Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 12

The days after the defeat of the `Human Rights Bill' were exhausting for Harry and Hermione. Typifying the adage that `children should be seen but not heard' the two heirs followed their respective heads of house to various meetings; some formal others not so much. The drudgery was that they weren't always together. Nevertheless, there was a lot of watching with no talking for the teens.

On more than one occasion, Harry had to fend off The Boy-Who-Lived groupies of all ages and genders. It was very disquieting when the octogenarian grandmother took a very avid interest in him. His Dad had chuckled as Harry scudded away from the woman to the protective shadow of his girlfriend.

"Unngh," Harry moaned as he flopped into their bed. At nearly midnight, it was one of the earlier nights that he'd been able to get to bed. It was also the first night since their abrupt return from the BVI where Hermione was still awake when he crawled into bed; although `awake' was a relative term. She wasn't snoring.

Stripping bare, he hurriedly scuttled under the sheets and duvet. The early spring weather had turned cold and although Rowan Hill was magnificent, the massive fireplaces were in each room for a reason. "Freezing," he murmured as he spooned with his intended.

"Mmmm," she hummed. "How'd it go?"

"Alright. Neville represented his Gran and between him and Dad, they let Fudge know that what had happened was a waste of everyone's time and it was his fault."

Hermione half turned, "Neville did that?"

"Well," Harry backtracked, "He agreed with Dad."

"Right," she agreed. "That sounds better." Harry silently agreed that although Neville had come a long way since James had returned into his life, there was still more than a hint of the shy, reserved boy he'd been as a firstie.

His body relaxed, moulding itself to Hermione's more supple womanly shape. His breathing began to deepen when he heard her say, "Your Mum says we're to return to Hogwarts tomorrow; back to studies. Lily says she's a bad feeling that something's coming."

His tired grunt was the last sound he made that night.

.oOo.

"Did she say yes?" Lily asked.

Sighing, James rolled over to his side. "Eventually. Took all my prodigious powers of persuasion, though."

Running her hands through his perpetually messy hair, she teased, "Which means you begged."

"Yeah."

There was a long pause and Lily thought James may have drifted off before he commented, "You know, this idea of yours could backfire magnificently."

"Or it could save him," she countered.

"Or it could save him," he repeated in reluctant agreement.

.oOo.

Striding down the halls of Hogwarts, Harry reflected upon Hermione's statement after Christmas, "Classes and Quidditch seem so small, provincial even." My oh my, did she hit the nail on the head.

Hermione's hand nestled in his own; they wended their way through the crowds of students as they made their way to the library. For a while, they'd continued to wear their Hogwarts robes while being tutored. It helped ease their sense of being apart from the rest of the student body. Now, they really didn't care.

Harry wore dark blue robes trimmed with silver while Hermione wore beautiful robes of the palest blue. They stood out like giants at a house elf convention amidst the ocean of black Hogwarts robes. Harry ignored the stares and whispers that followed them down the hallway. The bulk of his mind was occupied with the Potions assignment his mother had assigned, but the unoccupied portion of his mind just didn't care what the students thought of him and his girlfriend.

Holding the door for Hermione, they made their way to their desk in the back corner of the library. It was a fairly secluded study location in the middle of the magical law section that ensured they were never bothered. Without comment, they dropped their bags on the table before heading into the stacks; Hermione for their Arithmancy project and Harry for Potions.

Absently, he pulled down the books that he thought might be useful. Lily had assigned them the task of compiling a list of ten possible potions that could be used in a battle situation, narrowing the list to a single selection with the proofs, logic and other supporting evidence.

The Arithmancy project was a bear. They were to calculate the necessary so that one would be able to Apparate at Hogwarts. Harry wore a wistful smile at Hermione's subdued expression of indignation. It was a signpost of more innocent times when Hermione had blared the trumpet loudly about their inability to Apparate whilst at school.

Stacking the five books in his arms, he meandered back to their table. Since Hermione was still in the stacks, he opened the first book and began to take notes. So absorbed in his task, he didn't hear the visitor approach.

"Er, Harry? Could I talk with you for a moment?"

Looking up, Harry saw Ron Weasley standing across from the table, a decidedly uncomfortable expression on his already reddening face.

In an uncharitable moment, Harry wondered if Ron was uncomfortable because he was speaking with Harry or because he was in the library. He'd not thought a lot about his former friend in the weeks past. Studying, his family, Hermione and life in general had completely dominated his attention. In retrospect, he figured that fact alone told him more than it implied.

Pushing the cynical musings aside, Harry nodded as he told his former friend, "Sure. What's on your mind?"

Looking off to the side, Ron fidgeted before he muttered, "I reckon that I've been a right prat."

Not in the mood to indulge Ron, Harry stared at the redhead waiting for more. After all the cold shoulders, the comments that Ron may or may not have thought Harry could hear, all of the hostile behaviour since Halloween that surged to the fore of Harry's mind, a mild admission that he'd been out of order just wouldn't do. A mental digression niggled at Harry; mingling amidst the unpleasant memories was a leavening of bewilderment that Ron would resent Harry's parents return. How could anyone begrudge that?

Silence was not what the standing teen expected. With a blank expression, he stared at Harry before fidgeting with the hem of his new robes. Robes probably purchased with the generous severance his father had paid Mr Weasley. Finally, Ron asked, "Well?"

"Well, what?" Harry replied coldly. "You've been backbiting, snide and mean since my pressing into the tournament. Now you come here and state the obvious. Do you want a biscuit?" His face twisting into false good cheer, Harry cheered in an insincerely jocular tone so that he was nearly sneering, "Good show Ronnie! You finally acted like a human, much less a friend!"

The redhead's face paled but Harry couldn't tell if it was anger or shame that fuelled Ron's reaction. In the end, Harry didn't care. Leaning over the table, The Boy-Who-Lived snarled, "You were my mate. I trusted you and you shit all over me and our friendship. So watch me not give a flying fuck for what you want."

Still pale, Ron gave a hesitant nod. Halting his turn halfway, he told Harry, "I understand, but I really am sorry."

Now Harry stood, "You know, if it was just me, I would probably call evens and we could be mates again. But that's not all that happened, is it? I heard what you said about Hermione. The time you called her a whore under your breath. The time you asked her if she was putting out for all the Potters or just me. I heard all that Ron. The only reason I didn't call you out was because she forbade it." Slowly standing from his seat, Harry was exerting all his will to keep his temper under control. Forcing his palms flat on the table, he glared at Ron, "She saved your life by doing that, Ron. If you ever say anything to or about Hermione again, you'll answer to me." When Ron didn't answer, Harry asked, "Clear?"

