover next to her and offered a hand before he realized she would never be able to hold on.

“Arty, please, get on, we can both fly on this one,” he pleaded.

She shook her head, “No, go away,” she screamed and started to run again.

Ben held her by the arm and pulled her onto the broom. “Shh, we’ll be home soon, just calm down, ok?” he said and forced her on the broom. Once off the ground, she resigned herself to Ben’s flying, but never stopped crying.

They flew north, near large twin lakes, past several rows of deserted houses into a forest and landed on the other edge of the woods. In the distance, a series of small fires and small groups of people were visible.

“Look, there in the distance. There’s a column of smoke,” Ben said excitedly.

“A fire?” she asked and looked up at the first sign of hope.

“It’s hard to tell, we should be there in a few moments,” he said. He thought back to another time he flew to a column of smoke looking for help, “We should land near there and walk, in case there’s trouble.”

She nodded and snuggled into him for the next several minutes in the air. They found a small clearing and landed without being seen.

“We need to leave the broom here and come back for it later,” Ben said. He dismounted and helped her from the hovering broom, then quickly hid it in the brush. “We have to be careful, they may be Muggles,” he said.

She nodded and grabbed his hand. She followed him as they approached the small groups of people. The aroma of cooking sausages and laughter drifted to them; the grumbles of hunger from their stomachs urged them closer, causing them to discard caution.

The groups surrounding the small fires were oddly dressed, all in similar uniforms. Ben noticed this detail first and froze, pulling Arty to a stop. “Shh, they seem to be soldiers camped out,” he said.

She shook her head, “No, we need to find my mum, she can help us,” Arty mumbled.

Ben held her, “She can’t help us…”

“You there, in the brush, who’s there?” a voice bellowed, alerting the others.

The smaller group closest to them mobilized quickly. Their well rehearsed actions displayed caution, but showed concern for the couple. Ben and Arty tried to retreat to the woods where the broom lay hidden. But the advancing militia cut off their escape.

“Ben, no…” she screamed and fell to her knees; the sound of a girl’s cry halted the attack.

“You there, don’t be afraid,” the voice called out again.

“S-Stay b-back, I can d-defend myself,” Ben called out, kneeling at Arty’s side and quickly pulling his wand free, Arty latched to his other arm and cowered at his side.

“ Easy there, mate. We’re no threat, you can put down that twig and join us if you have a mind to,” another voice called out.

Ben could see the soldiers for the first time; each had the same uniform and markings, a khaki blouse and green trousers. Some had a scarf tied around their necks and no one was older than a seventh year at Hogwarts.

“W-Who are you?” Ben asked, and lowered his wand.

“My name’s Dave, I’m the one of the senior leaders here. Are you two okay? Your girlfriend looks troubled,” one of the boys said.

“She’s not my…” Ben began when Arty buried her face into his shoulder.

“It’s not real, make them go away, Ben,” she whimpered.

“It’s ok, I don’t think they know who we are,” Ben whispered to Arty.

“This way, if you two are hungry,” another boy offered.

“So, how did you and your girl get lost out here?” one boy asked in idle conversation.

“Steve, bring a blanket, this one seems to be in shock,” Dave called to one of his people.

“W-Who are you?” Ben repeated.

“We’re the ‘Dragons’, on a training weekend with the ‘Doves’, ‘Centaurs’ and ‘cobras’” Dave replied.

“Centaurs?” Arty asked lifting her head from Ben’s shoulder. “is Firenze here?”

“Pardon? No one’s here by that name. Hurry with that blanket,” Dave called out again. This time two more boys in the same outfits joined them, one had a large blanket, the other carried a canteen.

“Here, have a drink, it will help,” the other boy said.

“Dragons?” Ben asked. “Hungarian Horntails or Norwegian Ridgebacks?” he inquired.

“Don’t have a clue what those are, we are just the Dragons,” Dave replied. He assisted Ben in pulling Arty to her feet, but Ben held on to her. Once to their feet, Dave and the others guided them to the fire set in the middle of a group of tents.

“Here, have my spot,” one boy offered to Arty. Ben nodded and set the girl in the spot near the warming fire. The boy pulled a tin plate from a box, and ladled a generous amount of thick, warm stew on the plate.

“I don’t understand. Who are you people?” Ben asked again.

“We’re members of the New Order of Scouts, reformed after the liberation fifteen years ago. Our leader, Mr. M., is off in the main building, he should be back in a moment,” the boy that shared his stew answered.

“Mr. M. helped rebuild the order when he was a lad himself; he found an old manual in his grand’s things. We’ve been using it since,” Dave added and turned to one of the boys, “Hitchens go fetch him, tell him we’ve found a coupla' strays.”

Arty held the plate in her lap and stared into the fire, and mumbled to herself.

“So, what happened to her,” Dave asked.

“We were seeing our uncle off on a journey to find my mum and dad, when we where attacked. Her mum was hurt badly, we escaped with my sister and her boyfriend, but we were separated. Arty’s been mumbling since we found our way here,” Ben said as he gently stroked her hair. “My name’s Ben.”

“Where did this happen? Maybe we can go help her,” one of the other boys asked.

“No, we’ve been wandering for hours, but if I can get Arty home, my aunt should be able to help,” Ben replied.

Arty looked up, “Aunt Luna?” she asked.

Ben nodded.

“Mr. M, our leader just returned,” Dave said and pointed across the glen to a slender man dressed much like the boys.

One boy ran off to hurry the man along. He wasn’t much older then the boys he led, early twenties, Ben assumed. His hair was long and blond, and he seemed strangely familiar.

“Sir, these are the two we found wandering in the forest. A brother and sister we think, but we can’t get much else from them,” an older boy offered.

“She’s got to be his girlfriend, my sister never clung to my arm like that,” one of the boys joked.

The man squatted down to look at Ben and Arty, he too blinked as if he recognized them. “Tell me, son, how did you come to be out here?”

“As I explained to him,” Ben said and pointed at Dave, “her mum was attacked, and we ran.”

“Well, can you tell me your names? My name is Arthur, I can try and get hold of your parents,” Mr. M said.

“My name is Ben Potter and this is my friend Artimesia,” Ben replied.

“Potter, that name’s familiar. Do you have any family nearby?” he asked.

“My uncle Sirius has a house near Kings Cross, but we live some distance away,” Ben replied.

A boy came running across the field where they were first spotted, carrying a strange looking staff, “Sir, Mr. Malfoy, I found something!” he shouted.

Ben’s eyes widened, “M-Mr. M-Malfoy?”

Arthur looked at Ben and glanced at the object the boy carried. “I think I need to have a private chat with you and the girl, please follow me,” he ordered. “Dave, stay here with the boys.”

“Yes sir,” Dave replied.

Arthur stood and motioned them to follow, Arty looked up and shook her head, “No, Rudy, I’m going to wait for mum,” she said with a vacant stare.

Ben held her close and whispered, “He’s not Rudy.”

Arthur leaned forward, and gave her a wink, “It’s okay, we’ll find your mum sweetie.”

Arty looked at Ben and shook her head again. Ben leaned forward and pulled her to her feet and held her up. Arthur led them to a tent away from the rest that the boys shared, and pulled the flap open.

“Please step inside, have a seat on the cot,” he commanded. Once inside he zipped the tent flap shut, and pulled out a wand. He tapped the canvas once and replaced his wand.

“We can talk freely. You say your name is Potter, tell me, who are your parents?” he asked.

“Harry and Hermione Potter, sir,” he replied.

“And this girl, Arty, isn’t your sister, is she?”

“No, I never said she was, her name is Artimesia Malfoy,” Ben said.

Arthur’s commanding stance softened and he knelt to her level. “As much as I figured, Arty, who are your parents?” he asked softly.

She looked into his gray eyes and blinked as if she were looking in a mirror, “Ginevra and Draco Malfoy,” she replied.

“Remarkable,” Arthur said. He pulled a small chair over and sat facing them. “If you like, I can take you to the Burrow, there may be some familiar faces,” he said.

She looked up and let a half smile escape, “Is my mum there? Is she okay?” she asked.

“I think we can find your mother,” he said with a warm smile. “Have either of you Apparated with your parents before?”

“I have, with my mum. We left to meet dad at the Minis….” Ben paused.

“I understand far more than you realize. Come, I’ll take you both someplace safe.” He turned his attention to Arty, “Arty, I’ll introduce you to someone I’m certain you will get along with smashingly.”

Arthur stood, and held a hand to both children, Ben reluctantly took his hand, and Arty followed Ben’s example. Arthur smiled at them, “Ready?” he asked. In an instant the three vanished with a pop.

Ben held Arty as tightly as he held Arthur’s arm, all he could see was darkness and the same constant pressure all around his body. The pressure he felt grew with each passing heart-beat, until he couldn’t stand any more. He knew Arty was feeling the same thing, but he couldn’t help this time.

“Ok, we’re here,” Arthur finally said. Ben opened his eyes to see the Burrow standing before them.

“It’s okay Arty, its Jerry’s home,” Ben said.

“Jerry? Is Annie here?” she asked hopefully.

“Stay here a moment, I’ll see if Mrs. Malfoy is home,” Arthur said and quickly entered the house.

Arthur left the two at the steps of the familiar house, and once inside called out, “Mum, I need your help,” Arthur shouted.

“What’s the matter?” Ginny called from the second floor landing.

Arthur walked quickly to the foot of the stairs. “We found two children wandering Epping Forest, a boy and a girl,” he said. “She’s been looking for her mum since they said they watched her being attacked. She says her name is Artimesia Malfoy, and the boy is Ben Potter, Harry and Hermione Potter’s son.”

Ginny froze in her tracks, “Harry and Hermione Potter? And this girl’s name is Artimesia?”

“He called her Arty,” Arthur corrected. “She said her mum and dad were Draco and Ginevra Malfoy, and I swear I had been looking at a younger form of myself as a girl.”

“Merlin’s beard, you don’t think they’ve come back?” Ginny exclaimed. “Where are the children?”

“On the stoop, waiting. They are expecting Arty’s mum,” Arthur replied.

Ginny ran down the steps and rushed out the door with hardly a heartbeat’s wait. Her son followed.

“Arty? Ben Potter? ” Ginny exclaimed as if she knew them all their lives.

Arty looked up at the sound and blinked hard at the sight of the woman standing before her, “M-Mummy?” Arty gasped . She pushed free from Ben’s grip and ran toward Ginny.

Ginny stared at the boy and down to the girl wrapped around her waist, “Arty? It’s okay, I’m fine,” she said softly. Ginny wrapped her arms around the girl and knelt down to look her in the face. “Tell me what happened after you ran off?” she asked.

Ben stood back in amazement to see the woman he watched sacrifice her life to save them, now holding Arty. He turned to Arthur and started his questions when he noticed an apparition behind Arthur.

Their eyes met, Ben’s were as wide as a saucers, but the ghost held a finger to her lips to keep him from causing more emotional damage to Arty.

“Mummy, Mummy, we… we were seeing Uncle Ron, Sirius and Remus off to find Uncle Harry, when this man appeared. He said he was a Snake? I didn’t understand what he said,” Arty started to blurt out.

“Snape,” Ben corrected, “his name was Snape.”

“Mummy, he said there was two of him, but that’s impossible. He was saying something about someone else when…”she stopped and hugged Ginny again. “Oh Mummy, when you were hit in the back with a spell, I was so afraid.”

“The man, Snape, was also hit, but we all managed to run into the veil,” Ben added, but still stared at the apparition.

“Mummy, I watched you fall, you were badly hurt, all I could see- blood-” Arty managed to say before her voice started to choke from the memory.

“I see,” Ginny said, her voice comforted Arty more then any words from Ben had done. “As you can see, you are perfectly safe. But I suspect you’ve had a bad go of it, I can see in your eyes you haven’t slept in a while.”

Ben stepped forward, “Go on Arty, I think some sleep would do wonders,” he said and lightly kissed the back of her head; Ginny watched his tender treatment of Arty and smiled.

“Yes, come upstairs, I have something that will help you rest,” Ginny said softly.

Arty looked to Ginny and nodded, returning the smile, “Ok mum, if you’ll stay with me a bit.”

The two disappeared up to the bedrooms, leaving Ben, Arthur and Hermione’s ghost in silence. Ben stood and stared at the vision of his mother, but a very young version of her.

“Please, Ben I think you need to sit,” Arthur said. “You mentioned your parents are Harry and Hermione, do you know exactly where they are?”

Ben shook his head, never taking his eyes off the ghost.

“Do you know exactly where you are right now?” Arthur asked.

Ben shook his head again, not uttering a word.

“This place is my home, and as I understand it, similar to your home, not this building, but this existence. When you passed through the Veil, you passed through a portal to a parallel world: mine. Your parents visited here sixteen years ago, have they told you anything about that experience?” Arthur asked.

Ben shook his head one more time.

The spirit drifted to face Ben, “Hello, my name is Hermione Granger, or at least I was Hermione Granger many years ago. I understand you are Harry and Hermione’s son?”

Ben nodded hesitantly.

“There’s much you need to know, if you are here without them then I assume something’s happened.” She paused for a moment and looked at the boy, “I had hoped to meet you one day, except I expected you to be older.”

Ben cleared his throat. “I have an older sister,” he managed to say.

“Wonderful, knowing that makes me quite happy,” Hermione replied. “When your parents were here, they were troubled, I was happy I could help them.”

“What happened?” Ben asked.

“They never told you or your sister any of their past, have they?” the ghost asked. “When I was alive, things here were terrible; there was a war that had raged for years. Your parents’ involvement helped end that war. They defeated the one responsible, but there were others that wanted to retain the power they enjoyed.”

“You were my mum? How did you die?” Ben asked.

“In your world they faced the same conflicts we faced, only they were successful, but at a price. Your parents tried to overcome that but met with constant failure, but I was able to help them when they needed it most,” she said.

“That is a much longer story than you need to know, but I need to know if you saw who attacked the girl’s mum?” Arthur questioned.

Ben shook his head, “We never saw them, they attacked from the door while that bloke was talking to my Aunt,” Ben said, and scratched his arm, exposing the mark.

“How did you get that mark?” Arthur asked sympathetically.

Ben covered his arm quickly, shook his head, and stood to leave. Hermione drifted in front of him to block his escape.

“Tell us how you came to bear the Dark Mark, it’s clear to us it was not by choice,” Arthur said.

“T-T-The severer and the silver armed man,” Ben stuttered.

“Severer?” Hermione asked.

Ben started to shake from the memory, “The man with Aunt Ginny when she was hurt, he said he did this to keep the silver armed man from hurting me.”

“Silver arm? Long blond hair?” Arthur asked Ben quickly.

The ghost drifted to Arthur, “So now we know where he went, do you think he’ll return here?” she asked.

“It’s possible,” they heard from the stairs, “Arthur, you need to get back to your boys before they think something’s wrong,” Ginny said from the stairs. “She’s resting quietly now’ .”

“Bugger it, you’re right mum. Take care of these two, I’ll be home after taps tonight,” he said, then stood, and vanished with a pop.

“Mum? You knew that man?” Ben asked.

She smiled and her form began to glow, “I never thought I would hear someone call me ‘mum’. That man is Ginny’s son, he’s a good man, he’s taken it upon his shoulders to help rebuild this world, starting with the youth. I suspect this has a lot to do with your parents’ influence.”

“He’s almost as old as Rudy,” Ben said.

Ginny walked across the room and took Ben by the hand, and urged him to sit. “Artemisia mentioned some one named Radulphus, is he related to her?”

“Rudy is her older brother, he and Lucia are twins,” Ben replied.

Ginny’s face paled, “Twins? And Lucia is a girl?” she asked.

Ben nodded, “eight or nine years older I think.”

“Ginny? What’s wrong?” Hermione asked.

“I never told anyone, I lost a child when Arthur was born, his twin. He had a sister that wasn’t expected. The mid-wife in attendance was unable to care for them both. She died only an hour after she was born,” Ginny replied. Tears that had welled in her eyes from the painful memory began to roll down her cheeks.

Ben sat next to Ginny, and watched her. She looked almost the same as Arty’s mum, but she seemed older.

“What is she like?” Ginny asked softly.

In truth, Ben hardly spent time with either of Arty’s older siblings. “She’s fun to be with,” Ben lied. “They both spent a lot of time with us, mum wanted to have Lucia mind us those times she and dad left for parties, but Aunt Luna stayed with us instead.”

“Luna? Luna Lovegood?” Ginny asked.

“Umm, no, Luna Weasley, she and Uncle Ron would bring Jerry over instead,” Ben replied. “Jerry is my sister’s new boyfriend; they’ve been together since her birthday in May. That was just before the Severer burned my arm.”

“Snape,” Ginny corrected, “Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy must have joined forces in your world, but why?”

“Lucius Malfoy? Was that Arty’s grandfather?” Ben asked.

“Ron, wake up, you’ve slept though the entire flight,” Harry said, nudging his old friend.

“Huh? We’re there?” Ron asked, while rubbing his eyes.

“We’ll be landing in a moment, you need to fasten your seat belt,” Harry instructed.

“Bloody hell, that’s one big island. And quite crowded,” Ron said while looking out the small window.

“This is Miami, we have to pass through their customs and then transfer to a smaller plane to get to the island. Their airport is too small for a craft this large,” Harry replied.

“Why not just use our brooms, I still remember how to fly,” Ron retorted.

“In daylight? You know that’s forbidden,” Harry said.

“Then let’s simply Apparate there and be done with it.” Ron sighed.

“Do you know where he is at this moment? Do you know the area you want to Apparate to? No, that’s not reasonable,” Harry replied.

The altitude of the plane shifted in preparation for landing, Harry smirked when he noticed Ron’s grip on the seat’s arm. The screech of the tires announced the end of this portion of the journey.

“Bloody hell, that was some jolt,” Ron exclaimed.

“The girls will meet us at the gate, then we have to claim our bags before we can pass customs, it’s the Muggle laws we have to follow,” Harry said to his friend and motioned for him to stand. They were near the back of the plane, and waited for the front rows to clear out. Hermione Potter looked back to Harry and smiled before she and Hermione Weasley left the plane together.

“I’ve forgotten how wonderful traveling was, it’s been years since I’ve been on a plane,” Hermione Weasley said.

“Yes, Harry and I have spent a fair bit of time traveling since we’ve been married, it has been one adventure after another,” Hermione Potter reflected.

---

“There are the boys, the baggage claims should be to the left of the gate,” Hermione Weasley said. Harry and Ron finally came through the gate to rejoin their spouses. There was no one behind them, being the last to leave the plane.

“We have half an hour until the connecting flight leaves,” Hermione Potter said, and examined her ticket. She glanced at the signs pointing to the other gates in the concourse, and pointed to the left. “Just down a bit.”

Gate 42 was a brief walk through the sparse crowd in the early morning hours. A collection of vacation bound travelers waited in the rows of seats near the podium where a flight attendant stood shuffling papers.

“Pardon me, but has the flight to St Thomas left yet?” Harry asked politely.

“No sir, we will be calling to board in a few moments, have you received your seat assignment?” she asked.

“We have requested four seats together, is that possible?” Hermione Potter asked.

“May I see your tickets?” the attendant asked and examined the documents. “There are only a few people scheduled for this flight. I can put you on the same row, on either side of the aisle, would that be satisfactory?” the attendant asked.

“Brilliant! How long before we can board the plane?” Harry asked.

“Only a few minutes, do you have any other luggage?” the attendant asked pointing to their rucksacks.

“No, that is about all we brought,” Hermione Potter replied.

The attendant stamped the ticket vouchers and handed them back to Harry. “Have a good time in the British Virgin Islands; we hope your stay with us is pleasant,” the attendant replied.

The wait was short as they were soon called to board the aircraft. The remainder of the journey remained relatively calm, owning to the many hours spent in Muggle aircraft.

The main island of Tortola came to view from the tiny windows. Silver ripples shimmered on the crystal blue water from the rising sun.

The tropical breeze blew into the group as they walked down the stairs from the plane to the tarmac. Smells of paradise caught the Weasley’s off guard. It had been a lifetime since Hermione visited, but a new experience for Ron.

“This way,” Harry urged, the other passengers arrived at the customs gate ahead of the small band.

The customs line moved along quickly for those originating from the United Kingdom, Ron Weasley passed through first. Hermione Weasley followed and carefully watched her husband as he was questioned to his business. The remaining members passed into the island without as much as a raised eyebrow.

With rucksacks in hand, the four left the small airport and hailed a local taxi. “The Governor’s Office, and be quick about it,” Hermione Potter ordered the driver. The others looked startled at her order, but held their questions until Hermione Weasley tapped the screen between them and the driver with her wand.

“We can talk freely, he can’t hear a word,” she said.

“Why the Governor’s Office?” Ron demanded.

“Simple, the Ministry maintains an office at all British Embassies and territorial Governor’s Offices to assist us in case of issues with our presence. We still are British citizens,” Hermione Potter said.

“Right; to the Governor’s Office. It’s possible we can gain some information on his where-abouts from the Muggle authorities,” Harry agreed.

Hermione Potter looked at him carefully then removed her wand from her pocket and pointed it directly at Harry. A silvery band briefly circled Harry’s face, before he could respond, his hair lightened and lengthened, his face sprouted a short-cropped beard.

Hermione reached around to the back of Harry’s head and pulled his longer hair into a tight pony tail. “Now, darling, there’s one more detail,” she said as she removed a tiny vial from her pack. She carefully dabbed the contents from her finger to his forehead, until the scar vanished.

“That’s interesting, his scar vanished, is it a vanishing balm?” Hermione Weasley asked.

“It’s a concealer,” Hermione Potter replied, “not that I’m that vain, but there are moments a girl needs to hide the wear of time.”

A light tap on the divider and a wave from the driver hurried the disguise. Without another word the four exited the taxi, Hermione Potter paid the fair and they approached the main door.

“Good morning,” a security guard said with a cheerful smile. “How do you like our fine island?”

“It’s lovely, thank you. We need to find…” Hermione Weasley began.

“Excuse me, but we have confidential dealings with the security secretary,” Harry interrupted. He opened a leather wallet and displayed a bronze badge. The guard saluted and opened the door for them to enter.

A moment later Ron leaned over to Harry, “What the bloody hell was that?”

“My Auror’s identification transforms to the highest local enforcement authority identification. I expect the guard has alerted our arrival. You all need to follow my lead, Hermione I believe this is your turn?”

“Right,” she said as she came to his side. As predicted, several other guards met them in the foyer.

“Commander Potter?” a young uniformed guard addressed.

“Here, Lance Sergeant,” Hermione Potter replied. “I’m Commander Potter here to see the adjutant to the head of Security.”

“Very good, ma’am, please follow me,” he said with a sharp salute.

They followed the Lance Sergeant through the corridors to a non-descript door down a side corridor. The Lance Sergeant knocked sharply, and waited.

“Come,” a voice barked from behind the door.

“Sir, Lance Sergeant Hopkins escorting Commander Potter, and her team, Sir,” he shouted in reply once he escorted the group inside. He turned about sharply and left them standing before an older looking soldier. The placard on his desk read Colonel Fox, Commandant British Garrison.

“Colonel, I am Commander Potter, this is Lieutenant-Commander Potter, my husband and second in command, and Ronald Weasley and his wife here to aid us in our search for a missing member of my reconnaissance team. He had been reported missing nearly twenty years ago, and we believe he’s here. Mrs. Weasley has knowledge that may help find him. We need your cooperation and a certain level of latitude in our methods. Naturally no one can know we are here, as this is for National Security,” Hermione explained in a decisively commanding tone.

“Please have a seat, Commander how can I be of service?”

“First off, our lost man has no idea of his importance or his true identity. He was placed here twenty years ago after his memory was altered after years of conditioning. His original mission was to act as a ‘safety valve’ during the crisis during those days. He has been lost in the Bureaucracy of the era and we just learned he may still be alive.”

“A sleeper? Here on my island?” Colonel Fox growled.

“Not precisely. He served with distinction in Her Majesty’s Service until the stress of his actions left him unable to cope with his actions. He was… retired and placed here for his service to the Crown,” Harry stated.

“Apparently, my wife was part of the group that helped relocate him, and now we both have been enlisted to find him,” Ron grumbled.

“First you claim he was ‘lost’ and now you say he was ‘placed’ here. You are losing my confidence and unless I hear an explanation to my satisfaction, the lot of you may have an extended stay as King William’s guests,” Fox said as he rose from behind his desk.

“Colonel, we are attached to the third Military Intelligence Battalion, of the Defence Intelligence Staff. This is my staff; we are searching for a member of our team. We have recent reports he has been spotted in these islands. I’m afraid that is all I am at liberty to reveal,” Hermione said as she produced an envelope from her pocket. “If you need confirmation, this is my contact at the Ministry.”

Fox took the envelope, removed the letter and took one look at the name fixed to the bottom, and the longer he stared, the larger his eyes grew. He quickly replaced the letter and handed it back.

“Please accept my deepest apologies and if there’s anything you require, ask and it will be made available,” he said quickly and scribbled a note of his own. “Hand this to my orderly , Lance Sergeant Hopkins, and he will see to your needs. Now if there’s anything else, please notify me.”

Hermione smiled and stood to shake his hand. Harry too grinned and shook the Colonel’s hand as they left the office.

The Lance Sergeant had waited in the hall to escort them from the building, Hermione handed him the Colonel’s note before he turned to lead them. A simple nod of understanding and he addressed the Commander.

“Ma’am, I expect you’ll need transportation? The motor pool is this way,” he said with a sharp salute.

“Wait, we’ll need a boat, a fast one if it’s available,” Hermione Weasley said to the Commander.

“Sergeant?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am. There is a launch in the harbor; I’ll make the arrangements to have it at your disposal.” He reached into his tunic pocket and produced a small card. “Here is my contact information; do you have a mobile telephone?”

“Unfortunately, no,” she answered.

“I’m afraid that was my fault, I managed to damage it before we left home,” Harry added.

“I’ll sign out a government issued unit from supply before we get to the motor pool – that should suffice for the moment,” the sergeant offered as he led them from the hall to a stair well. In a few moments, he procured the telephone and keys for an automobile.

The four quickly found themselves inside the auto heading away from the Embassy. Hermione drove allowing Harry to turn and face the Weasleys in the rear seat, “Hermione, why a boat?” he asked.

“The last time I had any contact, he owned a house on one of the islands just north of this one. We should start there,” she replied. “I arranged a trust fund from Gringotts for him so he would be able to live free of financial burdens.”

“How did you manage that, and keep it from me?” Ron asked. The hurt in his voice at the deceptions grew as time passed.

“Ron, I’ve always been with you, you are my husband and he is my friend, but he has been alone. You hadn’t seen him suffer. He refused to share that side of his life with anyone,” Hermione said.

“To anyone but you, apparently,” he sniped.

“It was his desire; he granted me ‘Power of Attorney’ over his finances. I had a nominal sum transferred to a Muggle account for him, and ensured adequate funds were always available,” Hermione Weasley said.

“Then he has means, and he’s not easily fooled,” Hermione Potter said, drawing the topic away.

“Right, and if he’s anything like me, he wouldn’t venture far from his home,” Harry added. “I believe we’ll find him there or at least some clue to his present location.”

“The harbor is to the left,” Ron said, pointing to a sign.

“Good, with luck we’ll find him soon and be able to bring him back,” Harry said.

“To help you with the Horcruxes in your world,” Ron added.

“Umm, right, the Horcruxes,” Harry replied and glanced at his wife.

“We’d best find him,” Hermione Weasley said, “He was on the ‘ Dog Islands’ to the north.”

“’Dog Islands’?” Harry asked.

“I felt it was fitting to honor Sirius,” she said.

“Sirius? Oh, right, the Ministry battle in our fifth year,” Harry said casually.

Ron raised an eyebrow at the lack of feeling shown, and shook his head. “Bloody liars,” he muttered, and slipped his hand to his wand unnoticed by the others.

“Here, the government launch is there,” Hermione Potter said, pointing to a wharf.

Hermione pulled the auto close to the launch, and the four quickly boarded the small craft. Harry paused to show his identification to the security guard before he too joined the others.

“Darling, do you remember what Jake taught you?” Hermione asked Harry.

“Mostly, his boat was much bigger, this can’t be that difficult,” he replied.

“Who’s this ‘Jake’ fellow?” Ron asked.

“My cousin’s husband, we spent the summer of our sixth year with them,” Hermione replied.

The attendant helped free the lines that tied the launch to the wharf, while Harry started the engines. A mighty roar flooded Ron’s final comment.

“Sixth year? That’s over twenty-five years ago,” he said, unheard by the others.

The launch pulled slowly from its berth to the mouth of the harbor. Harry pointed it to open water and they sped out of sight of anyone on land within minutes. Harry looked around for a moment, checked the compass, and slowed the engines.

“We need to be sure this is correct,” he said. He turned to Hermione Weasley, “Are you certain he’s in this direction?”

“Yes, I arranged a well appointed home for him on one of the larger islands,” she said.

Hermione Potter also turned to her counterpart, “Do you have any of his possessions? We may be able to use that to point the proper direction,” she said.

Hermione Weasley fell silent for a moment, lost in thought. She slowly pulled off her rucksack and dug inside for a moment before she released a deep sigh.

“Here, I was supposed to destroy it, but I couldn’t bare the thought,” she said as she handed Harry the wand he lost in his battle with Lord Voldemort.

Harry held it for a moment and he smiled. It was a sad smile given for a long lost friend. He handed it to his wife, “Take this, it’s not mine. It belongs to him.”

Hermione nodded, Ron crinkled his brow as Hermione held the wand flat in her palm. Ron noticed a scar across her palm when she tapped her wand to Harry’s, “Point me,” she said. It began to slowly spin, and pointed behind the boat.

“We just came from there,” Ron exclaimed.

“No, we came from that direction; Your Harry isn’t on the islands to the north, he must be on another one,” Hermione said. “Harry, is there a map on this boat?”

He looked around the controls, and found a plastic tube. Inside he found a nautical chart of the islands. He laid the chart on the deck, and waved a hand over it to smooth it flat.

Hermione put the wand on the chart and tapped it once. It rolled from side to side, and spun once, stopping on a land mass south of the island they left.

“Where’s St. John’s Island?” Ron asked.

“We have to leave the British part of the islands; it’s located a few miles South West of Tortola. It appears he’s on the north side,” Hermione Weasley said after studying the chart.

“No, the wand is moving, rolling to just off shore,” Ron said pointing to the roving wand.

“I suggest we head over that direction and with luck we can narrow the search some,” Harry said and turned the wheel to one side. The boat made a slow turn until the compass pointed south-west. “Hang on, we should be there shortly,” he said as he gunned the engines to full throttle.

The roar of the twin engines precluded any conversation, and the group settled as best they could on the lightly padded seats. The seas were as calm as glass, offering a smooth ride. Hermione sat next to him, holding the chart to monitor their progress.

After a half hour she pointed to the left, “That must be ‘ Peter Island’ and just past that is ‘ Norman Island. If we keep Tortola to our right, then St. John Island should be to our left,” she yelled at Harry.

He nodded and they continued. The water-born trip seemed quite tedious but soon came to an end with the sighting of the larger island.

“We had best check his position, Darling. That cove should suffice for the moment,” Hermione yelled at Harry.

He turned the wheel and slowed the engines; the boat fell off its plane, allowing the nose to drop into the water. Larger waves splashed from the bow as the swells lapped up the side. A short but bouncy trip into a cove protected from the seas was instructed by the charmed wand, still pointing to the chart. Other boats passed by, the occupants were oblivious to any unusual activities in the government launch.

“There, the chart is pointing to that cove to the left,” Hermione said to Harry.

He maneuvered the launch past the vacationers to an isolated cove. From the distance it appeared deserted. Within a few minutes in the cove, a hidden vision of human handiwork appeared, a dock extended out from the beach, leading to a footpath up the hill. A house was now quite visible from the cove, but it seemed uninhabited.

“I suggest caution, he may be a bit surprised at our arrival,” Harry warned. The dock seemed to be well used on one side, evident a boat was usually tied to that spot. Harry guided the launch to the other side, where it was tied off near smaller, lesser used craft.

“Yes, caution, he may have set wards to detect anyone trespassing,” Hermione Potter replied, as he stepped off the launch and offered a hand to his wife. The Weasleys followed quickly.

“Not likely, or have you forgotten his memories of his abilities are gone. He thinks he’s a normal person, living from his inheritance,” Hermione Weasley corrected.

“Right,” Ron said, pointing to the ground. “But he seems to have set Muggle detection devices. That is a sensor or possibly a camera for security. We were instructed to be careful and avoid them when I was on the Cannons.”

Hermione Potter held a hand up stopping their progress from the dock, “Then maybe we should check for possible wards, he may have regained his memory.”

She waved her wand in a reverse figure eight pattern, a fine mist engulfed them then spread up the walk way. Ridges of the mist were visible leaving little doubt.

“Bloody hell, he must have remembered,” Ron muttered.

“Not likely, his ‘signature’ would be as strong as Harry’s, but those traces are weaker. It means someone else is here,” Hermione Potter corrected.

Harry turned to the launch, and with a wave of his hand, it vanished. An indentation in the water remained, but was not as noticeable from a distance. “Love, can you keep that spell around us? At least we can spot and avoid tripping any wards,” Harry asked.

“Of course, but I expect someone may be watching him, these seem to be recently cast spells,” she replied.

Three of them started forward, but Hermione Weasley froze in her tracks.

“He was supposed to be rid of this; no one was to find him. It was all he wanted,” she mumbled.

“Yes, someone has discovered him; all we can do is try and determine their intentions,” Hermione Potter answered to her double. “We need to learn what has happened, and the answers are up there.” She pointed up the walkway and took the woman’s hand. “The answer is up there, and there’s only one way to find out, I understand what you’re thinking,” she whispered, gently pulling her forward.

“Step over the traces, don’t disturb them,” Harry cautioned as he watched the two identical women move as one.

Once at the top of the walkway, Harry examined the door, a simple touch of his hand on the knob faded the mist that surrounded the entrance. A simple Alohomora and the door swung open.

“The wards seem to be turned off by Harry’s touch,” Ron said.

“Of course they would, if this were his house. He is Harry Potter, just as we said,” Hermione replied.

They cautiously entered the house, a single story ranch; the foyer opened to a large open lounge, nicely appointed furniture filled the space without crowding the room. The other end opened to a large glass wall, offering a panoramic view of the ocean.

Harry and Hermione quickly scanned the room for any signs of this being a wizard’s home, none were spotted. Ron ventured alone to the back rooms. Hermione Weasley stayed near Harry and Hermione while looking through the kitchen.

“He’s picked a beautiful spot, the view from here is breathtaking. This must be the top of a ridge, the dock is down the path from the front door,” Hermione commented to Harry.

“I always did have good taste,” he joked back.

“In here,” Ron called out. “He’s not alone, unless he’s taken to wearing women’s knickers.”

The group found the room Ron had been searching. A woman occupied the room, frilly curtains and bed coverings adorned the window and bed. Nothing seemed unusual; except it was obvious, she stayed here alone. The master bedroom across the hall showed a stark opposite, this was Harry’s room. His clothes adorned the furnishings, the mark of a man living alone.

“So, he must have a platonic flatmate, if they are keeping separate rooms. She obviously doesn’t spend much time in here,” Hermione Potter commented.

“And how did you draw that conclusion?” Ron inquired.

The two women looked at each other and rolled their eyes. “He’s as thick as the Ron in our world, how have you managed all these years?” Hermione Potter asked.

“Ron,” Harry interrupted, “you’ve been married as long as we have, and you can’t figure that out? Would Hermione let you get away with leaving your room in this state?”

“I suggest we try and learn what we can about his doings since he moved here,” Hermione Weasley said, changing the topic.

“Right. Have any of you noticed anything unusual?” Harry asked.

His wife grinned, and waited a moment for the others, “No photographs.”

“Right, none at all, save the usual landscape photos, and some of what I assume is his boat,” Harry said smiling.

“And there’s no mirror in his room,” Ron said looking about.

“Right, so we can deduce he would rather not see himself, and why would that be?” Hermione Potter asked as she looked at Harry.

Harry grinned, “He is afraid to remember. He knows there’s a hole in his memory and knows it could be painful to remember. And since he’s been told he’s an orphan, we can also deduce he may be afraid he’ll remember my, err, his parents in his face.”

“Hermione, how deep was his memory wiped?” Hermione Potter asked.

Harry picked up a picture on the nightstand, a large sport fishing boat anchored in a cove. He could barely see the name on the hull ‘Magical Times’. He noticed another oddity, a porcelain figure of a mouse in a red robe and wizard’s hat.

“Curious,” he muttered and continued to listen.

“Do you remember what happened to Professor Lockhart? They went deeper than that. He has no memory past his eleventh birthday to his twentieth. All he’s been told is he had an accident and suffered a serious blow to his head,” Hermione Weasley said.

“Which would explain his scar,” Ron commented.

“Yes, he was observed for several days afterward and brought here. Ron, you were away with your team for a fortnight and that is when he and I discussed this plan. To my knowledge, I was the only one to know he was brought here.”

Ron looked at her, and nodded, “You were upset when I returned home after that trip. You told me you had some disturbing dreams of the ‘end’.”

Before she could comment, Harry glanced out the window to the dock; a large boat had pulled up, the same boat in the photo he still held.

“Bugger it all, he’s here,” he said. He tossed the photo on the bed and the four hurried out of his bedroom, hoping to slip out of the house without being seen. Otherwise, questions would be raised that would be difficult to answer.

“Henry, leave the bloody fish in the cooler, we can clean them later, I need a shower,” a woman’s voice called out.

Ron and Hermione just managed to slip into a spare bedroom that had been converted to a library; Harry quickly pulled his aged invisibility cloak and draped it over Hermione. He raised a finger to his lips and grinned.

“Stay covered, keep your wand handy, just in case,” he whispered and kissed her forehead.

“Luc, grab a shower then, I still have to wash down the ‘Times’, priorities you know,” a familiar voice replied.

Harry and Hermione stayed in the master bedroom, and listened to footfalls approach the other room. The door to the woman’s room creaked open and shut again.

“He’s alone, now would be a good time to try and reason with him,” Harry whispered.

A soft pop startled them when a woman’s voice ordered out. “I don’t know who you’re talking to mate, but you’d best explain yourself.”

Harry turned around; his disguise from the Government House still concealed his features. He stared directly into familiar protuberant silvery grey eyes. She still had her waist-length dirty-blonde hair and a quirky grin of confidence.

“Luna?” Harry said, “Luna Lovegood?”

Her eyes widened, “Lucy, Lucy Meadows, if you must know. And you my friend have managed to work your way into a dodgy spot.”

Harry grinned, and shook his head, “Lucy is it now? And his name’s ‘Henry’? So he doesn’t remember who he is? And spot on with that sneaky Apparition, caught me off guard and that’s not an easy trick.”

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Lucy? Who are you talking to?” a voice called out.

“No one, Henry, I’m using your shower, if you don’t mind,” she called back. “And now, since you seem to have some knowledge of who I am, would you mind telling me who you are?” she whispered harshly.

“Right, I’ll tend to the boat myself then,” he called back from the outer room.

Harry reached into his pocket and revealed his bronze identification. Luna’s eyes widened further, when she recognized the Auror badge.

“They sent an Auror? How did they know he’s here?” she hissed quietly and lowered her wand.

“Luna, I know that’s Harry Potter out there, and from what we know, he has no memory of whom and what he is, but we are here to get his help,” Harry said softly.

“With or without your help,” Hermione said as she dropped the cloak. Her wand remained defensively pointed at Luna. “Darling, take the cloak and fetch the others before he sees them. And do avoid him for the moment?”

“Hermione? Darling? What happened to Weasley?” she hissed.

“He’ll be about in a minute, first we need to talk,” Hermione said and lowered her wand.

Harry looked out the window to see himself walking on the well worn path to his boat. “If I remember Jake’s obsession with cleaning his boat, this bloke’s going to be a bit.” He draped the cloak over his shoulders with a flourish and slipped out of the room.

Harry left his wife and Luna to deal with the Ron and the other Hermione, still in hiding in the spare room, listening to any sound they could. Harry opened the door to find Ron also in a defensive posture.

“Easy mate, ‘Moine’s talking to Luna, it appears she’s the one living with Harry,” Harry said. He noticed Hermione’s face pale at the mention of Luna’s name. “Here Hermione hide under the cloak, she’s seen my wife and thinks she’s you.”

The three exited and slipped into the master bedroom where Hermione had barely started explaining.

“But that doesn’t explain why you came after him, Luna. He was safe here,” Hermione said.

“No, I found out he was discovered by two people. I know who the second was, and I think his first ‘visitor’ revealed his location. I came to convince him to leave the home where you left him after his memory had been altered. Now before I answer another question, why have you returned with an Auror?”

Harry re=entered with Ron, Hermione Weasley safely hidden under the cloak.

“Please be patient, he’s not who you think, I’m not who you think I am. I’m here with my husband,” Hermione began.

“Took me for a bloody shock too, so you’ve told Luna what’s happened then?” Ron asked.

“Not yet, Harry, if you please,” Hermione pointed her wand at Harry and his hair darkened and returned to its original length, his scar reappeared and his glasses returned to their original shape.

“Thanks, love. Although I was getting used to the new glasses,” Harry said with a grin then turned to face Luna; his grin vanished as he continued. “The name’s Harry Potter and that is my wife Hermione Potter. As you may have guessed, we’re not from around here.”

Luna’s eyes widened even further, “No, I’ve been here with Harry for nearly ten years, and I can tell you he’s much the same as before you brought him here, Hermione.”

“No, she didn’t bring him to you, or to these islands to ‘retire’,” Harry stated, pointing to his wife, “she did,” and then pointing to Ron. The air next to Ron began to shimmer as the cloak fell to the floor.

“Luna, I brought him here, listen to them, this is a matter of extreme importance,” Hermione Weasley said.

The group left the safety of the bedroom for the front lounge, with the expectation of watching for ‘Henry’s’ return. Luna’s double take deserved an explanation, and as quickly as they could, explained the circumstances that brought them together. The two identical Hermiones and additional Harry Potter that stood before her lent credibility to the story.

She shook her head, unable to comprehend the disclosure, “You offer no proof or validation to this claim of being from some other world,” Luna contested, the expression on the others waned her to believing them. “You can’t tell Harry, he won’t understand,” Luna pleaded.

“That’s the problem we have, we need him. Without him and his powers we may not be able to accomplish what we must,” Hermione Potter stated.

“Against V-V-Vol… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?” Ron asked.

“Actually Tom Riddle is not the root cause, Albus Dumbledore stumbled on a clue that is quite disturbing. It shows that Riddle was little more than a puppet manipulated for ‘his’ entertainment, just as we were manipulated,” Harry said.

Ron looked confused, “I thought you said you were here to find his Horcruxes.”

“Actually Ron, you said that was our objective. Only the Harry from this world can help,” Hermione Potter said.

Ron stood and walked to the window in the front door shaking his head, “So this is an elaborate hoax? Is any of this the truth?” Ron asked in disgust.

