Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 17

"Your Majesty, his Lordship, the Earl of Richmond, Acting Minister for Magic Amelia Bones and Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore..."

Elizabeth was tired. Her husband was dead. Her son was dead. All three sons, actually and she had no idea whether Anne lived or not. Only William survived of her male heirs and she refused to let him out of her sight. Her eldest grandchild slept on the couch of the room, the poor lad too confused and sad to process the fact that his grandda, father, mother, aunts, uncles, cousins and brother were all dead.

He was the eldest now that all the others were dead or presumed to be.

A quick wipe of her cheek erased the evidence of her grief. Straightening her back in her familiar pose, the formidable Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor-Mountbatten waited for her visitors. By her carriage and demeanour, no one would ever guess that in her youth, Queen Elizabeth's younger sister Margaret had called her Lilibet.

The footman opened the door to reveal an old man who sported a ridiculous beard that hung to his knees. Is he wearing a dress? she mused before her iron will reasserted itself refocusing on the situation. Dimly, she remembered being briefed about the magical aspects of Her realm and how they were a bit backwards.

As the old man shuffled into the room a young man in a well-tailored suit entered, followed by a woman in an severely cut business suit. The woman appeared to be exhausted.

"Your Majesty," the woman began, "I am Amelia Bones, your Acting Minister for Magic of Great Britain. My companions are," she gestured to the ludicrously dressed old man, "Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, our premier magical school."

The old man sketched a short bow, "Your Majesty," he intoned in a low tone.

"And his Lordship, James, Earl of Richmond and Baron Potter of Gwynedd."

Now Elizabeth frowned as her gaze settled on the young man, "My Lord, you must excuse Us, for you have Us at a disadvantage. I know every Earl of the realm by name and face and you, sir, are not known to Us."

The barely civil delivery coupled with the bags under her eyes must have given the overall delivery of the reprimand a ferocity she hadn't intended. Inwardly, she sighed as the woman - Minister Bones, she reminded herself - flinched.

She gave the purported Lord Richmond credit, for he not only held her gaze, but also replied with such a genuine emotion that she was impressed. Not many people could hold their water when scolded by the Queen.

"Your Majesty, I apologize. My family was elevated to the peerage by the ancient kings before the Conquest. In magical society, we are still recognized as such. My name is James Potter, ma'am," he gave a deep bow that made her think of the Court of St James from another age.

Her mind was a bit frazzled as the sixty eight year old grandmother had been up for nearly two days. It wasn't surprising that she latched on to the unimportant detail. "Who did issue the letters patent to your forbears, my Lord?" She couldn't help falling into the habit of addressing the man by his title.

"King Arthur, ma'am."

The immediate and genuine reply surprised her. "Arthur? The King Arthur?"

"Yes, ma'am. In 689. I am the twenty third Earl of Richmond and the thirty second Baron Potter."

Her head swam in tiredness and shock. When her uncle had abdicated the throne in what now seemed to be an eon ago, her father had become George VI. On a rainy day in May, she'd been briefed into the existence of the magical world. Since she was the heir apparent, the then Princess Elizabeth had learned about Hogwarts, witches, and wizards. It'd seemed to be a fairy tale made real.

A small smile tugged the edge of her mouth. She'd had a thousand questions after the briefing, most of which she'd forgotten over time. Her titanic duties had overtaken her curiosity, but every so often, just as she was about to drop off to sleep, one question kept popping into her mind.

Refocusing on this long lost Lord, she asked, "I've always wanted to know if Dragons and Unicorns are real. Are they?"

Richmond's smile was broad and genuine. Right there, he earned the Queen's trust through his honesty and humanity. "Yes, ma'am, they are. In fact, my son fought a Dragon last fall and there is a small Unicorn herd on the grounds of my home."

Returning her gaze to her lap, the Queen murmured, "I should like to see them."

"You shall, ma'am. You shall," Richmond reassured her in a determined, earnest voice.

"When I first assumed the throne, I toured Australia," Through the mists of her memory, she remembered the teeming throngs that greeted her at every stop. She had been the first reigning monarch to tour the continent. Once again, Elizabeth was twenty-six, the mother of two and seeing the world through all new eyes. "I saw three out of four Australians in those short months. New Zealand, as well…"

Her eyes regarded the three magicals and to those watching her, she slipped back into her regal nature as easily as tugging on an old glove. "But now, because of one of your kind, We can no longer sleep in Our own bed, Our family is murdered and the realm that We have vowed to serve for all of Our life has been taken away from Us. Explain."