"Yeah," Ron replied as if his throat was parched. "Yeah I understand and I…I won't be a prick anymore." He flinched before nodding and moving off.

Harry watched his former friend until the redhead disappeared. Ron was his past. It was nice that the teen had apologized, but Harry wasn't in the mood nowadays for second chances.

Returning to his seat, the dark haired teen noticed that the table was warped where he'd flattened his hands. Apparently, his magic hadn't been under as much control as he'd thought. Drawing his wand, he scratched his ear as he tried to figure out how to fix the table.

"I heard every word you just said."

Freezing in place, Harry was concerned at the tone of his girlfriend. She sounded less than happy. "Oh?" he asked.

With a flick of her wand, Hermione slowly rotated Harry's chair about so that he was facing her. Another flick of her wand caused the Arithmancy books in her left arm to float to the table.

"I'm a big girl who can take care of herself, my love."

Taking heart at the endearment, Harry thought about her words before replying. Unable to avoid the truth, he sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry I got all Neanderthal with Ron."

In a surprise move, she hiked up her robes before straddling his lap. The long, languid kiss was most welcome. It had been a very long, trying day.

"I appreciate the sentiment, though," she whispered, her voice husky.

"I don't like anyone to think ill of you, much less say…" he replied.

"I know. I feel the same about you." Harry had absorbed more than a few unkind words in the months past.

After another long kiss that was accompanied by wandering hands, she whispered in his ear, "Tonight, we're using your parents' spare room." She sighed before telling him in a normal tone, "But for now, we've work to do."

He pouted for a bit. Work could wait until after sex, couldn't it?'

Her bright smile brought him `round. "Love you," she whispered, her pride and happiness evident.

Returning her smile was automatic. The brightening of his day was all due to her. She had that ability that not many others possessed in that she, with her smile, could usually make a cloudy day clear. Maybe it was because he loved her. Maybe it was because she loved him. Maybe it was a bit of both.

For whatever reason, it was one more occasion to love her just that little bit more.

.oOo.

Remus was tired. Bone tired if truth were told. He was six days from the Full Moon, but this weariness was far beyond his normal experience. While the Wolfsbane that Lily brewed was a lifesaver, his transformation wasn't all peaches and cream. Still, what he was going through was pretty extraordinary. James had arranged for a healer to come take a look at him this afternoon; a healer who specialized in Lycanthropy. If he'd not been so tired, he'd have known immediately who it was that his old friend had arranged to come.

Most other werewolves didn't trust Remus. He didn't exile himself from mainstream society like most had. He'd been awarded his certificate from Hogwarts, something no other living werewolf had accomplished. Trying to make a life for himself in whatever way he could, he'd even worked in the muggle world to make ends meet. Since he wasn't very welcome in the Lycan community, Remus didn't know if his symptoms were normal or worse or yet milder than those experienced by the greater werewolf population. Poppy did her best, but he was the only werewolf she'd ever treated, so her experience was the same as his.

Rolling his shoulders, he yawned widely before returning his attention to the book in front of him. He felt that he was nearly finished with the teens' power control exercises, as he called them. Harry and Hermione had been performing the spells for weeks with adjustments as they went, but now, he thought they were a finished product.

Magic is a wondrous thing, even to a pureblood wizard like Remus who'd been raised around it. The Earth Shaker curse was amazing, though. Only Harry could cast it to full effect, but the effect was massive. Harry had caused a localized earthquake equal to a 9.6 on the Richter scale the other day when he cast it. Remus had been terrified for a moment that the Astronomy Tower was going to topple; the effect had been so massive. When the shaking stopped, the now taken aback threesome had trooped into the forest for Hermione's turn. Harry could nearly synthesize the Apocalypse should he put his all into the spell, he wanted to be far away from the castle when Hermione gave it a go.

She'd cast the spell creating `only' a 7.8. It was still enough to topple buildings and bring down bridges.

Knock-knock

"Must be the healer," he muttered to himself. Standing, he made his way to the door. Opening it, he began his welcome, but it lodged in his throat.

She stood in the doorway.

"Hello," he whispered.

Her cold blue eyes narrowed, "I believe we've an appointment?"

Recollecting himself, he stood back to allow her entrance. "Of course. Please, come in."

The beautiful blonde in the healers robes strode briskly into the room, placing her bag on the table. "James said you're suffering beyond the normal."

Her statement was obviously a question. Sails flapping, he replied in a distracted undertone, for he was mesmerized by her seemingly miraculous appearance. He'd not seen her in over ten years.

"Yes. It's been especially bad these last few months."

Without looking at him, she sat, withdrawing a form and quill as she did so. Placing spectacles on her nose, she asked, "Has anything changed in the past months?"

"Lily has been brewing Wolfsbane for me," he replied in automatic. His eyes hadn't left her form since she sat. The last time he'd seen her, she was begging him not to leave her. His curse didn't matter, she had told him. She loved him and only him.

Yet he walked out.

Granted, Lily and James were recently `buried' while Sirius was beginning his incarceration. Peter was dead to him and Harry had just disappeared, so to say that he was a bit confused would be to say that Noah encountered a small rain shower as he was building his dinghy.

There was a prolonged silence. He didn't want to say anything that would dispel the spell that brought her there but it was killing him to speak with her in such a clinical, detached way as if they'd never known each other. Never slept together, dreamed together and never loved each other.

"It's good to see you," he whispered, unable to bottle up his emotion any longer.

She spun on him, fury in her eyes. "Never, ever speak to me in a familiar manner, Mr Lupin. You sacrificed that right a decade ago. The only reason I'm here is because James asked me to look into your case. Had anyone else asked - even Sirius - I'd have told them where to get off."

Breathing hard, she returned to her notes. There were a few more per functionary questions before she stood. Her composure regained, she was a cool professional when she asked, him, "Please remove your shirt and take a seat."

The curse did much to his body, but it also made him much stronger than the average human. In a physical confrontation, he could defeat most any opponent without much effort and this capability showed in his rippling muscles.

He expected some reaction, but she never even blinked.

The usual ears, nose, throat and heartbeat examination preceded a series of diagnostic spells focused on his liver and pancreas. As she analysed the results, she played with her long blonde hair. As she always had.

Absorbed in her analysis, she told him in a distracted manner, "I'll need a blood sample."

"Of course," he replied. Hesitantly, he held out his arm.