Hermione Potter pulled Harry aside, “We should have been truthful about our reasons.”

“No, it’s almost too far fetched to be believed, if I hadn’t read it for myself, and encountered him too, I wouldn’t have considered any of this myself,” Harry replied.

Hermione Weasley stood between Ron and Luna, “What ever the reasons, I believe them and have to return to London with Harry, we must help them. I can’t explain why, it’s something I feel,” Hermione said.

Ron looked out the window, and stared at Harry’s reflection, brandishing a stout club.

“Who the bloody hell are you? Lucy? Who are these people and how did they get in here?” Henry ranted as he burst into his house. His first swing caught Ron by surprise, as he fell over; the club just missed his head.

“We can explain,” Hermione Weasley started.

“I told you people I have no intention of selling this property, you can just build your resort somewhere else,” he ranted and grabbed Ron by the collar.

“Harry, STOP!” Hermione Weasley screamed and grabbed Henry’s arm.

“Get off me woman,” he said and pushed her off, sending her to the floor.

“Harry, STOP,” Luna screamed at Henry by mistake.

Henry raised his weapon again and focused his attention on Ron, since he was closest, just as Harry and Hermione turned to face him. Harry raised a hand and a faint red bolt shot from his hand knocking the club free from Henry’s hand. The sudden jolt sent him reeling.

Harry and Hermione now stood in front of Ron and Hermione, face to face with Henry.

“Look, mate we’re not here for this property. We’re here for your help,” Harry said, his hand still defensively pointed at Henry.

“Bloody leaches, GET OUT,” he screamed, Henry suddenly found a wrench in his hand as he swung at Harry.

Harry reacted instinctively to the abrupt attack; a bright red bolt hit Henry in the chest and froze him to the spot. He was unable to move, but he could now clearly see the intruders, a spark of recognition fueled by sudden confusion softened his expression.

“I’m going to release you, only if you’ll calm down. We have a lot to explain,” Harry said as he lowered his hand.

“What…?” Henry started in shock.

“Please, we’ll be more comfortable in the lounge,” Hermione Potter said calmly.

“Lucy?” Henry asked bewildered. She nodded and he complied, and followed her into the lounge.

Harry and Hermione remained standing, while Ron and Hermione sat together. Henry sat in a large wing-back chair, obviously his personal retreat. Lucy took a chair next to him, and they waited for the inevitable.

“This is going to be difficult, and it may sound extraordinary, but…” Harry started.

“You’re some long-lost twin I never knew I had, and those two birds are also twins. What’s your ploy? You want to muscle in on my funds? My inheritance?” Henry demanded.

“You are not who you believe you are, you are one of us,” Hermione Potter said.

“Look, mate, this seems a bit dodgy, but the fact is Ron and Hermione over there were you’re best friends in school, and stood at your side in the worst of times,” Harry said.

“And the woman you know as ‘Lucy’, her name is Luna Lovegood. She was a year below us, I mean you in school,” Hermione added.

Henry shook his head, “No, I’ve never seen them before.”

“Trust us,” Harry said as he leaned close to Hemry. “You’ve lived this life so long you’ve truly forgotten. Your real name is Harry Potter, you are a wizard,” Harry said.

“A wizard, you’re all daft, there’s no such thing except in children’s tales,” Henry replied.

Hermione now stood before him and stared at him, “No, you are one of the most powerful wizards that lived, but you chose to leave our life for this one. We need your help,” she said and looked to Harry for a moment. He nodded allowing her to continue. “There was a war, one you helped win. But the stress was too much for you to bare.”

“STOP! You can’t do this to him,” Luna shouted, “He won’t be able to handle the stress.”

Hermione Weasley stood and kneeled at his side. She finally allowed her emotions to flow, “Harry, they are telling the truth. You begged me to help you forget, and you left your fate in my hands. I knew you better then anyone else on this Earth. Luna helped clear your memory and left you believing you suffered from amnesia. The last you remember is an accident, and you struck your head. That’s the way you wanted to live,” she said. Her chest hitched from trying to stifle her sobs.

Hermione Potter came to her counterpart’s side placing a hand on her shoulder. “Harry, I mean Henry, your real name is Harry,” she corrected and paused; “the truth is she, Hermione, has been, and always will be in love with you, just as I am in love with my husband. She won’t tell you this because it will hurt Ron.”

Ron, his wifend Luna listened intently to the unintelligible sounds and were totally confused. Henry looked at their confusion but continued to listen to Hermione Potter’s hisses.

“I don’t understand, why tell me this in front of them?” he hissed back.

“Because, my friend, they can’t understand us. You, just as I do, have the ability of a form of speech they can’t understand,” Harry hissed in reply.

“Bloody hell – the three of them are all Parselmouths,” Ron exclaimed.

“Parselmouth?” Henry asked, “What the bloody hell are you going on about?”

“You and I are the same person, from different realities. We both have the same abilities and past. The difference is in our choices we made, they affected our lives,” Harry said to his counterpart.

“’It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.’ I remember reading that somewhere, so what?” Henry said.

“Albus told you that, in our second year after you saved his sister’s life, Harry,” Hermione said quietly.

Henry shook his head, refusing to believe this. “I never saved anyone, I was in an automobile crash when I was eleven, my parents were killed, and I received this,” he said as he pointed to his forehead.

“No, you and I got that scar on the day our parents were murdered by Tom Riddle. We spent the next ten years…” Harry began.

“Living… with uncle Vernon, he locked me in a cupboard,” Henry finished.

Hermione Potter kneeled next to her counterpart, and took Henry’s hand. She continued in Parseltongue, “Harry, you are a great wizard, but you have forgotten that life. She tried to protect you not only from others but from yourself. It’s what people do for those they love. We can help you remember, and you must remember if we are to succeed. What she hasn’t told you, or her husband, will be a greater shock.”

“You barge into my home with a far-fetched tale with no proof and now you claim there’s more? What could you possibly say to top this story?” he replied in Parseltongue.

“Do you three mind speaking so we all can understand?” Ron asked angrily. Henry furrowed his brow at Ron’s comment, but did not pursue that issue.

“Sorry, Ron but it was the best way to get his attention,” Hermione Potter replied.

“Not that I believe any of this, but you’ve offered no proof,” Henry replied.

“Maybe there is, I have something that belonged to you a long time ago,” Hermione Potter replied and produced his wand from her pocket.

Harry took the wand and felt a surge of warmth rush through his fingers. He raised the wand above his head and swished it through the air. A stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like fireworks, reminiscent of earlier times.

“Ollivander,” he muttered and smiled.

“I have no way to tell how long it will take to restore your memory, Harry, but it’s terribly important,” Hermione Potter said softly while he stared at his wand.

He looked to his double, “I suppose you have one like this?” he asked.

Harry shook his head, “I lost mine in the battle with Voldemort more than twenty-five years ago, it was the only way to trap him. Hermione trained me in wandless magic, and I’ve not used one since. With some instruction and practice I expect you would have the same ability.”

Stunned and confused he looked to the only person he had trusted. “Lucy? You’ve lied to me all these years?” Harry asked bitterly.

She nodded, “It was for your protection, someone found you and I was afraid you could have been hurt.” She said softly.

“You said you loved me, was that a lie, too?” he asked.

“Harry, I never said I loved you. You were the one that wanted me, as if you remembered me,” she said.

“No, I distinctly remember that first night we were together, we made love on the beach by my old house, and you couldn’t stop crying. Why do you still refuse to remember? Am I the only one with a blocked memory?” he asked.

Hermione Weasley stared at her husband through her tears, and turned to the man sitting before her. She took his hand, and let the tears openly flow. “Harry, I can explain.”

“Your only task was to prevent those interfering fools from crossing back. And again, you have failed me,” a voice from a hooded figure said.

“Master, Snape did try to stop them, but there was another Snape that stopped him, had I not found them in the cavern under Spinner’s End, they would have had more help,” Lucius Malfoy replied, still in a low bow, unable to see the face under the hood.

“Ah, yes, but you did fail in that too, those meddling children escaped, I have tracked the boy to where your own grand-son has aided him. You’re failure now has proven to be yet another in a succession of failures. I should end your miserable life… but there is a use for even a worthless fool like you,” the mysterious wizard said.

“Master, please have…” Malfoy began.

“Crucio…” the wizard said casually, pointing a wand at Lucius. The dark wizard’s skin began to undulate, his muscles convulsed in pain, a pain greater than he ever received from Lord Voldemort. Lucius Malfoy’s screams fell on uncaring ears as the stream of magic coursed into his body.

“Master,” he pleaded, between screams of pain.

“Silence. You have not yet learned the true value of failure, Crucio…”

Malfoy’s screams continued if only for his master’s enjoyment. Time passed slowly for him, the pain continued long after the magic ceased. Blood streaks from his eyes which had him momentarily blind, but his head began to clear enough to know there was someone else for his master to find entertainment with.

“So, Pettigrew, would you like to enjoy the same reward as your friend, or do you have some news of interest for me?”

“Lord Wyllt, I have watched the others as you instructed, and the girl is still unaware she carries Lord Voldemort within her,” Pettigrew said, while he nervously bowed to the hooded man.

“And the key? Or have you foolishly left it behind again?” he queried, bringing his wand to bare at Pettigrew’s chest.

“No, sire, I have it here as you commanded, I only used it to spy on the girl on the other side of the Veil,” he hurriedly blurted and placed a talisman before Lord Wyllt’s feet.

“Good, use it to find the Aurors, and tell me of their plans. Now leave me to finish my business with Lucius,” he hissed. “Wait, find Bella and inform her of the Potter’s whereabouts, I trust you can manage that?”

“Y-Yes sire, but what of the Horcruxes? They are still scattered,” Wormtail asked.

“That is none of your concern, as long as they have not been discovered until we can bring the host to retrieve them. Then you can have your old master back, if you wish,” the voice commanded.

“But wouldn’t it be easier to bring them here?” Wormtail asked.

That question broke his concentration on Malfoy, leaving him to recover from his suffering. “Easier? Have you not learned that a soul that is intact may enter the portal unharmed? The Council formed it thus to prevent what we have accomplished. And only if that soul is contained in flesh, which is why we need the girl.”

He stood and planted his boot into Malfoy’s ribs, “And this fool used one of the more potent potions on the girl, forcing us to either kill or use the bitch,” he said, his tone turned hostile, causing Wormtail to scurry off, bowing as he exited.

---

The dusk light reflected in Annie's eyes, but only Jerry was there to witness the radiance. The beginning twilight of the summer night filled the air with a magical feeling meant for young lovers. The distant sounds of the forest were drowned from conscious thought; the only thing the young boy was aware of was her. And he filled her mind as easily as he filled her arms.

They sat on a fallen tree, intent on watching the sun retire for the night, but that plan faded soon after they touched. She put an arm loosely over his shoulder, his arm held her waist. He kissed her, a light gentle kiss on her cheek; one meant to be a comforting kiss from a loving mate.

It was that one loving kiss that ignited the warmth he saw in her eyes. It was that kiss that turned a touch into an embrace.

She moaned softly when he kissed her again on the neck, then, softly on her lips. She responded by parting hers ever so slightly, just enough for him to feel her warm breath.

He pulled back to take a breath and look in her eyes, hoping to see that spark.

"Annie," he whispered, but her lips stopped him.

She pressed the tip of her tongue to his lips, begging for entry. He complied without hesitating. The setting sun was forgotten as they began to explore each other, tongue tasting tongue.

These few moments seemed to last forever for the young couple. She pulled back first, and drew a breath. He never noticed her hand massage her stomach.

The intermission, although brief, allowed him to catch a breath too, his free hand cradling the back of her head, tilting her slightly as they resumed the innocent exploration of young love.

His other arm remained chaste on the small off her back, satisfied with this oral delight. She ran her fingers through his thick crimson hair, stopping occasionally to twirl small tufts between her fingers.

She kissed him deeply, a soul-searing kiss. She probed his lips, and touched the roof of his mouth with the tip of her tongue, urging his tongue into a teasing dance.

"Annie, I love you," he whispered as he again stopped for breath.

She relaxed her embrace and continued to twist her fingers in his hair. Her free hand abandoned its past task and slipped the thin strap from her shoulder. She then slipped her other arm free of the garment with barely a noticeable movement.

Jerry's mind raced from his first real sensuous experience, failing to notice her young breasts rubbing against his shirt. She pressed her lips to his again, more forcefully this time. He eagerly parted his and probed past her lips with his tongue, flicking the tip on hers, eliciting a moan.

Her hand slid down his back and slipped inside his pants, feeling the firmness of his bottom. "I want you," she whispered throatily.

Her action opened his eyes, the suddenness quickly forgotten when he realized she'd shed most of her clothes unnoticed.

"Annie?" he started, but she resumed her attack. She slipped his hand from her neck down to her breast.

"Touch me," she whispered hoarsely, holding his hand where she placed it to prevent his retreat.

His hand trembled as he hesitantly gently began to knead her firm breast. His hand remained cupping her breast; his own arousal began to grow. Her hand pressed on his, moving his fingers to the tip of her stiff nipple.

She moaned again each time his fingers gently squeezed her breast. Each moan growing louder. She shifted her weight slightly, from sitting on the log to her feet, crouching and maintaining her kiss. The dress slipped free from her hips revealing only a thin lace barrier to her virtue. Still crouching, she slipped that free.

She straddled his lap with nothing hidden, still locked to his lips, and began to work on the buttons of his shirt. Freeing the first couple but then abandoning the others, ripping his shirt open.

He broke away, and shook his head, "No, this is too fast," he began to protest, his voice again muffled by her ravenous kisses. He tried to fight the lust-induced fog in his mind, but his own youthful body began to betray rational thought. His arms now embraced the nude girl on his lap, her breasts pressing against his chest. She began to rock on him; the bulge in his trousers betrayed his reasoning.

"I want you. I want you inside me. I want you to make love to me," she said. Her voice grew hoarser as her actions grew bolder.

"No, we shouldn't," he said and vainly tried to push her off. He succeeded in her sliding back slightly.

She slid her hand inside his pants, and felt his stiffness. She unbuckled him with her other hand, but Jerry grabbed both her arms, forcing her to stop.

"Annie, listen to me, I love you, but we shouldn't…"

"If you love me, then fuck me," she insisted. She moved her arms inside his, breaking his grip. She pulled him forward from the log to the ground. Her dress lay beneath them as she straddled his chest, using her knees to pin his arms down with an unnatural strength.

Her arms held his shoulders as he stared into her eyes. That warm spark of love he witnessed only a few moments before was now gone, now replaced with eyes that were black as coal, and dead as a corpse.

"Give the bitch your seed and you'll die quick when I've finished. If I get what I need, she'll not suffer… for very long," she said in a hoarse masculine voice.

"Annie, stop," he protested.

She was moist from youthful arousal, her musky sent filtered to into his senses. She was inches from his face, her knees pressing his shoulders. She reached behind her and continued her past efforts to free him from his trousers with one hand, and took his wand in the other.

"Stop," he pleaded, the pain and shock he was enduring blocked this experience from his thoughts. In his fantasy, this was supposed to be a loving tender moment.

Slightly frustrated with a final barrier, she ripped his trousers open and gouged his thighs with her nails. She began to bleed from her mouth.

"Don't you dare cum until I'm ready," she hissed in Parseltongue and bit his neck just above his shoulder drawing his thick red blood. He felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his shoulder where she bit him. Deep, probing pressure tore through his fresh wound. In a moment, the burn of the wound faded, he could feel the object withdraw.

"Good, good, it is enough," a masculine voice complimented the act.

Images and visions danced around him, the pain he suffered forced his mind to wander. The moon light cast an eerie view; her face and chest splattered with perspiration and blood. She appeared to be a wild creature feasting on the carcass of a fresh kill. He looked through the haze of confusion to see her lean forward, letting her breasts press onto his chest. She winced in pain, and wiped a warm moist hand across his lips. She leaned forward and licked his upper lip, her hands on either side of his head. He felt her slid her legs down his waist.

Familiar, yet foreign sounds raced through his mind. He imagined a flash of light engulfed them; the crimson body on him writhed and glowed in the moonlight before she fell limp. Her moist body briefly laid on him before she slipped to his side, cradled in his arm. In the moments before he lapsed from consciousness, a woman's voice called to him.

His fogged mind bore witness to a fluff of long chestnut hair and the scent of strawberries lingered in the air. A second brilliant glow covered him, alleviating his pain and allowing his mind to grow dim. He turned his head at the instant he succumbed to the darkness to face her, but her closed eyes showed no sign of life.

---

“Mr. M, who were those two?” David asked Arthur at the campfire. The other boys had moved on to their next evolution in the weekend training, leaving Dave alone at the camp.

“As it turns out, distant cousins that had become separated from their parents,” Arthur replied.

“Are… are they like you? You know, ‘special’?” Dave asked.

Arthur nodded, “Yes, but too young to have come into their special abilities. I had to bring them home. If anyone should ask, I brought them to the Ranger, and he is delivering them to the authorities.”

Arthur pulled his hat over his head; covering his brow. He settled into his chair and accepted a bowl of food that his subordinate had saved for him.

“Bugger this, it’s cold,” Arthur complained, and carefully looked about before producing his wand. A simple wave over the bowl turned the contents to a steaming meal.

“I can never get tired of watching that- it’s brilliant,” Dave said in awe.

“It’s a simple spell, but no more amazing than watching a young lad learn to be self reliant, watching you grow into your own right as a young man is true magic,” Arthur said, and began to eat his warmed lunch.

“So they’re cousins? The girl seemed quite distressed,” Dave said, hoping to continue the conversation.

“I left them in good hands, so there’s little for you to be concerned about,” Arthur replied.

Dave sat quietly, watching his mentor eat his stew. He finally found the courage to ask, “Sir, can anyone learn magic?”

Arthur put his spoon in the bowl and carefully placed the bowl on a stone near the fire. “No, it is something you’re born with, a natural ability. Take Francis, he has an uncanny ability for mathematics. And Stephen has a natural ability for languages. You have neither of these talents, but you have natural leadership qualities. It’s true you can teach someone to be a leader, but there are few that others naturally look to for leadership. I knew one man like that once before; he helped me see what I must do with my life. That and a number of items I found in my grandfather’s collections led me to this calling.”

“So, what you can do can’t be taught,” Dave repeated.

“Not totally, while you can be taught the theories and procedures, true ability is inherited. I know for a fact that boy’s abilities would surpass mine one day. His parents are quite powerful. As for the girl, she and I have similar abilities,” Arthur added.

Without warning, a whoosh from behind Dave startled him, and caught Arthur unprepared. A black cloaked witch stood with her wand pointed at Arthur’s chest.

“Don’t move if you wish to live,” she hissed. “Tell the Muggle not to move, or my companion will deal with him.”

A second form suddenly appeared next to her, his hood pulled tight over his face. His wand pointed at the lad’s chest.

“What is your business here?” Arthur demanded.

“You are in no position to test my patience! What happened to the girl?” she hissed.

Arthur stood, and defiantly shook his head. “No, she is safe, go back to whatever hole you came from.”

“Lucy,” the hooded man addressed his companion, “Just stun them both, and let’s see if she made her way home.”

“No, Rudy, I won’t let this soldier keep her captive, he’ll talk. We followed them to the woods where we found the boy’s rucksack,” she said confidently, a small pack hung from her companion’s arm.

The witch pointed her wand at his face and pushed the hat from Arthur’s face, to fully reveal his features.

“No,” she said, startled, “It can’t be?”

“What, sister?” he asked, and turned to stare at Arthur. The instant he stared into Arthur’s eyes, the hooded wizard lowered his wand.

“Rudy, this is a trick,” she said maintaining her guard. “Where is our sister?” she demanded threatening Arthur at wand point.

“Sister?” Arthur asked.

The man lowered his hood, and Arthur looked into his own face.

“Who are you?” Arthur demanded.

“Radulphus Arthur Malfoy, and this is Lucia Molly Malfoy, my sister,” he replied.

“Mr. Malfoy? He looks like you, sounds like you,” Dave said slightly confused.

“Malfoy?” Lucia asked puzzled.

“Arthur Malfoy, I have to assume you came from the same place young Ben Potter and Artemisia came from,” he replied and held out his hand.

“Why the military uniforms?” she demanded, ignoring his hand and refusing to let down her guard.

“Not military, but historical in nature. A resurrection of a nearly dead organization to teach boys to be better men,” Arthur said. “Please put your wand down. If you are who you claim to be, then they are at your maternal grandparents’ home.”

“The Burrow?” Radulphus asked.

“Right, but please be careful. She’s been through a lot recently and was put to bed the moment… she arrived. She was shaken when she came. I think your mum’s been hurt quite badly; she witnessed it, which caused her shock,” Arthur said.

“Yes, we know. We were there when it happened. The bitch that hurt mum won’t bother anyone again,” Lucia replied with a blood chilling grin.

“Our mother was hurt quite badly; I managed to get her to Aunt Luna before I had to return to the Ministry, but her wounds were severe. Lucia stayed and had discovered this,” Radulphus said as he held an unusual pocket watch, there were no numbers. Simply hash marks around the face and two arms that pointed to a number of marks.

“Aunt Luna?” Arthur asked, but the question was ignored.

“What is that thing?” Dave asked.

“Quiet, Muggle,” Lucia hissed at the boy, shifting her wand at his throat.

“Sister, he means no harm, let him be,” Radulphus said placing his hand on her arm.

She flinched at her brother’s touch, to return her threat to Arthur.

“Lucy found it and this letter on that bloke. He wasn’t as lucky. His chest was sliced clean through; he must have died instantly,” Radulphus continued, handing Arthur a letter.

“We came here to get our sister, she will be safer with us,” Lucia said, still maintaining a defensive posture.

Arthur ignored her tone and turned to his charge, “Dave, you are to tell no one of this, I know I can trust you to keep this secret.” He then turned to the twins, “I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if we leave here together.”

“That won’t be necessary, we know the way,” Lucia snapped back.

“No sister, he has to go with us, the Muggle too. We can’t risk anyone discovering we were here,” Radulphus said.

“Leave him, he’s not going to tell a soul, there’s nothing he can do,” Arthur insisted.

“Then remove his memory of this meeting, or I will,” Lucia insisted, again pointing her wand at the boy. Arthur stepped in front of her wand to prevent any hasty acts.

“Dave, I’m sorry, but I won’t trust her to be careful. You know what I have to do,” Arthur explained to the boy behind him.

Dave nodded and braced himself, keeping his eyes closed. Arthur turned and pulled his wand from his pocket. He tapped the boy’s temple with his wand and released a silvery thread. With a flick of his wand, the memory floated free.

“Evanesco,” Lucia commanded and twitched her wand at the thought floating away. It vanished in a flash.

Arthur turned to face Lucia, leaving Dave unprotected. “Stupefy!” Radulphus shouted, pointing his wand at Dave.

“That was unnecessary,” Arthur yelled, “the boy’s no threat to you.”

“Threat or not, he’s safer this way, not unless you would wish to join him?” Lucia queried with a feral grin, as she pulled Arthur’s wand from his hand.

The three Apparated to the edge of the woods and remained out of sight of the Burrow; Arthur knew this second appearance in a short time could trigger his mother to take action. The twins also seemed to understand this tactic.

“I suggest you cover yourself, Radulphus, until I explain to my mum,” Arthur suggested. His double nodded and pulled his hood over his face. The twins followed Arthur into the house, to find Ben and Ginny still in the lounge, their extended conversation took its toll on the boy, his head was snuggled into Ginny’s lap.

“Shhh, he just fell asleep,” she warned Arthur. “I thought you were spending the rest of the day…” she began, but stopped once she saw the others enter behind Arthur.

“Mum, wait,” Arthur tried to quell the situation early.

“Where’s the girl,” Lucia demanded.

Ginny looked at the thin, pale witch, her long blond hair flowed around her shoulders; her snarl left little doubt to her motive. Ginny scrunched her face trying to identify the woman, “Excuse me, do I know you?” she asked.

“Where’s the girl?” she demanded, brandishing her wand as if it were a sword, pointing it at the elder woman’s chest.

“Mum, she’s looking for her sister, Artemisia,” Arthur interjected.

“Sister?” she queried, the situation became all too clear when the man behind the young woman dropped her hood. “Merlin’s beard,” she gasped in disbelief.

“Mum, this is Radulphus and Lucia Malfoy, Artemisia’s siblings,” Arthur quipped, trying to introduce them.

Radulphus also recognized the woman on the sofa, “Lucy, its mum?” he asked.

Lucia’s guard began to relax, still uncertain; she maintained her posture, until the ghost passed between them.

“Lucia, all we want is Arty. None of this is real,” Radulphus said, and put his hand on Lucia’s wand arm. She did lower her arm in compliance, shaking her head.

“She’s sleeping peacefully upstairs, wake her if you must, but she’s very agitated,” Ginny stated.

Ben had awakened from his shallow sleep, and looked up, “Rudy? Lucy? You’re both here?” he asked excitedly.

“Ben, come here boy, we’re taking you and Arty home,” Lucia ordered.

“What about Aunt Ginny?” he asked.

Radulphus shook his head, “We don’t know, I left her in the best hands available, but she was badly hurt.” The pain in his voice conveyed to Ben the seriousness of her condition.

“I’ll go wake Arty,” Ben said quietly.

“No, let me,” Lucia said, replacing her wand in her cloak. “I have to tell her about I have to do this.” She handed Arthur his wand, her features softened slightly, knowing her little sister was near. She then left quietly and climbed the stairs.

“First room on the right, on the second floor,” Ginny called and stood to face her son and his twin. “Now, I think we need to sort this out while the girls are upstairs.”

Lucia’s expression changed with each step she took, the confident and menacing appearance slowly faded, leaving the look of a young woman who was about to face a terrible truth. At the top of the landing, she stopped at the door and quietly turned the knob. Inside, Arty was sleeping, but her restlessness- even with a dreamless potion, was disturbed. She quietly walked to the bed where her sister slept, and knelt beside the young girl.

“Arty?” she said softly and rubbed her sister’s arm.

Arty replied with a light moan.

“Arty? It’s Lucy, we found you,” she cooed.

Arty rolled over and her arm instinctively found Lucia’s neck. Her moan turned to a light sob, her arm pulling her older sister closer.

“We’re taking you home. We found mum,” Lucia said, unsure if Arty understood.

“M-Mum, was hurt,” Arty said in a hushed tone.

“Yes, we found her and brought her to Aunt Luna, I’ve been praying she’ll be alright,” Lucia said. Arty finally opened her eyes, streams of tears escaping down her cheek. The sisters embraced as tightly as they could, both refusing to let go.

“Darling, can you tell me what happened?” Lucia whispered in her ear.

Arty loosened her grip, swallowing hard, and began to rehash what she’d seen. “We were only going to see Uncle Ron and the others off. That man appeared and said he only tried to help. Then the rest happened so fast, Ben pulled me away. Mum fell. I don’t remember much else until we were in the forest,” Arty said, the pent up words poured from her lips as quickly as she could let them go.

“We found the rucksack; your wand was still in it, that’s how we found you. I never thought I would use the Ministry’s training on tracking on my own sister,” Lucia said and smiled warmly.

“I saw Rudy, he brought me here, but he seemed strange, different. He had on a strange tunic. I didn’t think you had to wear a uniform? Do you?” Arty asked.

“That wasn’t Ruby, it was someone else. You know we only have to wear a uniform at formal functions. We do need to leave, I have a bad feeling we’re not safe here. Can you stand?” Lucia asked.

Arty nodded and sat up in the bed. “If it wasn’t Rudy, who was it?”

“I have an idea, but it’s quite absurd,” Lucia replied and stood.

“Ben. Where’s Ben?” Arty asked, looking around in a near panic, “He was with me…”

“He’s fine- he’s downstairs,” Lucia said soothingly, holding her sister.

Arty stood and continued to hug her sister, “I’m scared,” she finally said.

“I know. Rudy and I are scared too, but we have to be strong, for mum,” Lucia said and gave her sister a loving kiss on the top of her head. “Now, we’d best be leaving.”

“Can we look for Annie and Jerry?” Arty asked and wiped her cheeks dry.

“I’m afraid we don’t know where they are, we got lucky finding you here. We found a device and a letter of instruction. That man from the chamber seemed to know this was inevitable,” Lucia said as she escorted her sister to the door.

“Snape. He said his name was Snape,” Arty said, remembering details.

“We can figure out who this Snape fellow is later, but for now, we can only trust each other, okay?” Lucia asked as they walked down the stairs.

“Is she okay?” Radulphus called from the first floor landing.

“She’ll be fine now. Collect Benjamin so we can return,” Lucia commanded; her cold demeanor rapidly returned as the sisters rejoined the group. Arty was used to this side of her, and accepted Lucia’s guise of strength.

“Come, Ben, we need to leave,” Radulphus said to the boy.

Ben turned to Radulphus, but continued to stare at the apparition of his mother’s younger self, and shook his head. “Will mum die if we return?” he finally asked.

“I can assure you, she’s fine,” Hermione’s ghost replied. “I’m certain by now they are looking for you.”

He shook his head, “I can feel them here, as if they are in this room. I can feel mum,” Ben murmured.

The ghost came closer and faced him, but he backed away.

“S-Stay away,” he stuttered, his face suddenly paled in fear.

“Hermione, I think it would be best if you backed away. The boy seems to have some concern for his mum that’s linked to you,” Arthur said, blocking Ben from the spirit.

“Wait,” Lucia commanded, “Ben what do you feel?” she said leaving Arty with Radulphus. She rushed to Ben’s side where she held his face in her hands and stared into his eyes.

“I dunno- cold, really bad, as if there’s a really bad presence here. An evil,” Ben said, focusing on Lucia.

She tuned into the ghost, “He has much of his father’s ability. Pity he has yet to develop this talent,” Lucia said, and then turned back to Ben. “Your father is a seer, as was your Grand-mum.”

“S-S-seer?” he asked.

She nodded, “Yes, you will have the chance to learn Divination in your fourth year.” She turned back to the spirit, “He sensed something bad; do you know what it could be?”

“Yes, when his parents were here sixteen years ago, his mum- my counterpart was cursed. I took that curse upon myself to free her, and this boy and his sister are the result,” she replied to Lucia, before facing Ben. “Benjamin, your mother was cursed to never be able to bear a child, that curse is what you sense. Dear boy, seeing you tells me my gift was more than worth bearing the curse. I only wish I could meet your sister.”

Ben stared at the ghost; “Curse?” was all he could say.

“They never told you? I can’t blame them, it was a dark period for them both,” Hermione’s ghost replied.

Arthur knelt in front of Ben and looked up to him, “Ben, there have been many things they felt you shouldn’t know. That is their right as your parents, and it is their right to tell you these things when they feel the time is right. However, this is far from a perfect world. With people seeking to return all of us into the darkness you avoided and the same darkness we are trying to emerge from, you have to be strong and carry on for all of us. You have to return and make certain your father knows what happened here.”

Arthur stood and crossed the room to his double, “I have all the faith you and your sister will care for these two, the feelings these two have for each other proves to me all hope is not lost.”

Radulphus reached for his double’s hand and exchanged a hearty handshake. “Arty is our baby sister, and Ben has been family since he was born. You can be assured they are in the best hands. Good luck to you, too.”

“If we are going to leave some time this year, I suggest we go as soon as possible. I’ll take Arty; Rudy, you stay with Ben. We can Apparate directly to the Ministry,” Lucia commanded.

Ben looked from Radulphus to the ghost, “Can you come too?” he asked the ghost.

A puzzled but hopeful expression faded from her face and she shook her head, “I can’t. I belong here.”

“I suggest we gather any personal objects we brought, and only those items we brought and leave immediately,” Lucia ordered to a group of accepting nods.

“Good-bye, mum’s ghost, I’ll tell her about you,” Ben said to the spirit.

Arty walked to her sister, and held her hand as tightly as she could, Ben and Radulphus also held hands and in a shared wink, the four vanished with a light pop!.

They reappeared just outside the Ministry, unconcerned for secrecy. They quickly descended to the ninth level to the circular room and to the door marked the Chamber of Death.

Arty hesitated outside the door, “Lucy, how are we going to get back?” Arty asked.

“We have a key of sorts; the directions we found with it seem sketchy but so far accurate. That Snape bloke had it and a letter describing how to use it,” Radulphus replied, and led the group through the doors.

He showed it to Ben, and the moment he held the strange object, one hand moved halfway around the dial, and stopped. The other two remained in their original locations.

“We haven’t really understood that arm’s movements, but it had aligned to this mark earlier, which led us here. It was the same spot that bloke had the large arm set to. We think the large arm means where you want to go, and the middle arm indicates where you came from, as a marker home. See, its set the same for both of us, so we know we all came from the same point of origin,” Radulphus said, instructing Ben.

“And that green hand moved when I held it. Arty, have a go,” he handed the device to Arty. The two hands remained where they were when Radulphus held it, but the other moved back to point at the mark where the middle arm pointed.

“Seems that hand is pointing you home,” Radulphus commented.

“-to mum. I want to see mum,” she said softly.

“It must be what you are seeking, it pointed to this mark, and brought us here,” Lucia rationalized. “We only had a few moments to analyze the document before we came. There was no explanation where it originated.”

“So it’s like a portkey?” Ben asked.

“Not completely, it only controls the Arch,” Radulphus replied. They all stood before the Arch, the veil hanging motionless. Arty stared at the spot she last saw he mother fall.

“Lucy, do you think mum’s okay?”

“We’ll know soon. Now, everyone hold onto Rudy, don’t let go or you could be lost forever,” Lucia ordered. “Now on three, two, one…”

The four held on to each other and stepped through the veil.

“How can you explain what Lucy did?” Henry asked. Ron listened intently.

Hermione Potter quickly intervened, “We have every reason to believe it was someone disguised to look like Luna, the woman you know as Lucy.”

“In our world, we have found reason to believe someone or something has been manipulating people in various realities. We, Hermione and I, have discovered evidence to this, and if you will keep an open mind, you can read it for yourself,” Harry added. He reached into his pack and retrieved a pair of old manuscripts.

“I’d like to have a glance at those too, if you bloody well don’t mind,” Ron interjected.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, as far as we know only we, or our family members can read this, it’s written in Parseltongue,” Harry added, and handed both books to his counterpart.

“Parseltongue? There’s no such thing,” Henry replied.

“Yes, actually, it is an ancient language only a few can understand,” Hermione hissed.

Henry paused a moment and reflected, “You said before she was in love with me, and now you say someone else was disguised as Lucy, and she knows all about it. Why? I don’t believe someone is manipulating everyone.”

“Harry,” Hermione continued in Parseltongue, “she was about to ruin her life, I won’t let her do that.”

“How? You’ve not given me any shred of evidence,” he hissed back.

“She was about to admit you have a daughter, with her. Ron believes she’s his and we have to preserve that illusion for them. Harry and I have a daughter too, and a son. Our Annie is exactly the same as her daughter. She’s the reason we’re here,” Hermione replied in hisses.

“A daughter?” he shouted in Parseltongue.

“Yes, it’s quite complicated, but…” Harry started.

“Where is she, I want to see her for myself,” he demanded and stood taking an offensive posture.

“Easy, mate. There’s no call to get upset, she’s not here. She’s back home in Britain, and we must return and hunt out the root cause of all this,” Harry hissed back.

“Ron has no idea. Hermione, his wife, has been distraught over this for a very long time,” Hermione hissed.

“If you three don’t mind?” Ron snapped again.

“Sorry Ron,” Harry replied in English. “Harry, read the books, and hopefully you will be able to see what’s happened.”

“What is he blabbering about?” Henry asked quite annoyed.

“You three were hissing at each other, Parseltongue,” Luna replied.

Henry shook his head still disbelieving these events. “Bloody hell,” he sighed and flipped open the smaller of the two manuscripts.

He scanned the first couple pages, turning each page rather violently, and continued to shake his head in disbelief. The book he held appeared to be significantly older then the larger, thicker one.

“This is rubbish, you expect me to believe this?”

“We too, had our doubts, but it fits. Years ago I was told a similar story from a different and slightly twisted point of view. He actually believed he was one of them,” Hermione Potter replied.

Ron stood, visibly agitated at being excluded, “If you don’t mind, hand it here,” he demanded. Henry complied and handed the book over. Ron opened to the first page, and all he could see were indecipherable squiggles and lines, none remained still on the page. After flipping through the pages, he tossed it to the table.

“Ron, I did tell you that you wouldn’t be able to read it,” Harry said, and picked up the book and handed it to Hermione.

She began to read and translate for all to hear.

Mission Log - TEAM 1205

Operators

• Aurellia of the House of Hoth
• Wolfgar of Ruusan
• Sorcath of Falleen

Note: with the sensitivity of this mission and the inherent dangers, I have been asked by my team leader to translate these directives and destroy the original to prevent accidental disclosure.

Sorcath of Falleen

Operational Orders from the Council on Prisoner Confinement

Team designated 1205 will consist of three members tasked to monitor and contain prisoner number 335525 for crimes against past and future humanity and the Continuum. His confinement shall remain in a state capable of containing him, and will continue until such time his special abilities have been rendered ineffective and he is incapable of interference with Continuum dealings.

Precautions must be maintained to prevent additional temporal interference created by the convict, and to restrict access to the portal to prevent accomplice or accidental involvement. To this end, this team has been selected based on their past experiences as a team and their immunity to the prisoner’s specific abilities.

Team 1205 will be granted permission to use any and all force necessary in respect to the prisoner.

Signed by the High Council of Twelve

She paused at this point, for the others to absorb the information.

“So, this doesn’t prove a thing,” Henry argued.

“No, this is only the start,” Harry replied.” Read the rest, Hermione.”

Transcript from Organizational Conference – Team 1205, in attendance with the Councilor Magistrate and the Consular Tribune for prisoner number 335525.

This conference is to ensure the rights of the convict and his humane confinement for the remainder of eternity. The success of the late Lord Hoth in bringing the end of the civil war instigated by the prisoner will not be marred by the resurrection of the revolt by the prisoner.

The loss of Emrys has left a void in our world. Until now, the council has been unable to find the just sentence for his brother, Wyllt, also know as Caledonensis. He shall be sent into The Chamber once it has has been readied for his banishment, this to be watched by the members of Team 1205, and their successive descendants.

“Emrys? Wyllt?” Ron asked disbelievingly. “Made up names if you ask my opinion.”

“No, not made up; real people that lived and unless I’m mistaken, quite important to our history,” Hermione Weasley added.

“Right,” Harry agreed. “Would you care to explain? Ron and ‘Henry’ might believe it if you tell them.”

“Nearly five-hundred years before Hogwarts was created, or so the legend reads, a man named began a movement with a Romano-British leader named 'Artorius' or 'Arturius' to force the Romans from England. Many of our laws originated from him, once he wore the crown,” Hermione Weasley told Ron and Henry.

“Legends and myths, nothing definitive,” Ron argued.

“No, verified fact; w e have additional documentation and information gained in a chance meeting with the man referenced as the prisoner,” Hermione Potter replied regaining control of the lesson. “And this source is beyond reproach. Apparently, some time in the future he was captured and the team described in this book had accepted the duty of maintaining his confinement.”

Hermione Weasley leaned to Ron and whispered a name to him, sending a wave of disbelief through his entire being.

“Him?” Ron asked, his face showed pure shock and horror.

Both Hermiones nodded, with Hermione Potter replying, “Yes, him. You can see our urgencey and need to maintain an illusion of only seeking Horcruxes.”

“The obvious conclusion we’ve derived from this book,” Harry added to refocus the conversation, “ is they failed in the future and their prisoner escaped to return to a past era. They followed him, but as it seems they failed to track him or find him.”

“And how do you derive that hypothesis?” Henry asked.

“This book has details of this team’s effort in dealing with him, but the second volume is more of a historical journal of the time this team came from. There was a war detailed, and mentioned in this transcript, that seems to have mirrored the Wizarding War of our generation,” Harry said. “However the results of that conflict included the Muggles as well.”

“This is all fine, but I fail to see how any of this explains what has happened here, and what’s this nonsense with the future?” Henry asked.

“Sorry, we’ve both read this so many times, the additional facts this fellow Sorcath wrote about are almost common knowledge to us,” Hermione replied apologetically.

“The point here,” Harry added, “is this information is proof that seemingly insignificant incidents and actions by others may well have been instigated by another being, namely the prisoner 335525. I won’t say that every incident in history was caused by him, but the evidence we’ve seen showed he may be responsible for certain events that have plagued each of us, especially my issues with the Riddle family that extended for generations.”

Hermione flipped through several pages of the manuscript, “Those next pages simply detailed this team’s activities over a few years, without incident. However, almost five years later, if I calculated the times correctly, they noticed temporal inconsistencies. Historical alterations from what they themselves remembered, as if certain past events were re-written. That’s when this log changed.”

Log date 2561677.03127 14 July, 2301 12:45:02

Inquiries have been made from unknown sources of subject’s status. Permission to release status has been refused.

Log date 2561682.8649 20 July, 2301 08:45:27

Subject has active within the chamber, subject may be attempting to devise a means of escape.

Log date 2561693.93179 31 July, 2301 10:21:47

Subject escaped. Reports of random acts of violence reported within the city. Additional reports of temporal errors based on Team 1205 knowledge. A conference is scheduled with the Council of Twelve for this afternoon.

Log date 2561694.24406 31 July, 2301 17:51:27

Ordered by the Council of Twelve to track subject and return him to confinement. We will remain in the era and endeavor to correct temporal deviations caused by subject.

Log date 2561694.29869 31 July, 2301 19:10:07

Preliminary plan for each member to begin independent searches within time frames to bracket identified temporal deviations. Current points identified include following years: 497AD, 992AD, 1479AD, 1996AD, 2021AD. Wolfgar and Aurellia will investigate the first dates; I will join them in the third if they are unsuccessful. Our priority is clear; to prevent the subject from causing the death of two key historical figures.

Log date 2561694.50078 1 August, 2301 00:01:07

All attempts in the past have failed; rapid historical changes have forced me to remain here in exile within the safety of the Continuum until the vortex is synchronized with my metabolic differences. I have only one chance for a successful transfer, since under the best circumstances this procedure could be fatal to humans, but the risks are lower for my race. I have instructed the date be set for the first point of temporal deviation.

“Temporal deviations?” Henry asked in disbelief.

Harry nodded, “Hermione managed to decipher these dates; they are from the year 2301.”

She continued the lesson, “These numbers indicate the number of days that have elapsed since January 1, 4713 BC., by a simple calculation we can derive the date referenced.”

“And exactly how would you have figured that out? Was there a reference?” Luna asked.

Hermione shook her head, “No, it’s quite simple once you eliminate any other possibility, with a number of more than two-and-a-half million, and since it clearly says ‘log date’, there are very few possibilities.”

“So we have a book, written almost three hundred years from now? And they talk of ‘deviations’ that occurred fifteen hundred years ago. Yes, quite believable at that,” Ron said sarcastically.