The frostiness of the room was palpable. The ridiculous old man spoke, "Ma'am, the wizard who styles himself as Lord Voldemort is the leader of those who've seized control of the country. He was born Tom Riddle in the non-magical world and raised in an orphanage in London until he attended my school.

"To be plain, ma'am, Tom Riddle is a sociopathic genius the like I doubt the world has ever seen. He's as much a sociopath as Hitler or the worst of the Third Reich, but a genius on the scale of Albert Einstein. In addition, his magical might is nearly unmatched."

Trying to keep control, Elizabeth took a breath, "This is all well and good, but you have not answered Our question, Headmaster." Was he truly prevaricating? At this juncture?

The hairy old man nodded, "Tom Riddle has taken away your country because in his insanity, he lashes out at those he hates. He loathes the non-magical world because he deems it base, vulgar and weak compared to the magical world. Concurrently, in the non-magical world, he saw himself as inferior due to his orphan status and lack of real family. In the magical world, he must hide his true origins lest he be rejected as inferior. He despises those who revere him as simpletons led by the nose and those who oppose him as fools to stand before his - justifiable - significant magical might. In short, ma'am, he hates everything and everyone for different reasons."

Understanding flooded the Queen. "He would either rule that which he hates or tear it down."

This man, Dumbledore, did her the courtesy of merely bobbing his head in agreement.

"Ma'am," the Acting Minster began in a soft tone. "I've been talking with the head of your security detail. He was very confused but there are some simple, magical answers to the situation."

Now, Elizabeth narrowed her eyes again. Bones continued, "A person who looks like Prime Minister Major, a woman who looks like you and men resembling your sons have all been on the television over the last forty eight hours."

"I suppose that this maniac Riddle has a magical capability to give persons the appearance of someone else?" the Queen asked bitterly.

"Yes, ma'am."

"So the realm doesn't know that her leaders are either dead or fled. That a monster has wrested control of their lives." Her dead, flat delivery turned what could have been a question into statements.

"Who does know?" she asked as the despair flooded her. All her life, Elizabeth had been strong. Through wars and crises, loved ones' failings and pains, she'd always been strong. Even after the annus horriblus, she'd not felt this level of helplessness.

"The Americans have been informed for quite some time that Voldemort had seized control of the magical government. They've been helping us in the magical United Nations that we call the International Confederation of Wizards," the Acting Minister outlined.

"And?"

Nodding her head, Bones acknowledged the prompt, "Actually, the entire magical world knows of Voldemort's rise. I know for certain that Secretary of Magic Noonan has told President Clinton of the situation. Beyond that, I'm unaware of non-magical governments' knowledge."

The odd old man interrupted again, "They are being very smart, ma'am. When Voldemort attempted to usurp the government in the 1970s, he acted as a brute - a thug with a large stick. This time, he's been crafty, cunning and intelligent."

Closing her eyes, she sighed. "I understand that this…person…is a formidable foe. What do you suggest We do?"

There was a silence in the room so pervasive it seemed alive. "You don't know," she answered for them.

Silent until now, Richmond spoke up, "Ma'am, I don't believe we know enough in order to move forward."

Nodding, she saw the wisdom of his words, "True." There was a long pause until she looked up at them. "Find out. Work with whomever, buy whatever you need and take what you can't buy. We will have this usurper hang from the Tower of London as in the olden days where the crows will feast on him."

The steel in all three's expression gave her hope. Bones moved to the door first, followed by the old man. Richmond lingered for a moment before beginning, "Your Majesty, I am concerned for your physical safety."

"We are well guarded here, James," she nodded to her grandson, slipping from the royal `We' now that the matters of state were done. She didn't realize it but it was the first time she'd addressed any of the visitors by their Christian name.

"Try not to scream, ma'am," Richmond warned with a little boy's smile on his face. He gave a twist before disappearing with a soft pop.

Shocked, the Queen stared. A voice behind her prompted, "Please don't scream, ma'am."

With wide eyes, she turned about to see the apologetic smile of the young Earl. "This is one of many reasons why I worry."

"Very well," she began with a shaken voice, his point made. "You shall stay, my Lord, until we can arrange proper magical guards. Looking to the Acting Minister, she asked, "Can you arrange for guardians, Minister Bones?"