Dipping into her bag, she withdrew the syringe and vial. Magical means hadn't been generated to draw blood in a way that didn't contaminate the sample with the magic of the spell. Therefore, it was drawn the old-fashioned way.

He flinched when she inserted the needle. Not daring to look at her, he thought he saw a wistful smile flit across her face out of the corner of her eye. She'd teased him mercilessly about his fear of needles.

Quickly, she packed up her kit. Without looking at him, she told him, "I'll be back in two days with the results. In the meantime, I'll have Lily owl me a sample of her Wolfsbane to see if there`s a contaminant, but I doubt that's the problem. She's the best brewer I've ever known."

Her face softened for a millisecond, the coldness melting to show the raw agony that lay behind the facade. The power and majesty of her pain stole Remus' breath, choking him with emotion.

The glimpse of her true self was gone. The mask firmly in place, she nodded. Without hesitation, she strode to the door. In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

The door closed behind her.

Remus meandered to his chair, consumed with grief born anew for he thought he'd recovered from the devastating loss when he'd forsaken her. Falling into the chair, tears stole down his cheeks unbidden yet undeniable. The Truth was still as real for him today as it was those years ago. He still was desperately in love with Alexandra Price but it seemed that she hated every bone in his body. Justifiably so, he cursed himself.

.oOo.

"Two hearts."

Susan pursed her lips. "Three diamonds."

Neville scratched his head. "Four spades?" Hermione glared at her partner's bid.

Jumping the bid, Harry announced, "Six clubs."

Hermione's scowl changed its focus from Neville, her partner, to her boyfriend. "Really," she drolly commented.

His reply was a happy little smile.

The four friends had been playing bridge for the last hour and a half. Susan had quickly acclimated to the game, while Neville was still bumbling about. Harry was an indifferent player who enjoyed being with his friends more than winning. Hermione was ruthless.

She had told Harry that her parents had taught her to play with her mother's mother as their fourth. All the older generation took their bridge very seriously. In fact, Hermione's grandmother, Cecilia, brought a ruler to each game, smacking Hermione on the hand whenever the young girl played a poorly selected card.

"Hermione?" Neville asked with quiet reservation. "Do you think we can call it a night? I'm pretty tired and have a Transfiguration exam the day after tomorrow."

Harry smothered a smile. The best way to get Hermione to succumb was to cite an upcoming exam. Since Harry and his girlfriend had left the mainstream Hogwarts curriculum, they'd lost track of the exam cycle so it wasn't too hard to `create' an upcoming test.

"Oh, sure Neville," Hermione replied with a hint of wistfulness.

"Walk me back to my common room?" Susan asked her boyfriend as she stood.

Neville's small smile told Harry volumes. Neville wanted to study, but he doubted it was Transfiguration.

"Of course," the shy Gryffindor replied.

"See you all tomorrow," Harry called as he scooped up the cards. Hermione walked their friends to the door. They were in Sirius' rooms at the castle. He and Hestia were out for the evening and expected to stay at her flat for the evening. Sirius had told Harry that the younger crowd could use the rooms but, "You better not mess about too much."

Harry had snorted, "Talk to my Dad, godfather of mine. Prongs seems to have a slightly different opinion than you have."

Stoking the fire, he smiled when Hermione extinguished all the other lights in the room. She sat on the sofa in front of the fire, holding her arms out to Harry. Settling next to her, he gathered his intended into his embrace.

"That was fun," he mused.

She shrugged, "I guess."

Rolling his eyes, he gave her a half squeeze, "You're not being hyper competitive, are you?"

"Maybe a little," she admitted. "A very little."

Deciding to give up the topic as a bad job, he asked, "Are you ready for tomorrow?" Flitwick had scheduled a melee duel with himself, Remus, James and Lily against the teens.

"As ready as I can be." She gave him a little smirk, "Though, I believe I could use some tension relief this evening."

He laughed, but it was tight and full of strain, "Is that all I am? Tension relief?"

Her smirk broadened into a smile, "Well, your foot rubs are to die for."

He smiled, but didn't laugh. The affected mirth quickly drained away as he pondered the next day's events. While Susan and Neville had been there, he'd been able to submerge his thoughts, enjoying the presence of his friends. Hermione was his other half; he couldn't hide anything from her for any extended period.

The poke in his side brought him `round. "Huh?" he asked her.

"What?" she asked, her meaning clear.

All traces of levity gone, he reminded her, "Remember earlier in the year when I had my little `altercation' with Malfoy and his goons?"

She nodded her understanding, the expression on her face narrowing. Harry pulled her a little tighter. That had been an awakening for both of them to their mortality. The Prophecy had just been disclosed and Harry seriously hurt shortly afterwards. The combination of the two had banished the sense of immortality that most teenagers possess. Their repeated exposure to life threatening situations coupled with the real deaths of Quirrel, the Basilisk and culminating with this event had fully convinced the young couple that they could be seriously hurt and even killed in the altercation to come.

Both took deep breaths to push aside the grip of momentary panic that resurfaced. While not the most dangerous situation either had experienced, it was easily the most emotionally jarring.

"Well, tomorrow is the test. Remember how I said that I wasn't ready to take on that many opponents? Tomorrow, we'll do just that and they'll be a helluva lot more competent than Gregory Goyle."

Reflecting on what he said, Harry added, "I don't think they'll hurt me. I'm not afraid of pain or such. It's more about me passing a test. Being ready to face real opponents."

His last word rebounded a bit in the stone rooms as they both considered his statement. Hermione worried her lip as she thought, staring off into the ether. Finally, she brought her gleaming brown eyes back to his. "You're ready. I took those five Death Eaters in the Alley last fall. I'm good, but you're a better fighter than I am. You can do this"

"But Voldemort…" he countered. The sinking feeling in the pit of his belly expanded to become full-blown despair.

"You're not fighting the Dark Lord tomorrow," she immediately reminded him. "You're fighting - with me I might add - very capable adversaries who are the skill equivalent to the senior Death Eaters." Frowning, she added, "Or so we've been told. Sirius didn't really get a chance to fight back in the alley but I've heard rumour of your parents' abilities. Remus is more than competent, we've seen that in our individual instruction. I personally think that Professor Flitwick could take Professor Dumbledore in two out of four encounters. We all know that Dumbledore is the only one that Voldemort ever feared."

Shaking away the stream of consciousness digression, she riveted him with her stare, "You can do this. I know it."

With a small voice, he asked, "You think so?"

Her expression fierce, she answered with a decided tone, "Yes. I do."