“No, that’s not entirely correct. The first parts were drafted in that year, but the rest tells a different story. The remaining entries date back nearly fourteen hundred years ago,” Hermione replied and flipped a couple pages.

Log date 1957393.29997 19 January, 647 AD 19:11:57

I arrived safely with the barest of supplies and personal effects. I was able to identify the temporal destination without revealing myself; however I arrived centuries off target. I must find the rest of the team and coordinate our efforts.

Log date 1957636.38115 19 September, 647AD 21:08:51

Reunited with Wolfgar near his home in Ruusan in what is called the province of Tyskland in this era. No contact with Aurellia by either of us so far. Wolfgar reported arriving in the incorrect date as well. His research identified our calculations were correct but we have no idea why we both missed the target dates.

“So, this Wolfman fellow,” Ron began.

“Wolfgar,” Hermione Potter corrected.

“Right, this Wolfgar fellow was Russian?” Ron asked.

“No, I don’t think so, German I believe. Tyskland was the ancient name for Prussia which is modern day Germany . This Ruusan may be a village in Germany that doesn’t exist yet,” Hermione Potter replied.

“Right, we tracked these details to that area and discovered medieval tales and folklore of a gifted wizard with a serpent-like familiar. We believe this was Wolfgar and Sorcath. We haven’t been able to identify his home of ‘Falleen’ yet, but we’re both convinced that may be the name of some future city,” Harry added.

“The log further details how they spent centuries searching for evidence of their prisoner, and also eventually found their missing mate. What I found most intriguing was they all lived as immortals, until about one hundred years before Hogwarts was created. Sorcath wrote of Wolfgar and Aurellia leaving the group and having families at that time, while he continued the search on his own for several more years. The journal ceased about that time, we assume that was when he was killed,” Hermione said, and closed the book.

The group remained silent for several minutes, the only sound came from the clock on the wall.

Tick… tick… tick… marked the passage of time.

Henry was the first to break the silence. “I still fail to see how any of this proves a thing you’ve claimed.” He stood and placed the wand he had been absentmindedly fondling on the table. “Lucy, or Luna what ever your true name is; I expect you to have your things out of my house by morning. I’ll spend the night in the ‘Times’,” he said and stormed out of the house; leaving the others to stare at the vacant seat.

“That went well,” Ron drawled sarcastically.

After several moments, Hermione Weasley stood and ran out after Henry. He had just closed the cabin door on the boat by the time she reached the main path.

“Harry,” she called, and stumbled onto the dock. “Harry please open the door,” she begged.

“Go back to what ever life you people came from, and leave me alone,” he yelled back.

She pulled her wand from her pocket, her hand shook as she tapped the lock. “No, I can’t go back to that life, not without you,” she sobbed and rushed to him. She anticipated his arms ready to catch her, just as those same arms held her so many years ago.

He stood still, as if she no longer existed. She ignored his resistance and threw her arms around his neck.

“Harry, I never stopped loving you, ever,” she cried with her face buried in his shoulder.

“And what of your husband?” he snapped.

“I – I don’t know what to do,” she sobbed.

“You seemed so sure of yourself when you made me believe you were someone else. You seemed so sure of yourself when you decided to have my child. You seemed so sure of yourself when you left me alone, friendless on these islands,” he ranted, and pushed her off.

She fell to her knees, and finally gave in to her emotions. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“No, of course you didn’t. No one ever intends to hurt someone they love. You were so wrapped up in your feelings and desires you never thought of me,” he screamed.

She shook her head, “No, I tried to protect your wishes…” she began.

“’Protect my wishes?’ Of course, so you just pop over here and disrupt my life, I spent four years looking for you, but there never was a record of you coming to the islands,” he ranted.

“You… looked for me? Why?” she asked between gasps.

“I thought I was in love with you. Even after that other woman tried the same tactic you pulled, but… I’ve never been attracted to red-heads. When Lucy or Luna or what ever her name is came, I thought it was you, but I convinced myself you were only a dream. And now you and your friends have effectively destroyed all I believed. “He paused to catch his breath, “I want you all to leave this island, you’ve proven nothing to me.”

She stood and wiped her cheeks, “No, Harry, I still love you,” she said and wrapped her arms around him. Before he could protest, her lips covered his.

He resisted, but only for a moment before he responded to her advances, his lips hungrily attacked hers, his fingers lacing into her hair. This single moment bore through a lifetime of denial and years of longing.

His lips found the nape of her neck where he continued lavishing for several minutes. She allowed her blouse to slip from her shoulders leaving her bare from the waist up. Her only replies were the moans of pleasure she never knew in her marriage.

He pulled back and studied her face earnestly. “Hermione, I always loved you too, why do you think I wanted to leave?” he finally asked. “When you said you and Ron were to be married, I tried to move past us, but… I was too much in love with you,” he whispered.

“You?” she breathed.

He nodded into her shoulder, her skin still moist from his kisses. “I couldn’t tell you; that’s why I asked you to help me forget. I wanted your eyes to be the last thing from that world I would see.”

“You remember?” she asked shocked.

“Yeah, how could I forget your kiss? It haunted me for years,” he said before he resumed on her neck.

“Harry,” she whispered hoarsely, “I don’t care anymore. I’d rather be happy for just a little while with you than go back to that life.”

“No, that’s not something I can allow. You belong with the family you brought into this world. I belong here, now,” he said.

A soft knock on the door shattered the moment, forcing them apart.

“Yes?” Harry barked while Hermione covered herself.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we still have to talk, Harry. Are you up to it?” Hermione Potter asked from outside the cabin.

“Come in, if you must,” Harry called out.

Hermione cautiously opened the cabin door and entered. She looked at the couple; her counterpart’s cheeks were still moist and red from tears. She noticed her blouse out of place but chose not to comment.

“I came down to ask you both to help us. We…” she paused and wrinkled her brow. Without saying a word, she passed her hand over the buttons on Hermione Weasley’s blouse, but without success. She glanced at her hand, and then used her wand to re-button the blouse.

“As I was saying, we need you both. Harry, if you remember what was said earlier, about Ann, we may need her to come too,” Hermione Potter said.

“Why? Why us?” Harry asked.

“Actually, you and Ann, Harry, are essential to combat him. Hermione and I have a special ability that doesn’t exist in others, one I doubt she has tapped. If we join our powers, we should have an adequate force to survive, if not actually defeat him,” Hermione Potter said.

“So, we’re all going to fly back tonight?” Hermione Weasley asked.

“Possibly, we have to be sure no one will suspect we’ve left the islands. We made certain we were observed arriving,” she replied.

Harry looked at the woman he had just held, “Can you tell me about my daughter?” he asked.

---

Harry and Ron remained after both Hermiones had left; Luna too, had left presumably to pack. Ron stared at Harry, the minutes passed in weighted silence.

“So, what am I like in your world? A pathetic loser like I am here?” he asked.

“Actually you are my supervisor; you and Luna have a happy life and two great kids. Your son and my daughter have been dating since her birthday,” Harry replied.

“How old are your children?” Ron inquired.

“Ben’s twelve, and doing well in school. Even though he was sorted into Hufflepuff, he’s seems to be fine with it,” Harry said and paused.

“And your daughter?”

“She’s just turned fifteen in May, but not as happy in school. We just had Professor McGonagall agree to let her transfer into Gryffindor,” Harry replied, shaking his head as he spoke.

“So, where did that hat put her? Slytherin?” Ron joked lightly.

Harry’s stare turned the joke to reality.

“The sorting hat wanted to put me there, but I talked my way into Gryffindor. Annie naturally assumed she’d be put there too,” Harry replied.

“So your daughter is fifteen, interesting that’s Ann’s age,” Ron said slyly. “A bit of a coincidence, eh?”

Harry blinked and realized he had been out maneuvered, “Right, just a coincidence,” he finally said.

“Harry I want the truth. You and that other bloke are identical, my wife and your wife are also identical, I’d wager your wife has the same mole on her bum. Ann is really his daughter, isn’t she?”

Harry nodded softly, “Yes, but you are the only father she’s known. When we saw her, it was quite obvious. You know, Hermione even in my world has been able to keep her secrets from you, but you always managed to work out anything you needed to know from me,” Harry said with a light grin.

“All I want to know is ‘why?’” Ron muttered then fell silent.

Harry though for a moment, “Why did you let her leave then?” he asked.

“I didn’t, she left and never told me,” he replied.

“You didn’t know she left? It was the summer of ’08, she said she was gone a fortnight,” Harry asked.

“I was at the World Quidditch cup the month of August, I had to support the team, I wasn’t able to fly that year because of my accident,” Ron said.

“Accident?”

“Yeah, I fell off my broom, it was a freak accident. I got hurt in the fall, but that’s the risk of the game,” he said with a shrug.

“Ron, did it ever occur to you it might not have been an accident? Your Hermione told my Hermione that she seemed overly upset at the time of your accident; she seemed out of character for her. And I’ve never known you to fall off your broom, accident or not, you always managed to hold on. I suspect this may be someone’s doing,” Harry said hurriedly. “Come on. We have to get back.”

“Where? Ron asked as he stood.

“England, the Ministry, and then home,” Harry said, he grabbed his bag and ran out to meet the others at the boat, Ron followed close behind.

“The Ministry?” Ron asked hastily as he followed Harry.

“We have to return, and face him,” Harry said as his pace lengthened.

“Him, you’ve got to be kidding, how exactly to you propose to accomplish that? Hasn’t he been dead for several hundred years?” Ron asked.

“Haven’t you been listening? He commands time, so there’s every chance he’s out there-we just have to find him,” Harry replied.

“That’s like finding a needle in a bloody hayfield. How do you expect to accomplish that?”

“It’s simple, how would you find a needle?” Harry asked.

“Levitate it and use Accio,” Ron replied, his wheezing at the pace forced him to slow.

Harry stopped and turned, “And how would a Muggle do it?” he asked Ron.

“Don’t know,” he said catching up with Harry.

“They’d use a strong magnet, something to attract the target. That’s what we’ll have to do, use something to draw him out and face him,” Harry answered. He turned to continue to the dock and paused to face Ron once more.

“I must have your word to never let on I told you about Ann. If ‘he’ suspects you know your lives were tampered we may lose the element of surprise,” Harry asked.

Ron nodded his head grudgingly. “You’ve been honest with me, that’s all I want. If Hermione had come to me when it happened I might have been able to understand. I swear to keep this secret even if she admits to me,” Ron said. “You know I still love her.”

“Yes, I know,” Harry replied as they turned and stepped on the dock.

“About that book-I still don’t get it. Why you? I can see that only you can read that book,” Ron asked. At that moment, the door to the cabin opened.

“Ron,” Hermione Potter replied, “We believe he’s a descendant of Aurellia, I was told this in a… dream I had years ago.”

“He can’t be,” Ron replied.

“I don’t see how you can determine that,” Harry said. The others left the confines of the cabin to join this new discussion.

“How much of that book is fact?” Ron replied.

“As far as we can determine, it’s the most accurate depiction we have,” Hermione Potter replied.

“And so now you have to find him and defeat him, right? Because you believe you’re a descendant of this Aurellia,” Ron surmised.

“What are you getting at, Ron?” Harry asked from the dock.

“You’ve always jumped to the first solution that came to mind; it got us all in trouble more than once,” Ron replied.

“So, what’s your conclusion?” Hermione Potter asked with interest.

“Have you discussed this with my counterpart from your world? You did mention he was your superior,” Ron asked.

“No, we never had the chance,” Hermione Potter replied.

“It’s a simple mathematics, how many of you have you met?” Ron asked Harry.

“Two others, one didn’t survive the encounter, and him. And one other was killed as a baby,” Harry said nodding to his counterpart on the boat.

“Right, and there’s two Hermiones we know of,” Ron started.

“Four, that we know of,” Hermione Potter interrupted.

“Four, and at least two of me, and we can then rule out our families. Plus we can rule out Dumbledore and other people we have in common, including He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named,” Ron said.

“Voldemort,” his wife interrupted.

“Right. Him. The point is who haven’t you met a duplicate of? So far I think you’ve mentioned only two. That book said the team members were immune to the effects of time manipulation, so their direct descendants would also be immune. You and my Hermione both used a time turner, and…” Ron said.

“She’s been sent to the past,” Harry said pointing to his wife.

“There’s one person that hasn’t been found in the other realities, or haven’t you looked?” Ron asked.

“Who?”

“This Abraham Kristiansen bloke you told me about when we were on the plane; there’s no cavern under the remains of Azkaban, what you don’t know is when the prison was destroyed in the war they didn’t find a hidden cavern. This implies he never existed here; and if this reality is that close to yours, then he should have existed,” Ron finished.

“So, you’re implying Harry’s not descended from Godric Gryffindor?” Hermione Potter asked.

“He may be… but not directly,” Hermione Weasley added. “Any of us could have been related to any of the founders. We may never really know for certain.”

“Then I would suggest verifying Kristiansen’s existence in this world so we can rule him out,” Hermione Potter added.

“As much as I hate to suggest this, but one of you has to return to the point of origin,” Ron said.

“Point of origin?” Hermione asked.

“I had been thinking what’s happened, and what you had said in the house; and hindsight being what it is, I realized every argument Hermione and I had, every time we were apart, neither of us were able to rationalize why,” Ron replied.

“How do we find the point of Origin?” Hermione Potter asked.

“First you have to find the one reality where this began, then return to the exact moment all this began,” Ron answered.

“Then that means 14 July, 2301, or just before. The journal implies someone had been inquiring about him, we need to find out who that was,” Hermione replied.

“Correct-you have to find out how this began and why it’s affected every reality. I would wager that there was only one common reality up until the point he went back in time; each modification he made created a different path and a splintered reality,” Ron added. “Find the original reality by determining that one deviation that is not common, this Gnome fellow seems to be one, and venture to that reality’s future.”

“Time travel…” Hermione said reluctantly.

“Yes, to go back in time, you may find the answers there,” Ron said. “If you use that pocket watch to return to your home; then use it to find the world Gnome’s family came from and that’s your starting point. I have no idea how you can find a time-turner to move that far into the past,” Ron offered.

“Not a time-turner, but there is another means for time travel at home. We can use his own device against him, the time-portkey,” Hermione said with optimism in her voice.

Harry shook his head, “No, you know how it’s triggered. I won’t pay that price.”

“We’ll have to find another way,” Hermione replied.

“You’ve got to, or everything you’ve done would be for nothing. You have to return home as soon as possible,” Ron said.

“Agreed, we should set out tonight,” Harry said and crossed the dock to where the government launch remained hidden.

“You can’t leave tonight, the reefs are not clearly marked for a night voyage,” the local Harry replied.

“We’ll have to take our chances and return to Tortola tonight, and with luck catch a Muggle flight home,” Hermione Potter replied.

“Right, we expect you’ll join us, we’ll need all the help we can muster for this fight,” Harry Potter said to his local counterpart.

“I can’t promise I can help, but I will take you as far as the government pier,” Harry replied. “If you have all you need, I suggest we leave within the half hour, I have to tend to Lucy.”

“Luna-Luna Lovegood,” they heard from the darkness on land. “I have all my things and won’t return, if that’s your wish.” She added.

---

The sound of the twin engines of the ‘Magical Times’ roared to life, breaking the silence of the night. No one spoke; instead they remained in the cabin, leaving Harry to pilot his boat alone.

Hermione Potter sat at the small table of the galley and opened the log book, hoping for some clue they had missed, her husband sat at her side, pretending to inspect his rucksack’s contents. Ron and his spouse sat at opposite ends of the sofa in silence, trying very hard not to look at each other. Luna remained below in the small stateroom she called her home when on the boat.

One man stood alone at the helm of the boat, the eerie green glow of the instruments was largely ignored. A constant blip of the screen was also drowned out by the sound of the twin diesel engines.

He maintained the speed and heading, monitoring his instruments as an afterthought, his mind occupied with the upheavals of the past few hours. The monotony of the trip was compounded by leaving in the dark,

“Blip… Blip… Blippppppp”, the ignored radar sounded its warning, but his mind was elsewhere; still unseen in the distance, lay fate’s hand.

Four figures lay on the icy stone floor. The silence remained unbroken. The darkness remained unblemished.

The veil had fallen silent hours before, but the four remained motionless.

“Ben?” Arty finally whispered softly.

Nothing.

“Ben?” she called a little louder.

A light moan was her reply.

“Ben?” she repeated.

“Arty, he’s here but he’s unconscious,” a young woman replied.

“Lucy, I can’t see you,” she called back.

“Lumos,” Radulphus called out, illuminating the room.

Ben remained face down, no sign of movement. Radulphus and Lucia had both risen to their feet; Lucia went to her little sister’s aid while her brother tended to Ben. Arty watched as her brother rolled Ben over but he remained limp.

“Is Ben-?” Arty began.

“He’ll be fine, there’s a nasty knob on his head, he must have made a bump on the way through,” Radulphus replied before Arty finished her thought.

“This isn’t right,” Lucia commented as she looked about the chamber.

Arty pushed away from Lucia to be closer to Ben, leaving her brother to join his twin in investigating their surroundings.

“How long were we in there?” he asked, and referenced his watch.

“It’s hard to tell, it seemed like only a few moments, but my watch says it’s been nearly two days,” Lucia replied.

“The veil,” Arty started, “-it’s not torn?”

“No, and the spot… This isn’t our world,” Radulphus said as he examined the special device.

Ben’s hand moved to his head gingerly and he moaned softly.

“Arty?” he mumbled.

“Shh… you’re safe,” Arty whispered. “You took a bump to the head - can you stand?”

“I think so. Are we home?” he asked.

“No, we’re someplace different; there are new markings on this device,” Radulphus said. “I suggest we leave as quickly as we can and try to understand how this happened.”

Arty took Ben by the hand and said, “Come on, he said it will all be okay.”

Ben looked slightly puzzled, “Who?”

“The man at the Ministry; before we left, he told all of us everything would be fine once we got home,” she replied.

Ben stopped them both short before he replied, “There wasn’t any one there; no one stopped us.”

Arty looked puzzled, and shook her head, “No, there was this old man, he said mum’s going to be fine, and we have to find your parents; they’re in danger. He said everything would be fine.”

“What did this man look like?” Lucia asked, her training re-enforcing the question’s tone.

“It’s hard to describe. He seemed so familiar, like I’ve seen him somewhere before. His hair and beard were white and quite long, and he had the deepest blue eyes. He was wearing long robes, and a periwinkle blue cloak, and high-backed boots,” she said.

“Anything else? Did he have a scar, glasses, or any other distinguishing features?” Lucia asked, continuing her interrogation.

“No, but he seemed so kind and friendly. He said mum was going to get better, but we have to help Uncle Harry and Aunt Hermione first,” she replied.

“Except for a few details, that description fits a past Minister for Magic,” Radulphus offered.

“Can’t we go through that portal again, and go home? Maybe mum and dad are there,” Ben asked.

Radulphus opened the special watch, and shook his head. “This arm hasn’t set on a mark; I don’t believe this is functioning correctly.”

“We know we are still in the Ministry, and we also know this isn’t home,” Lucia began. “We also seem to have some contact with this unknown individual. Until that talisman points us home, we best find help.”

“Then we go to Godric’s Hollow and hope we can contact Uncle Harry and Aunt Hermione. We can’t be seen yet, so first we get to the stairs and then to the Atrium,” Lucia commanded and marched for the oak doors to the Chamber of Death.

---

“How are they, Healer Winston?” Hermione asked the medi-wizard. Jerry remained dazed and confused, but Hermione held up her hand to keep him quiet.

“We have no idea what has caused these attacks or how to stop them. If what you told us is true, she may not survive another seizure of this type. She’s finally resting quietly, but her injuries are substantial. Time will heal some, but as to the othesr…” the medi-wizard replied but was stopped from continuing.

“Is there anything we can do?” Ginny blurted out with concern for them.

“No, there’s no medical solution. There’s a curse or dark spell on her, but none of our means of detection can identify the source, as if it’s being hidden. The boy should be fine in a few days,” Healer Winston said to them.

“When can we take them home?” Hermione asked.

“The boy can go home in the morning, but I would like to keep the girl for a few days until she stabilizes. She’s weak from the blood loss; even the replenishment potions haven’t helped her fully recover. We’ll keep her under a dreamless sleep for at least another day,” the healer replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must tend to my other patients.”

Hermione followed him from the room and stopped him in the hall, “Healer Wilson, you’re quite sure neither will remember the past day?” she asked.

“I’m certain, because whatever trauma that caused this will have scarred both of them deeply. You still refuse to say how this happened?” he asked Hermione.

“When I found them, he was unconscious and she had been bleeding,” Hermione offered.

“Then I suggest you try and learn what happened to her. There’s no assurance the memory of what happened will remain subdued. Now good day,” he said and vanished down the hall.

Hermione returned to the room where Ginny and a cloaked figure remained, and watched the healer leave. Ben returned to his sister’s side and gently took her hand. Hermione nodded to the third figure, and Anna lowered her hood.

“Mum, if the healers can’t help, then what can we do?” Anna asked.

“Alone, there’s little we can do; we need help. I’ve seen that look in her eyes before and I’m afraid for her life,” Hermione replied.

“Look? What do you mean?” Ginny asked. She held the girl’s hand but her eyes remained closed.

Jerry leaned on one arm from his bed to listen to the conversation.

“I’ve seen someone consumed by evil before,” she said softly, looking at the helpless girl in the bed. “I hope we aren’t too late to save her.”

“Save her?” Jerry asked weakly.

“Yes. We have to get her to the Ministry, and back to her home,” Hermione said. “Anna, you know the secret passages into the Ministry...”

“Mum?”

“I know you’ve been sneaking in; you have too much of your father in you. You’ll have to lead the way and I’ll carry her. Jerry, you must come with us: you should be able to walk. Anna will help you if you need assistance; she’s here to help. But once we get to the portal, Anna, you must return home and tend to your brother and sisters,” Hermione commanded.

“But mum, Fred is there with them, and you’ll need my help. Besides,” she said and pointed at the clock on the wall, “it’s well past their bedtime.”

“You will do as I say, young lady; your stepfather needs your help, and I want you to stay here,” Hermione scolded.

“Yes, mum,” Anna replied.

Hermione quickly scooped up the girl from the bed. She covered her with an old cloak, and the pair vanished. Jerry managed to stand and dressed himself quickly. Within a few moments he and Anna quickly left the room to join the others.

---

Harry sat alone at the helm of the ‘Magical Times’, monitoring the radar scope to track the weather front that just blew into their path. The squall line on the scope spread across the entire screen, but the distant sky seemed clear.

Concerned, he leaned into the doorway to the cabin below, “It looks a bit rough out here; I suggest you secure your things. I’ve tried to alter our course to avoid this, but it looks like a huge front.”

He increased the throttles of the diesel engines and sped up the boat. The pounding of the waves against the hull intensified. He scanned the instruments again, trusting his years of experience in these waters. His mind was focused on the radar screen, but he secretly noticed he wasn’t alone.

“We have to get home, something’s happened,” Hermione Weasley insisted. She held a locket tightly in her hand. She was quickly followed to the deck by Ron, and then the Potters.

“There’s a storm on the radar, we have to turn to a safe port until it passes,” Harry insisted, his eyes remained fixed on the horizon.

“There’s no storm out there,” Ron commented as he peered out into the distance.

“It’s just on the edge of the horizon, you won’t see it until it hits. I’ve seen this before, when tropical storms blow through without warning. Except…” Harry said, now examining the radar scope.

“Except what?” Ron asked.

“This is the beginning of hurricane season, but this one’s come up too fast. There hasn’t been any prior warning of a storm in the past week,” Luna replied.

Hermione Potter looked into the radar screen, and back to the horizon. “Harry,” she began and received two ‘yeses’. “No, I meant my husband,” she added and looked at her Harry. “That isn’t a storm; we’ve been followed or discovered. It must be some form of cover, look here, there’s no deviation in the strength from the radar; a storm front should have variable strengths. This is artificial; I suspect it’s being used to lure us inland.”

“Who would want to lure us inshore?” Harry, pilot of the craft, asked.

“Him,” Hermione Weasley said, “Haven’t you listened to what we were discussing? For all we know he’s already been home, that’s the only reason I can think of for Ann to call for help.” She clutched her locket tighter as she spoke.

“As far as I’m concerned, he’s not my responsibility. I’ve promised to get you as far as Beef Island and no further,” Harry replied.

Hermione Potter pulled her husband aside, “Remember that spell you used on Voldemort? Unless I’m mistaken that might shield us from this ‘storm’ we can’t seem to avoid.”

Harry shook his head, “It’s been years since I attempted it, and I was much younger then. That’s why I believe I had problems with it when we were in that other world.”

“All you have to do is cast the sphere around the boat,” Hermione added.

“What if I misjudge the size? We could all be crushed,” Harry said.

“You won’t. I think I can convince my double to help me to Apparate all of us, and the boat, to safety,” she said.

“No, it’s too risky; there’s bound to be another solution,” Harry argued, attempting to reject her plan.

She turned to face the other Harry, “How soon will that storm hit?”

“It’s hard to estimate; there’s still no sign on the horizon, but the screen says we’ll be in it in five, maybe ten minutes,” he said.

Luna pointed to a black void off in the distance on the starboard side, “Harry, I’ve never seen a storm like that.”

He too saw the void and called back over the roar of the engines, “That’s not a storm. Hemione’s right, it’s a trap of some sort.”

The vortex maintained its position in front of the boat with every move Harry made with the vessel until the swirling black void was nearly on them. The radar now was useless as the storm covered the entire screen. Black lightning cracked in the void before them, wind howling the song of death.

Hermione Weasley opened her locket again, her face paled and her legs buckled. “Ron!” she called.

Ron forgot his feelings for Luna and hurried to his wife’s aid. Without saying a word, he looked at her locket. “Ann’s name is gone?” he finally said and watched as other names began fading from the locket.

All she could manage was a nod.

“Harry, we have no choice, something’s wrong back in England,” Hermione Potter yelled. “You have to try.”

A massive wave broke over the bow, spraying them with icy water.

Harry felt the cold wave from his spot at the helm. “This isn’t right, these are tropical waters,” he said.

The Auror stood stiff, and released a deep breath before nodding and commanded, “Keep the others in a tight group, in the centre.”

Hermione Potter went to her double, and pulled her to her feet, “Listen to me, I need your help if we’re to survive. You have to put aside whatever message that locket delivered and focus.”

“No, I can’t…” Hermione Weasley mumbled.

Harry put his hands together and began to concentrate; the rocking of the boat nearly dislodging his stance.

“Then you’ve doomed us and the family you have at home. There’s untapped power that together you and I can use to Apparate all of us to safety, but I must have your help,” Hermione Potter said, holding her double’s arms tightly.

Hermione Weasley shook her head, “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can; you’re a Gryffindor,” Hermione Potter insisted.

"CONTEGO OPERIRE HOSTIS,” Harry recited; a blue field grew around the boat. A large wave harmlessly crashed over the protective blue sphere.

“Now, focus on someplace as far from here as you can,” Hermione Potter yelled to her double. The deck of the boat began to shimmer, and a loose life-vest slid across the deck. The others braced themselves and held onto any fixed point.

The winds covered the protective sphere while violent streaks of black lightning cracked against the shield. Each strike created a deep blue glow fading the sphere’s brilliance.

“I… can’t… hold … this… much longer,” Harry forced out, his face streaked from stress.

“NOW! We have to go NOW!” Hermione Potter yelled. The blackness swallowed them, and squeezed them as if being forced into a pipe.

“GOOD…” Hermione Potter shouted over the dim of the storm.

“Where?” Hermione Weasley screamed.

“Hold on, hold on… HOLD ON,” Hermione Potter yelled, until the darkness of the storm faded. A firm jolt and splash let them all know they landed.

Harry managed a final wave, dissipating the shield before he collapsed onto the deck. Hermione Potter and Hermione Weasley both fell to their knees, then to the deck, joining Harry.

Ron left his point of safety to his wife’s side, gently cradling her head. “We made it, we’re away. You were brilliant,” he cooed to her. Her hand relaxed and the locket slipped from her fingers.

Harry remained at his station, at the helm, and quickly studied the instruments.

“This is impossible, we’ve been sent nearly clear across the Atlantic,” he finally said.

“Where are we?” Ron asked.

“The best I can tell, about one thousand kilometers from Spain, roughly about two days cruise, three days from London,” he said.

“We might not make it,” Luna replied, “the fuel…”

“Right, we can’t make it more than seven or eight hundred kilometers,” Harry replied. He pulled up a satellite map of the ocean on the display screen and grinned.

“So, we’re short by 3 hundred kilometers, we could Apparate from there,” Ron offered.

“Possibly, but we’re maybe four hundred kilometers from São Migue in the Azores. We should be able to make land fall in less than one day - say by mid-day tomorrow - and get some fuel,” Harry said. “Take them below and make them comfortable,” he said as he spun the wheel about. The boat responded and lurched forward, heading south-west.

---

“Quiet, I think I heard someone. Boy, you stay back until we’re clear.”

“NOX.”

The chamber fell dark again; the three men quickly sought the cover provided by the stone benches. A distinctive series of thuds alerted them that others had arrived through the portal.

The leader put his hand to the man on his left, that man repeated the signal to the third member of the team. They all remained silent.

Minutes lapsed; a moan from one of the newcomers was replied with whispers.

“She’s still unconscious, but alive,” a woman’s voice said.

A younger female voice groaned in reply.

A young man’s voice replied, “We have to hurry.”

“Lumos,” the woman said, holding her wand over her head, they all remained with their backs to the three men.

“Pull your hoods up, so no one will recognize you. I told you not to come with us,” the elder woman said.

“Yes, mum, but he was having too much difficulty. You told me to stay with him and help. He needed my help, and she will need my help soon, too” the girl replied.

“That’s another matter we’ll discuss later,” the woman scolded the girl.

The leader of the three men stared at the newcomers before he realized there were four people. The woman carried an unconscious girl covered with a dark cloak. He instantly recognized the elder woman.

“Hermione?” the leader called from his strategic location.

“Dad?” the boy called weakly. The other two men stood and together approached the newcomers.

“What happened? We told you to stay home,” Ron demanded.

“We have to get her to a Healer; I’ve done what I can,” Hermione said.

“What happened to Annie?” Sirius asked and stepped forward to take his grand-god-daughter from the woman he assumed was her mother.

“Sirius? Sirius Black?” Hermione asked apprehensively.

“I take it you’re not Hermione Potter,” Sirius said.

“No, I haven’t seen you since you left sixteen years ago,” she replied.

Sirius nodded, to Ron and Remus’ mild confusion. “This is the Hermione from the world where I was trapped for twelve years, the one…”

“The one where I was abused by Harry, I’ve come to terms with that,” she said completing his explanation.

Ron stepped to his son, “How’s Annie?”

“Dad, she’s dying. She had another attack and was really hurt. They couldn’t stop her bleeding this time,” Jerry said solemnly. “If they hadn’t found us, she would have died.”

“Us?” Remus asked.

“And Hermione couldn’t help?” Sirius added; his memories of that day she escaped still fresh in his mind.

“No, I tried, but there’s little I could do at the time. She was with Jerry, and he was injured trying to protect her,” Hermione replied.

Anna remained partially concealed, and simply observed. Remus watched her cautiously as the others talked.

“I suggest we all leave and get Annie to a healer, or possibly seek out Abraham,” Remus suggested.

“Who’s Abraham?” Hermione asked.

“Someone that’s been helping, and guiding us; apparently he’s quite knowledgeable of details no one else is aware of,” Ron replied. “We, or I should say I, met him a few days ago, when he managed to get the kids away.”

“You still won’t give up on that, he’s been helping all along, we have to trust him,” Remus snapped.

“I won’t discuss the issue again, especially after that last bout,” Ron hissed back.

“We had some disagreements in our last trip,” Sirius replied to Hermione and Jerry. He still had Annie cradled in his arms.

“Dad, what happened?” Jerry asked Ron.

“We ran into some old friends,” Ron replied.

“That’s an understatement,” Remus quipped back.

“The ministry seemed to have been attacked, and portions were altered,” Sirius said. “This chamber seems unaffected.”

“We’re not home, dad. The veil was damaged when we left; there was a fight and…” Jerry began.

“Ron,” Hermione interrupted, “they believe Ginny…”

“We don’t really know, it happened so fast, I grabbed Annie and we went for the only safe place. We were standing there, next to the Arch, when we encountered a man named Snape. He and Aunt Ginny talked, just over there and someone fired spells at us from the door. Snape was hit first, and then Aunt Ginny. I grabbed Annie, Ben grabbed Arty, and we all ran into the veil. The last I saw of Aunt Ginny were her eyes, they were cold, as if…” Jerry stopped, wiped his cheeks, and took Annie’s hand.

“From the descriptions they told me, they both were seriously injured, but we have no idea how bad,” Hermione said stopping Jerry’s thoughts.

“Listen, all of you, we all have been ‘summoned’ here for some reason. I believe the others will eventually find us, but for now, we have to get Annie Potter proper attention,” Anna said from under her hood.

Remus smirked, “If you insist, Miss. I assume she’s your daughter Hermione?” he asked.

Hermione nodded, “Yes, Anna is my daughter. Sirius, you must remember those weeks after… when you found me. She’s all I have left of Harry.”

Anna removed her hood and pointed to a dark corner in the distance, “And you have someone here too.”

Ron sighed heavily and motioned for him to step closer. “Come, boy, they are friends.”

“We can make that introduction later, Annie’s our first priority. She needs rest,” Jerry insisted.

“Right, son; Annie needs to be looked after properly. I suggest we use the stairs to the second level, there’s an Auror’s Apparation point there. We should be able to find our way to the Burrow from there,” Ron stated, and led the growing team through the door.

---

“I don’t understand, Rudy; what happened to both our homes?” Ben asked as they moved at a quickened pace through the forest.

“I wish I knew. No one at St. Mungo’s knows anything about mum; it was as if she didn’t exist,” Radulphus replied.

“Why did you give the attendant incorrect names? And where did you get the name ‘Stevens’?” Arty asked.

“Jake Stevens; he was the Muggle Studies professor when we started at Hogwarts. It’s part of our instructions if we are uncertain of who to trust,” Lucia explained.

They rushed through the forest and into a small clearing. A large oak stood next to a small pond, the grounds appearing unused for many years.

Past the pond, they could see two figures toiling in the fields.

“That looks like Uncle Bill, but who’s the woman?” Arty asked.

“I have no idea, but stay close and let us do the talking. Lucy, I think it best if you take the lead and I stay back with Arty and Ben, in case this turns bad,” Radulphus said.

“Right, now that it’s been said: Arty, you and Ben must keep silent,” she instructed, and led them across the field. Radulphus removed his dark cloak, following his sister’s example.

They approached cautiously, until they reached the crumbling stone wall where the couple worked, the woman was strikingly beautiful. Radulphus gasped when he saw her features. Her long blonde hair hung over her shoulder in a thick braid, and the man with her was indeed their uncle.

“Hallo,” Lucia called in a friendly tone. “I’m looking for the Weasleys.”

The woman looked up from her work, and leaned on her hoe. ‘Allo, what ez your businez with ze Weasleys?” she replied in broken English.

“We seem to be lost; this is their home, is it not?” Lucia asked.

“Merde, we have more lost people,” she called over her shoulder. “And who are ze four of you?”

Bill looked up and blinked, “Merlin’s beard! Fleur, stand back,” he commanded, producing his wand with amazing speed.

“We mean no harm; please hear us out,” Lucia asked, slipping her wand into her hand, nearly unseen.

“I have no idea how you escaped from Azkaban, Bellatrix, but by Merlin’s beard, I’ll send you back,” Bill hissed.

“Lucy, he thinks you’re….” Radulphus said, as he also unsheathed his wand.

“I am not Bellatrix Lastrange,” she insisted. “We are Aurors, taking these two children home to their parents.”

“And exactly who are you, Auror?” Bill demanded; his wand poised at her chest.

“We’re looking for my mum and dad, my name’s Ben Potter,” Ben said, stepping forward.

“Quiet, boy,” Lucia barked.

“Potter?” Bill asked, but maintained his defensive stance.

“As I said, my business is with the Weasleys; unless you step aside, we have no time to deal with hired help,” Lucia warned, her wand began to glow, giving emphasis to her warning.

“My name,” he yelled, and a red beam burst from his wand, “is William Weasley, and I was born in this house.”

His spell was narrowly deflected by Radulphus; Arty and Ben were both pushed to the ground by a wave of the Auror’s hand.

“Stop!” Arty shrieked, “Stop, he’s family!”

Bill’s attack ceased at the girl’s scream and he also noticed neither countered his offence.

“Family?” Fleur asked cautiously.

“Explain yourselves, or get off my property!” Bill commanded.

“Do you know a Ginevra Weasley?” Lucia asked,

“She was my sister; she’s been gone for years after Potter…” Bill said softly.

“Before that man broke her heart,” Fleur finished.

“Sister?” Lucia hesitated, “Mum always talked about her brothers, but never about a ‘Bill’.”

“Lucy, remember he died with grandmum and papa,” Radulphus said.

Bill froze, and shook his head in disbelief. Lucia lowered her wand, and Arty and Ben both stood behind her. In that moment, Bill saw them clearly.

“Ginevra is our mum,” Lucia said softly, “Dad was murdered less than a fortnight ago.”

“Who was your father,” Bill asked, still on the defensive.

“Draco Malfoy; he was the Potions Master at Hogwarts before his disappearance two months ago. I specifically requested permission to find his killer,” Lucia replied, her stance open; wand harmlessly pointed to the ground.

“Draco Malfoy was as bad as his father, and a coward. Ginny never would have had anything to do with him,” Bill snapped.

“The obvious truth is we are not from this world, but a parallel one, where things turned out differently. We may not be able to prove this…” Radulphus said before Ben cut him off.

“What about that portal key? It may help at lease prove to them we are telling the truth,” Ben suggested.

“Under one condition, you all surrender your wands until we can sort this through,” Bill insisted.

“I’m afraid they can’t do that, Bill. That would be a violation of their duty, and of my direct orders,” another voice from the far side of the field said. Bill turned to see the newest member of this altercation, and saw Ron standing with a number of others.

“Ron?” Bill asked.

“Yes, and no. I’m Ronald Weasley, from their world. Bill, you’ve got to listen to them, we all came here from an alternate universe. But right now we need to find the root cause, and unless I’m mistaken there’s a reason we have all ended up together,” Ron said.

Ben noticed Sirius still carrying Annie, and left Lucia’s protection to join his sister. “Mum?” he called out once he saw Hermione.

“No, dear. I’m not your mum,” she replied. Jerry intercepted Ben and began to explain.

Ron and the others gathered in expectation of discussing the afternoon’s unusual gathering, but instead left the glen for the relative comfort of the Burrow.

“Three days, he said. Just a side trip to São Migue for fuel, he said. Go below and clean up the cabin, he said. Who the bloody hell does he think he is?” Ron ranted inside the cabin, carelessly flinging objects about magically.

“Ron, this is his boat and by all right, he is the captain. He does have a plan, but it’s not his fault we were delayed by Customs. After all, trying to explain how we arrived on the other side of the ocean in a craft that shouldn’t have made it half way is a bit to explain,” Luna said, hoping to defuse the anger.

“Right, he’s the bloody captain. He’s bloody well in charge, and it’s been nearly four days since we left that bloody island,” he continued his rant.

Hermione Weasley appeared in the hatch, obviously to address her husband’s short temper. “Ronald Weasley, you know full well he had to divert his course when that French naval boat tried to delay us.”

“But why the extra delay? It would seem he was deliberatly delaying us from leaving,” Ron arged and paced inside the small cabin.

“To conserve fuel. This boat burns one-third the fuel at half speed as it does at full throtle,” Luna replied from behind Hermione.

“And he did explain that the west coast would be easier to arrive at undetected, rather than the alternative,” Hermione added. “ Besides, we’ll be closer to home if we go through Wales .”

“That’s what you say; we could Apparate home from any point,” Ron argued.

“We could, but I doubt he would. He is still uncertain of himself,” Luna snapped at Ron. “Harry wanted me to tell you we’ve passed Bristol, we’ll be in Gloucester in thirty minutes.”

Hermione turned to Luna, “ Gloucester? Then we should be in Devon in just over an hour,” she said with renewed excitement. “We should be able to continue along the Otter River and that much closer to home.”

“More like two hours, unless we’re forced through customs. Since we’re a smaller craft, they might overlook us,” Luna answered curtly. She turned to leave, but a hand to her shoulder stopped her.

“Luna, I’m sorry,” Ron said. “These past few days have been stressful for all of us. And with Harry’s return, I have more to deal with.”

“Right, I suggest you pack your kit, if I know Harry, he’ll be looking to leave here as soon as possible,” Luna replied, and left Ron alone with his wife.

Hermione stepped closer to him, and hesitated a moment. “Ron, are you ready to talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, I have no reason to stand between the two of you,” he said with a flat tone.

Hermione gently held his face and said, “You have every reason, and you have every right. I am your wife, not Harry’s. He is my best friend, our best friend; you are my husband and the father of our children.”

Ron raised an eyebrow, “Really? Are you certain?” he quipped and turned away.

“Ron?” she managed to say before the demons she buried deep in her heart rose to the surface. She had deigned the inevitability of this day, and this conversation.

“No, please don’t insult me and try to convince me otherwise; Ann’s his daughter, isn’t she?” he asked flatly.

“No,” a voice from behind her said. “You are her father, you’ve been there to raise her and love her, to comfort her when she needed a father. You are more her father than I ever could be. You and Hermione are her parents,” Harry said.

“So, you’re trying to make me believe you never had an affair with Hermione?” Ron barked sharply.

“Ron, I love her as much as I love you, I never would have survived without you both. I never slept with her, as much as you won’t believe that’s the truth. There have been many women before, that is true. But I must admit none of them compared to her. The only one I ever felt anything for was a dream,” Harry replied.

“Dream my arse; you knew it was Hermione,” Ron snapped back.

Harry shook his head, “Ron, I would never have done anything that would have hurt you, you must know this,” he pleaded.

“How could you have known? You’re memory of any of that was obliterated,” Ron answered sharply.

“Harry, you’d best get up here,” Hermione Potter called through the hatch cutting the argument short.

“And be sharp about it, there’s a patrol boat following us,” Harry added.

“Bloody hell,” Harry muttered and ran from the cabin. Once outside, he scanned the horizon; the shoreline lay before them, but a motor patrol vessel closed the distance from behind.

A single shot whistled past the craft, splashing off the port bow. Harry hesitated for a moment before he cut the engines. The ‘Magical Times’ slowed to a halt.

“Ahoy,” a sailor from the official patrol boat called out. “Stand down to be boarded.”

“I hope the lot of you have the proper papers for entry,” Harry said to his counterpart, and pulled out a tattered book from a small shelf under the helm.

“Ahoy, Magical Times, identify your destination and purpose,” the same voice called out.

“Make it quick, we’re a registered vessel for pleasure; we’re putting in to Gloucester to refuel,” Harry yelled back.