"Yes, ma'am. We're regrouping the expatriates of the magical government as we speak."

"Very well," the Queen murmured, the exhaustion taking over. "I must retire. My Lord," she asked turning to Richmond, "Will you watch over William as he sleeps? I shall be within," she gestured to the boudoir beyond.

Bowing from the neck, James replied, "Of course your Majesty." Reaching into his suit coat, he withdrew what she could only call a stick. With a flick and a wave, the couch that William slept on became a plush king sized bed and the young teen's rumpled trousers and shirt to a set of nightclothes. Drawing up a chair to a desk, Richmond turned back to the Queen.

"I shall be here all night, ma'am. If you require anything, please call and I shall be at your side momentarily. If you don't mind, I would like to place a minor spell on your person that will notify me should anyone come closer than fifteen feet to you. I will, of course, cancel the spell in the morning."

Impressed with the idea, Elizabeth asked, "Are there any side effects?"

"No ma'am. There's a slight sensation of being immersed in water for a moment after the spell is cast, but other than that, nothing. My wife designed the spell to monitor our son when he was a toddler."

Nodding, she ignored the immediate question as to why James and his wife would need to monitor their son in such a manner. The race over for the moment, the grandmother gave over to her grief and exhaustion. She didn't notice Richmond casting the spell, never remembered entering the bedchamber, her ladies' maid undressing her or tucking her into the bed. The Queen slept for fourteen hours. It'd been a long day. Her waking wasn't the most calm, though.

.oOo.

Neville leaned back into his chair, rubbing his eyes. Since Britain had fallen, he'd had more than one epiphany. The first was that, though she loved him, his Gran had been a domineering old woman who had hurt him more than helping on many occasions. It'd taken a long, frank talk with Susan to admit that little titbit.

The second was that because of his shyness, Neville had closed himself off from close friendships. Always shying away from putting himself forward either physically or emotionally, he'd always been in the background, thus alone or nearly so. Since his `Uncle' James had returned, that had changed a bit. James was so outgoing and gregarious it'd been a bit of a shock to his system whenever they would do things together. Watching him interact with Sirius and Remus, Neville had seen that while he didn't need to be the extrovert that James and Sirius typified, he still needed to open himself up to take some risks, like Remus did.

The last epiphany was that he was falling in love with Susan Bones.

Watching her nap on the sofa brought an involuntary smile to his face. She was so beautiful and sweet. Determined and kind. A true Hufflepuff in the best sense of the house.

Damn, did she kiss well, also.

Blushing at where both of their hands had wandered the day before, Neville tried to refocus on his task. He'd not been involved in any of the fracas that had been happening of late. The closest he got was being Petrified by Hermione at the end of first year.

He was determined to be of use to his friends and family, though. Studying and practicing magic had shown him that he had a harder hill to climb than Harry and Hermione. Where Harry seemed to have a natural affinity for learning new spells and Hermione's towering intellect stood her in good stead, the newest head of house Longbottom had to slog through his studies. Of course, Herbology was a natural subject for him, but that didn't help beans.

Defence was becoming easier the harder he tried. Remus and Harry had pulled him to the side a few times in the last days to just talk about magic. Instead of approaching the casting of spells as a series of procedures, Harry had told Neville that he always looked at magic as an extension of himself. "It's a new limb that I became aware of when I got my letter. The courses teach me how to use that limb."

That attitude had been eye opening. Instead of rote memorization (which he was horrible at doing) Neville adopted the attitude of `exploring the magical aspect of himself'. It'd already begun to pay dividends. While nowhere near a prodigy of magic, the young man had made definite strides in his Charms and even Transfiguration.

He doubted that he'd ever be a Battle Mage like Harry and Hermione, but he was determined to do his part. His Gran had always harped on the Longbottom motto: Vivere Nobilis Vita.

To Live A Noble Life

Living up to that motto was his mission now.

"What're you thinking about there, handsome?"

Smiling before he even met her gaze, he looked to his girlfriend. "Thinking about how wonderful you are."

Susan gave a full, throaty chuckle, "Oooh, he's being charming now."

Neville's smile broadened. "And how beautiful you are."

Dramatically sweeping her hand to her forehead, Susan mock whimpered, "Heaven help me, I'm about to swoon."

They both laughed as she rolled to her feet. Plopping down in his lap, she toyed with his hair. "Joking aside, what had you so serious?"