The uncertainty that had pooled in Harry's gut had been cold and oily. Leeching his strength, he hadn't even noticed until this moment that it'd been there. With Hermione's affirmation - no, her unswerving confidence and faith - the doubt began to drain away pushed aside by a growing confidence that had been lacking. Now noticing the situation by the absence of the doubt combined with the presence of confidence, Harry seemed to swell and reform as she watched.

His spine straightened, his head held a bit higher while his eye sharpened. Years later, Hermione would tell him that at that moment, she knew he would defeat Voldemort. Some would call it his presence, others his aura of power. Harry called it the manifestation of Hermione's belief in him.

"Harry, if you don't take me to bed and make love to me right now, there will be a serious problem."

He laughed. The unfettered sound burst out of him in relief and joy, as was her intent, he knew. Standing, he extended his hand to help her to her feet. "I would never deny my lady any of her wishes."

"Any?" she asked coquettishly, the gravity of their discussion long gone.

"Any," he affirmed with more than a bit of randiness. She squealed in delight as he chased her into the bedroom.

.oOo.

Hestia watched the participants limber up prior to their duel. She mused on a series of seemingly unrelated issues that all came round to the same fact. There was an enormous secret within the greater Potter-Black-Lupin family, a secret that dominated all discussion and interaction. Sirius had counselled patience regarding gaining Harry and Hermione's trust, and in turn, the trust of the entire family. At first, she'd felt resentment for not being brought into the truth of the affair, but a long talk with Sirius had cured her of that spiritual affliction. His intimation that there were significant issues at work mollified her somewhat.

In the beginning, Hestia thought that Harry might have been sexually abused by his relatives. Like the rest of magical Britain, she knew that Harry had been abused by his Aunt and Uncle when a boy. The idea that the relatives had gone the next horrific step was, unfortunately, not beyond the realm of comprehension. Of course, that aspect wouldn't be printed in the paper.

Fortunately, that had proven to be a false lead. She'd approached Sirius about the idea, concerned about her physical interactions with the dark haired teen. Most victims of sexual abuse have issues surrounding physical contact. She asked Sirius about it so as not to possibly exacerbate the situation.

With a grim expression that hinted at a heretofore-unknown rage in her man, he'd replied, "They did everything but that and may they rot in Hell for what they did to him." The relief had been short lived when she realized the consequences of Sirius' statement.

After that, she decided to be patient; ignoring the elephant in the room. Allowing the family to come to her when they were ready seemed to be the best choice.

The invitation by Harry to observe the melee had been a moment of hope for her. The teens seemed to occupy central positions in the family so when Harry had arrived at her door early this morning, she'd been more than a little nervous.

"Erm, good morning," he'd greeted. "We're having a bit of a training session later today and Hermione and I were wondering if you'd like to come watch." Looking away, he ruffled his hair, "You've not been able to see some of the other exercises we've done." His expression became mischievous, "And I'm going to beat on Padfoot like a drum today," he announced loudly, ensuring that her frowzy fiancé heard the trash talk.

"Bugger that!" she heard over her shoulder. So erudite was her Sirius.

"I'd love to," she replied with a winning smile. She really wanted the family to accept her. Outside of Sirius, the jury seemed to be holding judgement in abeyance until Harry and Hermione pronounced her fit.

Nodding, his discomfort evident, he muttered, "Well, we'll see you at ten in the large classroom down the hall here." His gesture was superfluous, but she followed his pointing finger to be polite.

"Ten it is."

So, here she sat. Filius had cast the duelling barrier that was routinely used in tournaments to protect spectators. His jovial question, "You do remember how to cast the Bunker shield, don't you?" had seemed to be a joke. However, given the forbidding expressions on all present, she was beginning to wonder…

Harry was lying on his side, pulling a leg up behind him while Hermione performed a full split as she twisted her torso nearly full around. James was palming the floor while Lily had pulled a foot up to her forehead. Even Sirius was displaying an athleticism of which she'd been unaware. Filius bounced on his toes while Remus calmly meditated in the corner.

Harry turned to his Dad, "No quarter?"

The serious expression on James' face caused Hestia to blanche. Prongs' reply of "No quarter," nearly caused her to stand and demand a bloody explanation. Bewildered, she refocused on Remus.

Watching the lycanthrope, she realized that he was focusing his inner strength. Having done a little reading about werewolves, she'd been surprised to read that most Lycans were magically stronger than the average witch or wizard, but were unable to focus this advantage in a meaningful manner. True, much of that was due to their general lack of formal schooling, but even more so, the afflicted witch or wizard experienced what the foremost researchers in the field called `magical storms'. The curse magically raged throughout the Lycan's magical core, disrupting the path of their power that could be channelled at a given moment. Remus' meditation was the natural reaction to this handicap. Woe betides his opponent.

Turning to the side, she regarded Harry and Hermione. Watching the two lithe teens, she realized they were unconventionally beautiful. Hermione had strong facial structures that weren't easy to appreciate, individually. However, all her features complemented so that she was a strikingly beautiful young woman

Harry had an inner light that seemed to illuminate his strong jaw and narrow face. He still wore the ugly glasses seemingly out of habit rather than preference. Surely, James and Lily could afford glasses that are more stylish even if he was unable to use the corrective potion yet. Its expense would be negligible to the family.

The settling at her side brought Hestia back to her surroundings. Poppy Pomfrey sat next to her on the bench conjured for the occasion. With a bang, she dropped her oversized bag on the ground.

Responding to Hestia's unspoken question, the irascible nurse told the blonde, "With this group, it pays to be ready." She nodded toward the group, "They're beginning."

.oOo.

"Gentlemen of the committee, it has been proposed by the Honourable Mister Malfoy to add this addendum to the resubmission of the DMLE budget."

Steven Aldershanks groaned to himself. Here we go again. Sure enough, this time it was a bill that would make it legal for wizards and witches to kill any muggle should they `feel threatened' by said muggle.

The vote was swift: 3-2 to add with one member not present. Aldershanks wondered if Richard Macmillan had been `encouraged' to be ill for this meeting.

.oOo.

Filius had elected to be the referee of the melee. Originally, he was to be a combatant, but thought that 5-2 odds were a bit much, even for Harry and Hermione. Instead, he would join the fight only when the odds were evens. Until then, he was the referee and observer. Truth be told, he hadn't been this excited for a duel in many years.

Sometimes duels are like eating dinner from fine china. Cultured, refined and proper. They can be extravagant or simple, but always polished.