In the brief moment it took the patrol boat to get up alongside, a turret mounted gun had been pointed at the waterline ready to sink the boat with a single burst. Three sailors stood by with automatic weapons, raising an alarm within the group of wizards.

“Harry, this isn’t necessary. Hermione and I have documentation providing authorizations, let me handle this,” the Auror said.

“Who’s the captain of this vessel?” an officer from the patrol boat ordered.

“I’m in charge, Lieutenant-Commander Potter, MI9,” he said producing a badge and identification.

“Follow me, sir,” the officer insisted.

Harry followed the sailor, with Hermione behind him.

“I said only you, sir,” the sailor insisted, trying to stop Hermione.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she replied. “He is under my command. I can only explain to your commanding officer.”

“This way,” he waved, “Maintain your positions,” he orders his men and led the couple to the command center of the patrol boat. A young officer stood waiting. He wasn’t much older than Ron and Luna’s son, Arthur, but this man had the air of authority on this vessel.

“Warrant Officer Storm.” He stated. “May I see your credentials?” the officer requested. Hermione produced her letter along with Harry’s identification.

“We are on a sensitive mission, I insist you allow us to proceed,” Hermione ordered.

“I’m afraid I’m not allowed to release you; these are restricted waters. There have been recent reports of terrorist activities here and abroad. The Ministry has ordered all vessels seized and occupants held for interrogation. I’m certain you are aware of the recent attacks in the United States and our territories in the Caribbean?” he said.

“Unfortunately, no; we’ve been lucky to have barely gotten this far. We were lost in a storm, and been thrown far off course. Our radio was damaged and we’ve been unable to contact anyone. If the captain of this vessel hadn’t maintained additional fuel, we would have been lost at sea,” Hermione explained.

“So you deign escaping the authorities of Tortola?” Warrant Officer Storm asked, signing his men to raise their weapons.

“Harry, you don’t think he is involved?” Hermione asked.

“I suggest you both raise your hands, and surrender,” Warrant Officer Storm insisted.

“I’m afraid we can’t accommodate that request,” Harry replied as his hands rose upward, and pointed directly to the sailors. A blue beam shot from his fingers freezing them where they stood.

“Sorry mate, but we really are on your side. Those attacks, we believe, may be the work of someone beyond your means to deal with,” Harry said apologetically. “You blokes will be fine in a couple hours; we’ll set the anchor for you.”

Both Harry and Hermione gathered their identification from Warrant Officer Storm before leaving the command center. The other members of the boat’s crew had been frozen in place, the same as the commander. Hermione returned to their vessel leaving Harry alone for a moment. He scanned the boat’s helm and found the fuel cut-off. A flick of a switch and the engines died, another switch sounded a dull splash from the front, leaving the boat as promised, at anchor.

“We’ve only got a couple hours, we’d best find a port,” Harry called to his counterpart while joining his wife on board.

“There’s a cove we can hide the boat, about one kilometer past the first bridge. Is there any way to conceal it?” Harry asked from the helm of his boat.

“Yes, there’s a vanishing spell that would work,” Luna replied. “I’ve used it before when I suspected we were discovered.”

Harry glared at Luna from the boat’s wheel; his look indicated this was not over. “Be ready to do it when we tie off, I don’t want to lose my boat as well as my past,” he said with a touch of sarcasm.

The journey to the safe refuge was brief, as was the time spent concealing the craft. The group gathered their belongings to prepare for departure to the Burrow.

“I have a request,” Harry began while he watched the Potters and Weasley’s pack. “My memory is still blocked in some areas.”

The other Harry grinned and nodded, “I’ll bring you along; it’s called Side-Apparation.” Harry stepped to his double and held him by the arm, “Love, you and the other go first and we’ll be along in a moment.”

“We’ll wait for you at the tree near the glen,” Hermione said and gave him a light kiss before turning to the others. Ron’s ears turned his trademark red when she kissed her husband, but let that pass without comment.

“So, we’re ready?” Luna stated in a question. “One three, two, one….” A series of pops from the deck indicated the group had vanished leaving the two Harrys alone.

“I wanted to have a moment with you before we left,” the Auror started. “You’ve been gone a long time, and the life you knew is completely over. I fielded the brunt of the wrath from the other Weasleys, but I’m certain there’s still some anger in them.”

“I’m certain it was more than deserved; I can’t undo the past. I can barely remember the past. But… I would like to reconcile with them,” Harry replied.

“In time, that may happen. But for now, we have to deal with the task at hand if we are to salvage any of these realities,” Harry said confidently and held his counter-part’s arm firmly. With a wave of his hand the pair vanished with a pop.

“How is she doing?” Molly asked Hermione.

“She’s still resting quietly, we can’t risk her becoming upset, that may trigger another seizure,” Hermione said as she walked down the stairs.

“Ann’s still trying to contact her mum, and the others. But there’s been no word now for nearly a week,” Molly said.

“They’re close, I can feel her; or maybe I just want to believe they are near. I can’t tell sometimes,” Hermione sighed.

The two women walked together to the kitchen, in answer to a shrill whistle from the kettle. Arty, Ben and Jerry were together at a table near the garden, and Bill and Fleur had left moments earlier for the twin’s shop.

The relative calm was shattered by the scream of a young girl.

“Molly?” Hermione said startled.

“They’re here!” Jerry shouted seconds later when he limped into the room.

The calls brought others to the room. Hermione and Molly were met by Ron, Remus and Sirius, Bill and Fleur came from the lounge, and Anna and Ann rushed from the stairs, leaving Annie unattended.

The door remained open. Luna entered first, followed by the two Hermiones. Then the identical Harry Potters - one appeared apprehensive. One Hermione left Molly’s side, and embraced one of the other identical copies of herself; that hug was quickly returned.

“Dear God, it’s good to see you again,” she whispered in her ear, as tears leaked down her cheek.

“We never thought we’d find you here, what happened?” Hermione Potter asked.

“It’s a bit complicated, but the short version is you’re daughter and her boyfriend appeared in my world. She’s quite ill,” Hermione said audibly and then whispered to her “but her condition is far worse than Jerry knows.”

Hermione Potter looked puzzled at her double and asked, “How so?”

“She has been infected, the same way he was, I’m afraid she’s in worse shape than he was when your husband freed my Harry. We have to repeat that spell,” Hermione Weasley said. The others watched, in silence, at the suddenness of these occurrences.

“Are you certain? Infected?” Hermione Potter asked.

“Yes, she has the same mannerisms Harry had when he changed. It’s my guess this has just started recently; there may be a good chance she can recover. She’s had a difficult time of it,” Hermione Weasley stated analytically. “I’ve been working it out since I arrived; if the three of us and Harry recreate that state, and since there are two more of her here, we stand a reasonable chance for little permanent damage.”

Harry came forward, and joined his wife, “Are you saying Voldemort’s soul has infected her, just as he did with your Harry?”

“I’m certain that’s what has happened. Her behavior has been erratic from what Jerry told us, and Anna and I found her during an attack. Since this only started a few months ago, and it took ten years to damage Harry to the point, she could be fine,” Hermione said with hope in her voice.

“Annie’s the one?” Ron asked surprised.

“I’m certain,” Hermione Weasley replied.

“We discovered from sources in that other world of a plot to attack the Potters, but we didn’t have any success learning the identity of the victim. The only issue is that the information was more than fifteen years old,” Sirius added.

“No, that can’t be right, she wouldn’t have survived that long,” Hermione Weasley stated.

“Then the only way to save our daughter is the Circle of Power. Harry, I believe her, and if she’s correct we may not have much time,” Hermione Potter said to Harry.

“This should be simpler than that time we tried before: instead of Caterina, we will have three of us, each with equal powers, and Harry. I think the Harry from this world should remain behind, since he hasn’t been practicing his abilities in more than twenty years,” Hermione Weasley added.

The other Hermione Weasley looked confused and lost, but before she could ask, Hermione Potter quickly filled in the missing details.

“I have made the necessary preparations in her room, and I’ve discussed this with everyone here, you were the last ones we needed. Remember this is inherently dangerous for her, this decision is ultimately yours,” Hermione Weasley said.

“Mum? I’ve been working this out in my head since we arrived,” Anna started, “I can’t sit idly by while she dies. If the three of you are truly identical, then Ann and I should be identical to Annie. I would be willing to give her what I can so she’ll survive,” Anna said. Ann looked flustered, but let the remark pass.

That comment was also clearly understood by Ron, an angry glare at his wife and Harry confirmed his suspicions. Hermione Potter and her mate sensed the growing storm, and took action.

“Hermione,” Mrs. Potter said quickly, “What preparations have you made?”

“I’ve established a proper pentagram for five; I expected the three of me, or us, and the two Harrys,” Hermione stated.

“I can’t do this,” the Harry from this reality spoke up, “I don’t have the abilities you believe I possess.”

“Then that’s set, I can take his place and help,” Ann stated with authority.

The girl’s mother shook her head, rejecting this deviation to her plan, “No, I won’t allow it. It is too dangerous for you.”

“Mum, I really want to do this, and she needs my help,” Ann restated.

“And mine,” Anna added.

“I can’t help but believe this is why I’m here,” Ann said to Hermione before she turned to Ron, “Dad, please don’t blame mum for what happened, I’m glad to be part of this family. She does love you, I hope you know that.”

Ron stared at the girl, shaking his head. “You are your mother’s daughter, I’ve suspected you were Harry’s daughter for a while, too. All I wanted was someone to admit the truth. You’ve got more courage then any Gryffindor I know.” He turned to face his wife, “Hermione, go help them. This will wait.”

She looked at Ron, for the first time in days, into his eyes. There was no accusing glare, no anger, just an acceptance. “Ron…” she said.

“No, go with them, I can live with anything that happens, but only if you tell me the truth,” Ron said and gave her a light kiss on her cheek.

“Then lets go, Annie’s not getting any better,” the other Hermione Weasley commanded. Without another word, the five others followed Hermione up the stairs to Annie’s room. The bed she slept on sat in the center of the room, and a circle with a five-pointed star surrounded her. Lit candles marked each point of the star; the curtains had been closed leaving the candlelight as the only illumination. The intended ambiance held a soothing effect.

“Mum, take the point to her right; dad, by mum’s side. Hermione, take the spot opposite on Annie’s left, I’ll take the head. Girls, you both have to take to spot on the lower left,” Hermione Weasley commanded. Each participant took the assigned positions.

“I believe we need to join hands,” Harry said, taking his wife’s hand and reaching for one of the girl’s hand. The others joined hands closing the circle.

“Repeat the chant, ‘Orbis Virium;’ don’t stop even if you think the spell has worked. We all have to be unified.” Hermione Potter said.

“Orbis Virium,” six voices began in unison. “Orbis Virium… Orbis Virium.”

Hermione Potter led with her left hand, pulling Harry’s hand to touch Annie’s side. The others watched and reached into the circle, each touching Annie creating the bond needed.

Annie’s eyes snapped open; a sharp gasp of breath snapped her head from the pillow. The room began to glow, emanating from the center and slowly engulfing the others.

Annie screamed from the sharp pain that sliced through her young body. Blood oozed from her lips as her head fell to the pillow.

“Orbis Virium,” the voices repeated.

Annie kept screaming, “Mum! It hurts!”

“Orbis Virium,” the voices repeated, some hesitation from the two girls as they watched an identical copy of themselves writhe in pain.

Annie stiffened and her eyes glazed over. Her screaming suddenly stopped the instant a blinding flash engulfed the room.

Harry watched one of the people he loved most in this life vanish. The three Hermiones faded into a brilliant glow of pure white light, highlighting his daughter’s body.

“Orbis Virium,” He heard again, the chant echoed into his very being, the surrounding glow of the three Hermiones pulled them all closer.

‘Mione?’ he thought.

‘I’m here, my love.’

‘I am as well.’ He heard from his side. He looked away from the blinding glow, conscious of her touch no longer in his hand, but through his entire being. The two girls still held his hand, but were frozen at the radiance of the three witches that hovered over the now still body.

‘Are we dead?’ Anna asked.

‘No, not exactly,’ one of the Hermione’s thoughts replied.

The three remaining physical beings stared at the body before them, unlike the prior time Harry experienced this spell, he watched his daughter’s soul as the three glows pulled it free of her body. It was different than the time he watched as the other Harry’s soul died; the glow was dark and dull, dark as death.

‘Harry, there, a fragment of Riddle’s soul has hers, do you see it ?’ Hermione Potter’s thoughts screamed to Harry. The two girls remained still and watched.

‘Yes, it’s strange. That streak looks like Riddle’s soul, but there’s little left of her soul.’ Harry replied, the images were nearly identical to those they experienced sixteen years ago.

A tormented face swirled in the light before them. In that face a snake, dark as pitch, was twisting around the man’s flesh. Its fangs sunk deep into his neck, pumping its venom into his soul. The man’s strength was gone; he was barely ably to move as transparent hands tried to pull the coils from his flesh.

‘Harry, there’s something wrong, ’ Hermione thought, her distress tore into his mind, but he had to focus on the girl or lose her forever.

His hands continued to pull at the serpent - the man’s snow-white beard was tinged red from his spent blood. Harry held the snake’s head and pulled the fangs free from the dying soul.

‘Abeo Tegere,’ Harry thought, his mind sent a brilliant ray of light into the writhing snake: the charge of energy struck the head, vivisecting the reptile. Harry maintained the surge of energy for what seemed like an eternity, until all movement ceased. A brilliant flash of the darkest light exploded from the serpent, then slowly faded, leaving behind a faint image, which too vanished.

‘Mr. Potter?’ He heard from his side. ‘Was that…?’

‘It was the last of Tom Riddle’s soul, Ann,’ he replied. The face that remained before them was that of an old friend, long departed from the mortal world.

‘Albus?’ Hermione Potter’s thoughts screamed out.

‘Yes…’ the apparition wheezed. His features scarred and sullen from the years spent fending the evil.

‘Albus, was this the protection you gave Annie?’ Hermione asked.

‘My dear friends, it was my last and greatest act; I could not allow your child to suffer. I felt I owed you that. She is now safe,’ his thoughts said.

Another, fainter image lay behind the fading soul of Albus Dumbledore, that faint image was pure and clear as crystal.

‘Daddy?’ her thoughts mumbled.

‘Harry, please understand, it wasn’t Tom’s doing. I discovered he was being controlled,’ Albus’ thought.

‘We know, we discovered his identity and also details of others that had been sent to stop him,’ Hermione replied. ‘He is…’

‘Stop; if he was a friend, I would rather never know,’ Albus whispered. ‘I would rather have clear thoughts as I go.’

‘We understand, rest assured we will resolve that soon,’ Hermione thought.

‘I have little time left; I have grown weak in my struggle with Tom’s spirit. His last attempt was nearly fatal to her and that young man,” Albus said weakly.

‘Jerry? I almost killed Jerry?’ Annie asked, her concern for him evident in her tone.

‘It was not you, it was Tom. That boy still loves you, but fortunately has no memory of that night,’ Albus said.

‘His injuries were healed by mum when we found him,’ Anna said.

Albus Dumbledore’s spirit came before Annie, ‘please remember he still loves you; the damage he suffered in his mind was, and is, enough to kill him. Love him as he loves you. That is all you need to know.’

One of the Hermiones came to Annie and Dumbledore, ‘he’s never left your side, just remember that.’

‘My friends, please remember my last thoughts are of you and your family,’ Albus said after turning to Harry and Hermione Potter before he faded with his last thought ‘Good bye….’

The glow from one of the Hermiones’ essences drifted to the image of the fallen girl, ‘Girls, come now if we are to save her.’

‘Yes mum,’ one replied.

‘Yes ma’am,’ the other replied, and both spirits hovered beside the fading soul. The spirits of the other two Hermiones joined, leaving Harry to watch. Side by side, he could detect minor differences in the three spirits, one felt more familiar than the others. That one still held part of him.

One at a time, the complete souls of the two other girls lay down with the spirit of Annie Potter, until all three joined into one. The three Hermiones surrounded the spot, radiating more brilliantly than before.

When Harry managed to clear his vision, six distinct figures stood before him; the Hermiones no longer glowed, but now possessed their physical appearances.

‘D-Dad? Are we dead?’ Annie asked, looking at the others.

‘No, but we need to return as soon as possible,’ he thought to them all.

‘He’s right, we can’t linger here much longer,’ Hermione Potter agreed.

‘We have to find…’ Harry began before the Hermione that delivered Annie to this world interrupted.

‘Don’t say his name, he may be watching. He’s been able to meet us the last time, if he discovers we know, we may all be doomed. We have to get to Abraham,’ Hermione Weasley said.

‘But how, mum?’ Annie asked.

In an instant, the brilliant glow that surrounded them had weakened revealing seven figures below, still locked together in their circle; not a single hair or muscle had moved.

The only movement came from the door; they all could see Jerry Weasley slip into the room. He stood against the wall and watched the motionless bodies encircling Annie Potter’s body.

‘It’s time,’ Harry said. ‘I’ll bring the girls back; we’ll wait for you three to return. Girls, this will be like side-apparation, we’ll return together. Ready, on three… two… one…’

Harry blinked, and he stood in the room where his daughter lay. To his left, two confused girls, and to his right his life partner. The others returned nearly at the same instant, as if nothing happened. Jerry had remained against the wall, and waited, and watched.

“Dad, what happened? Last I remember clearly was sitting in the Headmistress’s office, and then a strange dream,” Annie said looking up to her father then to the boy across the room.

“Annie, you’ve been ill nearly a month,” Jerry offered, hesitated for a moment but then limped to her side.

She again looked from her father to Jerry, and then to two other girls identical to her. ‘W-Who are they?” she asked, her eyes widened at the sight.

“Annie this may be difficult for you to follow,” Hermione Weasley said, drawing Annie’s attention to the women, each identical to her mother.

“Mum?” she said nervously.

“I’m here,” Hermione Potter replied. She had remained next to Harry, but she had grown too weak to remain standing. “It is a long story, one you are over due to know. We’ll tell you the details when you’re stronger.”

“Mum, I dreamed I met a man - he said his name is My…,” she started.

“Shhh, we know,” Hermione whispered hoarsely and put a finger to Annie’s lips.

Chapter 25 – Legends

The winds whirled through the trees blowing the autumn leaves across the solemn field. A lone figure stood at the foot of the fresh grave; the stone bore the epitaph for a fallen man. A laugh rang out into the night as he read the inscription,

“Bedd Ann ap lleian ymnewais fynydd
Iluagor Llew Ymrais
Prif ddewin merddin Embrais.”

His boot kicked at the fresh dirt, “Good bye, my brother,” he said with contempt. “ Pendragon has fallen, his bastard son and nephew sits on the throne, and those fools believe sending three across the ages will deter my plans? Your death strengthens my power.”

The wind ripped through the stones of the dead. A single crack of thunder split the clear night air. The autumn leaves fell against the new stone, hiding it from sight.

In the millennia that followed, land and title changed, and no more graves were dug on this hillside. The old ones became obscured with time. The legend of the grave of a famous wizard on this hill had passed from father to son and as most legends, it remained in folklore.

Myths and legends remain a curiosity until they are verified. One five-hundred year old legend within one world had been verified in the past quarter century, and another lay waiting. The green field hid its secret well.

A family of four sat alone at a table surrounded by a stone wall of the garden; both children listened patiently to the long tale from their parents for most of the morning.

“Mum, how can you be certain?” the girl asked. “You told me he helped you.”

“Yes, he had all of us fooled. I should have remembered that even Muggle history claimed he died in the sixth century. With everything that happened to us, I should have thought it through,” Hermione replied to her daughter.

“Your mum isn’t the only one to miss the clues; none of us realized what was happening at the time. The document was left for us to find. Once we read it, and saw his name, we realized everything that’s happened to us has been by design,” Harry said to his children.

“All the suffering we’ve endured and all the suffering of those around us was caused by him. We are fortunate that he hasn’t been able to foresee the inherent good in those he assumed to be unimportant. These two manuscripts are proof of that,” Hermione added.

“And the fact I had found this one in Slytherin,” Annie said.

“Right; that also shows he’s not a member of that house, since the wards have prevented his entrance. We can only enter with your permission,” Harry said agreeing with the disclosure of the original manuscript.

“So, how do we fix this, dad?” Ben asked.

“First task is to verify Abraham’s role in this, and find a way to correct the original team’s errors and trap him. And hopefully we can safely return him to his own world and time,” Harry added.

“No, darling; our first task should be to build our own team, we need to tell our Ron and the others all these details,” Hermione said.

“Mum, Rudy has a pocket watch - some form of talisman he said help point them to us,” Ben said. “Maybe we can use it to return home.”

“Possibly, but we need more information. We need to know the details that were left out of this journal,” Hermione said.

“What details could have been left out?” Ben asked.

“This log only lists events from one point of view, we have no idea what happened in the time he and the others arrived. For that matter, we really have no idea if they arrived before or after ‘he’ escaped,” Annie replied.

“Mum, if he was so evil, then why did everyone believe he was good? Could there have been two of him?” Ben asked.

The two adults looked at each other nervously before responding.

“We can discuss that idea later; first we have to leave this reality. Love, take the children and see that they are packed; I’ll have a chat with Rudy, Lucy, and the others. I expect to be ready on the hour,” Harry commanded.

“Children, you heard your father, we have less than three quarters of an hour to pack and meet back here,” Hermione said focused at the children.

“Harry,” Ron said suddenly when he stepped out of the shadows on the porch and grabbed Harry’s arm. “A moment, please?”

Harry nodded, and a glance to Hermione left her smiling as she led the children inside the house to their tasks.

Once alone, Ron replied calmly. “I misjudged you and your wife. I’m sorry.”

Harry shook his head, “No, there’s no reason to apologize. Things in all the realities we experienced are skewed,” he said with a smile. “We’ve been mates for years, and I’m sorry you and the Harry from this world fell out of friendship. He’s a good man, but he’s lost his way. I was fortunate to have friends around me that believed in me even when I stopped believing in myself.”

“We, Hermione and I, believed in our Harry, but after Dumbledore was murdered by Snape, he gave up on us. Even though we agreed to work with him, he went out on his own that summer. He was really never the same since,” Ron replied.

“The best recommendation I can give is for you to stay with him, he still needs you both now more then before. He needs you as much as I need Hermione and Ron from my world. Try to forgive Hermione, she loves you both and she made a mistake,” Harry added. “Now, I believe it’s time to leave.”

Both wizards stood to return to the house, “If you need my help, Harry,” Ron started, but was interrupted.

“No need to say anything. I know, as does my counterpart here, that I don’t even have to ask. But we have to maintain the appearance that we don’t know what’s happened. Can you manage that here?” Harry asked.

Ron nodded, “But what of the others? This is my home, as far as I can determine. But what of the other Hermione and Anna that delivered your children here, and that boy the other ‘me’ brought? They obviously don’t belong here, and they shouldn’t be left here,” Ron argued.

“Good point. Since we only have the one device to control the portal, either they would have to remain here or go with us until this is over. I’ll ask Hermione what her preference is; the boy will have to stay with her,” Harry replied and left the clearing to return to the house.

Ron followed Harry as they joined the others in the house before again leaving for the Ministry and the Department of Mysteries.

Annie and Ben had finished packing, expecting a brief excursion. Ben remained in the room, carefully dissecting a Muggle alarm clock he found in the room. Annie, still restless and uncertain of the truth, left him alone for the sanctity of one of the rooms upstairs Luna had converted to a reading room. The small room’s walls were crowded with various books from both Wizarding and Muggle worlds. One small bookcase was filled with many old and new copies of the Quibbler. Several large winged-back chairs filled the room, creating a cozy and isolated retreat.

She sat in one chair, and mindlessly thumbed through a Muggle book. She hardly noticed soon she was not alone.

“Annie, I need to talk to you,” a familiar woman’s voice said.

“Mum?” Annie looked up and asked.

“No, I’m not your mother, I’m from another reality,” Hermione said and sat next to Annie.

The girl looked slightly puzzled, “I still haven’t worked out which reality is which yet,” she replied forcing a half smile.

“There are things you must know,” Hermione said.

“Mum and Dad already told me everything,” she replied.

Hermione shook her head, and lifted Annie’s chin and looked into her eyes. “There are things your parents haven’t been told, specifically what happened to you recently,” she said softly.

Annie’s eyes widened, “My God, now what?” she asked nervously waiting for bad news.

“How do you feel? Have you been in any pain?” Hermione asked, avoiding the open-ended question.

Annie shook her head at first, but then finally nodded. “I-I have had some pain…down there,” she said hesitantly.

“Sharp pain or dull?” Hermione asked.

“Mostly dull but constant, like I have to pee but can’t. Sometimes I have sharp twinges, but not as bad as when…I was in hospital,” she replied.

Hermione nodded. “The dull is more then likely cramps, I’ve had them myself a number of times, they are normal for a young woman. The occasional sharp pains concern me, you may need more time to fully heal,” she said.

“So, this is normal? When did you get them?” Annie asked.

“When my Harry and I were together, afterwards,” she replied before realizing what she said.

Annie stared at Hermione. Her lip began to twitch. Tears streamed from both eyes. Her hand went to her stomach, and she trembled. “Jerry…raped…me?” she managed to ask.

Hermione’s eyes widened, “No, no, what gave you that idea, he has and still loves you dearly. He tried to protect you but he was powerless,” she said.

“Mum and dad said you…were…when he…” she sighed deeply. “He did things,” she finished.

Hermione’s eyes began to fill, “They told you?” she asked.

Annie nodded. “What happened to you was wrong, how could you still have any feelings for him?” she asked Hermione.

“Because I knew he wasn’t in control. Because I knew what ever else he did, he loved me,” Hermione said. She reached over and wiped Annie’s cheeks.

“So you’re saying that even after what he did, Jerry still loves me?” Annie asked.

“He didn’t do anything to hurt you, he tried to stop it. It was Tom Riddle’s presence in you. Jerry knows you were hurt…” Hermione said.

“Raped? He raped me,” Annie interrupted with sudden anger in her voice Hermione recognized came from Harry.

“No, he did not rape you. I repeat, he did nothing to harm you. When we found you, you had been bleeding. Your injuries were forced by Riddle, not Jerry. Fortunately you were in this condition briefly,” Hermione said to comfort her.

“I don’t understand; if he didn’t hurt me, then who did?” Annie asked.

“ Tom Riddle’s presence forced you to do this to yourself; Jerry is just as much a victim as you are. What you must know is that Jerry’s memory of that night was purged. But understand, if his memory returns he may not be strong enough to cope with his inability to stop what almost happened. He’s not weak, but the power channeled through you was more potent then either of you should ever expect to witness,” Hermione said.

Annie sat in stunned silence and waited for Hermione to continue.

“What happened to you was a physical violation. If anyone were to blame, it would be Tom Riddle’s presence inside you. Annie, I want you to fully understand what happened was more than just an emotional violation. Tom Riddle forced you to harm yourself, which is that sharp pain you still feel. It will take time to undo the effects. Jerry’s love for you is your link to a full recovery. I hope you understand that, and I hope you don’t feel differently about Jerry. He really is good for you. Anna expressed some jealousy that you have someone that cares for you the way he does,” Hermione said.

“What…how did this happen?” she asked, tears of forgotten pain began to streak down her cheek.

“Tom Riddle split his soul into seven fragments; one of those fragments was put into you at birth with the expectation you would become the host for his soul. Only he failed in that endeavor. That fragment of pure evil remained, contained by the good of a powerful wizard. The last possible attempt to resurrect Riddle was for him to be conceived of blood and pain. A magical talisman was needed as a beacon, to the moment of conception,” Hermione said.

Annie shook her head afraid what to ask.

“He forced you to use Jerry’s wand, to draw his blood then your own. The pain you have is from that wound,” Hermione said softly.

Annie blinked the tears from her vision. “Jerry’s wand? I… don’t think I can face him,” Annie mumbled.

“You have to; he is the only one that can help you past this incident. There’s more to love then the physical act. And in time, if you truly love him, you can still share that physical love with him and still have a family. The physical injury was not irreversible, but the emotional damage could be. That boy truly loves you; he has always been by your side, even when no one wanted to be near you, remember that. He’s shown how he feels for you time and time again. You both have the advantage of youth - this will be forgotten, and you’ll live what I hope is a happy life,” Hermione said, while holding Annie’s hand.

“But…” Annie started.

“No ‘buts;’ he’s in as much pain, and I think you need to go to him. And remember you shouldn’t tell him any of this - it’s a woman’s prerogative to maintain a few personal secrets,” Hermione finished and stood to leave.

“Thank you for being honest,” Annie said softly.

“Now, if you feel anything for him, you must tell him, and you need to tell him you will be fine, and that the two of you will be fine. Go,” Hermione commanded, and left the room.

Annie sat for a few moments and promised herself to sort out this issue with Jerry when they were safely home.

The Chamber of Death remained dark and forbidding, its secrets remained safe within the growing number of travelers, most contained within two families, and a hand full of other less authorized wizards. Radulphus surrendered the control talisman to Harry on the other side, and getting the eleven people into the small orifice proved challenging. But, all safely entered the portal and all safely returned home.

The eerie silence of the room echoed the sound of each breath drawn by the eleven.

“How long do you suppose we were in there this time?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Is this finally our home?” a young girl’s voice echoed.

A brilliant light pierced the darkness to revel the group when the main door burst open.

“Potter, Weasley!” a portly man shouted from the door. “The ward triggered exactly as you said they would.”

“When, Simmons?” Harry asked impatiently.

“Two days ago. Two of our men were attacked; one was killed. We thought we could contain him, but he proved too powerful as you predicted,” Auror Simmons replied.

“Sir, was there any identification on the woman that assaulted them?” Radulphus asked.

“We identified her as Bellatrix Lestrange, but our records listed her as deceased more than twenty-five years ago. She didn’t survive long enough to gather any useful intelligence,” Simmons answered.

“Understood, we believe we know how that came about,” Harry replied.

“Uncle, can you ask about mum?” Arty asked, interrupting the official greeting.

“My sister was attacked after we left; Junior Aurors Malfoy came to alert us. Is there any news?” Ron asked.

“We… that is to say, I haven’t any official word. She was taken to St. Mungo’s after the attack, that was nearly a fortnight ago,” Auror Simmons said.

“A fortnight? But by my calculations, we’ve been gone just over a week,” Hermione commented.

“Possibly we were delayed due to the larger number this time?” Harry offered.

She shook her head, “No, we may have been deliberately delayed. Ron, take Arty and the twins to see about their mother. Sirius, you and Remus need to stay and debrief the Aurors with the results of our missions. Harry and I have an overdue appointment,” she ordered.

“Mum? Where should we go?” Ben asked.

“With us; you both are involved in this,” Harry replied. “Simmons, post a guard here to ensure no one else comes through.”

“Yes, sir,” Simmons said as he snapped to attention.

Without another word, the group made a hasty exit from the Chamber. The Apparation point in the Aurors’ offices became the point of departure for the group. Ron and his sister’s family left together first, closely followed by the Potter family.

The first stop for the Potters was home. Harry held his son’s hand and Hermione held Annie as they appeared on the front steps of the cottage.

“Mum, why are we home?” Annie asked.

“First and foremost, we must recover certain items left at home that may be of value, namely the copy of that manuscript you have. We can’t risk others finding it,” Hermione replied.

“Secondly there are specific artifacts we will need,” Harry added. “And from there we’ll be able to use our floo for the next leg of our journey.”

The four entered the home to an unexpected sight: the total destruction of the first floor. Gasps from the two children were not echoed by the parents.

“Come, children, we only have a few minutes,” Hermione stated without emotion.

“Mum, our home…someone…” Annie gasped. The destruction of their home was absolute; nothing remained undisturbed.

“No, a precaution; if it looks like it has been searched, why waste time and search again? We set the house to appear this way when we have to leave for an unknown length of time,” Hermione reassured the two children while Harry went to his study.

The kitchen had the same appearance of disarray as the front of the house. As did the study, but only on the surface. Nothing of value had been disturbed or exposed. He quickly walked directly to the antique roll top desk and opened the tiny drawer that still contained a special key. He removed the key and held the key flat in his hand and concentrated on his desired goal. He then moved across the room and stood at a specific bookcase, and started to look for a specific book.

“Seek,” he commanded and the key floated from his hand to the one volume in the bookcase he had focused on. Quickly he retrieved the book, and turned the pages to a specific passage. Harry closed his eyes and placed his hand on the book and recited the passage in Latin.

“Est is a dagger quod EGO animadverto pro mihi,
tracto obviam meus manus manus? Adveho, permissum mihi clutch thee.
EGO have thee non, atqui EGO animadverto thee etiam.
Professio sententia non, letalis visum, prudens Ut sensus ut ut os?
vel professio sententia tamen A dagger of mens a reproba partum,
Cedo ex estus - gravatus brain?
EGO animadverto thee etiamnunc, in vultus ut palpable
Ut is quod iam EGO duco.”

His hand closed around the jewel encrusted handle, and slowly withdrew the dagger from the tale in the book. He finally released the breath he had subconsciously held; his hand trembled as he held the same dagger that once had been imbedded in his wife’s chest.

“I had hoped all these years I would never see this again,” he muttered under his breath. He replaced the volume titled ‘The Complete Works of William Shakespeare’ and held his hand open. With a single thought, a scabbard appeared in his empty hand.

The same moment he held the dagger, his soul-mate felt a sensation she hadn’t noticed in years. The icy cold tendrils of his fear gripped her stomach. In her youth that sensation had been limited to the scar on her hand; since Annie’s birth, she felt these sensations deeper in her body, but less frequently.

Harry shook off his fear and quickly strode to the far wall where an ancient sword had been carefully hung.

“Don’t be afraid of the sword, Harry; it’s never hurt either of us before,” Hermione said from the doorway.

“I have a feeling it might be useful; it once saved someone else I care about,” he replied and removed the blade from its resting place.

She nodded, “Any word from Ron on her condition?”

“No, and that concerns me. He should be sending word soon,” he replied.

“I realize we have to leave soon, and I have this uneasy feeling about…” she began but stopped her thoughts.

Harry nodded, “I’ve had the same concern ever since we realized who’s been playing us like pawns in a game of chess,” Harry said.

“Darling, it’s nearly midnight . I know I said we have to move quickly, but the children looked exhausted. Ben went to his room and collapsed on his bed,” she continued.

“Then you’re saying we should delay further action until…”

“…Until morning, give us all a night’s rest.” She said completing his thought.

He paused and contemplated the request thoroughly before replying, “I think you may be right, we all could use the rest.”

“Since the urgency is for tomorrow, I’ll send an owl to him to prepare him for our visit,” Hermione added.

“I would wait on that; we need to be certain to Gnome’s motives. We can’t hasten this task,” he said stopping her as she turned to leave

“Then we must ask someone that has first-hand knowledge. The Centaurs are among the oldest magical creatures…” she began.

“True, but we still are not on the best of terms with them, except for Firenze . Let’s visit him in the morning,” he said agreeing.

“Well then, I’ll send him a message to expect us in the morning,” she said and left Harry alone in the study.

Harry waved his hand over Godric Gryffindor’s sword, and carefully put it inside his worn rucksack. The sword fit inside the pack; Harry’s charm reduced the length to prevent puncturing the bag but allowing it to be extracted in its entirety. He carried his bag with him as he too retired to the bed he shared with his wife of twenty-six years.

Harry rolled over in his bed and watched her sleep. Her hair curled around her face as if alive, and also slumbering. This was the moment of complete contentment he felt daily, surpassed only on those mornings their children had crawled into bed with them.

He smiled and watched her. She smiled, obviously having a warm and comfortable dream. He reached over and stroked her cheek. She released a light moan of delight, but remained peacefully asleep.

The time before Annie’s birthday was the last relative peaceful days since the end of the war. He was home, with his family safe. As a benefit, his daughter was now free from the grip of Voldemort. Life would be perfect if only…

Knock… knock…

“Mum, Dad, are you awake?” Annie whispered.

“Come in. Mind your mum; she’s still sleeping,” Harry whispered back.

The girl tip-toed into the room. Harry held up the bedcovers to let her snuggle him. In the years of having a teenaged daughter, Harry had learned the hard way to wear full pyjamas to bed, and Annie had learned the values of asking first. The warmness of her young body next to him felt reassuring to her newfound health.

“I missed this, daddy,” she cooed.

“I have too, sweetie,” Harry replied in a whisper. “It appears a good rest did you a world of good.”

“I had a lot to think about. I hurt a lot of people. People that only wanted to help me. I need to deal with that and make amends. I need to talk to Jerry, and tell him how much he does mean to me,” she said with a sigh.

Harry smiled, “We have a surprise we had planned on saving for a while.”

She rolled over to look him in the face, and half-heartedly smiled, “What?”

“We had a talk with the Headmistress and as a personal favour, you’ll be allowed to finish in Gryffindor House,” he said.

The form on the other side moved, and Harry felt a hand on his side, “Just couldn’t wait to tell her?” Hermione teased.

Annie sat up in the bed, and with her parents also moved into a sitting position and shook her head. “No, it’s not right; I’ve been sorted there and I should finish as a Slytherin.”

“I do hate to admit you’re right, but the fact you’re willing to stay really shows the Gryffindor spirit,” Harry said and hugged his daughter.

“Dad, I’ve been thinking about what Uncle Ron said, that we have to find the original reality and go to the starting point. How will we know which is the ‘original’ reality?” she asked with hesitation.

“We know certain details as fact,” Harry began.

“Right, we know we exist in multiple realities and for those realities where we don’t exist, there’s an explanation; an ancestor had died where he or she hadn’t in our reality. But we have no evidence that Gnome existed in any of the other realities. We can also assume that none of the three from the future had descendants in any but their reality,” Hermione added.

Annie sat and thought hard, “Then there’s a problem in the story, if what you had told us is correct.” She paused and caught her breath before continuing. “Mum, you said once you met ‘him’ in a dream, and he told you he was part of the team that we know went back to capture him. He also said that this Aurellia had a son that turned out to be Godric Gryffindor. That’s not possible.”

“I don’t see the conclusion you’re making,” Hermione started.

“Don’t you see? Godric Gryffindor had to exist in the other realities if Hogwarts were to be built. That is proof that if the single thread theory is true, then what you were told is a lie. We know he has lied to you both to maintain his plan, so he’ll change the facts here to lead us down the wrong path,” Annie said.

“Harry, she’s absolutely right; I have no idea why I didn’t realize that,” Hermione said.

“Outsmarted by your own daughter,” Harry said with a smirk, followed by a well-deserved pillow across the back of his head.

“That’s for your cheek,” Hermione grinned from the other end of the pillow.

“Oy, that’s not fair, she’s the one that…” another pillow silenced his argument, this one wielded by his child.

“He was talking too much, mum, and made such a juicy target at that,” Annie snickered.

“Mummph…” Harry mumbled from under the pillows.

“What was that, dear?” Hermione asked and peaked under the pile.

“I said, I’m out-numbered,” he said as he reached for his wife’s ribs, knowing where she was ticklish.

The laughter drew another Potter into the family bed, evening the odds for Harry. The carefree play continued until the family patriarch called for a truce when each adjourned to their respective rooms to dress for the day.

One by one, they appeared at the breakfast table over a warm cup and toast. Waiting at the window, a lone barn owl paused, but refused to enter until Harry came into the room with Hermione.

“Mum, that owl must be for you and dad.I It wouldn’t come in, even for a bit of fresh meat,” Ben commented.

Harry held out his hand to the bird, and it lighted gently on his arm. A single leg was presented with a scroll.

“It must be Firenze ’s reply,” Hermione commented while Harry untied the note.

“It’s from Charley; he’s called the family together and invited us too. He wants us at the Burrow by ten o’clock ,” Harry read.

“That’s in fifteen minutes. Children hurry along and gather your things, your father and I will be waiting at the Floo,” Hermione commanded, scattering the family.

Once alone, he opened the scroll further, “I couldn’t bear the thought of telling them, it’s about Ginny,” he added allowing his stoic mask to fall.

“Is she better?” Hermione asked hopefully.

Harry shook his head. “They asked us to join them in a memorial for her,” he said softly.

“We have to tell the children; they need to know,” Hermione said.

Harry nodded, “I half prepared myself for this. When Rudy mentioned her condition when we met them, something told me she was already gone,” Harry said.

“Gone, dad? Who’s gone,” Annie asked at the door.

“The note from Charley, it’s for a memorial service for your Aunt Ginny at their family plot,” Hermione replied.

“She died that day we all went into the veil, didn’t she?” Annie asked solemnly.

“Darling, we don’t know the details, but we have to support her family,” Hermione replied. The girl found her way into an impromptu family embrace.

Ben joined the group still in the kitchen; his mood became as solemn as the others.

“Do you think she’ll be next to Uncle Draco?” Annie asked.

“I doubt it. You weren’t well then, but when he passed he was buried in his family plot at Malfoy Cemetery . Aunt Ginny left a spot next to him; Rudy said she wanted to be with him when she…” Ben started to say.

Hermione’s head snapped up with recognition, “Of course, she’d be with him. It’s what she always told me she wanted, and after what you said, about what happened when…when he passed, I expect they’d be buried together there, not at the Burrow,” Hermione rationalized.

“You don’t expect a trap?” Harry asked.

“We can’t rule it out; Ron would have come here and told us in person. He’d never allow this to be handled so coldly,” Hermione said.

“I would suggest we all stay on our guard. It’s time for us to go,” Harry finally said.

“Your father is correct, keep your wands handy. When it’s time to leave, we’ll use the fireplace in the lounge,” Hermione instructed the children. One by one, the four Potters entered the front room and then the floo, arriving at a familiar but now sombre home. Old friends greeted them on the other side of the floo.

“Harry, Hermione, thank you for coming,” Fred said as they entered the house.

“We considered telling you last night, but Ron felt you needed a night’s rest,” George added.

“Where is she?” Hermione asked.

Annie abandoned her family to cross the room where Radulphus and Lucia were talking to Jerry. The conversation was brief, with Annie talking while the others listened. A nod from the twins, and a hand offered led the four to vanish from the room.

“Where she requested, with her husband,” Charley replied on hearing them arrive.

Ben looked about before asking, “Where’s Arty?”

“She’s resting upstairs, she took the news the hardest,” George replied.

“Ben, go keep her company, she shouldn’t be alone,” Hermione ordered, giving the boy a reason to leave the mournful group.

“We will have a brief gathering outside before we go to visit our sister,” Ron said from the hall.

“Ron, you should have notified us when you knew,” Hermione scolded.

“No, you all have been through too much recently, and there was little any of us could have done,” Ron replied.

“Without sounding callous, when did she pass?” Harry asked.

“A few days after you left; she was holding on at St. Mungo’s and they were optimistic. She was left alone by healers to notify us she was awake, when they returned, she was gone,” Charley said.

“So her injuries were not fatal,” Hermione surmised.

“No, that’s what has us concerned; she should have been fine,” Fred said.

“I’ve called for an investigation,” Ron managed to say through his grief.

“What information do we…” Harry began to ask.

“HELP, MUMMY!” the shrill scream from upstairs changed the conversation to action.