He gave a quick shrug before stealing a kiss. "I was just thinking about my role now."

The good humour fled from her expression as Susan regarded him. "And?"

He gave a big sigh, as he nodded, "I don't know. I do know that I have to help."

Had she not been sitting in his lap, he would have missed the miniscule flaring of her eyes. He attributed the action to concern or even fear. "I'm no warrior, Sue. I'm not running off to fight the Death Eaters."

"Yet," she countered with a hint of ferocity.

He held her gaze, the bright blue of her eyes melting into the soft blue of his own. "Yet. True enough."

She kept looking into his face for a long moment before looking away. As she stared out the window into the bright mid-afternoon sun, she began to fidget. Frowning, he waited. Susan never fidgeted unless she was nervous.

Finally, he prompted, "Sue?"

Curling into his shoulder, she gave him a small kiss on the neck. "I worry."

He thought he knew but asked, "About?"

"You."

The warm feeling stole through him, reinforcing his latest epiphany. He loved this redheaded wonder who lay across his increasingly numb lap. Kissing the crown of her head, he enjoyed the immediacy of her presence.

As if stealing the thought from his head, Susan whispered. It was so soft that he wondered if she meant him to hear at all. "I think I love you, Neville."

Closing his eyes, he smiled. Pulling her tighter, the sandy haired wizard whispered in reply, "I believe I love you as well."

.oOo.

"Who are you?"

James roused out of his doze with a start. His wand up and tracking, he noted the teenager with the dark blond hair, but ignored him as non-threatening. Turning to the door and all the way about the room, he found no one else in the room.

"Oh. You meant me." Rolling his eyes at himself, James readdressed the Prince. "I am James, Earl Richmond, your highness." Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was nearly nine in the morning.

The sleep-addled teen nodded without comprehension before frowning. "But who are you and why are you here?"

Smiling, James replied, "I'm here to help keep you safe, your Highness."

"From whom?" the young man persisted.

James felt his face tightening, he wasn't about to delve into the personal losses this young man had suffered. Keeping to a `business' perspective, Prongs replied, "I am here to protect you from the wizards and witches who may desire to hurt you and your Grandmother."

"Are you a wizard?" The awe in the heir to the throne's voice was more `boy' than `man'.

James smiled. Harry just two years older than this young man but the difference was a chasm. Harry had grown up before he reached his tenth birthday. Unfortunately, it seemed that this young man was going to grow up in the next few weeks. War makes warriors of us all whether we want it or not. "Yes, sir, I am a wizard."

"Really?" William asked with an eagerness that showed his age more than anything else he might do.

Feeling a bit mischievous, James stood, "Shall I show you a bit of magic?"

"Please!" the only Prince of Britain replied, all sleep banished as he sat up straight on his bed.

Holding out his hands to show they were empty, James rolled up his cuffs to reveal bare arms. "Nothing up my sleeve, as you see."

An eager nod was the reply.

"Watch carefully," James intoned with a forced gravity mocking the magician he'd seen on the television when visiting Rose and Joe just before he and Lily married.

Concentrating for a moment, James became Prongs.

"Balls," the Prince whispered, his eyes round and mouth wide open.

Clack, clack clack went Prongs hooves as he pranced about the room first showing this flank then the other so his audience would be sure that he was indeed real.

The boisterous laughter accompanying the loud clapping caused Prongs to give an energetic leap over a divan to land directly in front of the amazed Prince.

"This is brilliant! Can you teach me how to do this?" the teen began before he was interrupted.

"William? What's going…" the Queen's question died in her mouth as she stared at the enormous stag standing in front of her grandson. Absently, she cinched the belt on her dressing gown.

Realizing that his mirth might have overflowed a bit too much, James quickly reverted to his human form. "Good morning, your Majesty."

"Good morning," the stately woman replied automatically. She stared a long moment, her gaze flicking from the red-faced Earl (from embarrassment) to the red-faced Prince (from humour). Without further comment, she returned to her bedroom.

"I've never seen Grandmother speechless. Never."

James shrugged. "Sorry about that. Sometimes I get a bit carried away."

"That was brilliant," the teen whispered. "I suppose I can't do it."

"Sorry, no."

Breakfast was brought in by a maid, a ragged security person in tow. "Where are we?" James asked the Prince as he magically locked the door behind the departing pair.

Looking at him strangely, William replied, "We're at a house outside Paris that belongs to a friend of Dad's. How could you not know?"