Other times, they can be brawls with the metaphorical bottle being broken and wielded as a makeshift knife.

This fight portended to be mix of both. Harry and Hermione were prodigies; Hermione far more than Harry in the academic sense. In raw magical terms, while Hermione was more powerful than any other in the castle save possibly Albus, Harry was a god made human. Poseidon, Zeus, Hades and Ares would have been good company for the young man given his magical capacity. In time, Filius was sure Harry could confidently face Voldemort should it become necessary.

James, Lily, Sirius and Remus were a well-oiled machine. Despite the years apart or suspended in time, they still worked well together. Individually, they were formidable, but together, they were a fighting force that had caused the Death Eaters to tremble. Harry and Hermione would not steamroll the older generation with their power; they'd have to work to win.

For that matter, so too would the older foursome.

Glancing about, he saw the combatants arraigned in the predetermined formation. A rough circle with the foursome to the east and the teens to the west. All six had their backs to the opposition.

With more than a hint of eagerness, Filius asked in a loud voice, "Are all present ready to begin in accordance with the ancient laws of duelling?" His experience lent the query gravity and force.

"Aye!"

"Aye!"

"Aye!"

"Aye!"

"Aye!"

"Aye!"

Each of the combatants raised their wand as they responded; committing themselves to the rules, which only limited them to any spell save the Unforgivables. Given the relationships involved, here, Filius didn't expect too much damage to be inflicted.

Giving one last glance, he noticed Harry's expression along with Lily's. Reconsidering, he thought there might be quite a bit of damage.

"Begin!"

.oOo.

Harry gritted his teeth as Madame Pomfrey reset his arm. Sirius had clipped him with a Bone Breaker halfway through the duel. Adrenaline and concentration had overridden the pain somewhat. Once the duel ended, though, it hurt like billy-oh. He gave worse than he got, though. Sirius had already downed two Blood Replenishing potions.

When Flitwick called "Begin," the room exploded. Literally.

Per their plan, Harry and Hermione both rolled away from the other in order to get moving. Being outnumbered so greatly, they realized that they would have to be violence in motion to succeed. At the same time, their spellfire had to be mutually supporting else they get cornered and picked off one at a time.

It was James who started the party. Without turning, he cast the Aeolus Curse. A tricky spell to cast, it created a whirlwind of steam that flooded the room. By concentrating, the wizard controlled the steam so that it would swarm the target of the spell. The drawback was that the caster had to focus completely on the spell, which usually made them immobile.

Scalding steam surrounded the teens, blinding and distracting them. Rolling while pursued by the vaporous opponent, Harry growled in frustration. Jumping to his feet, he found Sirius right in front of him. Reflexively lashing out, he cold cocked his godfather with his left hand. His right hand snap cast a Reductor in the direction of his father.

Impacting at James' feet, the spell scattered stone chips into the man's face. It was sufficient distraction to end the curse. As James panted to regain his breath after the taxing spell, Harry moved again.

Lily and Hermione were at it hammer and tongs. Shield. Piercing charm. Reductor, Reductor, Reductor. Flechette spell. Bone Breaker. Advanced Shield.

Both women were moving like snakes. Darting left and right, Shielding when necessary. Neither realized that their lips were curled back in a snarl. A surprise Blinding charm by Hermione followed by the simple Binding charm left Lily immobile.

Remus woke Sirius, casting a quick healing charm to repair the man's broken jaw before turning. There was Harry, his eyes glowing blue with magic.

"Fuck."

Remus didn't even have a chance to raise a shield before he was hit by Harry's unnamed spell that created a concussive wave of force. Like a tsunami, the raw energy rolled across the room, tossing Remus from his feet into the wall. The skull fracture and broken collarbone rendered him ineffective for the rest of the fight.

Sirius had dived out of the way, rolling behind a conjured boulder that took the brunt of the force of Harry's spell. Popping up, he grunted the incantation of the Fire Whip.

Lashing out, he caught Harry about the ankles with the spell. When his godson screamed as his feet burned, Sirius jerked hard. Harry fell to his back, the motion freeing him from the Whip.

Padfoot didn't see her spell coming.

Hermione's Banishing charm flung him across the room like a bit of litter. He thought he saw The Smartest Witch of the Age rushing to stand over Harry, but wasn't sure. The impact of his head on the oak door left him insensible for a bit.

Hermione heard a skittering on the stone behind her. Turning, she nearly screamed. A half dozen transfigured Gorgons were slithering across the floor. Prongs was back in the fight, attacking with his strength. As black talons at the end of green scaled arms reached for her and Harry, Hermione shrieked the elemental spell. "Infernalis!" The conjured monsters of old were vaporized in the resultant fury of fire. She began to turn back when the newly freed Lily took her down with a simple Stunning spell to the back.

It was a friendly duel after all.

Right?

In the corner, Filius became worried. Harry was staring at his intended as she fell. The moment couldn't have even been a full second, but it seemed to be an eternity. The situation that he'd feared for so long had come. Hermione had been hurt in front of Harry. Tightening the grip on his wand, he readied the Bubble Head charm for himself. Should things go sideways, it was his intention to cast the Vacuum spell, which would instantaneously remove all air from a room. The Bubble Head charm would allow him to disarm the combatants in safety before restoring atmosphere to the room and reviving them. It was an effective endgame manoeuvre. Hopefully.

Based on the expression emerging on The Boy-Who-Lived's face, he might need that spell soon.

Before Harry could move or even look up, the now rejuvenated Sirius clipped Harry on the left arm with a Bone Breaking hex, fracturing the limb just above the elbow. It also broke the chain of events for the approaching apocalypse.

Harry didn't look; he raised his wand as he cast the Piercing charm ten times in rapid succession. He and Hermione had practised this over the preceding months. The Piercing charm required no wand movement and was an excellent choice to put maximum magic into a spell in order to bring down an opponent's shield.

In this case, it turned Sirius into a pincushion. Four holes in his arms followed by six in his legs had Madame Pomfrey Summoning the man to her side so she could keep him from bleeding out.

A wave of the hand on his injured arm caused a grimace of pain but also woke Hermione. Without greeting, she shot to her feet. Back to back, they faced James and Lily.

Behind the shield, Hestia was torn between concern for Sirius and absolute shock at the magical display in front of her.

Still watching, Filius seriously considered stopping the duel. James and Lily would never give in, neither would Harry and Hermione. Someone could die given the way things had progressed.

Before the diminutive Duelling Master could speak, Harry lashed out, casting the Ice Spear hex.