“That was Ben,” Hermione said breathlessly.

Without another word, the congregation rushed the stairs. First up was Harry, followed by his two best friends. He didn’t hesitate as the door gave way to his touch only to find Ben lying in the centre of the floor, the recently occupied bed now empty.

“Arty!” Ron shouted, hoping to find her hiding.

Hermione was first to her son and rolled him over. His cold lifeless eyes echoed their worst fear.

“Nooo…” Hermione Potter shrieked, as the boy’s sister entered the room.

“Mum, wait…” Annie began, but before she could take another step, her father held her.

“Don’t go in,” he pleaded and pulled his daughter from the room.

“Daddy?” she asked and stared into his swollen eyes.

“He killed my baby,” Hermione screamed.

“Hermione, who?” Luna asked and stared at the mother cradling her dead child.

Ron held his wife and pulled her to face him away from the scene, “We only recently discovered what’s happened, and who’s behind it all…”

“Who the bloody hell did this?” Luna demanded.

---

Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
Macbeth (2.1.33-61)

“We’ve been following a wizard we believe is responsible for Dumbledore’s death, and the attack here ,” Ron whispered to Luna hoarsely. They remained in the hall, watching as Hermione held the lifeless form of her son.

Luna stared at him blankly, unable to comprehend the meaning; Hermione sobbed softly into her son’s shoulder, she was fully engulfed in her newfound grief.

“This wizard is a time shifter; he controls time as easily as we breathe,” Ron added.

“Do you know who he is?” Luna asked.

“Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, must have come here from another reality. He’s working with him,” Harry said with contempt, ignoring Luna’s question.

“Yes, Harry discovered his identity recently; I still find it difficult to believe he’s the one doing this,” Ron replied.

Annie leaned up to her father’s ear and whispered, “Dad, Ben isn’t dead.”

Her message was as powerful as a stunning spell, evident from Harry’s vacant stare.

“Daddy, please listen, that’s what I’m trying to tell you, that’s not Ben. I know where he and Arty are hiding,” she whispered again.

“What?” he said, his face went from grief to shock, his mood also shifted quickly, sending an equally confusing message to his wife, forcing her to look at Harry.

“How?” he asked.

“Shhh, we have to let everyone believe that’s Ben. That manuscript I have, the one like yours, I used one of the spells I found in it,” she said.

Harry shook his head in obvious confusion. “Your mother has read them all, and had difficulty with those.”

“There were several interesting ones for transfigurations; I used one to turn a live mouse into a living copy of Ben, and gave it a sleeping draught. That ‘thing’ in there is dead, but it’s not Ben. I did the same thing with Arty. They are both safe with Rudy and Lucy,” she whispered.

Harry grabbed his daughter in a tight hug; she felt his relief as he held her.

“Daddy, stop. I dreamed this once; a long time ago… there was… a man with long blond hair. He was hurting a boy like Ben. But the boy didn’t die. It was another boy, younger than Ben, and…” she paused.

“You’re a clever little witch. Just as good, if not better then your mum at transfigurations,” he whispered interrupting her.

“This won’t give us much time; the copies of Ben and Arty won’t last long, maybe another half hour. I’m surprised they fooled anyone this long,” Annie said.

“Where are the others?” Harry asked her.

“I… can’t tell you, you’ll have to trust me. We need to leave as soon as possible if this is to work. I expected that Gnome fellow to show up soon; I really don’t trust him,” she said. She finally managed to push her father off, and grabbed her mother’s arm pulling her from the body.

“We can’t…” Hermione protested reaching for the lifeless form.

“Mum, please, we have to leave now,” Annie insisted. “Uncle Ron, meet us at the kennel in ten minutes.”

Harry’s brow rose and he nodded with recognition. “Hermione, she’s right, we can’t do anything for the boy; we have to leave now.”

Annie and Harry managed to pull the grieving mother from the room. Annie pointed her wand and her mother’s wand at each other and tapped them together twice. She turned to her confused parents, and together the three vanished with a loud pop.

In the unusually late morning fog on a quiet street in London, three people appeared from the mist. They stepped quickly past number ten and then past number eleven and finally stood in front of an empty patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square.

“She’s quite clever,” Harry commented to a still confused Hermione.

“Come this way, the others should be waiting for us inside,” Annie beamed.

The incomplete family walked up the worn stone steps to stand at the scratched, shabby black door. Harry waved his hand over the silver doorknocker and heard loud, metallic clicks and the clatter of chains from the other side. The door creaked open to reveal an almost totally dark hall.

“Come on,” a voice instructed from just inside the hall.

“Sirius?” Harry asked and peered into to darkness.

”Someone bloody well better tell me what’s happening, or so help me…” Hermione finally snapped.

“Shhh, mum, not here,” Annie replied, closing the door sharply behind them.

“Where’s Ben; where’s my son?” Harry insisted, but was hushed by his Godfather.

“This way, quickly; we’ve made the necessary arrangements. No one will suspect where we’re going,” was all Sirius would say. He led them into the lounge, and straight to the fireplace.

“The floo?” Harry asked, but Sirius shook his head.

“Too easily traced, I’ve set up a portkey, we’ll leave in a moment. If you were followed, the trail should end here,” he replied, and picked up a newspaper from the mantel.

Without another word, the three Potters held a different corner of the newspaper, and waited. The wait was brief, as the four were pulled into a twisting vortex, spinning uncontrollable into a dark void. The sensation of queasiness passed quickly, as they found themselves in a pristine lounge of a small house. The sofa next to them contained three quivering occupants. They stared at the pair standing on either side of them, wand drawn.

“I should have known, Potter,” the rotund man stated first.

“Daddy, t-that’s the girl that attacked us,” a young boy stammered.

“ Dudley?” Harry questioned.

“You swore never to return! We’ve kept our end, even when Aunt Marge passed, Mum and Dad never spoke of you again,” Dudley spit in detest.

Hermione turned to her daughter. “Anna Lily Potter, there’d best be an explanation for all this.”

“I thought about what you and Dad told us, and sent word to Rudy that something might happen. He and Lucy brought Jerry, Ben and Arty here to hide once we were at the Burrow, hoping to leave the illusion that we ran off after Ben was found dead. There just wasn’t time to inform either of you; Aunt Ginny would understand why we had to leave. Rudy told me at the Burrow this morning he arranged with Uncle Sirius to meet first at his house, then he would bring us here,” Annie explained.

“Daddy? Who are these people?” the boy asked Dudley again.

“This is my freakish cousin, and his freakish family,” Dudley hissed.

“Lemme go,” a muffled voice yelled out, and Ben came through the kitchen door into his mother’s waiting arms.

“Ben!” Hermione screamed. “I thought…”

“It was Annie’s idea,” Ben tried to say while being smothered.

“Cousin?” The woman next to Dudley asked; her tone left little doubt Dudley never mentioned an extended family.

“Please don’t blame him, Marjorie; we’re not surprised he’s never mentioned us in the past. My name’s Harry Potter; this is my wife Hermione and our children Annie and Ben,” Harry said briefly to introduce themselves.

Marjorie’s glare left little doubt that Dudley ’s future sleeping arrangements would be confined to the sofa.

“ Dudley ’s never mentioned a cousin before, and of course he’s never mentioned your family. But then it was only a matter of time before distant relatives would be seeking to share his recent inheritance; you do know both his parents met an accident only a month ago,” Marjorie replied and half-heartedly extended a hand.

Hermione lightly shook her hand and replied, “No, we had no idea Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had died, may I offer our condolences?”

“You may, but since you hadn’t been mentioned in the will, don’t expect a shilling from us,” Marjorie smirked.

“Dad, are they like us?” Ben asked.

Harry smiled, and shook his head at his son’s question, “No, but my Uncle managed a fair living. Dudley , the arrangements for this house stand; I don’t expect a thing from you.”

“Bugger this, Harry,” Sirius interrupted. “We have a lot of work to do.”

“You have a cousin and you never mentioned him?” Marjorie hissed at Dudley .

The Potters left the lounge for the now empty kitchen, accompanied by the others, to leave Dudley to his fate. Ben remained at his mother’s side while Annie led the procession. Once safely away from the Muggle side of the family, the conversation resumed once they’d all sat at the table.

“So, we know who we must face, but who can we trust?” Annie began.

“I think only those in this room,” Hermione said.

“What about Gnome? I kinda like the old dwarf,” Ben commented.

“We really don’t know much about him, but he’s proven he is capable of concealing information. No, I don’t believe we can trust him until we know more about him,” Harry said.

“Then the safest first move is to learn what we can about Abraham Kristiansen,” (who?) said.

“We could see what information we can find at the library in Hogwarts and in the Ministry,” Ben offered.

“I doubt there would be any written details about him; he’s covered his tracks quite well,” Hermione replied.

“How about a Time-Turner?” Annie suggested.

“Good thought, but they are restricted and only permit limited travel back in time. To return to his ‘origin’ would be a one-way trip - whoever went back wouldn’t be able to return,” Harry said.

“If not a Time-Turner, then what about that Time-Portkey you mentioned? One of us can use it to travel back and investigate him,” Annie said, beaming at the idea.

“No. It’s far too dangerous. And the price to activate it…there’s bound to be another way to learn what we need,” Harry insisted. The tone of his voice strictly forbid further reference to that device.

“You may not have to, Dad: if what you’ve told me is true, there may be another way to trigger it,” Annie said.

“No, that topic is closed. There’s no way I’ll allow it. I won’t risk any of you,” Harry snapped.

“Daddy, you said it was triggered when two family members of the ‘traveler’ were buried. For argument’s sake, you do have two members of your family sitting in the lounge,” Annie stated.

“Absolutely not; now you’re thinking just like a Slytherin, plotting to kill members of your own family,” Harry snapped. His anger sent sharp pangs through his wife’s stomach.

“Dad, listen. Mum said that it was set to be triggered when she buried two family members. You’ve always assumed they had to be dead. What if to trigger it they just had to be buried?” she said quickly.

“Harry, she may have an idea that might work,” Hermione said while rubbing her stomach.

Harry shook his head, “That means we’ll have to split up. We know from past experience that could be disastrous. No, we have to be together for this to succeed. That means either we go as a family, and ‘enlist’ the aid of Dudley and his family or we all stay behind.”

“There’s another option,” Radulphus offered. “Lucy and I could make that journey. I’m certain our cousins would help if we asked them.”

“No, I don’t want anyone outside this room to be aware of our actions. Ron and the others must believe we left because Ben was killed, and I’m certain they’ll assume we went after his killers,” Harry instructed.

“Harry, we have to split up. Remember that you don’t physically travel back in time:your body stays behind. Someone would have to remain behind,” Hermione said.

“Another point: we can’t stay here, not with those people here. They’d ask too many questions. I suggested using this place to meet and regroup,” Annie commented.

“Well, we could just trust Gnome. You said his home is isolated, no one would look for us there,” Ben added.

“No, we can’t trust him; not until we are certain of his story. There’s no one place safe enough to stay during this ‘journey’,” Harry said.

“You’re correct; there’s no one place we can stay, but what if we kept moving?” Hermione suggested.

“That’s impractical as well. That one time you were gone, I had enough difficulty keeping my head and tending to your physical needs,” Harry replied. “Moving from place to place would be logistically impractical.”

“But that was only if we moved from place to place. What if the place itself moved?” Annie asked enthusiastically.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Hermione agreed.

“Excuse us for being the dense males, but could you enlighten my son and me?” Harry asked.

“Simple, we hire a caravan and travel from location to location while you and mum are in the past. Rudy and Lucy will stay with us in case there are problems. All you have to tell us is what to do and you leave,” Annie answered.

“It’s a plan that could work.I It will let us learn first-hand what happened and how to correct things,” Hermione added.

Harry shook his head lightly, “Ben, we’ve been out smarted. Pity we can’t use that boat we had in the other world, it would be easier to avoid confrontation, and we’d be harder to track for the time we’re gone. We’ll need currency and provisions,” Harry finally answered.

“A pleasure boat might be more comfortable, but with the exception of us, no one else has much experience with them,” Hermione said, rejecting the thought.

“We could contact Jake; there’s a chance he’ll know how to handle a boat,” Harry replied.

“Hmm, Jake and Eileen might be able to help,” she thought out loud. “But, he’s near seventy.”

“We could send Sirius to fetch them, and Jake’s still fit for a Muggle his age. They’ll help in a moment’s notice,” Harry countered.

“I can be at Hogwarts in a moment with your request,” Sirius said in reply to the unasked request.

“We have Muggle money left, Dad. We withdrew quite a bit before we ventured on this path,” Annie said.

“Rudy, if I write you a bank draught, would you be able to cash it in a Muggle bank?” Harry asked.

“Yes, sir. I’ll deal with that immediately,” he said as he stood.

Harry also stood and opened the kitchen door, to retrieve his bag. “Good. I have a withdrawal slip in my rucksack. I believe ten-thousand pounds and fifteen thousand Euros should be enough,” he said with the door slightly open. A muffled groan from the lounge left a slight grin on Harry’s face.

Hermione noticed, and whispered in his ear, “Having a go with your cousin?”

He winked before replying “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, just a feeling,” She said with a grin.

“Mum? Dad? What’s the joke?” Annie asked; a hint of suspicion hung in her voice.

“It’s nothing, just a bit of your grandfather in your father,” Hermione replied, the ring of guilt echoed from her voice, evident she was amused.

“Hate to break this up, but if you want that draught filled today…” Radulphus said with an outstretched hand.

“Right,” Harry said quickly and found a Muggle pen on the counter. A few moments later he handed two slips to the young Auror.

Radulphus nodded and tucked the two slips in his pocket, “Lucy, are you ready?” he asked.

“No, Rudy we need you to handle this alone, Lucy needs to remain and help us prepare,” Harry commanded.

An affirmative nod from the young man hastened his departure followed by Sirius for his assignment.

“Then there’s nothing left but to wait,” Annie said. She stared at the door for a moment, before she continued. “Dad, did I really attack them?” she asked with a nod toward the door.

“That’s the report we have, their memories should have been altered, but obviously that hasn’t happened,” Hermione replied for her husband.

Annie stood and walked to the door. “I should talk to them, and apologize for my actions,” she sighed.

“Unfortunately that will have little affect on that lot, the important point is that we know you were not in control, and even more important you have the good conscience to want to bridge that chasm,” Harry consoled his daughter.

“Darling, while we have time to wait, I think it’s important to show the children why we have decided to sever ties with your family,” Hermione said and stood. She crossed the room to the door where Harry and Annie stood.

“I would rather not leave them sealed,” he replied, shaking his head.

“And it will help bring some closure to you as well. I think this is necessary,” she insisted. “Ben, Annie, come along.”

“Yes, Mum,” the two answered in unison and followed their mother. Annie managed to hook Jerry’s arm on the way. Harry reluctantly followed his family through the kitchen door, he felt as nervous at passing through this entryway as he did the first time he reluctantly passed through the Arch.

Hermione stopped at the door to the cupboard under the stairs. “This is the ‘bedroom’ your father was given when he was a boy, purely out of the kindness of the Dursleys’ hearts,” she said to the children, and tapped the latch with her wand.

“Your mother sealed this room before we were married, and it’s never been opened since,” Harry added.

The door creaked open, allowing the distinctive smell of stale air to escape. Inside remained the thin mat Harry had used as a bed for the first eleven years of his life. Small, broken figures remained on one shelf over his ‘bed’. The children stared at the emptiness and cramped space he was forced to endure.

“You lived in here?” Ben asked in amazement.

“Rubbish, he had a full and unobstructed run of the house,” Dudley squeaked from his vantage point.

“That’s not entirely true, my ‘dear’ cousin,” Harry hissed in anger. A loving hand rested on his shoulder, reminding him to control his temper.

“Well, I didn’t want you bothering my things, I knew you’d break them first chance you got,” Dudley rebutted.

“Right; I was the one that always ruined your things, is that how you remember it?” Harry asked in a commanding tone.

“I’m certain my husband and his family were nothing but kind to you, and…” Marjorie said in a vain attempt to defend Dudley .

“Silence, Muggle,” Harry commanded. The air about him stirred, and his hair began to stand on end.

“Harry, please control your anger. Remember who you are. It’s important we all remember who we are and how we began,” Hermione cooed in her comforting tone.

Harry walked to the sofa; the swirling static of raw energy continued to encircle him. “My dear cousin, I hope you remember my pact, it seems to have stood the test of time. Do not run the risk of losing what you have. You would be best served to temper you family’s brashness,” Harry replied in a slightly calmer tone.

“ Dudley , I’m sick of them holding us hostage, who the bloody hell does he think he is anyway?” Marjorie replied.

“Ah, since I’m certain he has never told you, I am a wizard, and my wife is a witch, as are my children a wizard and witch. I am, in my world, known as an Auror, similar to your law enforcement officers,” Harry replied.

“My Dad’s the best bloody Auror since Mad-Eye Moody,” Ben snapped.

“There’s no such…” Marjorie started before Dudley clamped his rather large and puffy hand over her mouth.

“Quiet, we can’t say that or… or…” Dudley began.

“Or, you will be barred forever from this house. That was Harry’s pact with the Dursleys in exchange for continuing to live in this house, which is legally owned by Harry,” Hermione finished for Dudley .

“She’s right. We all were sworn to secrecy, that’s why I never told you about the lot of them,” Dudley said in hopes of appeasing his wife’s anger.

“I never intended to ever return here, but as it is, my daughter had other plans that may well have involved you more than you can imagine,” Harry said as his anger subsided, the air about him calming and finally settling.

“We’ll take our leave of your ‘hospitality’ soon enough. Once the others return from their errands,” Hermione said hoping to suppress any additional hostility.

“Dad, we could use their help and in return release them from that promise.” Annie suggested to her father.

“No, absolutely not,” Harry started.

Dudley was quick on the offer and spoke up, “Look, Potter, reconsider your stand. If we could help, and in return you could forget us altogether, we’d all stand to come out ahead.”

“This ‘hovel’ is worth that much to you?” Harry asked, being careful not to disclose any details.

“Well, it’s not much, but it is our home,” he replied.

“So this is his house?” Marjorie asked. “You always said we owned it outright from your father.”

“A mere technicality; it is owned outright in the family,” Dudley answered his wife.

“And if he helps you, you’ll deed the house to us? And unlock that room for our use?” She asked.

“No, that’s out of the question. I can’t expect your help in this, we have a plan as it is,” Harry replied, again rejecting them.

“We’ll help in any way possible, in return for an unencumbered deed,” Marjorie offered.

“Dear, you have no idea what you’re saying,” Dudley said without hesitation.

“Dad, let them help. This way we can join you and help you and Mum,” Annie said.

“Absolutely out of the question, it’s far too dangerous for you two. You’ll both remain behind with Sirius, Rudy and Lucy. The moment the others return, we’ll leave and implement the plan,” Harry replied.

“Then Ben and I will have to trigger the device; we have no other choice,” Annie replied.

Harry eyed his cousin and family, and shook his head, “We have to find another way. If he can create a Time-Portkey with a trigger that sophisticated, we should be able to replicate one without a trigger,” Harry rationalized.

“Harry, you don’t think…” Hermione suddenly asked and stopped her thought.

“What?” Annie asked.

“Remember in the Battle in the Ministry in our fifth year? There was a room in the Department of Mysteries. They had various time experiments in progress. You don’t think they may have some device that would serve the same purpose?” Hermione asked.

“Interesting thought, except Time-Turners are designed to only move back in time a short period,” Harry replied.

“Yes, I know. And there’s the issue of returning to our time. The Time-Portkey was unique in that aspect,” Hermione added.

“Mum has a locked room in the mansion, we’ve never been allowed inside. We may find some information there,” Lucia added.

“Then that will be our first destination, once the others return,” Harry said.

Now all they had was time to wait. Hermione took Harry’s hand and faced their children and said, “There’s another locked room I think you should see.”

“No, leave it, there’s nothing in that room,” Harry protested.

“I insist. We promised to hide nothing from the children, and this is still a part of your life,” Hermione insisted and marched up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs she stopped at the first door, one that was unpainted and in need of attention. She pulled her wand from her pocket and pointed it to the door.

“Harry, it you please, we have to open it together,” Hermione reminded him.

Reluctantly, he placed his hand on the door and a pulse of energy surged through the wood. It slowly creaked open to reveal the same dimly lit room he stayed in as a boy growing into a young man. He had spent less time in this room than the cupboard under the stairs, but the memories in this room were stronger.

The small bed on the far wall took up most of the room; the covers had begun to rot, filling the air with a musty odor. The desk and chair were covered in cobwebs and the wardrobe’s doors had fallen from the hinges. The emptiness of the room flooded Harry’s memories, nearly all painful. But the memory of that moment he woke in her arms overshadowed them all.

“I spent six summers in this room, five were miserable. Your mother spent that last summer here with me; it was the best time I spent in this house,” Harry muttered.

“The room is so tiny, where did you keep your things, Dad?” Ben asked.

Harry walked to the desk. “Hedwig’s cage sat here,” he said and picked up a lone feather.

“That was your father’s owl in school; she was a right smart bird. She was faithful to the end,” Hermione told the children, with a comforting hand to Harry’s shoulder.

“What happened to her?” Annie asked.

“Age. She grew too old. Her wings became too weak to support her in flight, and she couldn’t hunt. An old friend cared for her until she died about the time Ben was born,” Harry replied.

Annie walked into the room and stepped on a certain board. The tale-tell creak sparked another old memory. Hermione knelt down to the spot, and carefully pried the plank up. Nothing remained inside the small hiding place, only the remains of webs long abandoned by the spiders that created them.

“This was the only place I could safely hide anything from my Uncle. It was strange he never knew about this loose board even when this was Dudley’s spare room,” Harry said.

“Mum, you said this house protected Dad because Grandmum’s sister lived here, do you think this was part of the spell to keep Dad’s privacy from his Uncle?” Annie asked as she took the plank from her mother.

“I don’t follow,” Hermione began.

“Look at this board; it’s old and withered. The rest of the floor is newer, about the age of the house. It’s possible this was placed here to give Dad a sanctuary for his personal things,” Annie replied.

“Strange how I never noticed, but she’s right. It may be charmed to prevent Muggles from noticing. You’re a clever girl,” Harry said with a grin. Annie handed him the board, and he tossed it to the spot. It made a dull, hollow thud when it hit.

“Now that’s not right,” Hermione said and picked up the board again. She lightly tapped it with her knuckle, but it sounded solid. She tapped it on the floor, and again heard the echo of a hollow plank.

She left it on the floor and stood, and before another word was uttered, she stamped on the plank, splitting it open. Inside, an ancient parchment fell to the floor and crumbled to dust. The only legible word had been ‘Black.’

“Pity, now we have no idea where it came from,” Hermione commented.

“The scroll ancient; how long can unprotected parchment last, Mum?” Ben asked.

“Several hundred years at the very least; some scrolls have lasted more than millennia,” she replied.

“There’s nothing else in this room I care to see again, and I’m certain the others will have returned,” Harry said and turned to leave, followed by his family.

“Harry, we should lock this door again,” Hermione reminded him, causing him to pause in the hall.

“Leave it, there’s nothing for them in there anyway,” he said without turning to look. He resumed his stride to the stairs.

Within the next few minutes, Radulphus and Sirius returned to Number Four Privet Drive from their errands, Eileen and Jake were briefed on the current events and Jake was tasked with hiring adequate transportation. Before another hour had passed, the latest additions to the group left together with a sizable amount of currency to complete their mission.

The massive door to Malfoy Manor stood before them; the three surviving members of the Malfoy family entered the mansion first. Childhood memories of these cold walls having once been those of a warm and welcoming home echoed in the faces of the three siblings.

“Mum’s private study is…” Arty blurted out, but was quickly silenced by her brother’s hand over her mouth.

“Shhh, we have no idea who’s here. The alarm wards have been removed from the door,” Lucia said to Arty and held her. Sirius, Harry and Radulphus quickly assumed a defensive posture, leaving the others safely behind them.

“Lucy, take the children to safety if anything happens to us,” Hermione ordered.

“Lead the way, Rudy, we’ll follow,” Harry whispered. The younger man nodded his reply.

They carefully and silently made their way down the main hall, past the massive ballroom-sized lounge. Ancient tapestries hung from the ceiling covering the walls.

Statues made of British armor stood silent watch at the hall intersections creating perfect places to conceal them as they scanned for evidence of intruders. Radulphus waved the group on as he took the lead. Hermione remained behind with the children, and Lucia guarded against an ambush from the rear.

“Mum’s study is past that door,” Radulphus whispered to Harry and Sirius.

Carefully they stood on either side of the closed door. The distinctive sound of a desk drawer closing spiked their defenses further.

“Someone’s in there,” Sirius whispered.

“Lucy, get the children to safety,” Hermione ordered and went to Harry’s side.

“We’ll go in on three; fire your first spell then duck and cover you eyes. Ready?” Harry held three fingers, then two and one.

Sirius burst the door open; a series of pops sounded as Lucia and the children vanished. Radulphus shot a stunner at his mother’s desk. Harry cast a starburst of light, to blind anyone hiding in the room. Two distinctive thuds from behind the desk and the lack of sound told them the attack succeeded without injury.

“What a surprise: Lucius Malfoy,” Sirius leered at the man on the floor. The unidentified man next to Malfoy moaned from the stun. Hermione pointed her wand at the second man. Ropes sprouted from her wand binding him.

“Who are you working for now?” Harry demanded.

“Potter, I’m not surprised to find you interfering once again,” Malfoy sneered.

Before another word was uttered, Hermione pulled Radulphus aside, “This can’t be good, go find your sister and stay with her.”

“No, I need to…” he started.

“To follow orders. Now go,” Harry ordered. Reluctantly the young Auror complied and slowly backed away. A distinctive pop signaled his departure.

“Now, where’s your new ‘master’?” Harry insisted.

Sirius turned to the door on a premonition, in time to see it swing open. Before he could react, he felt the room began to spin.

“Harr…” he tried to call out.

Harry and Hermione turned to see a figure in the door. Sirius seemed frozen, but translucent. In that split second, Harry made a single motion. His arm encircled his wife as they felt the room spin and dissolve. The floor fell from under their feet as they fell into a familiar void.

He held her with all his might; she wrapped her arms around his arm just to hold on. At first there was no light to see, no sound to hear, only the silent whoosh they felt as they fell.Hours seemed to pass as bits of colors and shapes flooded by them. Indistinguishable images blurred together, but none seemed real. One image of an old woman cuddling with a frail man sped past. Flashes and starbursts blinded them in the darkness. A lifetime later, they once again felt solid ground beneath their feet. Distant lights on the horizon and the light of the moon broke the darkness that now surrounded them.

In the dim light available, they could determine their surroundings were of an ancient pile of rubble, the remains of some large structure. The warm breeze left little doubt they were outside, but the disorientation of their journey yielded no evidence of their current destination.

“Harry?” Hermione cautiously asked.

“I’m here,” he replied, still holding her.

“What happened?”

“I wish I knew. Sirius turned, and I saw someone cast a spell; he vanished and we were hit,” he answered.

“I felt that before, but when?” she muttered.

“It felt like a strange form of Apparation, but none like I remember,” he said finally, releasing his tight grip.

She looked up to the sky, and to the stars. “No, it wasn’t Apparation; I think it may have been time travel, similar to that time I went into the past but different,” she said. She squinted at the stars and pondered not only where they were, but when.

Chapter 27 – Log Date 2561708

“Rudy, why are we here?” Annie demanded Jerry remained at her side, tightly holding her hand.

“Your mum gave us a command to get you all away from the Manor. She felt it was a trap,” Rudy replied.

“Of course it was a trap; we all knew that going in,” Annie hissed.

“Mum and Dad are still there. We have to help them,” Ben insisted.

“No. Dad has told me time and again they are better trained for defense then we’re trained to aid them. All we can do is remain here and wait,” Jerry said.

“Jerry’s right, Annie. Your parents have faced worse and always emerged from the conflict,” Radulphus said.

“We have to do something; maybe contact Gnome?” Ben asked.

“No one knows we are here. This was supposed to be our secondary rendezvous point.”

“Where exactly are we?” Annie asked. She looked around for the first time since arriving seconds earlier. The furnishings were old and worn; wall hangings were strategically placed to hide holes in the walls. Tattered drapes on the windows scarcely covered the frames.

“Remus’s home. He kept the location private. He told us only this morning in case we needed another place to stay,” Radulphus replied.

“We have little choice but to wait for a sign from your parents,” Lucia said.

“We’d do well to make the best of this; they should be here in a few hours,” Radulphus added.

A loud pop startled the group; a tattered wizard fell to the floor. His overcoat, although old and tattered, showed fresh wounds from a recent battle. A crimson line seeped from under his coat, but not a sound escaped from his lips.

“Remus!” Lucia exclaimed, his unexpected appearance startling them all.

Radulphus dropped to the fallen wizard’s side and rolled him to his back. A fresh gash across his face revealed bone and one eye was swollen shut, but the other one was open and fixed into an empty stare. Further examination was unnecessary once the full extent of his injuries was obvious.

“He’s dead,” Radulphus managed to say, quickly covering his body to prevent the children from witnessing the grisly scene.

“No!” Annie shouted, and tried to break free and run to Remus, but she was held fast by Jerry.

“He had to have been wounded as he tried to escape,” Lucia managed to say, having regained her composure. A quick wave of her wand expanded his tattered cloak to cover his remains.

“Annie, he’s gone. No one could have survived being splinched nearly in half,” Radulphus muttered, still staring at the figure before them.

“From the age of this rubble, these ruins must be at least a hundred years old,” Harry observed.

“Do be quiet and let me finish my calculations,” Hermione scolded while maintaining her gaze into the stars.

Harry shook his head and quietly looked at the rubble. The walls were reduced to only a foot above the foundation, but they were obviously not strongly fortified. Built in the mid-nineteenth century, judging from the appearance of the construction. That would add credibility to being transported in space, not time.

“Alright, I have some rough calculations, Harry, but they can’t be correct,” she called to him.

“Right,” he called back and trotted back to her.

“Polaris, the North Star, never moves and is a reasonable point to gauge the relative position of the others, but it’s not in the sky. Sirius, the one Sirius Black was named after, should be over there. None of these stars are where they should be. I estimate we are at least two, maybe three hundred years into the future,” Hermione related.

“I would say closer to seven to ten thousand miles and three days,” Harry replied.

“And how did you arrive at that figure?” She asked, slightly annoyed.

“I found a discarded newspaper, the Sydney Times . We must have been caught in some form of an Apparation spell, just as I tried to shield us,” he answered.

“If we weren’t in such a mess, I’d answer your cheek appropriately. For now, be forewarned; I shan’t let this pass,” Hermione replied with a slight smirk.

“I await your reprisals, milady. But I suggest we find a way home; with luck the children are safely away. Have you any thoughts on our next move?” he asked.

“A series of Apparations across the continents, or we can purchase conventional air fare. And we have to face Abraham straight away,” she replied and pulled her wand to Disapparate. “We need to leave now,” she insisted.

Harry nodded and waved his hand over his form. A single pop split the night air, leaving Hermione standing alone in the rubble.

“Harry!” she screamed, her eyes widening. She waved her wand again, but nothing happened. She closed her eyes to concentrate. ‘Bugger it, you’ve too much on your mind,’ she told herself and focused all her power on a single vision of her home. She repeated her wave and again nothing.

Moments passed, and many attempts later she collapsed from the repeated strain and failures. She stared at her wand in the dark. She raised it up, “Lumos,” she ordered, but only a faint glow flickered from her wand.

“What’s happened to me?” she asked in frustration. A familiar pop near her drew her confused mind from her failure to perform simple magic.

“Hermione? You never came, I waited a moment before I returned,” Harry said, he sat by her side and held her shoulder.

“I-I can’t perform any magic,” she muttered.

“It may be your wand; its possible these ‘trips’ have damaged it,” he said to bolster her spirits.

“No, it’s me. When that other Ron hit me, I couldn’t stop the bleeding. I’ve never needed a wand to heal before. Something’s happened to me,” she said from behind misty eyes.

“Darling, take my hand,” he said. She took his hand in hers; he lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed her palm; the mirror of his scar was still visible. The couple vanished together.

“Two for the next available flight to London , please,” Hermione asked at the ticket counter.

“May I see your passports?” the attendant asked.

Harry reached into his rucksack and removed a pair of notepads. He Transfigured them into proper documentation for the two of them, and handed them to the attendant. She opened both, examined the photos and stamped them for departure.

“Your flight is in two hours. Feel free to wait in the observation lounge on the second floor, in the international flights terminal,” she said with a pasted-on smile.

“A spot of dinner would be settling,” Hermione added as Harry accepted the tickets from the attendant.

“You can use the lift to the right; it will take you directly to the restaurant,” the attendant added.

“Good, thank you,” Harry added and they left for the lift.

Owing to the late hour, the terminal was fairly deserted. A young couple sat in the row of seats facing the windows, one mindlessly reading the same page in his newspaper, while the girl with him watched the aircraft taxi and land.

A small pub across the walkway from the lift remained nearly deserted; two businessmen sat at the bar, each nursing a pint. A waitress sat at a back table. Rows of empty salt and pepper shakers lined the table, and two large containers and a scoop occupied her attention. The barman busied himself with drying the same glass.

Harry pressed the button to call the lift and they waited, both feeling as if many eyes were watching their every move. Only a few moments passed until the lift opened, but that time seemed eternal.

Once the doors opened, they entered the lift and turned to face the door. As it closed, Harry glanced at the few people in the terminal, all eyes seemed fixed on them.

Once the doors closed, Hermione broke the silence. “We’re being watched, Harry. Something’s not right…” She grabbed a strap of the rucksack he was holding.

The lift stopped.

The light dimmed and quickly extinguished.

“Harry?” she called out before the floor vanished and they fell into a familiar void. The darkness engulfed them, blocking all senses. Each held the thin strap of the rucksack to prevent losing each other.

This time, there was nothing. No specks of light in the distance. No scenes flashed before them.

They didn’t even feel the sensation of falling. There was nothing.

Hermione finally managed to feel something solid under her. Murmurs in the background led her to believe there were others. She slowly opened her eyes. The blinding glare of the lights was more painful than the darkness. She tried to rub the sting from her eyes, but her arms were held fast, her legs too were bound.

“Explain yourself, why have you returned?” a distinct voice demanded.

“Returned?” she asked, her mouth was as dry as sand, forcing a roughened voice.

“It’s not her. She had no way of returning,” a woman’s voice offered.

“She and the others knew the risks; they knew they couldn’t return,” a third voice said.

“Who are you?” she asked, her hoarse voice irritating her throat with each word.

“Agent Hoth. Who is that person that returned with you?” the first voice demanded.

“My…” she cleared her throat, “My name is Hermione Potter; that is my husband,” she managed to say in a clearer voice.

“Where are you from?” demanded the second voice.

“Our home in is England , in Godric’s Hollow,” she answered.

“It’s the same story he gave; they appear to be who they claim,” the woman offered her companions.

“It’s possible, she’s nearly twice as old as Aurellia was when they left. She could have assumed this new identity before returning,” yet another voice added.

“That would explain why she is traveling with a non-magical human; they had only the one wand between them,” another commented.

“Aurellia? Aurellia of the House of Hoth?” Hermione asked.

“Agent Hoth, yes. Your resemblance to her initiated this research. She has been… on assignment,” the woman replied.

“Tracking someone in the past?” Hermione asked confidently and then asked, “If it’s not too much trouble, what is the date?”

“The day is 2561708,” was the reply.

“That would be, sometime in the year 2301,” she said working out the calculations in her head.

The mumblings from the inquisitors grew stronger, affording Hermione a moment to think.

“ August 14, 2301 , using the old method; what is the year you are from?” the woman asked, her tone implied the answer was inconsequential.

“2024, July 10 th,” she replied. The bonds that held her loosened, allowing her to sit up. She began to rub her wrists where they were bound.

“Details of your era are not complete. Many of the records were destroyed approximately thirty years from that time. The actions of one person in the year 2056 forced the creation of this Continuum to monitor and preserve the past. We have been ordered by the Council…”

“The Council of Twelve?” Hermione interrupted.

“Yes, the Council of Twelve. So you are aware of all this?” a woman asked.

“Somewhat. We discovered a manuscript with information that detailed this era and included facts pertaining to the Council,” replied Hermione.

“Who is the author of this document?”

“I’m afraid I have nothing left to say, until I can see my husband,” she insisted.

“You can rejoin him once you have satisfied this tribunal of your claims. We have…” the first voice started before he stopped suddenly. Muffled murmurs between the inquisitors had Hermione straining to hear the conversation.

“…test results…”

“…Officer Hoth…”

“…Clearly a security hazard…”

“…you knew them…”

“…genetic match…”

“…possible coincidence…”

“…created a paradox?”

“…I think so, but I can’t be certain…”

“Is there a problem?” she finally asked.

“In a word, yes, we have an issue with your presence. We ran some… tests before bringing you here, you and your accomplice…” the kinder woman’s voice began to relate.

“Husband. He’s my husband,” she said angrily.

“Right, husband,” the woman corrected.

“And what tests?” Hermione demanded.

“She can’t be informed; the directives prohibit that knowledge,” another quickly interrupted.

“The tests show you do not belong in this era,” the woman finished.

“I bloody well could have told you that. I’m an officer of…” Hermione said in her commanding voice.

“…of nothing that exists today. The ‘Ministry’ of yours was no longer necessary. Your ‘elite’ forces were disbanded centuries ago. One man’s influence exposed your world. Now I insist you submit to our questions or we will be forced to restrain you again,” the first, authoritative voice instructed.

“Doesn’t exist?” she repeated more to herself.

“Now, why are you here?” the inquisitor demanded.

“What happened?” she asked softly.

“How did you get here? There’s no means of traveling forward, as you surely must know,” a second voice grilled her.

“Forward?” she repeated, the shock of her predicament had set in. She slumped back to the table she was strapped to only moments before.

“Explain these manuscripts,” a voice demanded, as a pair of worn, leather bound books were tossed on a table nearby.

Hermione shook her head in denial, and raised a hand. Her face stared at her hand, at the mirror of Harry’s scar in her palm. “Harry,” she muttered. “Where’s Harry?”

“Explain your actions and you can see him,” a voice from the darkness offered.

She shook her head and concentrated; she rolled her hand over and pointed her fingers at the dark void where the voices originated.

“If you expect to use magic, you’ll find that quite impossible. Your ‘abilities’ have been neutralized. Your past actions have proven you cannot be trusted,” the first voice said, contempt now stained his tone.

“Neutralized?” she repeated.

“The details should not concern you; these are security precautions we must enforce,” a confident voice said.

She listened to the ramblings and incessant questioning and refused to answer. The only sensation she now noticed was the dull sting in her hand, as if she struck it on a sharp rock. The sting grew stronger, and she began to rub her palm to ease the sting. She failed to notice the multitude of questions fired at her not even waiting for a reply.

“…your mission…”

“How did you…”

“…manuscripts…”

“I…” she began allowing her anger to grow. “…am…She pointed her hand at the darkness once more and identified herself, “…the Lost Witch, and you do not exist!”

A brilliant flash of light erupted in the chamber, and the group of six people at a raised table sat frozen. A light grin spread on her face as she lowered her arm, satisfied with her handiwork.

“You’ll need this; it’s your original one. They must have changed it when we arrived,” a familiar voice said as a thin shaft landed in her lap.

She picked up her wand and the grin widened into a smile, “Harry, how did you find me?” she asked.

“Simple, I got angry and I was able to sense you in pain. All I had to do was follow that sensation to you. They thought I was defenseless and was bound with simple Muggle restraints,” he said as he swept into the room to her side.

“Do you have any idea what’s happened?” she asked.

“Only what I’ve deduced from their questioning. As advanced as they want to appear, all I had to do was let them believe I succumbed to their treatments and they gave up on any further questioning. I hope they learn from that error,” he replied.

“Harry, I have a bad feeling we’re involved in a time paradox. Remember our third year and the problems the time turned caused? And that only involved an hour or so,” she said.

“I’ve thought about it,” he replied, nodding his head.

“They mistook me for one of the three they sent back; that’s why they questioned us. There appears to be some link between us, or more exactly, me and the one named Aurellia Hoth,” she said.

Harry shook his head, “They thought I was a relative too,” he said.

“No, not a relative, they firmly believe I am her,” she corrected.

Harry walked to the frozen group of interrogators, and waved a hand over one. The man coughed when he was released then fell to his knees. Harry maintained an offensive posture, his hand pointed directly at the man’s heart.

“Yes, we did believe she had returned. She knew she could never return to this time, not without returning the convict to his prison. She and her team failed in that assignment.”

“From what we know, she and the others were unable to unite in the past for that task,” Harry related.

“Our information after their departure here is sketchy at best, We had to assume they failed,” he said.

“Failed? They were doomed to failure at the start. You failed to contain him here; the reports we read said he escaped from your cell, from your custody. How did you expect only three people to succeed?” Harry ranted.

“They had the best chance of any of our agents. You must understand we’ve been tracking him for several millennia,” the former interrogator replied.

“We know; we’ve read Sorcath’s journal. He was quite good at documenting his actions,” Hermione said.

Harry released his spell, allowing the man to stand, “We have a plan, but we were hoping to learn more about your escaped prisoner: his weaknesses and strengths,” he said.

“If I may offer a truce, we may be able to work together,” his former captive asked.

“You mentioned a number of details when you were interrogating me. I insist on full disclosure,” Hermione insisted.

“I’m afraid we can not reveal any details about your future, that knowledge may alter our past,” he replied.

“Then tell me about Hoth. Why did you insist I was this Agent Hoth?” Hermione demanded.

He stood and pointed to a wall display. “If I may?” He retrieved an electronic device from a table and pointed it to the screen. Three images appeared; two men and a woman with a strong resemblance to a younger Hermione, twenty years younger.

Hermione turned to the other interrogators who had been watching in forced silence. “Harry, please release this one,” she said pointing to the woman that came closest to defending her.

He waved his hand, the air shimmered and she fell free of her bonds.

“Now, you implied there is a genetic match between Aurellia Hoth and myself. That implies she is my ancestor you created by sending her to the past. That means you and this ‘council’ have violated your own rules,” she dictated as if beginning a history lesson.

The newly released woman stood and brushed her dress straight, hoping to buy time to answer. “Yes, we thought you, or rather, she returned. But based on the DNA sample we took from you, we assumed there was a mutation or alteration in her ancestry,” the woman replied while continually staring at them both.

“Mara is right, the genetic signature from you appeared vastly altered from Agent Hoth. We could only identify a partial match that linked you to her DNA,” the other interrogator added.

“Actually, that is not quite true; Aurellia Hoth has a combination of your DNA and your husband’s DNA; that correlation hasn’t been made yet by my colleagues. She is your descendant, not your ancestor. We believe fourth generation, or your great-great-grand-daughter,” replied Mara. Hermione caught the woman’s stare, but she averted her eyes quickly. In that instant, Hermione imagined she saw something familiar.

Stunned, both Harry and Hermione stood before the two they had released. Harry shook his head, and waved his hand again over the remaining team of interrogators. Again the air shimmered and the remaining three people fell free of their invisible bonds.

“The only detail we knew about Aurellia was the fact that she is the mother of Godric Gryffindor, one of the founders of our school, and he became a key influence on our society. Our history does not reveal much of his past or his family, can you confirm this?” Hermione asked.

The woman nodded and replied to the inquiry, “Your information is inaccurate; she did become involved with a man who hid his true identity from her when they first met. He was from an aristocratic family and assumed she was seeking fame through him since she had no family. But they fell in love with each other and in time she bore a child. That man was Godric Gryffindor many years before he and the others created your school.”

“We lost contact with the team. We have only sketchy details of the later descendants. Godric and Agent Hoth had only one child, a daughter from our reports. She had a son and a grandson. Godric and Aurellia passed away together soon after their grandson was born. Further details of that family vanished when the great-grandson turned twenty-five. He and his father disappeared. That’s all we knew,” the second interrogator added.

“Bugger it all, that means the man I assumed to be my ancestor is really my great-great-great-grand son-in-law?” Harry asked.

“In a word, yes.” The man that first interrogated Hermione replied.

“So, you can see your presence here, and your knowledge of your family’s future has created a paradox,” a secondary interrogator responded.

“We have worked out several details on our own, since we never encountered any reference to Godric’s family in other realities, we can assume the only existed in this timeline. We also can assume that the prisoner existed in only one timeline, and originated from this one,” Harry related.

“Those are accurate facts as far as we know. The portal you used to traverse into other realities was destroyed shortly after–” the woman interrogator started before being stopped by the leader.

“Shortly after your last journey, before additional harm could be done to the delicate fabric of time,” the chief interrogator finished.

“Hopefully we can avoid damaging the timelines any more than they are now,” Hermione said to appease the interrogators.

“We cannot allow that; there’s already extensive damage to your era. The ripples in time have reached us here, even though this facility is protected from any variations so we can monitor and correct any significant changes,” Mara said.

“We have chosen to remain here, permanent residents in this building as the guardians of time. We select those to send back to correct paradoxes very carefully, so they cannot cause additional damage. That is one reason every agent is hand-picked and must volunteer for this service,” the secondary interrogator added.

“The paradox is there, since you have the ability to send ‘agents’ back, you can send us back to the time we left and we can deal with this problem,” Harry said.

“If we don’t return, have you given thought as to what changes our disappearance will cause?” added Hermione.

The four conversed quietly for a few moments, while Harry began collecting several of their possessions left on the table near them.

Hermione watched and noticed an additional folder, nearly three centimeters thick. She walked to that table, under the pretense of helping Harry, and slipped the folder into the rucksack without being seen.

“We’ve come to a preliminary decision. Your plan has merit, but there are minor flaws,” the leader said.

“Your knowledge of the prisoner is incomplete. However, without revealing your immediate future, there is little we can offer. Your premise that only one of the three we sent to track the prisoner was correct. Each of the three had some special relationship with the prisoner’s abilities at some point,” Mara said.

“And, Aurellia’s relationship was…” asked Harry.

“She’s our descendant, or more specifically, mine. Remember I had the Time Turner and the extra knowledge to use it wisely, plus he sent me back in time. That’s what you’re referring to. Each of your people must have had some exposure to time travel, is that correct?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, that has been a criterion for enlistment. And the fact she was your descendant was another. Time is of the utmost importance, if you are to return, you must leave within the hour,” the leader answered.

“One question: if we are unable to find an ancestor of one of your three team members, would we be able to counter the prisoner’s abilities?” Harry asked.

“That is doubtful; they have been prepared for this, and should have passed that knowledge down over the years. We cannot help anymore. If you will please follow our technicians, they can prepare you for the vortex,” the leader replied.

“We will be able to monitor you but we cannot help in any way except recall you here. You cannot reveal any of this conversation to anyone. If you are successful at containing the prisoner, we can send a team to transport him back here. Good luck,” one of the other interrogators added.

Harry and Hermione followed a woman that had entered only a moment before. She wore a stark white jumpsuit and clear glasses. The three exited to a hallway, leaving the group that attempted to hold them alone.

“Sir, you shouldn’t have let them go so easily. You do know at some point they will tell others this,” one of the team said to the obvious leader.

“There’s little they can harm at this point. If they are successful in capturing him, then we send a team back to neutralize them. If they are unsuccessful, then they and all humanity will cease to exist,” he said while gathering his few notes.

The others collected their things, except for one woman who smiled when she noticed her dossier was missing.

“Please wait here, the vortex must be adjusted for the two of you,” the technician said and pointed to a group of chairs in the small waiting area.

“Thank you,” Hermione replied.

“Pardon me, but may we have some water?” Harry asked. The technician nodded and left.

“Water, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“I thought you needed some; you sounded hoarse in there,” he replied.

“Thanks, that’s sweet,” she said. She took his rucksack and sat down, carefully opened the folder, keeping it safely hidden inside the bag.

“Anything to note?” he asked while he examined the surroundings.

“Nothing unusual, we’ll review it all when…” she paused, her breathing deepened and her face drained of emotion.

“We arrive home?” Harry asked, and then turned to look at her.

She looked up at him vacantly. “Something’s going to happen with our daughter,” she said holding back her emotions.

Before either could say another word, a pair of other technicians entered the room and pressed a panel on the wall. Harry snatched his rucksack and gently took Hermione's hand, helping her to her feet. He noticed she was emotionally shaken and had difficulty standing, a detail neither of the technicians noticed.

“If you please, this way,” one technician said and pointed the way through the portal.

“Harry, it…” she started to say.

“Shhh, not now,” he said hushing her.

“It said Annie will die,” she hissed in indistinguishable tones.

“That explains why they only asked about Ben. We’ll discuss this in private,” Harry replied in Parseltongue.

“But, Annie?” she hissed, even in Parseltongue her voice was shaken.

“You see, I told you they were like that bloke from Falleen,” one technician said to the other.

“Here we go, mates. Step inside the lines on the pads and we’ll activate the temporal phase limiter. That’ll get you home,” the other technician said ignoring the other’s comments.

The technician began working the controls on a panel, but nothing appeared to happen. Hermione looked at Harry, still emotionally stirred, but he shook his head slightly. She looked back to the technician at the controls, but he seemed odd. He turned away from the control and began walking backward toward them. He began to speed up, and now began to blur as four figures began walking away from where they stood.

The lights in the room flickered in a strobe effect, as others, moving awkwardly, entered the room and left. Finally the room changed, the walls faded, the scene changed to that of a business office, then to a street. Traffic zoomed past them and as quickly as the traffic appeared, also faded. The street faded into a field and finally into a wooded landscape.

“Where are we?” Hermione managed to ask.

“No idea, but from the looks of things, I would rather like to know when are we,” he replied.

The clear blue sky left little doubt it was day, but no other clues to their current situation were discernable from their surroundings.

“First, before we try anything, we’d best check your powers,” Harry said and took a step back.

“The folder, Harry, it said Annie…” she began.

“No, whatever it said isn’t relevant anymore - we can intervene. Now try a simple spell. Transfigure the rock over there to something,” he commanded.

She shook her head, but still complied and pointed her wand at the rock. She closed her eyes and focused on that rock. It wobbled on the ground momentarily then stopped.

She gritted her teeth, and recited the incantation, “Fera Verto…” while pointing her wand at the rock.

Still nothing.

Appearing drained and exhausted, she dropped her arm, “I can’t…” she mumbled.

Harry put his arm around her and lifted her wand arm again. “Try again,” he said softly. His hand touched her arm while she pointed her wand at the rock, and prepared herself to recite the incantation again.

“Fera Verto…” she commanded, a beam of energy flowed from her wand striking the rock. It erupted into a small footstool before them.

“There’s obviously something wrong; your magic is very weak,” he said, allowing her to collapse into his arms.

“No, your magic transfigured that rock. I’ve lost my abilities,” she mumbled.

“I didn’t do that, but I feel your powers struggle. You need to rest; you’ve had little rest in months. The events in the other realities and dealing with Annie’s illness, plus these trips have taken a toll on both of us,” he said.

“I can’t rest, not until I know both my children are safe, until we are all safe at home,” she argued.

“We can’t return home, not yet. The children should be safe enough where they are,” he said.

She pushed him away, “You don’t care enough about them to make certain they are safe? I always thought they, your own children, were important to you,” she snapped back angrily.

“They ARE important, but you mean far more to me, you are the one I chose to share my life with. You are the one I love above all others. I know given the choice between them or you…” he said and paused.

“You must choose them. If you love me, then ensure their safety first. My life isn’t as relevant. Promise me that, please Harry. If you truly love me, promise me they will come first,” she pleaded forcefully.

“Hermione,” he started and gently held her hands, “I will do everything to keep you all safe, that I can promise.”

She reluctantly nodded her acceptance. “But what of my magic, I’ve lost it. I’ll be a hindrance if it comes to a fight,” she said.

Harry smiled and whispered in her ear, “You still have enough magic to bewitch me.”

She responded with a fist, playfully to his stomach, “That’s cheesy, Potter,” she added with a bit of lift to her voice.

“What you need, what we both need, is time to recover from these past several months. Neither of us has been able to fully rest up from the adventures since Annie’s birthday. A few days at home should help,” he said with a serious tone.

“Rest, yes, but I don’t believe home is terribly safe. Although I would like to stop home if only for a moment,” she replied.

He nodded, and took her hand in his, “Ready?” he asked and they vanished instantly.

Harry sat in his study; several papers and a leather bound journal lay open on his lap. The early morning dawn light wove through the forest on the edge of the estate. He stared at two separate pages, one in the journal he had read from cover to cover numerous times, and the other from a file folder recently acquired.

He flipped through the pages and randomly read passages. One page fell from the book, an apparent insert designed to remain hidden.

“’The Warning of Power’,” Harry recited from the spot where the sheet was hidden.

Harry and Hermione,

Before you become concerned over my well-being, I have enjoyed great health and a fulfilling life here. I have asked my close friend to add this note to his writings, to this journal since I know it will be safe from prying eyes.

Our encounter in Malfoy Manor sent me back in time, approximately eleven hundred years. Remus is dead, as best I can tell. I buried the remains that came with me where his home will be, near the ancient oak on the southeast corner. I planted that tree to mark the spot, and have watched it grow over the years. Hopefully by the time you read this you will be able to ensure his remains are put to rest together.

I encountered a lad that reminded me of you, a young wizard that was in dire need of training. In this age before Hogwarts, the only method of proper training was to become an apprentice to a wizard. He became my apprentice. I shan’t mention his name, but he shared my sentiment of blood purity in the wizard world, being of half Muggle birth himself he too was shunned by the wizarding community here. I, however, was immediately accepted, having given the story of being a fully trained wizard from a far away land. My apprentice swore to build a place where any individual with magical abilities could be trained, an idea he conceived on his own.

That was nearly seventy-five years ago. He had since married an acquaintance of the author of this journal and fathered a daughter. A lovely thing she is. Today is their wedding and I have been offered the honor of presenting the newlyweds.

Age has caught me these past few years. I feel fortunate to have experienced the life I was given. Even my time falsely imprisoned has helped form me to the man I became. I cherished our time together when you were a boy and in later years as much as the time I spent with James.

I am certain you are aware of my friends’ objectives. The only advice they can offer is to heed the Warning of Power; that appears to be the key to this dilemma.

I have always kept you and Hermione in my thoughts and my heart; I hope Annie has fully recovered from her exposure to Riddle. Care for your children and continue to love them as I know you have.

Your godfather and friend,

Padfoot

Harry closed the book and smiled. “He always was a sly old dog.”

Chapter 28 – Family and Fiends

A lone figure walked through the glen. It cast an elongated shadow because the rays from the early morning sun were just cresting the horizon. He leaned heavily on an ancient gnarled cane; his crooked stature appeared less than human as he limped along the path to the front door of the silent cottage. The hunched figure climbed the few steps to the entryway and lightly rapped on the wooden door.

“Pleases to be quiet, the Master and Mistress of the house are still sleeping,” the house elf addressed the visitor.

“Expect me they have, requested my presence they did. Wait in their home I shall,” he replied. His cloak flew from his shoulders to hang from a hook on the wall.

“My Master bids that all his house elves address guests with their proper name. My name is Winky. I have been here with the Master for many years since the day my other Master died. If there is anything you require…” the elf replied respectfully and escorted the wizard to the front lounge.

“Understand their need for rest, difficult their journey has been. When they wake, announce my presence,” the wizard commanded as he handed the elf a small card. He slowly hobbled into the inviting room and found a comfortable leather chair next to the ever present fire. He hardly had time to settle in the chair before voices in the hall revealed he was soon to be joined.

“That will not be necessary, Winky. I’ve been expecting him,” Harry said from the other side of the door, a low murmur from the elf was inaudible to anyone but Harry. He entered the room and greeted his guest. “Abraham, welcome; we’ve planned to meet with you soon.”

“Disturbed you I hope I have not, urgent is this meeting,” Gnome replied.

“I have been up since before dawn. Hermione is still sleeping,” Harry replied at the doorway to the lounge. He wore a dressing robe over the clothes he obviously slept in. His hair appeared more tangled then usual, the streaks of gray twisted in the remaining jet-black hair. He entered the room and offered his hand to the wizard. A bundle of papers in an old journal remained locked under his other arm.

The wizard stood with difficulty to accept his greeting, “Time we have little of. A message I received last night; disturbing it was,” he said. “This message implied a name the writer would not reveal,” Gnome said.

Nodding, Harry hesitated before answering. “You must understand, with recent events we have to be cautious. Until we are certain of our sources and contacts, information cannot be freely distributed.”

The ancient wizard stood silent; he appeared to be hesitant to speak.

“Abraham, we have discovered information about a time-altering wizard that has been interfering with our history and lives, possibly for a millennium or longer. From what we know, he is an escaped criminal from the future where three officers were sent through time to capture him, but they failed that task,” Harry began.

“This I knew; these three unknowingly influenced the world they sought to protect. Stories told to me by my mother I heard in my youth, but specifics I never discovered,” Gnome said.

“We know who they were, but specific details of the legacies they left are unknown. What we have derived is they and their ancestors are unique to this world,” Harry said.

“Hmmm, unique to this world, you say. Ancestor to Mr. Potter I always believed one was. But exist in other worlds you do. Spoils that theory,” Gnome replied.

“No, not exactly an ancestor,” Harry replied. “We assumed at one point you were a descendant of one of them since we have never found evidence of your existence in any of our other ‘travels’. But then again we only discovered your existence recently,” Harry unconsciously patted his bundle under his arm. “We know one of them, Sorcath of Falleen, kept a detailed log of the events prior to and after leaving their time. He was also a Parselmouth and used that language to record the facts of their joint mission,” Harry added.

“Identified the prisoner in the log, he did?” Gnome asked in disbelief.

“Good morning,” they heard from the doorway to the hall. Hermione still wore her bedclothes covered with a conservative dressing robe.

“Good morning, love,” Harry replied as he quickly met her halfway into the room. A chaste ‘good morning’ kiss to the cheek was all she would allow in the presence of company.

“Simple wizard family was mine, except my grandfather. Famous was he,” Gnome said to continue the prior conversation.

“You never mentioned your family before,” Hermione observed.

“Quite right, only a twin brother,” Harry added.

Gnome fell back into the chair, shaking his head. “Truth I hid from you. Brother he was not; my son he was. All other facts true they were,” Gnome muttered.

“Son?” Harry said astounded, “You took your son’s life?”

Gnome nodded, “Yes. He was to marry the next day, but that night he insisted we use this spell to prevent the man I only knew as prisoner number 335525 from harming us. We did not know who he was.”

“Then the Horcrux you said you created from your brother was actually your son?” Hermione asked in disbelief.

“Mislead you I did; brother he was not, my son he was,” Gnome repeated remorsefully.

“Who were your parents?” Harry demanded.

“Mara and Johan Kristensen; my mother’s stories were the reason my son and I experimented,” Gnome replied.

“Mara?” Hermione muttered under her breath, “Where have I heard that name before?”

“My mother was named after my great-grandmother, a family name I understand,” added Gnome.

Harry shook his head, having missed the connection, “So you have no idea who prisoner number 335525 is?”

“Identity I never learned, hidden he remained. Afraid to show himself I assumed,” Gnome added.

“You know about prisoner number 335525, but not who he is?” Hermione asked again.

“Obsession he was for my grandmother and mother. Neither would tell me who he was. ‘Wait until you are of age’ they would say. My grandmother vanished in my fourth year at Hogwarts, mother died soon after,” Gnome replied.

“What was her name, your grandmother?” Hermione asked.

“Gryffindor, she was,” Gnome began.

“No, not her house, what was her name. Maybe we can trace her and her connection to the ‘prisoner’.” Harry insisted.

“Gryffindor, her name was Aurellia Gryffindor,” he replied slightly confused at the interrogation.

“There’s one other detail we need to clarify, why didn’t you tell us you are related to Godric Gryffindor? ” Harry demanded his voice sounded more like that of an angry parent than and Auror.

“Detached I felt from my family, deserve them I do not,” he replied.

“Are you aware of the names of the three agents that were sent to capture prisoner number 335525?” Hermione asked.

Gnome shook his head, “Names were never revealed to me. Assumed my grandmother knew of them well enough to carry on this task,” he replied.

“I should say she did know them, she was one of them,” Harry said sharply.

“Harry, how could he know? We had the journals written in Parseltongue and to my knowledge no one else could interpret the writing except for Riddle or one of Slytherin’s ancestors,” Hermione said critically of Harry’s comment.

“One of the three, she could not have been, peaceful woman she was. I remember her fondly,” Gnome replied, a longing in his voice for those times lingered.

“Describe her, if you can remember her,” Hermione asked.

“Remember her I do, better than remember, drawing I have at my home. But since time is short, describe her I will. She was a handsomely beautiful woman, rugged and suited for life in those times. Braided hair, always she had; long it was, as if she never cut a lock. Deep and warm light brown eyes, and her laugh warmed me as a child. I never doubted grandfather’s reasons for loving her,” Abraham replied softly, as if lost in a memory.

Harry glanced at Hermione and winked. “And her family? We know some about Godric, but nothing of her,” Harry said.

“Orphan she was; she held fast that she had no living family,” Abraham said.

“Convenient, no family. No living family because they didn’t exist yet. She was the type the Continuum would have sought out. From what we know, she was not an orphan, her family…” Harry started.

“Must have been proud of her sacrifice, who ever they were,” Hermione interrupted.

Hermione closed her eyes and focused, hoping Harry would understand. Barely a moment passed when she felt his presence in her mind.

‘We shouldn’t tell him she was related to us, we still don’t have verification of his claims,’ Hermione thought.

‘Right, good catch, I was about to tell him what we know,’ Harry replied in thought.

‘There will be time for that after we’re done,’ she replied in thought.

Both Harry and Hermione stared at Gnome, unsure of their next action. She finally decided some trust was necessary. “We have discovered prisoner number 335525 escaped from a point in our future and returned to a point in time to murder his brother, at one point we assumed that was you. His brother was a famous and great man, and is buried in a grave on Newias Mountain . Newias Mountain is now known as Newhill and is near Carmathen. That wizard was Myrddin Emrys, the wizard we all knew as Merlin. His brother, prisoner number 335525, is Myrddin Wyllt. He had come to both of us at different points in our lives and led us to believe he was helping us,” Hermione said, the momentary pause was largely unnoticed.

“Fits this does, his name was a mystery to me,” Gnome said.

“We believe our information is correct, your grandmother was sent to track Myrddin, and was unsuccessful. Her descendants, the descendants of any of the three, are the only ones capable of capturing and containing Myrddin. That clearly falls to you. We will stand at your side, but ultimately it falls to your abilities,” Harry added.

“The portal is the key,” Hermione commented.

“Yes, the ‘Veiled Arch’ in the Ministry of Magic was designed to contain him. Instead he escaped, and splintered reality, creating this mess we’ve fallen into,” Harry added.

“Understand I do not; the Veil I was warned to avoid by my grandmother before she passed on. ‘The place to hold evil’, she told me. Warned me return from the other side was impossible. Learning of your return from the veil intrigued me, impossible I believed, but possible it was,” Abraham said.

Harry still held the leather bound journal under his arm, along with the file folder from the future. “What do you know of the ‘Warning of Power’?” Harry asked.

“The Warning of Power is a phrase I have not heard in a long time. If I remember, it means there must be a balance between good and evil, one cannot exist without the other. Power itself is neither good nor evil; it is the means that power is used. If power is used for evil purposes, only the purest of power, only one untainted by evil can defeat that evil,” Abraham explained.

“Yes, that is how it was explained to us, but without the balance concept. That makes complete sense,” Hermione said nodding.

“And since you are the sole descendant from the agent named Aurellia Hoth, and she was tasked with the capture of Myrddin, that task now falls to you,” Harry added.

Abraham shook his head, “Defeat him I cannot, pure I am not, but help I will. Another to defeat him you must find,” he said.

“We may not have to, all we need to accomplish is to trap him in a manner he can be contained. That was the original task your grandmother was assigned. The Arch we’ve used to travel between realities was designed to contain him. But obviously something happened and created these links. We know the year this started, and we have some details about what happens, in respect to the team sent to track Myrddin. If we return to the past and assist the team…” Hermione said.

“No, we can’t. We can’t return to the past without creating a larger paradox,” Harry interrupted to remind her of the risks in altering time.

“Harry, you’re right, the alternate realities may be the direct result of the paradox. Each followed history to a certain point and then deviated. Our world - one possible future - may not be the correct one. We have no way to determine that until we know the exact point he changed history,” she added.

“Perhaps if we merge our resources we may stand a chance. If we need to balance between good and evil we’ll need all the help we can find,” Harry said.

“The children are with Rudy and Lucy; we have to find a way to reunite with them, I’ll feel comfortable if I know the kids are safe,” Hermione said, in her assertive tone.

“Help the children could be, but contain him they cannot. Abilities they have yet to develop, other descendants from Wolfgat and Sorcath we must find. I cannot help, I cannot change my transgressions,” Abraham said.

“You may not have to, we may know of others that can assist, but I must call the children,” Hermione said. She removed her wand from her housecoat pocket and thought carefully before replacing it. She picked up a thin metallic plate and appeared to press it before she turned and left the room.

“Unusual signaling device, is it a Protean Charm?” Abraham asked.

“No, it’s a Motorola mobile,” Harry replied.

Hermione had left for the hall for a semi-private conversation. “… Yes… hire a muggle auto… No, do not Apparate home… No, do not use any magic of any kind… Right, if you have any problem, listen to Lucy or Rudy, they have our full confidence. See you both in a few hours, I love you Annie,” Hermione finished and pressed the off button on the mobile telephone.

“Harry, the kids will be here in a couple hours. I’m in need of a shower,” she called back into the hall before disappearing up the stairs.

“Weakened are her abilities, rest she needs,” Abraham commented.

Harry nodded, “We both need to rest, neither of us have adequate reserves,” he replied.

“A full lunar cycle she requires, here where she feels safest,” Abraham added.

Harry looked at his guest with renewed curiosity. “You’ve studied her personal magical abilities?”

“No, simple deductions; witches typically require more time than wizards. The more magical powers they have expended, the more time needed to rejuvenate. I have, however, a complete magical exhaustion witnessed I have. Careful you must be to retain some abilities. You both have been through much these past weeks without rest, similar symptoms you both have. Has she had difficulty performing simple charms?” Gnome asked.

“Some, most recently she was unable to apparate here. What I’ve noticed, is that as weak as she seems, simple contact between us has helped,” Harry replied.

Gnome smiled, and nodded. “Close your two are, closer than husband and wife. Such a bond is rare,” he said.

“We’ve been together a very long time, we’ve been through many trying times together,” Harry replied.

“This you both will survive, strong are you when together. But be aware if drained all your power you have, difficult or impossible to regain your power it will be. Many I have watched fall in conflict because of this, safer for her to remain here to rest, a fortnight at least. Her instinct to avoid further drain is good,” Abraham added.

“We both have been trained by the Ministry, and her training continued into both magical and Muggle medicine. We both are aware of the risks of Magical Depletion,” Harry said.

“Good, good. Further counsel I cannot offer. I must return to my home…“ Abraham began but was abruptly cut off.

“No, you will remain here. For the safety of all concerned, and I feel there is still much to discuss,” Harry insisted.

“I cannot stay, I cannot face Myrddin,” Abraham insisted, and raised his arm in a threatening gesture.

Harry’s posture quickly changed to offense. He quickly waved his hand over his guest, the air surrounding Abraham shimmered and the elder wizard froze where he stood. “I have far more to risk to allow you to leave now,” Harry said, a note of apology in his voice.

Abraham struggled to escape the invisible bonds for only a moment, before resigning to remain as a guest of the Potters.

Harry added, “If there is anything you require, I will have it brought from your home under Azkaban Prison. If she needs a fortnight, then that will be how long we will remain within these grounds. In the interim, I must ask you to refrain from disclosing any information to my children; they are not your responsibility.”

“Honor your instructions, I will. But imprison me here you cannot,” Abraham insisted.

“Don’t consider this an imprisonment; you’ve isolated yourself far too long. There’s much we can all learn from each other. You have free run of the grounds, but be warned, we’ll be notified immediately if you leave the estate,” Harry commanded, as if he were instructing his children on house rules.

Abraham tried to rebut the order, but Harry simply waved his hand once more releasing the elder wizard. “Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I should also prepare for the day,” Harry said before leaving the wizard alone in the main lounge.

Once in their bedroom, he closed the door, and laid the documents he still carried on the end table next to the bed. Hermione had just stepped from the shower and had wrapped one towel around her body and another around her hair; she joined him in the bedroom.

“I convinced him to stay,” Harry said to open the conversation.

“How did he take the news?” she asked.

“About as well as we expected, I told him he cannot leave the grounds. The ward we left that notifies us if one of the kids tried to leave without permission should work on him as well, if the information they gave us is accurate,” Harry said while he unwrapped her hair. He gently rubbed the long strands of her hair with the towel, a move she recognized as an attempt for a different kind of interaction.

“Later, darling. The children will be here in a few hours and there’s much to do,” she said in a soft voice, left a fresh imprint of her lips on his cheek and disappeared into her dressing room.

Now alone, and holding a damp towel, Harry crossed to the small shower room where she had recently been. The mirror on the wall still moist with steam, a fresh towel was carefully placed on the counter next to the shower stall. A thin slip of paper lay on top of the towel with an equally fresh imprint to match the one she left on his cheek.

Harry released a deep sigh, unaware he had been holding his breath, and promptly turned on the cold faucet.

---

The first week of the enforced holiday at home proved to be the most stressful. The houseguest continued to be ill at ease when interfacing with the Potter family. The two youngest members also needed time to adjust to the recent events. Annie most of all suffered from disturbing dreams, and remained hesitant to renew her budding relationship with Jerry. Ben’s adventure, although less stressful, proved as difficult to put into the past.

Jerry, his parents, and the surviving Malfoys also stayed in a nearby cottage in the small village, to remain in contact without undue magical use. The idea was to hide their strength should that be a means to trace them.

Annie had one issue she was determined to resolve. The time she spent waiting for her parents to return solidified her feelings for Jerry. But even though he was there to help, he still remained distant.

The second week of this forced isolation proved to be a sunny summer’s day. More than a week had passed since Annie’s recovery. And even more time had passed since the couple had been left alone. The warmth of the day coaxed one girl from the house to a small, well-manicured spot. She walked through the garden on the side of the cottage, and wandered down a familiar path with a purpose. The nearby stream added to the charm and tranquility of the small fenced area. A well-worn bench near the edge of the enchanted site was the calming place she sought.

Annie had spent many long, lonely hours here in those years she misunderstood her mother’s youthful mistakes. Though she never met those that remained here, she felt she knew them well. In her hand she held a lily and a rose; she stared at the memorial markers before her. Out of habit, she rubbed a phantom pain from her stomach, a pain that still haunted her.

“Hi Gram, a lot has happened in the past weeks. I’m much better now, my ‘illness’ has been cured, but there is so much I still have to correct myself. Dad told me I could go to Gryffindor next year, but I need to finish where I am, even if no on thinks I belong there, I can’t face him yet,” she said to one grave.

The names were as familiar to her as her own, Alexander and Alycia Granger to one side, James and Lily Potter on the other. A smaller stone with the name Jason and Janet Potter had been a mystery until the truth was finally revealed.

“Forever in our dreams and in our hearts,” she read from the smaller one. “You would have been almost as old as Rudy and Lucy. I wish I got to know you. There have been times I wished I had a big brother or sister I could talk to,” she said.

“Instead, you were the big sister,” a voice from the fence said.

She turned to see Jerry standing by the gate; the half smile on his face felt comforting and frightening to her at the same time.

“Jerry?” she asked hesitantly.

“If you’d rather be left alone, that’s fine. I thought you might want some company,” he said.

She nodded, and scooted to one side of the bench, leaving a place for him. He walked in and sat on the bench, leaving a respectable gap between them, symbolic of the emotional gap they now had.

“Flowers for you grandparents?” He asked cautiously.

She nodded silently.

“Arty is having a difficult time; she misses her mum,” Jerry said, trying to start a conversation.

“Jerry?” she began hesitantly ignoring his comment.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and wiped her cheek.

“For what? You have nothing to be sorry about,” he said, and placed his hand in the gap between them.

“What happened to us, what happened to you, it was my fault,” she managed without allowing her voice to break.

“Bugger that, your mum’s double said we were attacked,” he replied.

“I caused the attack, it was my fault. I can’t fault you for hating me,” she said softly, her eyes stared at the smallest of the gravestones.

“I don’t hate you, Annie Potter. I still love you,” he said with confidence.

“Why? Why do you love me? I’m not as pretty as other girls, if it wasn’t for my parents being famous…” she said, her voice began to falter.

“If they were normal Muggles, I still would have found you,” he replied, placing his hand on her knee, causing her to flinch.

“Please, don’t…” she started to say but turned away from him without finishing her thoughts.

Undaunted, he held her shoulder, and pulled her back to face him.

“Annie, what do I have to do to convince you we belong together?”

“Leave me; promise you’ll forget me,” she said, her face now streaming with tears.

“That I won’t do. No one knows you better then I do,” he said holding her face in his hands and wiping her cheeks with his thumbs.

“I… can’t…” she mumbled.

“You can’t what? Face the reality that something horrible nearly happened? That you’re afraid to get hurt?” he asked.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” she muttered.

He pointed a finger to her head, “The girl in here had nothing to do with what happened,” he lowered his hand to her chest and pointed at her heart. “The woman wanting to escape from in there did nothing to hurt me. Deny that you feel anything and you deny being alive,” he said firmly.

“How can you want to be with someone that…” she started to ask, but he held a finger to her lips.

“No, you were not in control; after that first time at school, when you left class for hospital on your birthday, Whitby was talking about what happened. Then after you ran off later that night, I realized something was off,” he said.

“Pity? This was all for pity?” she hissed in anger.

“No, not pity, concern; I was worried about you. When I found you by the lake, I was afraid you would do something foolish. I had no idea what was really happening to you. A bit of research led me to believe a Legilimens was trying to control you or you had suffered a poorly cast Imperius,” he said now holding her hand.

She blinked hard to clear her eyes; “You tried to…” she started.

“Yeah, I wanted to help. You were in a bad way. Nearly the entire school noticed, Arty wanted to help by having the party. I had suspicions what was wrong, but meeting that centaur in the forest made me think someone was trying to control you,” he said.

She remained silent, but did not pull her hand away. “Jerry, I…” she began again.

“Shhhh, let’s forget the past. We’ve recovered and that’s all that’s important,” he cooed.

“I… tried to kill you that night,” she muttered.

“I know,” he said. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes for the first time in weeks, through the fog of grief and beyond her tears; he could still see that spark of love.

“How… what do you remember?” she asked hesitantly.

“Enough,” he replied, and gently rubbed a scar on his shoulder. “Enough to never want that wand again; I managed to buy a new one that seems to suit me better,” he said producing a new wand.

She shook her head in confusion.

“I remembered some when I woke in Hospital that morning, they kept you asleep. I feigned sleep while they talked. They discussed what was best for us like we are children,” he said and tightened his hold on her hand. “I knew what almost happened, and I admit I was angry, at you.”

“You knew?” she asked nervously.

“Yes, I did. That anger I felt never really left, even after they tried to clear my memory. I was angry, but unsure why. A few days later, I watched while they put you in some trance, and bits of that night came back. I thought about what you did, and I thought about all the other times you hurt people. I knew it wasn’t you,” he related while refusing to let her retreat.

“After that spell, after you came out, you seemed different. At one point there was a brilliant glow about you that seemed to reach out to me. I felt it touch me at some level, and my anger faded. The next day I found that other version of you, the one from the world we ended in. She was confused and scared but she told me everything that happened, and it cleared all my questions,” he said.

“She… I…” she failed to find the words and let him continue.

“Annie, I loved you before any of this happened, and I still love you. I believe that helped us both survive. I know the dark force implanted in you was to blame for everything you did. I also know, I remember, you did try to stop at one point. That was the pure Annie trying to force through,” he said. He no longer needed to keep a tight grip on her hands; she inched closer to him.

“I only remember bits, but there are things I have been told I did. I would never have imagined I could do any of those evil and horrible things … I had a talk with one of my mum’s doubles before we left that world. She knew what happened, she’s the one that found us before I… before I…” she stuttered and floundered trying to explain. Her chin quivered.

“I’m glad she stopped you, I would rather wait until we are both ready for that,” he said softly, and leaned forward to kiss her. This was their first kiss in nearly two weeks; it was a simple, tender kiss.

“Jerry, there’s no way I can forgive myself. I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am,” she said.

“You’ve already started. Your idea last week saved your brother and Arty, that really shows where your heart is,” Jerry replied.

She remained content to let him hold her a while longer. “Thanks, Jerry, I do love you too. But I… we need some time to recover. The healer told me I had one injury that…”

“Time we have, just forget what the healer said, ok? Now, would you like some help placing those flowers where they belong?” he asked with a hug.

She nodded and smiled. He took the two flowers from her lap to place on the proper graves. She reached into her pocket, and removed another memento.

---

The quiet, tender moment shared between the two had been observed secretly by another. He watched and listened to the two teenagers revealed secrets and resolved an unspoken trauma. A mischievous smirk broke across his face as the moment he waited for had arrived. He stepped through the woods adjacent to the small family plot, and to the fence that encased the two teenagers.

Neither of the teens noticed him, until a polite cough announced his arrival.

“Good morning, I’ve been sent here to aid the Potters, could you direct me to their home?” he asked.

“Certainly, they live…” Jerry began but was quickly cut short.

“Man I inquire to your business with the Potters? They rarely take official callers at home,” Annie asked.

“I’m afraid my business is an official Hogwarts matter regarding their daughter. Do you happen to know her?” he asked.

“Annie, your dad said to report anyone on the grounds,” Jerry whispered to her.

“I’m Annie Potter. I was unaware there was any unresolved business with the school,” Annie replied. She stood and carefully walked to greet the wizard, being careful to maintain her distance.

“Then you are the subject of my search. My name is Arthur Lailoken. I have been asked to fill the vacancy on the faculty left when Professor Malfoy met his unfortunate end. My purpose for seeking you out is to inquire if you wish to remain in the Slytherin House as a Prefect. With your parents’ permission, of course,” the wizard said, extending a hand to Annie.

“Prefect?” she asked suspiciously.

“Of course, your decision to return after the recovery from your illness is commendable. It was the deciding factor for Headmistress McGonagall to offer you this post,” Lailoken replied, a lip curled slightly as he spoke.

Annie stepped back a couple steps, almost to Jerry’s side. “And the Professor sent you, after she was notified of my current status?” she asked.

“Yes, of course. She wanted the offer made in person. I have been appointed Slytherin’s Head of House and wished to meet you myself,” He said.

“Annie, that’s brilliant,” Jerry said and put his hands on her shoulders to congratulate her.

“Jerry, could you go fetch your Uncle Ronald? He may be excited to hear I’ll be in his house as Prefect,” she nervously said to him.

“’Uncle Ronald?’ You mean dad?” he asked correcting her.

“RUN, NOW,” she commanded and pushed him back, but he held her arm sending the pair tumbling to the ground. Her free hand clutched her chest as they fell.

“Pity you seem to be more clever then your mother, she never saw through the guise herself,” Lailoken said. His hand waved over the couple, without uttering a sound. The two teens remained motionless, with the exception of their heartbeat.

“Annie!” a voice called from the distance.

“It seems your parents were prepared for my arrival; shall we adjourn to a more fitting location?” Lailoken asked rhetorically, and with a snap of his fingers the three vanished a moment before Harry ran down the trail to the now vacant burial site.

Chapter 29 – Somewhere in Time

"Annie!" Harry shouted.

"Jerry!" Ron shouted after a momentary pause.

"Annie!" Hermione yelled frantically, remaining stationary near the graves. She held tightly to her son's arm for fear he too would vanish.

Other voices joined in the search through the small forest. In reality, a single person could thoroughly search the area in a few minutes. After several fruitless minutes searching, the group rendezvoused at the small cemetery plot.

"They're both gone; are you certain they haven't run off somewhere?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head, "They both were tracked to this spot; the wards are flawless. Someone else entered the area before they vanished," she replied while consulting a small optical plate.

"Then we have a starting point," Ron said while he walked quickly from the path to the gate, but Hermione stopped him from entering.

"Wait, the images are still strong, as if they are both here," she said. She stepped through the gate and leaned over, at the exact spot where Jerry and Annie fell. Carefully she felt the ground at the indentation in the grass where they fell. She found the object of her search, but the discovery was one she hoped to avoid.

"It's a coin?" Ron asked.

"It's a medallion she charmed into a link to Annie and Ben; they each have one in case we have to find them," Harry replied.

"No," Hermione said shaking her head. "Annie's is on a chain around her neck, and Ben's is in his watch."

Ben looked suspiciously at his wrist to the shiny face on his watch.

"This didn't come from a chain, there isn't a loop," Harry commented after turning the medallion over in his hand.

"Are you certain?" Hermione asked and carefully examined the coin. On the edge she noticed an engraving. "Harry, can you make out these markings?" she asked.

"I-L-U-2-J-W" Harry read out loud.

"Cryptic, possibly some obscure code; we'll need to have the spell breakers at the Ministry examine it," Ron commented.

Ben chuckled before correcting the adults, "It's from Annie to Jerry; it says 'I Love You Too, Jerry Weasley'. She used a code some of the older students at school use to send similar messages to boyfriends or girlfriends."

"So, this was Jerry's? It shows on the same monitor as Annie's," Hermione commented.

"She must have copied her medallion. She told me you had some way to track us, in case something happened. She said she wanted to see him today, that she had a special gift for him," Ben said.

"How far can that disk track them?" Ron asked.

"The range is limited only to the person holding it," Harry replied, and took the disk from Hermione.

The image on the disk widened as the flashing dots started to draw together into the center and another appeared midway to the edge of the screen. The darker dot remained stationary, but the dimmer one moved away rapidly.

"There, Harry, they're moving," Hermione said as she peered over his shoulder.

"How can you tell? There are two dots," Ron asked.

"This is Ben and this medallion, since they are close together, they appear as one," Hermione replied.

"This one is moving," Harry started to say, and rotated the disk. He pressed an indentation on the disk. The image rotated to point in the direction the far blip was traveling.

"North, possibly Scotland ," Ron observed.

"No, not Scotland , but west toward Wales ; or more specifically, Carmarthen . I should have realized he would use someplace he would call home," Hermione said hopefully.

" Wales ?" Ron asked.

"I expect they are in or near Bryn Myrddin, or 'Merlin's Hill', that's where Merlin is alleged to be buried," Hermione added.

"It does fit; there are a number of Medieval and Roman era structures he could mask from view," Harry added.

"We have to get our daughter and Jerry back," Hermione finally said. Her voice betrayed her own confidence more than her facial expression.

"Retrieve her you shall; tempt you he has to his sanctuary," a voice outside the gate cautioned.

"Abraham, you've decided to assist us?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Just as cautiously, the ancient wizard nodded before speaking again. "Help her I feel imperative it is, urgent for your family this is."

"You are right, this is a family problem, but if you are finally willing to help, we could use you," Ron snipped.

"Yes, we do need you; I'm afraid without Harry, my abilities are limited," Hermione replied.

"Stay behind; strong enough to confront him you are not. Time is of the essence, delay further we must not if the children are to be returned," Abraham said with newfound confidence.

"I'll be perfectly fine if I'm with Harry, we are always stronger when we're together. Harry, Abraham is correct, we have little time if we are to find them," Hermione said.

"I've kept a bag ready. They are traveling quickly, but not via Apparation since the mark is still moving. I suggest brooms," Harry said, and noticed Hermione's nervous displeasure at the means of travel. "Ben, you and Arty have to stay here with Rudy and Lucy," Harry commanded to the youngest Potter.

"I don't think brooms would be the fastest solution. Maybe a portkey? I've been to that area before, and can arrange one for an area close to village," Hermione said, hoping to change the mode of transportation.

"She's right, a portkey would be better," Luna said from the outskirts of the graveyard.

"Possibly, yes, a portkey would be more efficient," Harry agreed before turning to his oldest friend. “Ron, can you prepare it? Hermione’s powers aren't strong enough at the moment; she can assist you in choosing the target location."

“Look, Harry, what if I head there alone first, to provide some support incase of an ambush, after I set up the portkey first,” Ron asked.

“No, it’s not safe for us to split up,” Hermione argued.

“Nonsense, I can handle myself,” Ron replied.

“Not against a master of time, he’ll have the advantage,” Harry said, rejecting Ron’s offer.

"Dad, I can help too, I can help mum," Ben said from Hermione's side.

"Yes, I know. But we won't risk you as well. I won’t risk either of you. Now everyone should know their tasks, we leave the moment the portkey is ready," Harry commanded.

The small band disbursed for assigned tasks and to prepare for this latest adventure. Within a few minutes, the portkey was ready; Harry kept watch of the disk to ensure the mark didn’t move. Harry grabbed his trusty rucksack while Hermione retrieved the various manuscripts. The others rallied back at the cottage, ready to leave.

“Are we ready?” Harry finally asked. Time was against them, they all were aware of that fact. The portkey Ron selected was, appropriately, a table clock.

“Ready? I have it set to activate when everyone has hold. Now everyone, on the count of three, two, one,” Ron ordered and counted.

Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Abraham held the clock, and the moment he counted to one, Ron released his grip. The rest swirled and promptly vanished.

“Sorry, mate, but I can’t let you risk your lives,” he said and promptly vanished alone with a pop.

---

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione screamed. The dense forest muffled the sound.

“That git, I ordered him not to go on it alone,” Harry exclaimed.

“…except he still out-ranks you. But I would have expected some common sense from him,” Hermione hissed.

“Where the bloody hell did he send us?” Harry asked after glancing around, still agitated at his old friend.