Lily dove to her left avoiding the five foot long lance, only to be swept along by Harry's follow up wave of water. Sputtering, she transfigured the floor on which Harry was standing into quicksand.

As he began to sink, Harry conjured a swarm of bees that attacked his mother. Looking up, he conjured a rope ladder that was attached to the ceiling so he could climb out of the muck.

Hermione smiled a little grin that nearly caused James to whimper - and he'd faced Voldemort three times.

Her harsh, guttural incantation was unfamiliar to Prongs, but the effect was astounding. Immediately, he was overwhelmed with the most horrifying experiences of his life.

He heard Voldemort's cackles of glee as he banished them to the ether, "…. After you are shown your son's grave…," he taunted again and again.

Weeping uncontrollably at his parents' graves.

The time Lily had been wounded by that savage Mulciber and he feared for her life.

When Remus had attempted suicide during fourth year and James had found him in the dormitory.

Hermione turned away from James. The Dementor hex only lasted for ten seconds, but she figured he'd be incapacitated with the emotional aftereffects of the spell for the rest of the duel. She'd been reluctant to use it against family, but the duel was quickly approaching deadly for the remaining combatants and this spell seemed to be a non-lethal means of ending the encounter.

Harry and Lily were fully involved. He knew that he'd never best her with charms, so he was attacking with transfiguration and power spells.

Surrounding Lily was a veritable deadly menagerie. Two lions, a tiger and three bears were hammering at her shield while Harry was chaining Reductors, Piercing charms and Bone Breaking hexes.

Lily's shield flared repeatedly before failing.

She fell to her knees as Filius' magically amplified voice shouted, "CALL OFF!"

.oOo.

Unceremoniously, Hermione fell to the floor, bruising her bottom in the process. Exhausted and in considerable pain, she stared about the room.

Sirius was sitting up, gazing about stupidly. James was weeping on the floor. Lily and Remus were both unconscious. Holding her hand up to swipe a bit of hair out of her eyes, Hermione realized her left hand had been pulverized. Must've been one of Lily's Reductors , she mused to herself.

The pain flooding her brain made her nearly pass out. Hearing Harry grunt in discomfort, she saw Madame Pomfrey setting his obviously broken arm. Shoving a goblet in his hand, she commanded, "Drink that and then put the burn balm on your legs. Use your good hand, mind."

The nurse scuttled to Hermione. With her usually brusque tenderness, she quickly examined Hermione's wound. Clucking her tongue, she reached into her bag. Turning back, she thrust a potion vial in Hermione's uninjured palm. "Hold this."

A wave of Pomfrey's wand caused Hermione's injured hand to fall limp and boneless. Fortunately, this also took away the pain. Hermione couldn't even comment before the vial was wrenched from her hand. Dumping the contents in another conjured goblet, the nurse added a bit of water. "Drink," she commanded before moving over to James.

The odour emanating from the goblet forcibly reminded Hermione of a garbage pit on a thirty-degree day: rank and disgusting. Given the state of her left hand, she couldn't even pinch her nose as she drank off the repulsive brew, so she sucked in a deep breath before downing it in one go.

It was so revolting she nearly vomited it right back up.

Shuddering, she watched Harry shuffle over to her, the legs of his trousers rolled up and the skin on his legs shiny with the burn balm. As the sharp pains began in her hand, he wrapped his good arm about her.

The steam still puffing from Lily's ears, she flopped down across from them, James shambling behind her. As she leaned back into her husband, Lily regarded the teens. Hermione stared back unflinchingly. There was no hostility in the exchange, merely both women seeing the other pair in an entirely new light.

Sirius was helped to the circle by Hestia while Pomfrey finished up with Remus. Moments later, he sat in the circle as Flitwick and Pomfrey quickly vacated the room.

There was no aggression or recrimination in any faces. This duel was necessary for all. Finally, Hestia spoke.

In a calm voice that hinted at her extreme frustration and even fear, she began, "There is something extraordinary going on here. I don't know what it is, but I believe I deserve to know. I've been very patient, enduring the long silences when I enter a room as it's obvious that the topic is being forcibly changed. I'm going to be part of this family very soon and part of family is trust."

Hermione looked away when Hestia looked at each of them in turn. The blonde witch was right and Hermione couldn't deny it. She felt more than a hint of shame at their exclusion of Hestia. Ignoring her had been the easy path so no one challenged the status quo.

Her brown eyes boring into them, Hestia finally told them, "If you don't trust me, I don't know if I can be a part of this family. You all nearly killed each other here today and it was about this secret. If it's so important that you could hurt your family, I think I deserve to know what I'm signing up for before it happens." From next to her, Sirius' eyes bored into James'.

Hermione felt Harry sigh. "You're right," he observed.

Looking over at James, she saw him cock his eyebrow at his son as if to say, "You sure?"

Harry's nod was enough.

James took a minute to compose his thoughts before he began. Hermione turned to the blonde who sat half in Sirius' arms. She was right; Hestia did deserve to know what was going on with them all. Patience only lasted so long and Hermione was surprised it'd lasted this long.

"Before Harry was born, a prophecy was made…" James began with gravity.

It took ten minutes of him talking with no interruptions by anyone to explain everything. Hestia listened attentively, her gaze concentrated on James. Sirius sat next to her, his head down and his arm about her. Remus lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, his expression sober and attentive. Lily fidgeted with the sleeve of her robes, becoming more agitated as the story advanced. Harry was silent, watching his father while Hermione closed her eyes, soaking in the moment. At the end of James' story, the now fully in the know witch turned to Harry.

"Before this morning, I would probably have said something along the lines of `You poor dear' or the like. Pity and regret for your burden, I suppose. After seeing this," she waved her hand to the room, indicating the duel just past. "I can't help but feel confident. I'm far from a soldier, but I know what I saw. I saw you two," she pointed to the teens, "crush four very advanced Sorcerers in relatively short order."

Behind her, Harry nodded soberly, pulling Hermione deeper into his embrace.

"But why all this?" Hestia asked with a wondering tone.

"We had to know," James replied.

"Know what?" the befuddled witch asked.

"We had to know that Harry can handle himself." Turning to his son, he added, "And he had to know that we could all take care of ourselves."

Harry nodded his agreement with a slow movement. "I believe you now."

"And I you," James replied. Slowly, he stood, helping Lily to her feet as he did. A bit gingerly, he turned to leave before he paused. "We're going to bed. Consider today a day off from lessons and tomorrow as well. Go to Hogsmeade on a date or something."

"But it's midweek," Hermione objected without consideration. Immediately she realized how ridiculous she sounded. The blush in her cheeks caused the others to laugh.

"Don't ever change, my love," her boyfriend whispered in her ear from behind. She felt him rise. Looking up, Harry was holding out his unhurt hand to her. "Let's get a nap in, eh?"

Bone tired, she nodded her head. "Together. I need your arms around me."

"I'd like nothing better," he agreed as they joined the crowd moving to the door.

.oOo.

Sirius led his fiancée back to their rooms. He nodded to the Potters and Hermione as they disappeared into James and Lily's suite. Holding the door open for Hestia, he waited.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long.

"Why didn't you tell me? Did James forbid it?"

Mutely, he nodded.

Her eyes bored into his, measuring and evaluating. Finally, she announced, "This is the last time. No more secrets ever."

Silent, Sirius mused. On the surface, the statement appeared to be perfectly agreeable. Ten years ago, he would have immediately agreed to her demand. Now, though, he was a bit older, a bit wiser and a very little bit more mature.

"If it's my secret to share, I will. If it's not, I'll tell you whose secret it is that I can't tell."

He could see that he shocked her a bit with his statement. Her training kicked in so she mused on his counter proposal. "That's fair," she announced. Her face softening, the stridency left her tone as she asked, "Do you understand why I'm a bit upset?"

Moving to her, Sirius took her in his arms. Kissing the top of her head, he told her, "I completely understand. You know I tore into James when he told me I couldn't tell you, right? He told me to - and I quote - `Stop being such a bloody drama queen. It's Harry's story to tell so stop your bloody whinging.'"

Sirius' face twisted in outrage, "I am not a drama queen, nor do I whinge."

She stared at him, her face expressionless. Still he held on. Timing was everything. Finally, her lips twitched upward as she began to chuckle. Shaking her head, Hestia melted against him. "What am I doing marrying you?" she mumbled against his chest.

Not replying, he was glad his gambit paid off. Of course, Hestia had every right to be peeved, but at the same time, it wasn't his story to tell, it'd been Harry's story. With everything that had happened to the lad, it was vital that the family treat him with respect and this was part of it. He could tell that her vitriol was ebbing away as was her resentment. It'd be fine in the end.

.oOo.

Hogsmeade was completely empty of students. They bumped into Professor McGonagall as she left the stationer's, arms full of packages. She gave Harry and Hermione a friendly nod but continued on her way without stopping.

With her arm in his, he should have been happy. Chattering about the new book she'd just purchased, she gushed about the topic. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright. Usually, Harry delighted in her happiness, yet, Harry was feeling…hollow.

Walking down the empty high street of the magical village, Harry couldn't help but superimpose his worst fears on the empty landscape. A heap of corpses in front of Scrivenshaft's. Zonko's aflame, the screams of the trapped reverberated in the roar of the fires. Dementors clustered about the Three Broomsticks waiting for the trapped to attempt to flee. The shiver that clattered down his spine wasn't due to the spring wind.

He didn't notice that she'd stopped talking.

In his mind's eye, he saw The Happy Harpy Inn explode. Beyond it, the Hog's Head imploded. The inhabitants of the village were crucified, one after the other alongside the road.

Hermione grabbed his face, turning it to her.

He'd not even been aware that he'd been weeping.

Her expression was near panicked. "What is it? What? Tell me!"

"When he comes, he'll destroy all of this," he croaked through his visions.

Slowly, comprehension began to dawn in her eyes. The panic slowly melted to understanding that then became something else. Something fierce and unyielding. Her lips thin, face drawn and eyes narrowed, she leaned into him.

"We will beat him." As if the sirocco were blowing, Harry's vision of the Future That Could Be blew away like so much smoke.

"You must not succumb to the terror, my love," she whispered with a fierceness he'd never heard from her. "Never surrender."

"Never," he echoed. Just like earlier in the day, he had doubted. This time he'd been able to see what could be. A few weeks before, he'd been able to see Cibola - the Golden City that was far more than just a city - and give hope to the legislators who were embattled with Voldemort's minions. Today, however, he was able to see the opposite possibility. It didn't seem to be any in between solution. Neither Voldemort nor Harry would accept any other solution. Neither would accept any other world.

Choice? Was there truly choice for him in this conflict, this opposition with the wizard born Tom Riddle? Voldemort was returning, of that, there was no doubt. He was laying the groundwork for something big with the diplomatic moves he was making. Not content to slither back into the night, the Dark Warlock was making his moves now, so that when he was returned to his corporeal form, he would be unstoppable.

But what was the Dark Lord doing? What could Harry do to stop his vision from being realized? What choices did Harry need to make? How could he avert the Armageddon that he saw this day? What did he need to do? Shaking his head, Harry tried to ward off the visions that attempted to cling to his consciousness. His Dad. He needed to talk to his Dad. James would know what to do.

Turning to Hermione, his unspoken plea was evident. After placing a soft kiss on his lips, she told him, "We can finish this later. Let's find your parents."

.oOo.

Lily was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. At her side, James was sound asleep. Despite escaping the melee physically unhurt, the Dementor spell Hermione cast on him really sapped his strength. He'd tottered into their rooms, stripped his clothes off as he walked before collapsing on the bed. With a smile, Lily had pushed him into place before taking her place at his side. Unfortunately, sleep wouldn't come.

Physically and magically she was exhausted. The endgame match between her and Harry had drained her significantly. Come to think of it, so too did the engagement with Hermione. However, right now she was being held awake by a thought that was unbidden and unrelenting.

Despite evidence to the contrary, she didn't think that Harry was ready to face Voldemort.

She and James were two of three people in the castle who'd fought Voldemort, so she was well acquainted with the capabilities and limitations of the Dark Lord. His main limitation was his ego. Other than that…

The only reason she and James had survived - not defeated - Voldemort so many times was because they'd encountered him in a two on one situation that allowed them to saturate his defences so that they could make their escape. In the only straight up encounter they'd had with the maniac, Voldemort had overpowered them with ease.

If Harry were to face the Dark Lord today, he'd need support to kill the man. Most likely, he'd need Hermione and his parents at his side. Sirius and Remus would be able to keep the Death Eaters busy, but for Voldemort himself, it would most likely take the four of them to chop off his bloody head.

Maybe.

Knock-knock.

With a groan, Lily levered herself from the bed. James hadn't even responded to the noise, so Lily belted her dressing gown as she shuffled to the door. Poppy had pronounced her fit, but Lily still was sore.