Hermione held the disk, and focused on the fading dot. “I can’t tell. They must be near, but the dot is faint,” she said.

Abraham took the disk from her, and peered into it. The single dot strengthened, and shifted. Two other dots appeared far from the single dot. “Near, the children are near. Far from this spot Benjamin’s location is shown. Annie is here, across the ravine,” he said pointing south. Before them lay a road, then stream, and to their left another hill stood between them and their destination.

“We should have arrived on that hill; Ron must have altered the portkey,” Hermione stated as calmly as she could, pointing to the nearer hill.

“Then I suggest we’d best get their as quickly as possible,” Harry said, the urgency in his voice left no doubt to the seriousness of Ron’s actions.

The team of three moved as quickly as Abraham’s weak legs could carry him. The first obstacle was the stream. A shallow ford across the water kept them out of view of ‘Merlin’s Hill’ and safely behind the peak they had targeted. The terrain left little additional cover, but also allowed them to cover the distance quickly and silently. An unimproved road aided this journey up the larger hill, to another road that led directly to the ancient ruins of the castle.

“Wait,” Abraham commanded and stared into the disk. The bright dot flickered and faded from view. “Too late we are, another location they must have been taken,” he said, then handed the tracking device to its proper owner.

“Harry, he’s right, they’re gone. Where…”

“Mum, dad, wait,” a young voice called to them.

Harry quickly turned to the sound, ready for any subterfuge.

“Ben?” Hermione called out first.

Ben and Arty ran forward, leaving Radulphus and Lucia a few paces behind them.

“We had to follow you; Uncle Ron didn’t leave with you. Arty listened to mum giving directions on where you were going, so Rudy created a second portkey. We’ve been hiding in the forest on the hill for nearly half an hour,” Ben exclaimed.

“I’m disappointed in your judgment, Lucy, I thought you would have stopped this,” Harry said, his disapproval in this act apparent.

“We had little choice, sir, your son refused to remain behind. He tried to nick a broom to follow you,” Radulphus replied.

“Strength in numbers, help we will need to succeed,” Abraham interceded on Ben’s behalf.

“Then, Rudy, you stay with Ben and Arty until we know more, Lucy you’re with us. Those battlements were the source of the signal before is faded, I’ll inspect it first,” Harry ordered, and removed his invisibility cloak from his pack. The air shimmered around him as he vanished.

“There’s a shed out of view, we’ll wait there until he returns,” Hermione instructed and led the small task force.

Moments passed without a sound or indication of life from the ridge. Hermione felt her palm twinge, a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time. No one noticed as she continued to rub an old scar until Harry returned carrying a large bundle. As he came closer, the bundle was obviously a body covered with his cloak. Harry’s jaw was set with a determination and anger Hermione had seen once before in her life.

Hermione ran to him, dropping her disk. She was afraid of the sight they would find under the cloak.

“He was here, he tried without us,” Harry said mournfully. He carefully set the body on the crisp grass.

Lucy took the intuitive, and pulled the cloak from his face. A look of pure terror remained on Ron’s face. His eyes still wide open, his mouth open as if in mid scream. There was no blood or outward sign of injury; the only evidence was the lifeless body before them.

“He was killed trying to save his son, he never should have gone off,” Harry said as he looked on his friend’s form.

“Cooperation we required, strength together he knew we needed. Vain his act of love for his son was. A valuable lesson to remember, family ties are strong, but real strength is in unity,” Abraham replied as if instructing Ben and Arty.

“Harry, he’s gone, I loved him as much as you, but we must save Annie and Jerry, or his death is meaningless,” Hermione managed to say, hiding her grief.

“I should have expected he would try this,” Harry said still staring at his dead friend.

“Darling, there’s no way you could have stopped him, it was as much my fault. I should have paid attention to him when he recited the Portkey incantation,” she replied, taking Harry’s hand from the cloak that covered Ron.

Harry nodded, knowing Hermione’s act of strength at Ron’s death was only an act.

“Sir, did he leave any clue?” Lucia asked, drawing Harry’s attention from Ron. His only reply was a slight shake of his head.

Abraham stepped forward and said, “The tracking disk I require, may I have it?”

Lucia picked up the discarded tracking disk, it instantly faded to black the instant she held it. She handed it back to Hermione without noting the observation.

“Her medallion stopped working, it’s no use,” Hermione replied and handed the disk to Abraham. The instant he touched it, a blip on the screen glowed until Hermione let it go.

“Interesting, please touch the panel again,” he asked. Once she complied, the dot reappeared.

“May I inquire the source of this magic?” Abraham asked.

“It’s a simple device tuned to our family, so Harry and I could find the children should the need arise,” she replied and stared at the blip.

She released the disk, and the image faded again. This time, Abraham motioned to Harry, who also held the disk.

“Curious this device would function for me; I have no relation to you,” Abraham stated.

“No, it functions when you and Hermione held it,” Harry replied, avoiding having to reveal the truth.

“For me it worked on the trek here, another reason for it to work there must be,” Abraham replied suspiciously.

“There, Annie’s marker is there again,” Hermione said excitedly, pointing to the dot on the disk.

“Love, I was just in the battlement, it was empty except for Ron’s…” Harry stopped before he could say the word.

“No, she’s still there. There’s bound to be another explanation,” Hermione said

“There’s little there, I did try to find them, but there wasn’t a trace,” Harry replied.

“Harry, we’re not thinking clearly, Myrddin’s primary power is time manipulation, suppose they are still there, but in a different time?” she proposed.

“It fits, if he’s as powerful as you reported, and has this mastery; then he’s hidden them there in a different time,” Radulphus added.

“See them you could not, if another time they have been moved. Time changes, the location does not. Time is required to physically move to another place,” Abraham said.

“Abraham, you have a special ability that we understand will help. This may be the time for you to use that ability,” Hermione said excitably.

“Your grandmother had immunity to the time disruptions Myrddin caused. That’s why we believe we were brought together,” Harry added.

“Yes, that’s why you can still see the locator mark when you hold the disk,” Hermione said.

“That is possible, but help retrieve them I cannot,” Abraham said shaking his head.

“You have to try. We’ll manage to shield you when we arrive at the battlement, but you have to try to find them,” Harry ordered.

“Remember we have to be careful and diligent in our approach. Myrddin should be watching, we know he’s in the area,” Hermione added.

“I’ve lost… we’ve lost one good friend today, I won’t lose another,” Harry muttered.

The continued up the hill, to a spot Hermione paused. An ancient stone bore a barely legible inscription. “This is his grave,” Hermione muttered.

“Who’s grave?” Ben asked.

“Myrddin Emrys, Merlin you know him as,” Abraham replied and read the inscription in near perfect Welsh.

“Bedd Ann ap lleian ymnewais fynydd
Iluagor Llew Ymrais
Prif ddewin merddin Embrais.”

Hermione translated his words for the others.

“The grave of the nun's son on Newais Mountain :
Lord of Battle , Llew Embrais,
Chief Magician, Myrddin Emrys”

“This is Merlin’s grave?” Ben asked wide-eyed.

“Yes, this is where we believe he’s hiding, in the battlements,” replied Hermione.

“Abraham, can you detect anything?” Harry asked.

“Mum, did you see that? The ruins on the hill changed!” Ben exclaimed and tried to pull away from Radulphus.

“No, I didn’t; stay back with Rudy,” she insisted.

“Right the boy is, changes in time the ruins hide, Strong he is with this force,” Abraham replied.

The group approached the ruins carefully; there were no signs of any life. Hermione clung to Harry’s side, fulfilling a promise she made.

“Can you detect any anomalies?” Hermione ordered.

“Curious, I can see images depicting multiple scenes all displayed at once,” Abraham replied as he touched the ruins.

Hermione turned to face him with a curious look, “Could you repeat that?”

“Certainly, I said I can see multiple images flashing at one time, it’s a strange montage of sorts,” he replied.

“Mum, he’s right, can’t you see it? I can see the ruins, then an intact building, then a field with trees,” Ben added.

“Yes, that is exactly what I see. I suspect Annie and Jerry are held in the timeframe of the building, however I have no rational idea how to gain access to that moment in time,” Abraham said.

Harry now noticed the change, “Wait a moment, something’s odd, you sound… different,” he said.

“This place, this time vortex has altered his grammar, as if he’s been out of phase himself all this time,” offered Radulphus.

“That’s quite possible, since there’s no history of altered speech patterns in your family’s history,” Hermione commented.

“How would you know of my family’s history,” Abraham asked suspiciously.

“You have said you were related to Gryffindor,” Lucia commented.

“The issue is to gain access to the intact building; we have to freeze the moment when you see it appear,” Radulphus added.

Hermione knelt to her son and asked, “Ben, how often does the building appear, and how long does it last?”

“It lasts only a moment, and I’ve seen it twice since we’ve been here,” he replied,

“His ability is underdeveloped; he should be able to fully use this power with age. The building does flash by for only a moment, but I’ve observed it multiple times. Curious he and I are the only ones that can detect this,” Abraham said.

“Not that unusual; Hermione has had past exposure to time anomalies, and I personally experienced it once for only a couple hours, so Annie and Ben would have the best chance to inherit this from her,” Harry said.

“Harry’s right, Annie should be able to help, she’s older and potentially has the same ability,” Hermione replied. She left Ben’s side and quickly took Harry’s bag. Within a moment she found the two objects she sought.

“Paper and pen?” Ben inquired while Hermione quickly scribbled a note.

“For your sister, if we can get this in that building, she may be able to help hold the timeline long enough to bridge to it, and possibly she and Jerry can escape,” Hermione said. She folded the note and picked up a small stone. She wrapped the note around the rock and tied it with a bit of string.

“Abraham, can you get this into that building? Possibly through a window?” she asked.

The elder wizard held the bundle, and watched the ruins carefully. He pulled his arm back, hesitated for a moment and checked his throw. He steadied his aim, but dropped his arm and shook his head. “The window is a difficult target; I doubt my aim is satisfactory to find the mark,” he said.

“Give it a try,” Radulphus encouraged.

Abraham raised his arm again, and took careful aim; he waited for the right moment and hurled the stone wrapped with a note at the fallen battlements. All watching held their breath for the few moments it sailed through the air.

But it bounced from an unseen wall, falling to the ground.

“Mum, he just missed the window, I’ll give it a go,” Ben called and took a step toward the stone.

“No, stay where you are, I’ll retrieve it,” Hermione ordered, and walked to the battlements. She reached forward to the stone, and before a word of caution could be raised, she vanished.

“MUM!” Ben cried.

“’Mione!” Harry yelled at the same moment and charged toward the last spot they saw her.

“Stay where you are,” Abraham ordered, forcing Harry to stop where he stood.

“No, Hermione’s in there…” Harry pleaded.

“Remain where you are and she should be safe, this vortex has taken her. We have to identify when she went without further disruptions,” Abraham ordered. He stared into the ruins, straining for a glimpse of her.

“There, mum’s in that one,” Ben called out.

“See her I cannot, changed the scene has not,” Abraham replied.

“No, there… I can see her there, come over here,” Ben called and stepped to the edge of the ruins. Abraham reached for the boy to prevent Ben from falling into the same fate as Hermione.

The moment the ancient wizard stepped toward him, and held the boy, the vision refocused.

“See, there. Mum’s there,” Ben yelled.

“Yes, I can see her now. This is remarkable, it appears we must stand in a specific location to peer into another time reference,” Abraham commented.

“Can you communicate with her?” Harry asked, rushing to their side.

“No, she fades in and out at a frequent rate, unlike that other spot. It’s possible her entering that phase in time has disrupted our ability to see your daughter in the time phase she has been isolated to,” Abraham replied.

“Further, if I’m correct,” Abraham continued, “we may only be able to save one, and not the other. Which should I try to save?”

Harry’s face paled. A blank stare washed over his face at the realization of Abraham’s remark.

---

“Jerry, are you alright?” Annie asked.

“Bloody perfect. What happened?” he snapped.

“I have no idea. What is this place? It looks like the Slytherin dungeons, but different,” she commented and ran her hand along the stone wall.

“These walls look new, the mortar is still fresh. How can this be Slytherin?” Jerry asked.

“This room is a… it looks like a place I use to go to in school when I was having a difficult time, but different. As if it were recreated from memory,” she said.

“Anything is possible at this point. Any idea how long we’ve been here?” Ben asked.

“My watch stopped about the time that man showed up. Who was he?” asked Annie.

“He said his name was Lailoken.”

“I know, but it doesn’t make sense, there’s no one named Lailoken I’ve ever heard of,” Annie replied then paused and thought, her brow wrinkled slightly. She nodded softly and began her thoughts, “There was a tale I read once about a madman who lived in the sixth century; a warrior that watched his men slain around him. But he died in that folklore; he was beaten, stabbed and drowned.”

“What does that have to do with this bloke?”

“Don’t you see? Or haven’t you read the history text yet? He thinks he’s Merlin. Muggle legend tried to explain who Merlin was before he died. One explanation was the tale of Lailoken. He said his first name was Arthur, who was closely connected to many of Merlin’s earliest feats,” she explained.

“There’s nothing of that in fourth year texts,” Jerry said slightly puzzled.

“Bugger, you’re right. That’s in seventh year Muggle studies. I was reading ahead,” she admitted.

“Yeah, just like your mum,” Jerry smiled at his cheek.

Annie’s glare at that comment proved her Granger heritage, “I was only studying an interesting point in our history; I always found it unusual that most references to Merlin vanished after the Arthurian period ended.”

“So this bloke believes he’s Merlin,” Jerry added.

“Not necessarily, most of the Muggle legends led to Merlin’s death at his brother’s hand. Wizard history has him simply vanishing into oblivion,” Annie answered.

Jerry shook his head and paced the confines of the small room, touching the walls that surrounded them. “Whoever this Lailoken bloke is, he’s a decent mason. These walls are quite solid. But can’t we apparate out?”

“No, I’m certain he’s taken that into account, and besides, neither of us has apparated on our own before. And, we have no idea where we are. AND unless you’ve not noticed, he’s taken our wands,” she replied.

Jerry grinned, “Yes, he took two wands, but after that incident when… that incident, and dad took me to Ollivander’s for a new wand, he suggested a second, smaller one I could conceal. I may not be as powerful, but maybe…” he said and produced a pencil from his pocket.

“But that’s a…”

“Pencil,” he said and gently snapped it in half. The core slid freely into his hand to reveal a short thin wand approximately fifteen centimeters long.

“That’s brilliant!” she exclaimed. “Maybe we can force an opening in the wall.”

Jerry pointed the wand to the stone wall, using the small window to gauge his depth . “ Bombarda…” he yelled forcefully. A large chunk of the wall under the window split and fell to the floor.

“Again; one more like that and we should be able to squeeze out,” she said hopefully.

He raised his wand again, “ Bombarda…” he yelled again, this time the wall exploded outward leaving an opening to a field.

“You did it!” she shrieked and threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek.

He unconsciously pulled back, but quickly apologized, “Annie, I really didn’t mean to…”

“I know, after what I did, I’m shocked you can stand to be in the same room,” she said softly.

“I’m really sorry, it’s just… a reflex.”

“Jerry, we both know what happened. It wasn’t me,” she tried to keep from breaking, but a tear fell down her cheek.

He reached to her and gently held her hand. She remained silent and wasn’t able to look him in the eye.

“We need to find our way out of here,” Jerry said softly and wiped her cheek free of her tear. She responded with a simple nod, and allowed him to lead her from the dungeon.

“Jerry… I still don’t understand why,” she whispered.

“I know, maybe it’s still too soon after…” Jerry replied back.

Annie pulled her hand from his and stopped. In that instant, he spun around to face her, assuming a change of heart.

“Jerry, look!” she exclaimed and pointed to a stone wrapped with a sheet of parchment. The edges were faded and worn, giving the sheet an ancient appearance. She carefully picked it up, and untied it from the stone. The string crumbled to dust, letting the parchment crack and split on the folds.

“Who could have left this,” Jerry asked and gently turned a portion of the document over.

A handwriting as familiar as her own greeted the young Potter, “Mum, it’s a message from mum,” she cried.

“It must have been lodged in the stone work, but for how long? Parchment should last a number of years,” Jerry offered.

“Centuries; most parchment should last at least three or four centuries. This looks as if it’s been here nearly a full millennia,” she said. Her analytic nature regained control, leaving the vulnerable girl safely hidden.

Jerry bent over and examined the external wall of their former prison and commented, “These walls seem to have been re-built on the ruins of an older building, see, this line of stone has aged differently.”

“Yes, and that’s how this note was trapped, it must have been lodged in the older ruins, that must be what preserved it all these years,” she replied and carefully pieced the shards of parchment back together.

Annie and Jerry,

We were alerted to your abduction only a few hours ago. We assumed you and Jerry are still together and that was confirmed when we arrived here. Stay where you are and we will attempt to free you. The best we can determine, you are in a parallel time, or possibly shifted to a different time then us.

Try to remain calm; we will get you as soon as we have a plan.

We love you both,

Mum

“They’ve been looking for us, how did they find us here?” Jerry asked.

Annie checked her pockets, and realized how they were traced. “Mum gave Ben and me a special medallion after the experiences in those other worlds. It was to help them find us if something happened. I copied it, and intended to give you, in case something happened to you, they must have found it,” she said.

Jerry sat on one of the larger stone fragments from the wall to reflect, “You made a medallion for me, to be able to track me in case something happened? And now you believe we’re close to a thousand years in the future?”

“I really don’t know where or when we are, all I can derive is that parchment has been hidden for that long,” she added.

An indeterminate silence engulfed them; the reality of their isolation was evident. Annie slumped to a large rock next to Jerry and reflected.

“We need to protect ourselves in case Lailoken comes back, this wand won’t be of much use,” Jerry said, breaking the silence.

“If we could only contact Mum and Dad, maybe we get some help,” she offered. She looked up to him, and reached her hand out. He took her hand without hesitation, and pulled her closer.

“I’m sorry about before,” he said and stoked her hair with his free hand.

“I know. I can’t say I’m sorry enough for what happened, I wish it never happened,” she said and kissed the palm of the hand stroking her hair.

He slipped his hand from her lips to the nape of her neck, his other hand still holding her hand. In unison, they leaned forward and kissed deeply for the first time in weeks. Neither pulled away, neither regretted the act.

“I missed this,” she whispered.

“I did too,” he replied and kissed her forehead, followed by an embrace.

“So, how do we determine where, and when, we are?” Jerry asked.

“Mum wanted us to stay here, but the best chance to get help would be to find a village,” she said.

“The sun’s setting, and we don’t have a broom and we can’t apparate, it looks like we have to walk,” Jerry stood as he spoke and helped Annie to her feet.

Annie felt a tingle run from where he touched her hand, down her back. She smiled at the feeling. She felt his love reach out.

“I do love you, Annie Potter; now let’s see where that road will take us,” Jerry said holding her tight to his side. Together they left the building on the hill to continue their journey into life.

---

“Dad, there’s something different, there’s a hole in the wall,” Ben exclaimed.

“Yes, I can see one too, as if the wall exploded from the inside out, Abraham confirmed. His comment was punctuated by a searing light, a flash as brilliant as the sun itself.

“Hold and identify yourself,” Lucia barked from behind Harry. Another blast echoed through the valley below them.

“I mean no harm,” a worn and nearly forgotten voice called out.

“Toss your wand clear and stand where you can be seen,” Lucia ordered.

“If I give you my wand, I would be totally defenseless, it’s difficult to imagine the mischief an old man could cause,” he replied.

Harry turned to the action behind them, “Watch for you Mum and tell me if you see her,” he commanded his son.

“Ah, Harry. It’s good to see you again. I trust you are well?” the old man asked. He was tall, taller then Harry remembered. The half moon glasses perched on his crooked nose left little doubt to his identity.

“Albus? Albus Dumbledore?” he said is total disbelief.

“One and the same. However not the one of this world; I was saddened to hear I was murdered in this world, but I assume I died for a good cause?” He asked. He looked the same as Harry remembered, only older and sadder. He wore a white glove over his right hand, and favored his left.

Harry stared at his mentor, unable to reply, only nod.

“I remember you,” said Radulphus and lowered his wand. “You use to visit Mum and Dad when we were children.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we haven’t met, who are your parents?” asked Dumbledore.

“Draco and Ginevra Malfoy,” Lucia hissed, refusing to drop her guard.

“So, here they were happy. I’m glad for that. Where I came from your father met a most unfortunate fate, and consequentially neither of you were born. Harry, I was asked to come here by an old friend. He was quite troubled and obviously spent much of his time seeking my help. Am I to understand most of my other selves have met unfortunate fates?” Dumbledore inquired.

Harry cleared his throat, “Yes sir,” he managed to reply.

“Who sent you?” Lucia demanded.

“As I said, an old friend, Firenze . He seemed quite agitated and it took several weeks for him to clear his mind to the point everything made sense,” replied Dumbledore.

“Umm, what happened to me, to us? Ron, Hermione and me?” Harry asked.

“You and Riddle vanished when you confronted him, you managed to destroy his means of escape when you destroyed the last Horcrux. Unfortunately, and this I was unable to foresee, that quest was too heavy a burden on your young shoulders. Hermione tried to help, but you successfully pushed her and Ron away. Ron and Hermione remained close, but she became ill and passed away in child birth, Ron never really recovered from loosing you both,” the ancient reminisced.

“Mum, and Uncle Ron?” Ben asked in disbelief.

“And who might this be?” Albus asked.

“Benjamin Albus Potter, sir,” he replied.

“My son. Hermione and I have… a daughter too. We need your help to save them,” Harry said, nearly begging.

“ Firenze told me there was another entity at work, one I’ve not encountered he said,” said Dumbledore. He ignored Lucia’s threatening gestures and approached father and son. “So you named your son after me, I’m honored and pleased.”

“We tacked Annie and Jerry here. But there’s a time vortex that may collapse at any moment. Hermione also fell into it. Abraham and Ben both have a gift that enables them to peer into this rift,” Harry quickly related.

Albus stared at the older, twisted wizard, and back to the boy. “I see. It seems you two share a family trait, one not shared by your elders,” Dumbledore commented.

Abraham stepped closer, and said, “Understand this I do not, family the boy is not.”

“Family he is, I can see the resemblance, some generations removed, but it is there. I’m surprised no one noticed. You have Harry’s eyes,” Dumbledore said with a grin.

“Possible this cannot be, of this generation he belongs,” Abraham said deigning the implication.

“Possible it is, however, I believe you may have to think in reverse. Harry is your ancestor, not your descendant,” Dumbledore said.

“Please, we can clear this later. Yes we know Aurellia Hoth, your grandmother, is our great-granddaughter. That’s why you felt the connection to us. That’s why we need your help to save your own great-great-great-grandmother. Aurellia gave you that ability with the hope it could save humanity, use that to save your family,” Harry pleaded.

“One I can risk, but collapse the vortex if further disturbed it will,” he said.

“He’s right, Harry. If you disturb this rift further, it will close. I believe he set it for only a one-way journey. But between Ben and Abraham, you should be able to save one,” Albus confirmed.

“Dad, Mum’s alone and weak, Annie has Jerry. Maybe the rift won’t close if we get Mum out,” Ben suggested.

“A problem to resolve; one of your children will be my ancestor, but which?” Deepen the paradox this could cause,” Abraham added.

Harry thought for a moment, and sighed heavily. “Ben, you are Ben’s descendant. It seems my daughter’s fate is inevitable,” Harry finally said remorsefully.

“Dad, how…” Ben began, but was waved off the topic by Harry.

“Then if we’re to save your wife, we have little time to act. Abraham, you and Ben must work together. Ben, you must concentrate on your mother and Abraham, you must focus on the vortex before you both. You must work as one or she will be lost in time with your sister,” Dumbledore instructed.

Ben reluctantly nodded, and faced the spot where Hermione vanished, the rubble of the walls remained less than a meter before them. Abraham stood behind Ben, and both lifted their wands together, and pointed them at the spot she was last seen.

“Concentrate on you mum,” Radulphus coaxed.

“Focus on you task,” Dumbledore repeated.

Without being instructed, both wands touched; the flair of energy that burst from them split the invisible barrier before them. A startled and weary, but very familiar woman sprang from her entrapment, and fell to her knees. Harry sprang to her from the spot several meters away with the agility and speed reminiscent of his Quidditch days.

“Close the breach, or the delicate fabrics of time could be permanently compromised,” Dumbledore shouted.

“Wait!” Harry ordered, “Ben, find your sister.”

“No, there’s no time. Close it or the damage will be irreparable,” Dumbledore commanded.

“Harry, the void… the vortex… Magical Times…” Hermione panted.

Ben closed his eyes to focus on Annie. The rift began to widen.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry yelled flinging the wands from both Ben and Abraham.

“Dad, we could have saved Annie and Jerry,” Ben screamed at his father.

“No, the rift…” Harry started and paused.

“And what? You doomed my sister to a life alone,” Ben screamed.

“No, she is not alone, before the rift closed, I saw her. She and the boy were walking away, arm in arm,” Abraham replied and slowly turned to hold the boy by his shoulders. “She is safe, and free to live her life, for them both to live their lives together. The boy has little left here, his heart and love is there with her, in whatever time they fell into. It is possible one day you will hear of them, or they could hear of you. Your father must have has his reason to force the vortex closed,” he said to calm Ben.

Ben shook his head and said, “No, I can still see the opening, there’s a slight gap.”

“The rift opened and I could see the same force we barely escaped once before. I couldn’t have shielded us from it. It could have consumed us all. I believe that was what we needed to prevent,” Harry managed to say.

“Yes, it was the same entity,” Hermione said.

Abraham slowly turned, his strained movements becoming more pronounced with each passing minute, evident of the effects of the rescue. He stared carefully where the vortex existed and shook his head. “I can’t see a gap, there’s nothing there; it has closed.”

Hermione, too, stared at a now tearful Harry and nodded before saying what he wouldn’t, “Annie?”

Harry replied by retrieving the folder from his rucksack, and opened it to the page that defined her fate. “I couldn’t face this fate for her, I hoped it would give us the time to… It changed, all it says is she vanished,” Harry answered excitably.

“Dad? What…” Ben started, but choked on his question.

“We discovered, from some other source, she would not have lived. That’s how I knew about you and Abraham. This document…” Harry started but wasn’t able to finish his thought.

“When we found it, she had died due to complications from child birth, at the age of fifteen, nearly nine months from now. But now it simply has her missing,” Hermione said after scanning the pages she retrieved from Harry.

“It’s changed, along with some of the other notations, which means the future has been altered,” Harry added.

“Are you quite certain? This could be worse then if nothing was done,” Abraham said as he too reviewed the notes.

“How so?” Radulphus asked from behind the group.

“Harry, he may be right, all this began when Myrddin Wyllt escaped from the future. Listen to Abraham’s speech, it changed when he was near to the vortex, and now since the vortex is gone, his speech has remained perfect,” Hermione said analytically, while clearing the fresh moisture from her cheeks.

“And he can’t detect it; it’s safe to assume he’s lost the ability to help,” Lucia spoke up.

“You may be correct, I do feel different, weak,” Abraham replied, for the first time he noticeably leaned on his walking stick.

“I had to take that chance her fate could be different. There may be a chance if she’s safe that we could still get her,” Harry said and turned to Hermione. He held her hands gently before continuing, “I know your concern was the safety of the children, but a choice had to be made. I couldn’t face my life without you.”

“No, I still feel she would have had a better chance here with you then where ever…” Hermione began.

“Or when ever…” Dumbledore interrupted.

“Or when ever she may be; we may never know what became of her and Jerry. That is a pain I can’t deal with,” Hermione continued. Her voice rang full of disappointment.

“She is a clever girl, much like her mother; I’m certain we’ll hear from her at some point,” Dumbledore finished as a consolation.

“We have to focus on the present, and our current position, and with Uncle Ron’s death, this puts you clearly in charge. We need a sound plan,” Lucia snapped at Harry.

“If I may, it’s clearly obvious he’s abandoned this as his stronghold. The evidence he has limited abilities is quite clear, otherwise he would have continued his advantage while you were off balance. When was the last time he took an offensive?” Dumbledore asked.

“That is a difficult point to track, we haven’t formed a complete pattern of activities yet,” Lucia answered for the group.

“If that is the case, I suggest we adjourn to a ‘safe’ location to determine his weaknesses. I assume you have some indication of his abilities?” Dumbledore inquired.

“We have some, but it would seem others have been withholding vital information. It has cost three lives so far,” Lucia spoke up. She turned from the group, as if she heard something to the side. She took three steps away from the others and stopped unexpectedly.

“It would be best if you remember your position, my young Auror, you may never know who’s listening,” a disembodied voice whispered in her ear. The sudden and unexpected comment touched a reflex, her wand snapped up in a defensive mode, and she turned to the source of the voice.

Lucia stared into an empty space. Her face paled; her blouse suddenly felt warm and moist. She never felt the blow, she never felt the blade pierce her chest, nor did she see the face of her assailant.

Her hand went to the hilt of the jewel-encrusted dagger in her chest, and slowly turned to the others and faced her young sister. Lucia gripped the handle and with the last of her strength, pulled the blade free. Her blood flowed freely from the wound, the dagger slipped silently from her hand to the grass.

Arty’s eyes widened, her jaw slackened, a gasped escaped her lips, but quickly escalated to a full scream.

Radulphus watched as his twin fell to her knees, Arty’s scream was the only sound any of the others heard, it was the last sound Lucia heard before she fell forward.

“Lucy!” Radulphus screamed and dropped to her side to roll her onto her back. Her eyes remained fixed, staring into a distant void.

Hermione joined the young man next to his dying sister and pressed her hands to the woman’s chest. She closed her eyes and focused, mumbled a silent pray. But nothing happened. The surge she expected never came.

“Damn it! Why?” She yelled over the dying Auror.

“She’s gone,” Harry said and put his hands on his wife’s shoulders.

The instant Harry touched her; she felt a faint, but familiar sensation flow through her. Lucia’s chest rose slightly, but not enough for a breath.

“Harry, hold me, she’s responding,” Hermione screamed frantically.

He held her shoulders with both hands, letting Hermione channel through him. Lucia’s eyes blinked shut, and her chest sunk, her last breath escaped her lips.

“It’s no use, I can’t…” Hermione cried, Lucia’s blood continued to flow from the wound, between Hermione’s fingers.

“Mum? Why can’t you bring her back?” Ben asked, his eyes remained locked on the dead woman, but his arms held back a young girl.

“My… abilities are… gone,” Hermione stuttered, Harry pulled her from the warm body into his arms. She looked up to his face, and reached out to stroke his hair from his scar, but she was too weak to raise her arm, and she lapsed into unconsciousness in his arms.

Chapter 30 – Retribution

The sun dipped below the horizon unnoticed. The unlikely group had remained nearly silent; each had the icy cold feeling of despair tormenting their souls. The sparse accommodations of the subterranean dwelling added to the hopelessness shared.

Hermione Potter had been left alone to recover in the small bedchamber; Harry left to console their remaining child. Radulphus held his young sister as they grieved a new, fresh loss. Two ancient wizards, each opposite in appearances, remained in council out of ear-shot of the others, one revealing secrets long since lost to the other.

“According to these documents they had, the facts are clear that the woman you knew as your grandmother was the spouse of Godric Gryffindor, and a direct descendant from Harry and Hermione. These facts are irrefutable based on the abilities you and Benjamin share,” Albus Dumbledore said while still studying the folder. Several manuscripts remained open on the table before them.

“I still find it difficult to comprehend that Aurellia Hoth, came from the future,” Abraham said.

“When Minerva arrives, I would be interested to know how she acquired this book, and knew enough to pass it onto you,” Dumbledore added.

“She should arrive in a moment; I will have to meet her at the entrance to the cavern, or she could get lost,” Abraham replied, and stood with difficulty. He relied on his twisted cane more with each passing hour.

His departure allowed Dumbledore time to review the translations Harry and Hermione had maintained, still attempting to piece together how they landed in the Potter’s position. The wait was brief; the click of a wooden cane on the stone floor accompanied by a set of lighter footsteps announced their arrival. The tall, white-haired wizard stood and smiled widely as he waited.

“Minerva, my dear, it has been a long time,” Dumbledore sang out as he reached for her hand.

“Albus?” she asked puzzled, and stared at him, as if examining him closely. “You can’t be…”

“… from this world, no. I have been told of my… demise… here some fifteen years ago. I can assure you I am who I appear to be. This business the Potters of your world have stumbled on has put into doubt the validity of not just this world, but all worlds. I have come to learn I have not faired well in a good number of them. But to the point, Abraham Kristensen here has informed me that the manuscript that seems to be the key to this adventure came from you by way of a Slytherin with the initials EP,” Dumbledore related in a familiarly firm but sincere tone.

“Eileen Prince, she was a third year when I was a sixth year,” McGonagall answered.

“Prince?” Dumbledore asked slightly surprised.

“I’m certain you would have remembered her, she was Severus Snape’s mother, I believe,” she confirmed.

“Yes, I remember the girl,” he replied quickly.

“I was tasked to retrieve that volume from her and inform her it would be kept safe from misuse. I later delivered it to Abraham to fulfill the instructions,” McGonagall added.

“Who gave you these instructions?” a voice from the door asked. Harry stood just outside the entrance, and had heard enough of the questioning to step in.

“I received a letter written by my grandmother some time before I was born. I was lead to believe she was a seer and didn’t question the request,” she replied to Harry.

“This sounds too convenient, it could have been an event manyfactured by Myrddin,” Harry said defensively and quickly crossed the room.

“Myrddin? That is Merlin’s Welsh name,” she said suddenly.

“Yes, it is, and that is who has been at the heart of this, Myrddin Wyllt. Somehow fate deemed it necessary for your grandmother to intervene and instruct you to recover that manuscript. Personally, I find this too convenient. Please tell us about her,” Dumbledore insisted.

“I never knew her. She and my grandfather died several years before I was born; it was the year my parents met. I thought it strange they never knew me but still trusted me with this task. Mum said they were driven by a purpose to stop a union, but never told anyone more than that,” McGonagall relayed.

“Can you describe them?” Harry asked.

The headmistress shook her head, “No, I never saw a portrait or photograph of them. They seemed equally obsessed to ensure no images of them existed. All they left me was that note and an old tarnished coin. I still carry the coin,” she replied and placed a medallion on the table.

Harry picked it up and rubbed it in his palm. His face paled as he examined the coin. Without saying a word, he retrieved the parchment they used to trace the children to the ruins and held it. A pair of dots appeared, one a short distance from where they were, and the other directly in front of them. Much like the Marauder’s map he acquired as a student, two names appeared under the dots. Ben’s name was on the further dot, and the other read Annie Lily Potter Little.

“What was your grandmother’s name?” Harry demanded.

“Little, Lilith and Gerald Little were my mother’s parents,” McGonagall answered.

Harry stared at his old school teacher, thinking back to all the moments she helped him overcome seemingly mundane problems, how she risked her life in the conflicts with Voldemort. How she always felt like family.

He picked up the letter of instructions; on the envelope he read the words ‘ipsa scientia potestas est’ and made a mental note to translate the phrase. Knowledge is Power

“May I keep these? I may know where they are from,” Harry asked, but resisted the temptation to expose this knowledge.

“Certainly; I also brought along a few other family mementos,” she answered and laid several additional items on the table.

Harry inspected the objects, one he recognized as something he and Ron had discussed. Harry gently picked up the small wand.

“That was my grandpa’s spare, he never went anywhere without it, from what mum said. They all thought he was slightly paranoid, but after the incidents with Voldemort, I began to rethink that impression,” McGonagall answered to Harry’s silent question.

He picked up a small diary, with exceptionally thick parchment pages. He opened the book to a random entry. He was not surprised to see a familiar hand had authored the text. The entries mostly dealt with her feelings for her husband, in an abstract way. He turned a page, and felt the thickness of each sheet.

“Grand-mum kept a detailed diary for years; I have several others in my quarters at the school. Mum also kept with the practice, and that habit stayed in the family,” McGonagall explained.

“I’ll wager her mum kept a journal,” Harry said with a light smile.

“She and my grandfather were orphaned when they were both quite young; they never talked of their families to anyone. Mum was especially curious, researched what she could but never found any additional details of her parents’ families. All we know, or rather assumed, was they both were purebloods from families that had existed for centuries. They both had extraordinary abilities and knowledge of magic,” McGonagall added.

“May I keep these?” Harry asked as he scooped up the remaining objects.

“Certainly, I trust you with them, I know you’ll keep them in good order,” McGonagall said confidently.

Dumbledore watched silently through this exchange, and smiled. “I trust this alleviates some questions in your mind? I would suggest informing Hermione as soon as she awakens, it would put her heartache to rest,” he said softly to Harry.

Harry held the artifacts and left to reunite his family. Ben had remained alone in the hall outside the bedroom, still grieving for his sister.

“Ben,” Harry said firmly, “Come with me, I have some news.”

Ben looked up; his face was still as moist as when Harry left him a few moments earlier. The boy took his father’s hand, feeling a sense of comfort in the physical touch. Silently they joined the boy’s sleeping mother.

Harry gently sat at her side, and stroked her hair. “We told you and your sister what we went through, but what we never really told either of you was how much you all mean to me. Your mother, you, and you sister, you are more important to me then my own life,” Harry said to his son while looking at his wife.

“Then why did you let Annie die?” Ben ranted.

“She didn’t die, I had a…premonition she would be safer with Jerry than here. Your mother, however, was in danger. I had to act without hesitation to save her,” Harry replied softly.

“If Annie’s not dead, then why can’t we retrieve her?” Ben asked harshly.

“She and Jerry were trapped in a different time; I couldn’t risk further damage to our past or future by saving her. They were safe and I have proof they were happy together. I have some information they had married and had a family,” Harry said. His voice seemed to have comforted Hermione; a faint smile shattered the mask of grief that remained in her unconscious state.

“But I still don’t understand, why couldn’t we have saved them when they first went through?” Ben asked.

“Time isn’t a trivial thing to meddle with; the slightest change in the past could have far-reaching effects. Your mother and I learned that first-hand once, when we were Annie’s age. If we tried to bring them back, we could alter what they changed, and that family they raised wouldn’t exist. From what I know, certain future members of her family held important positions in our society; they unknowingly altered our and her past. So there was little we could have done. She had to remain or the paradox we could have created might have changed everything we know,” Harry explained. Hermione stirred, and mumbled Harry’s name.

“Dad? Is mum starting to wake?” Ben asked at her slight movements.

“I don’t know; she is still quite weak. She never should have tried to save Lucy,” Harry replied. He leaned closer to her and gently kissed her forehead.

“I had to,” Hermione mumbled.

“Love? Did you hear us?” Harry asked softly.

“Yes,” she said, and winced before slowly opened her eyes. “But you could stand a shower, darling,” she said and smiled weakly.

“Aye, but I was more concerned for you,” he cooed back.

“Mum, Dad said he’s learned Annie is all right but we can’t get her,” Ben exclaimed.

“Not exactly, I said she was safe. She and Jerry had a good life together in our past. When they had died together…” he tried to explain.

“Died?” Hermione asked and tried to sit up.

“Approximately one hundred-twenty years ago. I recently had a chat with a woman I believe to be their granddaughter; she had a number of Annie’s personal artifacts. One was this,” he said, and produced the medallion.

Hermione recognized it on sight, “Where’s this woman? How can you be certain she’s telling the truth?” She insisted.

“When you learn who she is, you’ll know she’s beyond reproach. She’s in the other room, but it might be best not to let her know this, she isn’t aware we are related to her, and I think for now that is best. It’s possible Dumbledore has known all these years and has kept that a secret,” Harry said.

“But, dad, only the headmistress is here. Whom are you talking about?” Ben asked.

Hermione’s eyes opened sharply with a newfound wave of energy, “Minerva McGonagall? She’s here?” Hermione asked, and hoped he would tell her more.

Harry held her head in his hands as gently as he could and concentrated.

‘Yes, Minerva brought these, and a dairy Annie kept that warrants your keen eye. If you think about Minerva, it makes a lot of sense; she was the one to save the manuscript and gave it to Abraham. We also know Abraham is related to Godric, and now it seems Annie is Minerva’s grandmother,’ Harry thought into Hermione’s mind.

“Minerva?” Hermione said out loud.

“Yes, mum, she’s out in the outer room talking to the others,” Ben answered, puzzled at her outburst.

“Ben, you are not to say a word of this to anyone, do you understand?” Harry ordered.

“Yes, father,” Ben replied confused. His father’s tone left little doubt this was one of those rare moments obedience was strictly required and disobedience would not be tolerated.

“Dad? What does the Headmistress have to do with Annie?” Ben asked meekly.

“At the moment, we are not certain; she returned some of your sister’s things and may have been in contact with her family,” Harry replied.

Ben nodded his acceptance to this brief explanation and left his parents alone to give them some privacy and joined the larger group in the outer chamber. The hushed whispering stopped when the boy entered the room.

Ben had become use to the insulting way others treated him, as he was the son of the great Harry Potter and the son of the Lost Witch. All expectations of him becoming the next greatest wizard proved fruitless on his entrance to Hufflepuff, a house not known for producing stellar leaders. Even with his sister sorted into Slytherin, expectations were high he would be placed in Gryffindor.

Benjamin Potter ignored them all and walked past the group of adults to sit next to Arty and Radulphus.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked the young girl.

She turned away from her brother, her red and swollen eyes told the story of her continued grief. “She’s doing bloody well, for someone that’s lost nearly everyone she loves,” her brother snapped.

“Stop, Rudy, stop!” she screamed and threw her arms around Ben’s neck. She held him tightly, so tightly he could feel her heart beat a violent rhythm in her chest. He laced his arms around her waist, and gently guided her to sit at his side. He felt her chest hitch as she continued to grieve.

“It’s going to be better soon, Arty. I won’t leave you again, I promise,” he cooed in her ear. She responded by holding on to him that much tighter.

It was the comfort she needed, something he understood. He also knew his parents were doing much the same, but privately. The open and innocent signs of affection they displayed were simply the outer signs of a couple that had been together for a long time. Their private moments were far more revealing of the depth of their mutual commitment. This was a lesson taught to Ben and his sister of how a family should act. Parents should be close and allow little to interfere with their love; children were a natural by-product of that love. In the case of this family, the absence of children in their early years and Hermione’s obsession with the curse preventing a family cast a dark shadow over them, that shadow was ripped open by the spark they shared.

Ben understood that untaught lesson. His treatment of Arty expressed the knowledge gained.

She continued to weep in his arms.

Ben stroked her hair.

Radulphus felt uncomfortable watching his thirteen year old sister cuddle with any boy, even Ben. But he also knew this was the best therapy she could receive, and quietly left the young couple to their fate.

"Ben," she whispered softly, a tone of intimacy easing into the conversation.

“Yes?” he replied in a softer, loving voice complimenting the moment.

“Ben, I know you care, but you can’t promise something you can’t keep,” Arty whispered.

Ben loosened his embrace to eye her face to face. “I meant what I said; I’ll find a way to stay with you.”

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes heavy and ready to burst. She fought her grief and nuzzled into his shoulder, and reluctantly nodded. “Why did this have to happen to us?” she asked rhetorically.

“I wish I knew; Mum and Mad have been forced into this since they were first years,” Ben answered.

“This war has been going on for at least four generations. Every time it seems to be resolved, something happens and it begins all over again,” she replied.

“There’s always a pause of at least ten to twenty years between each re-occurrence, just after a massive conflict,” he said, seemingly reciting from memory.

Arty sighed heavily and twisted a lock of Ben’s hair around a finger. “What of your sister? Is she really gone?” she asked.

Ben smiled and thought, his hesitation speaking volumes before he could utter a word. “She is, or was, fine; she was with Jerry and they took care of each other,” he said.

“Can’t we can try to find them again?” she asked, her confusion in his reluctance to search for his own sister made her wonder about his new motives.

“Dad said if we try, we could put her in further jeopardy. She’s safe and content according to the information we have,” Ben replied, his intent to reassure his companion.

“Don’t you care about your own sister?” she asked bluntly.

“I do, I care about her deeply, but if we try anything, she could be discovered. And dad said they, she and Jerry, have influenced our time in some fashion. If we go after them, that could change, and there’s no telling what else could be altered if they are rescued. I do miss her, but…” he said stopping abruptly.

Arty stared at him, still confused.

“But we have to remain together. All of us, if we are to survive,” Ben said.

“Lucy was with us and look what happened!” she hissed.

“No, she left us for a moment. Uncle Ron was alone and apart from the group when he...” Ben paused but wasn’t able to continue.

“My mum wasn’t alone when she was killed,” she continued.

“No, but as far as we know this Myrddin bloke wasn’t the one that did that. Everyone he’s affected has been alone. He won’t take the chance of being caught with others around. Lucy was several paces away, too far from anyone to stop him. Dad and the others were quite some distance, only Rudy was close enough to her, and he wasn’t prepared,” Ben rationalized.

Arty opened her mouth to reply, but realized Ben was correct.

“We have to stay together; we have to protect each other. I promise I won’t leave you alone, ever,” Ben vowed and leaned closer to her lips. But he opted for a tender kiss on her cheek.

She smiled warmly, and gently pulled his face closer for a proper kiss.

Harry remained at his wife’s side as if he were afraid she would vanish again. She hungrily read through the diary Harry handed her earlier, cherishing each word. She read through the entire journey in less than an hour, carefully noting the dates.

“Annie and Jerry ended in the past; the dates of this diary span five years beginning in 1885 on what she said had been her forty-fifth birthday. From that we can assume they arrived in 1860 when she was fifteen. She writes mostly of Jerry and his occupation as a craftsman, and mentioned their early struggles to survive as Muggles, I assume to avoid detection,” Hermione finally said as a brief summary.

Harry nodded a reply, and let her continue.

“It appears Jerry discovered working with his hands most rewarding. They lived in the Muggle community in Bristol until their first of three children was born. They moved to Diagon Alley in the spring of 1875. It seems their son began showing signs of his abilities and they were forced to rejoin the wizard community. Jerry found employment making custom brooms, but they maintained a level of anonymity, to avoid disturbing time,” she added.

“So except for their family, there’s no outward trace of them,” Harry commented.

“Right. She was careful not to reveal much, but I can tell her writing. And she did make reference to a conversation we had just after her birthday,” she said.

“The discussion that bridged the rift between you, I assume?” Harry asked not needing a reply.

Hermione nodded. “She had issues with their middle child, a daughter that seemed to have some curiosity as to why her parents never tried to excel. Seems Annie and the girl were at odds for some time,” Hermione said while flipping pages. “Here, in 1890, she was excited at discovering she was pregnant with their third, but that’s where this diary ends. What is interesting is the thickness of these pages,” Hermione noted.

She also carefully rubbed the thick pages as if feeling them, searching for an answer to an unknown question. She licked her fingers and rubbed one page between her fingers. “Harry, give me your pocket knife,” she instructed.

He reached into his trouser pocket and produced a perfect replica of the knife he was given as a boy by Sirius. Hermione pressed the edge of the blade against the edge of the page, as if trying to slice the sheet in half. To her satisfaction and Harry’s surprise, the blade cleanly split the sheet revealing two inner pages.

“Clever, she wrote another hidden diary in these pages,” Hermione said and carefully set to task of splitting the other pages.

After a few minutes and only a couple pages successfully split, she read the writing. “She wrote in Parseltongue; she must have known we would discover them at some point. This page talks about meeting with the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, a Mr. Ogden, and trying to convince him to watch the Gaunt family closely,” she said and flipped to the next page she separated.

“Now she mentions trying to prevent Marvolo Gaunt from settling in Little Hangleton. Harry, she tried to prevent Merope from being born!” Hermione exclaimed.

“That could have altered the past; does she say anything else?” Harry asked with a keen interest.

“No,” she said, and flipped several pages to one more she successfully split. “This page seems to be an argument she had with herself over whether she has the right to interfere. She was quite torn,” Hermione said as she skimmed the pages.

“This proves the past is unchangeable; had she prevented Merope’s birth, and prevented Tom Riddle from gaining his power, none of this would have happened, and she might not have existed,” Harry said thinking out loud.

“Exactly. She came to that conclusion herself. I would like to review the other diaries Minerva has when this is over. Should we at least tell her what we’ve learned?” she asked.

“No.I If we even mention to her about these inner pages she might be able to deduce the truth of her grandparents. It’s best she is unaware,” Harry warned.

Hermione sighed deeply and replied, “You’re right, but knowing Annie and Jerry lived a good life does help ease losing her.”

“You and Annie were more alike then you realize You both are clever and loving people, and you both traveled to the past to try and protect someone you love,” Harry said and stroked Hermione’s cheek.

“Yes, she must have realized these would fall into our hands at some point. The information she acquired about…” Hermione said but the moment was cut short by a light knock on the door.

“Excuse me for interrupting, but we must return to London. Abraham has received an owl from Hagrid. The Ministry is conducting an investigation into Mr. Weasley and Miss Malfoy’s deaths,” McGonagall said through the door.

“Of course; two Aurors killed on an unofficial mission would raise some questions,” Harry replied and whispered to Hermione, “Are you strong enough to leave?”

“I believe so; although I should refrain from attempting to use magic for a while,” she said, and stood from the bed. With Harry’s supporting arm, they joined the others still in conference.

“Ben, you and Arty come along,” Harry called to his son.

“Yes, father,” Ben replied dutifully.

“I wish I could have given you both more time, but the Ministry is up in arms over the deaths. Apparently, the bodies were discarded at the front door in full view of the Muggles in the area. With the recent incidents, some people have jumped to the conclusion a new dark wizard has tried to gain control,” McGonagall said apologetically.

“We’ll all be fine, please don’t worry about us, Minerva,” Hermione replied.

“Hermione, I do worry about you and Harry; you’ve been like family to me since you first came to the school,” McGonagall said.

Hermione smiled, and glanced at Harry. He shook his head ever so slightly reinforcing his decision not to disclose the new information.

“Harry and I have always felt the same, even after the detentions you’ve rendered to us,” she said with a smile.

“You said we’ve received an owl, who sent it?” Harry asked to change the subject. Ben and Arty joined them as they walked down the short hall into the lounge.

“Hagrid. I left instructions with him to send an owl should any incidents arise. And I would say this qualifies,” she answered.

“Harry,” Hermione said suddenly and stopped, “When did you bring them back to London?”

“I didn’t. I never left you or Ben,” he replied.

Hermione looked into the other room from the hall, and pondered. “I thought we all came back together, who…?” she asked.

“Mum? We all didn’t arrive here together. That man arrived soon after we did, you were asleep and dad wasn’t paying attention to him,” Ben said pointing to Albus Dumbledore.

“You don’t think he…” Arty began to ask but was stopped by Harry’s hush.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Hermione said and pushed Harry’s arm aside. She weakly took a step on her own, and steadied herself. She summoned her Gryffindor courage and marched into the lounge followed by her family.

“Albus,” she said firmly,” We need to know…”

“How your closest friend and his niece arrived at the Ministry, yes, I knew that would be your first question, and how I came to find you so easily which would be your second,” he said to finish her thought.

Hermione stood firm in her spot and pondered his statement. A glimmer of a long past memory wove through her thoughts. She nodded and raised a corner of her mouth ever so slightly. That slight movement was noticed only by the man that knew her best; he stood behind her and put his hand on the small of her back. Their silent, personal interaction lasted only a moment, but it was enough.

“Exactly, I assume you had something to do with recovering their…bringing them home. And as for you finding us, it is easy to understand a wizard of you abilities would be able to find us easily,” she said.

“Then we should be off to the Ministry, to clear this and your names,” Dumbledore answered.

“Then we had best hurry. Ben, you stay with Albus and your father. The tunnels are narrow and if we split up, we may stand a better chance. I’ll be along in a moment with Professor McGonagall and Abraham,” Hermione ordered, firmly placing her son’s hand in his father’s hand.

“I think it best we remain as a group,” Albus said.

“No, we discussed this earlier. Ben and I will leave with you, and the others will follow in smaller groups,” Harry confirmed for Hermione.

The others, confused at this shift to split up, waited until Harry, Ben, and Albus Dumbledore left the dwelling to negotiate the tunnels to the ocean.

Radulphus broke the uneasy silence, “I thought we were to remain together, that passageway isn’t so large we all couldn’t fit.”

“Myrddin is attempting to set a trap, to catch all of us together. If we say in smaller groups, he won’t be able to act. Everyone he’s always attacked were those isolated from a group,” Hermione said while she motioned for them to move along.

“Then why send Ben ahead first if you believe it’s a trap? Won’t he be in danger?” Arty asked. She finally voiced her fears of losing another person she cares about.

“Myrddin has a weakness we can exploit. There are certain individuals that are immune to his ability to shift time, one is Abraham and the other is Ben. I believe Annie also shared that ability with her brother and that may be what saved Jerry’s life when they were taken. We have to hurry; I doubt Harry can save them both, should he try to strike,” Hermione related.

“He shouldn’t have to, Albus is with them,” McGonagall added.

“No, he’s not. That was not Albus Dumbledore,” Hermione stated as she grabbed the elder witch’s hand pulling her to the door.

The winds blew from the ocean; cold tendrils of fear embraced the three. The youngest in the group felt the effects more. He held his father’s hand tightly; the fear of being lost to the sea below grew more intense due to the proximity of the fortress prison on the island above them.

“Dad, I’m scared,” Ben hissed quietly.

“He won’t do anything here. I’m counting on you to stay with me once we arrive at the ministry,” Harry hissed back.

“Parseltongue?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes. Seems both my children inherited the trait,” Harry replied.

“Interesting; but no matter, we should be near the apparition point. Ben, would you like to accompany me?” Dumbledore asked the boy.

Ben looked at his father and shook his head. “Dad? I would rather stay with you,” Ben answered to Harry.

“I think it best he remains with me. Now, the apparition wards inside the Ministry have been altered to trigger any arrivals by those identified as deceased. I suggest an alley near the Leaky Cauldron, on the Muggle side. It’s only a couple blocks from the Ministry,” Harry suggested.

“Yes, that should do nicely. I believe I know the one in question. Now take my hand and we’ll stay together,” Dumbledore replied.

“Stay with me Ben, and we’ll both get through this; your mother and the others will be along in a moment,” Harry said, and reached for the ancient wizard’s hand. The elderly wizard snapped his fingers and he and father and son vanished with a soft pop.

The three reappeared holding hands tightly in an empty dark alley; the shadows in the far corner seemed to shift as they appeared. Harry realized he was no longer in physical contact with the old wizard. Ben held his father’s hand as if it were a lifeline, afraid if he released his grip one of them would be lost forever like his sister.

Ben stared into the darkness, “Dad, where is he?”

Harry held Ben’s hand, and positioned the boy behind him, “You can stop your cat and mouse game, Myrddin; step out where we can see you,” Harry commanded, his hand raised and ready.

Albus Dumbledore stepped from the shadows of the alley and grinned. “Clever, Potter, I didn’t expect you to see through this charade so easily, or was it your wife that gave me away?”

“I would like to take the credit, but I have to admit it was my daughter that first warned us to only trust family. And you tipped your hand when you admitted bringing the bodies back to the Ministry. I know they never would have allowed Professor Dumbledore to leave, so you must have changed your identity and unceremoniously discarded them like so much trash. Albus would never have disrespected them in such a way. And when you worded your reply to her, you said the same thing to her in the past, when you manipulated her to aiding Hermia Madison some five hundred years ago,” Harry said while shielding his son.

“I see,” the man said; a hand waved over his face. His beard and long hair shrank back, his wrinkles smoothed and his features became apparent. His smooth, clean shaven face seemed quite out of place in the long flowing robes of the former professor. His wand was prominent in his hand, pointed at Harry.

“So it’s magic now? No Muggle weapons?” Harry taunted.

“That was tried once before, seems you and your wife have an immunity to knives,” Myrddin chuckled back.

“No,” Harry began and started to step out of the alley, back into the street. “No, seems neither of us would fail the other, that’s where you misjudged us. You see, we have a bond no one can break.”

“Yes, I know of that silly emotional tie you have; a silly by-product of Riddle’s failure to end this game some twenty-five years ago. Pity ‘The Lost Witch’ seems to be lost. Last thing you said to her was to meet at the Ministry. Unfortunately they will be searching a long time,” Myrddin sneered.

“Yes, that was the last I said to her, but not my last message to her. Our bond is one you nor Riddle could understand, it’s one Albus knew and help build over the years, love,” Harry replied, now fully in the light of street. The dark corners of the alley seemed to follow Myrddin as he kept pace with Harry and Ben.

“Dad? People are starting to stare,” Ben hissed quietly from behind his father.

“'Hissy hissy, little snakey, Slither on the floor; you be good to Morfin or he'll nail you to the door.’ Ahh, but you were not the Potter that heard that rhyme of Morfin’s with old Bob Ogden. That was in another version of this life. No matter, your family will replace the Gaunt’s in this life, having inherited Salizar’s vocal traits,” Myrddin grinned and tapped the alley wall with his wand. The stone walls shimmered and brightened revealing a scene from a world long since passed.

The images of a country lane bordered by high, tangled hedgerows appeared on the walls, with a wooden signpost stuck out of the brambles that read ‘Little Hangleton, 1 mile'.

Harry stared at the name on the sign; his eyes widened just enough to betray his emotions.

“Know the name do you? It was difficult to turn the father against his daughter, and ultimately push the worthless bitch into Riddle’s arms. But it was an enjoyable task. Having him believe she was a worthless squib. The benefits from that union were equally unexpected bringing the likes of ‘Lord Voldemort’ into this world. His soul was fertile and longed for my teachings,” Myrddin stated in a proud voice.

“Gloating? That’s such a human trait. We have been aware of you and a number of your actions in the past. I assumed you had a hand in Riddle’s rise to power, but we never knew when and where you interfered,” Harry replied. A small crowd of Muggles began to gather to watch the unusual argument.

“Dad, the people…” Ben started, but his father tightening his grip on Ben’s hand stopped the thought.

“Trained your whelp well to respond to hand gestures? Well done. And as for your pitiful insult, humanity has been quite nourishing for me, and I expect it to continue,” Myrddin said, and flicked his wand into the crowd. Several screams and the distinctive thud of a fallen body disbursed the on-lookers as they ran for protective cover. Myrddin reeled with pleasure at the suffering of an innocent.

“My son can be impetuous at times, but I commend his sense of justice,” Harry replied, noticing the change in Myrddin. Ben remained safely behind his father.

The scene behind Myrddin shifted to a wooded vista, one that remained unspecific until a cottage appeared. The same cottage young Ben stumbled upon.

“Dad, that’s…” Ben started.

“…the same cottage where I caught that brat of yours sneaking about,” Myrddin spat and pointed to Ben.

A bolt of red flashing from Myrddin’s wand raced toward Ben, who was still protected behind his father. Harry effortlessly blocked the stunning spell, deflecting the bolt into the wall behind Myrddin.

Harry’s out-stretched hand barely moved, a bright blue flash streaked from him toward his adversary. Another flash from Myrddin’s wand deflected most of the spell harmlessly into the wall. But enough struck the wizard’s wand hand to blacken the tips of his fingers.

“Expelliarmus!” a voice called out from behind Harry, unexpectedly striking Ben with a dazzling flash of scarlet light, hurling the two back into the alley.

Ben lay motionless less than a meter from his father. Harry rolled to his knees and glanced at Ben’s body. A tiny trickle of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. Harry barely moved, and silently blasted a spell back at the second assailant. The bolt found its mark as a masked and cloaked figure in the crowd fell.

“You can’t win, Potter. With each moment of suffering, with each stroke of pain administered, I grow stronger,” he taunted.

Harry’s eyes remained fixed on Myrddin while he reached to his son. Ben managed to roll to his side and moaned, telling Harry the boy would be fine, given time to recover. Harry hoped to give his son that time.

That time was not to be this moment. Myrddin muttered the Cruciatus Curse, sending a bolt at Harry.

Instinctively he countered, shielding himself and his son. The torture spell hit the invisible shield and split, striking a couple onlookers that had the misfortune to attempt to hide in the debris of the alley. But the effects of blocking a strong spell continued to wear down Harry’s abilities for defense. Two Muggles in the crowd writhed from the pain of the spell, fortunate in the fact the bisected beam lost potency.

Another pair of spells glazed past Harry and his son, striking the walls to the side and behind them. Large chunks blew from the spot of impact, sending additional debris into the alley. To Harry’s surprise his shield held; neither he nor Ben were injured.

Myrddin turned away from Harry and scanned the surrounding street. The remaining Muggles could be heard whimpering from behind typical street objects and trash receptacles. A few unidentified masked and cloaked individuals approached and nodded to their master.

Harry shifted his stance to better protect them, but had to momentarily drop his guard.

“Attack now, kill the boy first!” he commanded and stepped aside.

Another spell hit Harry in the back, a stunner that would have dropped any normal wizard. He quickly re-cast his protective shield around them but the damage had its desired effect; his shoulder ached from the direct hit.

Blasts from their wands flashed at Harry, who still remained behind his shield. He grimaced from the strain at deflecting the new attack. Each direct hit weakened him, but his resolve to protect his son gave him that extra endurance to hold on.

Another beam flashed from behind them, just over Harry’s head and struck the farthest assailant. He fell unnoticed.

More beams flashed from many directions, a number striking Harry’s protective shield, each blow weakening him. Many more spells seemed to miss their marks; the ensuing chaos seemed structured and well planned. Myrddin turned to face Harry in what he knew to be Harry Potter’s last moments alive, “Now, finish them; the boy must die!” he shouted.

The street glowed from the massive magical forces used, the blinding rays made the view behind Myrddin virtually indistinguishable. He grinned with the same contentment he felt that day more than a thousand years before when he stood on a fresh grave and planned his destiny.

He raised his wand to deal the final blow, to succeed where so many others failed; Harry covered his son with his own body, unable to give any further protection from the magical bombardments, his own abilities nearly gone. He was weakened to the point of defeat. Myrddin pointed his wand at Harry Potter’s back, “Avarda Ka…”

The wand exploded into a thousand shards of wood before Myrddin could complete the incantation, splitters of the shaft peppered his face. Emotionally stunned, he sought the source and could see a dim figure in one of the fresh holes blasted in the wall early in the battle.

“We’ve come to ‘elp, ‘Arry,” a voice called from behind the two huddled on the ground. Ben managed to open his eyes to see a woman with wild, crimson hair grinning at them. Harry weakly looked up and recognized her face from behind his cracked glasses.

“Dad,” he hissed in Parseltongue, “It’s Aunt Tonks.”

Harry couldn’t reply.

Myrddin turned to his force, only to see one assailant after another fall, this time struck from street-side: reinforcements had arrived. McGonagall led the attack from the south side of the street closely followed by the rest of their group in support, while Radulphus rallied with a contingent of Aurors from the north end.

“What form of treachery is this?” Myrddin screamed.

Harry managed to stand, supported by Ben, and turned to Myrddin; the pain in his face evident of the attacks he endured. He held out a simple coin and said, “You didn’t think only the kids had one?” Harry tossed the coin to Myrddin’s feet.

A single figure remained standing near the dark wizard. Myrddin lunged for the last remaining masked wizard and sneered, “I still have the last laugh, try to track me now!”

His hands glowed where he grabbed his henchman to make his escape, but the pair remained where they stood. Myrddin changed his grip and repeated his spell, expecting to fade into time.

They remained steadfast.

“What is this?” he snarled and ripped the mask from the figure, an ancient face appeared. His withered features could not hide his smile.

“Abraham Kristensen, but my friends call me Gnome. It’s time to return you to your prison,” he said and held onto the wizard to prevent his escape.

A woman broke from the group and rushed to the father being supported by his son. She held her arms out, “Ben, Harry, you’re safe!” Hermione called cheerfully.

Harry pondered at her amazing rejuvenation, “Hermione? What happened?” he managed to ask, his legs barely able to support his weight.

“It was him,” she said and pointed to Myrddin, “His presence had an affect on my powers. Once we figured out he was an imposter I waited until he left. My strength seemed to return quickly, but my powers haven’t returned yet. I can only assume he was watching us at our home these past weeks, which caused my condition. He could have been following us, possibly a fraction of a second out of phase. We wouldn’t have noticed.” Hermione replied.

“Mum, I thought I had seen a man outside the cottage several times, I mentioned it to Annie before…” Ben said and drifted off once he mentioned his sister.

“Harry, we have to leave immediately, I have no idea how long Abraham can hold him,” she added sharply, before she realized his condition. “You need to rest for a moment while the others handle this, darling,” she added.

Harry nodded and with the support of his wife and son, managed to limp away. They half carried and half supported Harry to a set of steps where he could comfortably sit.

Gnome held fast to the dark wizard as the others surrounded them.

“Kill the bastard, end this now. He doesn’t deserve to live after what he’s done,” Radulphus called.

“Go on, do it… Kill me if you have the stomach for it,” Myrddin taunted.

“He deserves no less, Harry,” Tonks added.

Ben and Hermione supported the weakened Harry. He raised his hand, to prepare the final blow.

“I have… to… do this,” he said, and pushed his family back to stand alone in this task. His arm glowed a faint green, and he began the incantation.

“Do it, or are you a spineless whelp like your father?” Myrddin jeered at Harry.

Harry stood fast and summoned all the magical strength left in his body for the final burst.

“Stop, Harry, he wants this. He’s too willing to end this. Something’s wrong,” Hermione yelled, braking Harry’s concentration.

“She’s right, Harry,” McGonagall said in support.

“If you kill him, all this will never exist, and he’ll win,” Hermione said, and grabbed Harry’s arm.

“You had proof he was alive in the future, and escaped and in the distant past. As far as we know he’s remained in a continuous timeline since he escaped,” McGonagall added.

Harry blinked hard, his focus shattered, “He has to escape? I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you see? He’s created a foolproof paradox! If he dies here before he escapes, this timeline ends. Remember the other realities? They may be fractured timelines where events played out differently. He never existed in any of them while we were there, because he can’t physically exist in them simultaneously. The only safe place to hold him is between realities,” Hermione quickly rationalized.

“We have to return him to the Arch; that is his prison. Bind us quickly; I can’t hold him long,” Gnome ordered.

Tonks and another Auror both bound the two together to prevent them from becoming detached. Radulphus pointed his wand at the odd bundle and levitated them.

“You’ll have to use brooms to fly him to the Ministry; forget about secrecy, this man is far too dangerous to risk his escape,” Hermione ordered.

“I don’t understand,” Harry began, but she stopped him.

“I’ll Apparate us there; we’ll have some time to wait until they can arrive. I’ll explain what I know,” she said. Without another word, she held his hand and her son’s hand and the three Potters vanished.

“Potter, Minister Scrimgeour is waiting for you to report directly to him, the Wizengamot is convening as we speak to deal with the deaths of Aurors Ron Weasley and Lucia Malfoy,” a young Auror announced. He had been waiting at the main entrance, apparently for a long time.

“I’m afraid he’ll have to wait: we have a dangerous prisoner in route,” Hermione replied. Harry remained silent, supported by his son.

“Healer Potter, you have no authority in this matter, and to be precise, you have been implicated in those murders as well,” the Auror answered. His assumed an offensive stance at Hermione’s refusal.

“Stand easy, Eastman. If they have a reasonable explanation I’ll hear it now,” an order came from the entrance.

“Chief Robards, sir. I’m acting on direct orders from the office of the Minister…” Auror Eastman started to say.

“The last I heard, you are employed by the office of Magical Law Enforcement, not by the office of the Minister. Unless you desire a permanent change in occupation, then stand aside,” Robards barked.

“Yes, sir,” Auror Eastman conceded.

Robards pushed past the younger Auror to face Harry and Hermione with outstretched hands. “Forgive his youthful enthusiasm; he is fresh from training and his first assignment came directly from the Minister’s office. I doubt the Minister himself is aware of him, let alone his assignment,” the chief Auror said in greeting.

“The prisoner is due here shortly; he is responsible for Ron and Lucia’s deaths. He’s also responsible for the deaths of many others, including the former Minister, Albus Dumbledore,” Hermione reported.

“You finally caught him? Weasley would have liked to know. Pity he was killed,” Robards replied, bowing his head slightly in remembrance.

“We… have to take him to the Arch, that’s the…” Harry started, but tired before he could finish.

“Imprisoned without so much as bringing him before the Wizengamot? That will prove to be impossible,” Robards said, shaking his head.

“Chief Robards,” Hermione said in reply to Harry’s weakened condition, “Could you have Eastman retrieve this list of potions from St. Mungo’s? Harry’s been through a difficult afternoon.” She handed a slip of parchment to the head of Aurors.

“Of course; he should be only a few minutes. Eastman, make certain this is carried out to the letter,” Robards ordered. A simple nod of submission and salute had been the reply before the Auror vanished. Hermione flicked her wand and produced a stool for Harry to rest on.

“The Arch was designed as his prison, not as a means of execution. It’s the only thing that could or will hold him,” Hermione insisted. She reached into Harry’s rucksack and removed a folder of documents. She flipped through them, removed one sheet and handed it to the Chief Auror.

Robards read the document, before commenting further. “Are you certain of this?” he asked.

“Absolutely. He’s a time-shifter; able to alter time around others. He’s used that ability to his benefit over the centuries to escape and strengthen his powers by ‘feeding’ from the suffering of others. I have corroborating reports stating that he has been observed in periods of strife, primarily for Muggles. All he required was a simple history text to pin-point his targets.” Hermione reported.

Harry looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, but she answered before he asked.

“We were given this document hidden in a diary provided by Minerva McGonagall. The pages held a secret I was able to decipher. The book was authored by a gifted woman and her husband to track this prisoner through time. She detailed the clues they followed and referred back to other evidence,” Hermione added.

“Why us, mum? Why are we so deeply involved in this?” Ben asked.

“Yes, that’s an interesting question that I would like to know as well,” Robards added.

“He feeds off the suffering of others. Where best to find someone suffering then manipulate the actions of a heroic type, to put those around him in positions where he would have to take action. My guess is he stumbled on Harry and his parents through his manipulation of Merope Gaunt into seducing Tom Riddle Sr. and having his child. That child became Voldemort, who sought to become master of the Wizarding world. People like your grandparents stopped him, and in doing so, your father became ‘The Boy Who Lived’,” Hermione explained.

“Wow, I haven’t heard that in years, ‘The Boy Who Lived’,” Harry repeated.

“You brought hope back to our world, and an end to suffering. I assume if he can eliminate the world's heroes, he can regain his source of power,” she added.

Eastman returned carrying three vials, and handed them to Hermione. “Here, drink these,” she ordered Harry who dutifully complied.

“We, all of us, have been used for years by him - what he did to your sister was intended as a trap. He wanted us to mount a rescue and possibly create further damage to the fabric of time. Your father did what he had to do; he chose to save me, although he should have left me, because of some doubt to Annie’s future. The information we had first stated she died some eight months from now, but this document changed to simply state she had vanished without a trace,” she said in explanation.

A distant howl broke the conversation, leaving some unanswered questions in Robards’ mind. Harry stood at the signal, knowing he could have another confrontation before the day was done.

“They’re here,” Hermione announced and pointed to a dark, fast moving cloud.

Harry stood; the potions his personal healer prescribed lifted his spirits and energy to see this through completion. An odd-shaped bundle remained suspended between three brooms with their riders approached the Ministry.

“Harry, he’s trying to free himself, Gnome’s unable to hold him,” Radulphus called out as they approached.

“That spell, the one you used on Voldemort,” Hermione shouted.

Harry pushed his son to the side into his mother’s arms. Harry stood alone in this task. He shifted his weight and braced himself, pointing both hands with his fingers outstretched toward Myrridin, closed his eyes, and began his spell "CONTEGOOPERIRE HOSTIS". He concentrated as hard as he did the time he vanquished his first real foe. His arms began to glow as they did when he first rehearsed this spell. A dome of pure blue energy shot from him and surrounded the odd bundle suspended from the three brooms.

The bonds that held Myrddin and Gnome tethered to the three captors severed, as did the bonds that held the pair together. Gnome maintained a death grip on his captive, unaware neither could escape the sphere.

Harry maintained his focus, his arms weakened from the strain of the magic that flowed through him. His arms started to shake, but he maintained the spell, keeping the pair trapped.

“We must get them into the veil, that’s the only place Myrddin will be held safely,” Hermione ordered.

Harry nodded to acknowledge her instruction, but the strain wore on him.

“Dad, you have to stop,” Ben yelled, being the first to notice his father’s health decline.

“Stay… back… Ben,” he managed to say, the anguish evident in his voice. Radulphus rushed to Harry’s side, followed by Tonks and the young Auror that assisted them, but Harry waved them off.

“You can’t do this alone, let us help,” Tonks added, pointing her wand to the orb.

“We can at least help transport this to the Department of Mysteries,” the third Auror offered.

“For Merli… mercy’s sake, let them help, Harry, you’re not a young man anymore. Think of your family,” Minerva begged.

“Harry, do it… do it now… I can’t… hold…” Abraham begged, his voice was barely heard over the crackle of Harry’s spell.

“Tonks, Rudy: levitate them while Harry contains the field,” Hermione commanded.

The delicate ballet approached the main entrance; Harry maintained the containment field, while the others focused on bypassing the Ministry’s security. Hermione held her son close as they followed. She remained a bystander in what could be her husband’s last effort.

“’Oy! What’s this, then?” a burly wizard barked as they entered the main entrance to the atrium.

“Stand back, this is official business,” Radulphus commanded back and flashed his Auror’s identification.

“Bugger this,” Tonks yelled, her wand flashed away from her task momentarily as a flash of red engulfed the guard. The diversion of her power was minute, barely noticeable in assisting Harry to contain Myrddin in the sphere.

“Ben, stun anyone that tries to stop us. Don’t ask, just do it,” Harry commanded and maneuvered the sphere through the halls. Wizards and witches in the Atrium stared at the unusual sight. Harry Potter was again involved in a battle with evil.

“Dad, Gnome can’t last much more,” Ben called out.

“Stay your course, young man; I can hold until we breach the jail for this fellow,” Abraham called out.

“Give up now; nothing you have will hold me. As soon as this thing no longer has any control over me, I will escape,” Myrddin jeered.

Abraham replied by jabbing his elbow into Myrddin’s face, the crunch on cartilage displayed a spark of fight left in the ancient wizard.

The few minutes they needed to traverse the Ministry’s halls and stairs draining all involved, Harry’s hold on the sphere seemed to wane the closer they came to the chamber that held the portal they sought. The massive door remained the only barrier to them; it quickly fell open at Hermione’s hand.

“Abraham, you’ll have to hold him until Harry releases the Orb,” Hermione ordered.

“No, I haven’t the strength left; send me through the portal with him,” Abraham pleaded, “Destroy the token that binds me.” He called back. His voice faded with fatigue as he spoke.

“We can’t, we have to destroy the opening, you’ll be trapped,” Harry replied.

“No… from the other side destroy it you must,” he answered back.

“Dad, his speech…” Ben said pointing to Gnome.

“He no longer has any control over me. You have lost. It was only a matter of time,” the dark wizard laughed.

With the last effort of a man about to die, Abraham released his death grip on his prey and forced his meager weight to the opposite side of the sphere. Off balance from the shift, Harry’s concentration faltered. The orb and its two inhabitants fell into the Veil. The tattered cloth that remained over the opening fell with them as the orb passed into the portal.

A single scream from the pair accompanied with the laugh of one man’s victory escaped from the portal, the veil no longer flapping in an unfelt breeze. The ground beneath them quaked and dust drifted from the ceiling. The stones of the arch cracked and one by one, fell from the positions they held since the beginning of time.

Harry fell to the floor the instant the blue sphere vanished from view, his head hung down from exhaustion. Hermione ran to him, followed by their remaining child.

Harry weakly lifted his face, his cheeks now shallow, his eyes were haggard and cavernous. His hands, visible from under his cloak, appeared emaciated. His face was gaunt and skeletal as if he had been deprived of nourishment for years. The reduction in muscle mass and his weakened state became obvious when Hermione held him. His tailored clothes appeared as baggy as the clothes he had been forced to wear in his childhood.

He managed a smile as his life’s mate held him steady. He no longer had the strength to stand.

“Mum? What…” Ben started to ask, but a kindly touch from Radulphus froze his question before he spoke.

“Harry, you should have stopped,” Hermione cried into his bony shoulder.

She closed her eyes and held him as tightly as she dared. Her hands began to glow. The magical aurora that binds all wizards together flowed from her hands into Harry’s body. Those nearest to her felt a drain, as Hermione focused on returning Harry’s health.

She held him tightly, sharing all she could, but he pushed her away after only a few moments. “I can’t let you do this, you can’t sacrifice them,” he managed to say, and weakly fell back, his wife and son remaining at his side.

“And I can’t let you die,” Hermione replied while tenderly caressing his face.

“It was after Harry revealed the information he received…”

“Stole you mean.”

“Semantics; let her finish Minister Scrimgeour,” the Chief of Aurors said in Tonks’s defense.

“Thanks, Chief Robards. As I was saying, they acquired those documents from some point in the future, and they alluded to the fact that it was our future. The documents stated Annie died later this year, but Harry showed us that page. He said she simply vanished and was never seen or heard from again. Apparently she and Jerry ended up in the past where they survived their ordeal,” Tonks said.

“So there’s no further word of the two? They simply vanished?” Scrimgeour asked.

“As far as we know they received a cryptic message, I assume from someone that knew of Annie and Jerry in the past, and Harry refused to divulge the details of that message,” Professor McGonagall added.

“With Mr. Potter’s failing health, we’ve been advised not to overly stress him. His wife’s health, too, has suffered in this adventure. It has been suggested they permanently reside in St. Mungo’s for…” a distinguished wizards stated before being interrupted.

“No, his only wish has been to return to his home where he can finally find peace. Hermione is with him and shares his desire for privacy. They both want to remain shielded from the public’s eye: she said it was his last wish,” Radulphus said firmly.

“And what of this Kristensen fellow? He appeared to be instrumental in containing… the dark wizard,” Scrimgeour said hesitantly.

“Myrddin, or Merlin, or Wyltt. He was no better then you or I. He, like Tom Riddle before him, had a delusion he was destined for great power. He met his end, and his justice,” Professor McGonagall replied. “As for Abraham Kristensen, I believe Mrs. Potter has seen to his personal effects, and has dealt with his home. He should not be of concern to the Ministry.”

“Myrddin was responsible for the rise of those that have come to claim the right of a Dark Lord. My detailed investigations in your world, and those I have visited, have revealed his influences. It is a pity he was illusive in the past,” A tall, dark cloaked wizard said with a silken voice.

“Yes, Pro… Mr. Snape, you are correct on that point,” Professor McGonagall said to acknowledge his presence.

“We do, however, need to remain vigilant. The simple fact that this individual had escaped from one of our possible futures implies there may be a way for him to escape or be rescued from his imprisonment. Remember we are still within the time sequence when he existed; should he not escape from the future to return to the past, none of these events would, or could occur,” Snape commented.

“Right,” Minister Scrimgeour said as if in thought. “I will convene a committee to oversee the remains of the arch, and to take him into custody the moment he shows himself. The future generations must be aware of him.”

“Your presence here does pose an interesting problem,” Chief Robards said addressing Snape.

“No, actually, he has a position at Hogwarts his counterpart from this world had coveted for years, if he wishes it; Defense against the Dark Arts could use a new perspective. And since the revelations of the arch have been contained within those in this room, I would recommend you also be included in the group that will monitor the remains of the arch,” Professor McGonagall said.

“Since the ‘portal’ has been destroyed, and there doesn’t appear to be a reason for me to return, I accept the offer,” Snape replied.

“As is seems there’s little more to discuss on the matter of the Potter family, I have my sister’s memorial to attend,” Radulphus said coldly to his supervisor.

“Of course, we all will be there shortly. As for your future, I hope you intend to remain in the Auror Corps; your abilities will be an asset to the entire Wizard civilization,” Chief Robards said, extending his hand.

Radulphus stared at the offered hand, and thought for a moment. Hesitantly, he took the man’s hand. “If only to prevent others from loosing loved ones, but understand, my sister will be my main priority, until she is of age.”

“Of course; with her fondness for the Potter boy, I expect she will be in good company,” Chief Robards replied.

Epilogue – Together Forever

“ Harry, it’s getting a little chilly, I think you need to come inside.”

“ I will, I just want to remember this moment. The sky looks so familiar, but I can’t seem to recall.” He answered as his voice began to drift.

She helped him to his feet and put a supporting arm around his waist. She looked to the sky and remembered the same clouds and felt the same breeze as that morning she first kissed him. It was the first time he admitted his love for her. That was more then a lifetime ago; several lifetimes. They loved and cried, had adventures no other couple had the right to share. They had children and those children grew to have their own. She had no regrets; what they shared one fateful late spring day gave them far more than they lost later that same day. She never left him and she loved him unconditionally.

It was a day just like this one they began their lives together, and now he can’t remember. She helped him leave the chair on the porch that overlooked the glen at Godric Hollow. It was his favorite view; a stream bordering the glen also ran past a well-manicured patch that bore a small handful of stone monuments. A noticeable gap between two of them still remained, waiting. The trees past the stream were reminiscent of the forest near the school where they were the closest of friends through their childhood; it was the same school where they shared their love. He couldn’t remember those times either.

He stared into the woods, as he had so many years earlier when his son and daughter were children. His joy at watching her grow into a woman and marry was stolen from him. His son remained close for years, and his children also kept close ties. Thirty years after his sister vanished, he too was lost without a trace. Ben would not watch his own children grow and have their own families. Harry would have smiled if he could remember seeing his children or grandchildren at play.

His life’s partner of nearly two hundred years helped him walk into the lounge of their home, the home where his parents live, loved, and died. It was the only place he wanted to live after they married. Their first few years had been marred by a curse that led them to an adventure past the reality of their world, where they encountered people of a kindred spirit. They made life-long friendships with those people, and in doing so, helped them as he helped his world. Those memories were lost to him too.

“ Easy, Harry. One step at a time, love.”

“ I think I can remember how to walk; I’m not a child.” He wheezed.

“ I know, it’s that I’m afraid you may slip again. You do remember the last time?” She knew he couldn’t; time had physically ravaged him leaving the frail man that she held. She had no problem lifting him these days when he couldn’t support his own weight. His memory left as his body began to wither.

“ Here; sit by the fire, I’ll bring you some tea.” She cooed in his ear as she left a light kiss on his cheek. She covered him with a blanket over his lap, to help ward off the chills. She stood at the counter in their small kitchen and felt a tingle long forgotten; this began not from her palm as in their youth, but from deep within. She smiled and knew that this feeling was when he was at his happiest, when he was content. She felt this when their first child was born, and their second. Since then it was a constant sensation she experienced when they made love. She felt it again when their grandchildren were born, but that had been many years past. She wore a smile that always lit his face as she carried the tray to the room.

No one heard the teapot and cups shatter when they fell from the tray. She alone was there to hold him at that moment. That sensation she felt was him calling out to her one last time. He sat on the love seat, weakly clutching his chest, his breathing slow and pained. His emerald green eyes began to dull. She pulled him to her bosom and tried to pull him inside her. She wanted to share with him as she had done once before; she wasn’t ready for him to leave.

“ I…love you…” he whispered as his last breathe left him. His arms fell to his side, but she still held him. She sat next to him, holding him as they had comforted each other so many times in their youth. She cradled him in her arms; tears streaked her face as she lost the most important thing in her life. She sat there rocking him gently in her arms.

The morning passed into mid-day, mid-day passed to afternoon, the setting sun barely visible through the forgotten open door. She lost all memory of that day, except for that last feeling she had tried with all her skill to capture.

“ Gram? You home?”

She barely registered the young woman’s voice. Mara entered the dark room, to see her great-grandmother still gently cradling him. She dropped her bags at the doorway and quickened her pace to their feet, where she knelt and pulled Hermione’s hands to hers.

“ Gram? Is he?”

“ He’s gone,” were the only words she could say. Mara put her arms around them both; she could still feel the love radiate between them. She stood and walked to the fireplace and called for her father to summon the family and relate the passing to the others.

His funeral the following day was a closed, private service with only their legacy attending: their two children, both grown and with adult children of their own, who then had children of their own. The oldest of the fourth generation, Mara, had been named for a long time friend’s wife. She was the first to find them and she was the first of her generation to have her own child. She wished he could have lasted to see her son born, to know his legacy would continue.

As to his wishes and a promise made many years past, he was laid to rest in a space left between two pairs of ancient graves. A simple blank stone marked his resting place; he wanted his last place to be private and known only to a select few. There still remained one empty spot to his side. Hermione laid a lily on his casket as it was lowered into the Earth. She was the first to toss a handful of dirt in the open grave and added a handful of dirt from a pouch he carried for years; it was opened only once before. On that day that changed their lives, he saved a memory. That memory would forever be with him. She saved some of that special soil for when she too would join him.

“ Soon, my sweet, precious love, soon.” She whispered over his grave.

The name Hermione Jane Granger at one time had become as famous in her world as his; she shared his name for most of her life, as she also shared her life with him. He had left her that spring and she knew the emptiness she felt could never again be filled. Her days were spent in their home as she lived on without him.

She clutched an antique watch in her hand; the hands had long frozen to the moment he died. She opened it as she had every day since he left, and watched the memories he saved for her inside it. These were his fondest memories of her before he knew she was the one he would spend his life with. These images had become her obsession; she had watched them every day since he died.

Their youngest great-grand daughter, Mara Hoth, had delivered her first child that morning and was nursing her new daughter, Aurellia, when she felt a strange tingle from deep within.

Hermione had been found later that day holding her pocket watch, open for all to see with the image of a young girl kissing a boy on the cheek. That image repeated over and over. Around her neck an open locket that contained strands of jet-black hair and chestnut brown hair, and two words. Those were the only words allowed on the simple marker they shared.

Together Forever