Opening the door, she was disturbed by what she saw. Harry and Hermione stood there, Harry's eyes haunted and Hermione's worried. The Smartest Witch of the Age's eyes continuously flickered from Harry to Lily conveying her distress for the dark haired wizard.

Frowning, she backed up and beckoned, "Come in. I'll wake your father." Through her tiredness, she was still afraid. Her son and his girlfriend were two of the bravest people she'd ever known and for them to be this upset about something, it had to be bad. Deep down, she had a passing wonder at how much more she could take of all this.

A bit more purpose in her stride, she hurried to the bedroom. "James, wake up," she cajoled as she shoved him on the shoulder.

"Huh? Whazzat?"

"Get up, something's wrong with the kids."

That woke him completely. As Lily moved to the boudoir to dress, James got out of bed. Three minutes later, the three Potters and one nearly-Potter were crowded around a newly brewed pot of tea.

As Lily poured for them, Harry explained about his Vision of Times That Could Come To Pass. With each vivid description, Lily shuddered. It was her worst nightmares made flesh. Grateful she had the mundane task to occupy her and thus mute the full impact of Harry's vision, she handed the tea to all as Harry finished his recitation.

"Help me, Dad. Help me prevent this," Harry plead.

Lily frowned. What the hell did he think they were doing? Playing cauldrons and candles?

Fortunately, James picked up on Harry's intent. Leaning back on his chair, he sipped at the black tea. "We saw last week that the battle isn't only to be fought only with wands and potions. Not only do we need to kill these bastards, but we need to beat them politically to achieve your Cibola." He nodded at the last. Lily had been a bit disturbed by Harry's pronouncement during the meeting with Sir Edward and Lord Salisbury. His definitive assertion of victory at first had seemed juvenile, but when she considered the tone and undercurrent of his voice when he made his statement, she was even further disturbed.

There are various different type of Seers. The most famous are those who are gifted visions of the future and are able to not only recognize what they are seeing but are able to interpret the events they see. The other famous type is the oracle who is merely a mouthpiece for a Greater Power. Some call it Fate, others God. Whatever was the motivating source, the oracle was a conduit for the prophecy from `beyond'.

Harry seemed to fall into the more common and most often unrecognized category where the witch or wizard's ability provided hunches and firm beliefs about future events. This would explain the shifting nature of Harry's belief of the future. The previous week, they were on the cusp of rolling back Voldemort's effort to subvert political Britain, so the `hunch' about the future and the instantiation of a Cibola was firm and strong.

Now, the opposite `hunch' rode on Harry's mind. Something had changed.

"What's different?" Lily asked aloud.

James held up an unopened letter. "Let's see if this sheds any insight." Breaking open the seal, he scanned the missive. Shaking his head, he told the others, "This time it was Malfoy. He placed another addendum on the new DMLE budget. This one allows a witch or wizard to kill a muggle if they felt threatened."

The room was quiet. All realized that there was more afoot than a pureblood bigot attempting to slide through a revolting piece of legislation. This had to be what had changed Harry's `barometer' of the future.

"But why?" Lily asked aloud. They'd all asked the same question the previous week.

"I don't think it has anything to do with the specifics of the addendum," Hermione ventured. When James frowned at her, she quickly added, "Of course, the addendum can't stand, but I don't think this…" she looked concernedly at her boyfriend, "change has anything to do with the addendum per se. More, I think it's about the machinations that drove the addendum."

Lily couldn't help but smile. This girl was good. "I agree," she told Hermione as she gave the young woman a reassuring smile.

In a flat, emotionless tone, Harry asked, "We're not going to find out what's going on until the trap is sprung, are we?"

There was silence in the room. James sipped his tea before replying, "That's most likely."

Once again, Lily felt that she and her family were being held hostage by Voldemort. Thirteen years before, they'd run from the man in order to protect their son. Voldemort knew about the prophecy…

How did Voldemort know the prophecy and how did Albus know that the Dark Lord knew?

The question sprang into her mind full force, as if a dam had failed allowing the water to run free. Shaking aside the `why' she thought further about the questions. How did Voldemort know the prophecy? How did Albus know that Voldemort knew?

It's not important now, she told herself. Or is it?

Shoving aside the question, she looked up to see James, Harry and Hermione watching her while wearing expectant expressions.

"What?"

"You were muttering, my love," James chided softly.

"Oh," she replied as her face coloured. She hated when she muttered to herself. When none of her family showed any hint of letting her off the hook, Lily told them, "I was just chasing a hare about the prophecy."

Harry's brow furrowed, "And?"

Shrugging, Lily topped her tea, "I was wondering how Voldemort found about the prophecy and how Albus knew that he knew." Scrunching her face, she added, "If you follow."

Hermione's expression was stunned. "Good Lord…" she whispered.

The others were immediately stricken. With more than a intimation of fear, Lily asked, "What?"

"No, it can't be…" Hermione murmured as she stared off into space.

"What, Hermione?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Could the Headmaster have either told him or allowed him to be told?" she asked in a near whisper. It seemed that she wanted to deny any truth in her statement by quietly voicing it.

Lily shook her head slowly. She'd completely lost faith in Albus Dumbledore since they returned to the time stream, but this? This was…horrible, no, it was treason.

"Does it matter?" Harry asked, his voice dead.

"I don't know. Maybe," Hermione replied.

"I dislike Albus Dumbledore more than any other non-Death Eater I've ever known, but I don't think he's in bed with the Dark Lord."

Lily turned to her husband, weighing his words. Hoping he was right as opposed to believing he was right, she nodded.

A/N

1. I own nothing. Thanks to all who reviewed the first eleven chapters. Story status, as always, can be found on my Author's page on FanFiction(dot)net.

2. Recommendation for the chapter is Quoth the Raven, Nevermore by GenkaiFan. Although the chapters are short, it's a very original and entertaining story.

3. Ten magical bongo bucks to anyone who recognizes Remus' old flame and where I got her name (yeah, I changed her appearance, but the name is the key…'Oh, I'm a Pepper, you're a Pepper, wouldn't you like to be a Pepper too?').

4. The grandmother with the ruler while playing cards? That was my Great Aunt Bertha who taught me how to play Euchre. She was one of the sweetest women I've ever known, but Lord Help you should you trump her ace. I'd rather pour acid in my ears than to call trump and be euchred with her as my partner. She passed away years ago, but I still remember going fishing with her during the day and after a hearty meal, playing Euchre with her and my grandparents until bedtime.

This chapter completed on 11/18/11

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