Rolling his eyes, James repeated his Apparition demonstration from the previous night. Arriving next to the sideboard, he quickly cast a series of poison detection charms on the food; all returned negative.

"It's not fair," William complained as he dished up his breakfast from the tray.

James ignored the comment. This jealousy was a direct by product of the young man having just turned thirteen but could lead to something far uglier. That would be a most unfortunate attitude in the heir to the throne.

"Ah, well. Yum," the teen muttered as he dug into the food. When James looked to the Queen's door meaningfully, William shook his head. "She'll be out when she's dressed. I think earlier was the only time I've ever seen her in a dressing gown."

Shrugging, James conjured a pad and pencil. Making a list of things to do, the first was to get relieved here so he could get back to Zurich. He had a host of calls to make when presenting his credentials and time was not his friend. Amelia had given him the basic flow of events the evening before as they waited for the Queen, but there was still a pile of work to be done. Then he could get on with the work at hand.

Those thoughts made him muse on the situation. He needed a deputy who he could trust inherently. Someone whose judgement he'd never doubt and whose character was beyond reproach. The last thing he wrote on his pad was: Ask Lily to be deputy? Sirius? Remus is too busy…

Could he work with his wife and still stay sane and married? Was his cousin able to take up this responsibility?

As he finished his meal, the Queen reappeared, fully clothed. After a mild, "Good morning," she helped herself to a plate.

Catching the Prince's eye, he waggled his eyebrows while tilting his head at the older woman. William's definitive shake of the head told James to leave the Queen alone as she ate her breakfast.

Elizabeth ate in silence. When she finished, she looked to her grandson. "William, I need to speak with his Lordship. Please excuse us."

"Of course, Grandmother," the young man replied as he popped to his feet. When the young man bussed her cheek before bouncing out of the room, it seemed to James that he was used to being `excused' when his presence was neither requested nor required.

Keeping silent, James waited.

"My Grandson is all I have left, James. He must be protected."

Nodding his head, he waited. Based on her raw, emotional reaction the night before, he'd expected a conversation like this.

Her red, tired eyes met his, "Can you protect him?"

James sighed. Deciding to be honest, he told her, "I can hide him. My home is concealed by a spell which secrets the location into the soul of another human being and that secret can only be revealed voluntarily."

"And if this person proves to be false?" she asked.

The poignancy of the question caused James to close his eyes in pain and muted rage. There was still a reckoning coming for Peter Pettigrew.

"The man who is our Secret Keeper has sworn a magical oath never to reveal the Secret to an enemy of mine. Should he consciously attempt to violate this promise, the magic of the oath will kill him."

Elizabeth blinked. "Well…" Clearing her throat, she began again, "That sounds very impressive. What about security forces?"

Realizing the point to her questions, he answered thoroughly as if he were in her shoes. He described the magical prowess of all the residents of Le Retirada including the fact that Alex was a Healer. He even made mention of Rauri.

"You have a magical domestic?"

"Yes ma'am. His loyalty to the family is beyond reproach. He would literally die before betraying us."

She looked out the window a long time. James wondered if she'd ever request what he expected. Finally, she asked, "Please take my Grandson to your home. Please, James, protect him." He was a bit shocked. She was nearly pleading.

"I'd be honoured, ma'am," he replied in a low tone. Hesitating, he decided that he had to ask, "Does the Prince know about his family?"

She sagged. "No. I shall tell him before you leave, though."

To distract her from this maudlin line of thought, he began to tell her of his family. This, of course, led to the odd fact that he and his wife were only eight years older than their son. By the time he had retold the story from start to finish - including the full nature of the prophecy - the Queen was enthralled. James was an excellent storyteller.

The knock on the door, interrupted them. Frowning, James stood, his wand in hand. A quick Transparency spell showed the same security guard from earlier on the other side of the door accompanied by two very familiar figures.

Turning to the Queen, James told her, "Ma'am, I recognize the other two. The woman is a distant cousin of mine and a…well I'd guess you'd call her an agent in the Security Service while the bald man is her supervisor. Is the other man…?"

"He's been the head of my security detail for the past fifteen years."

Nodding he added, "I'll request that the two magicals make the oath that I told you about with me so that you're sure that they won't betray you."

Her face softened a bit, "Thank you, your Grace."

He did a double take, only to see a mischievous smile on the Queen's face. "Let them in, James."

Shacklebolt and Tonks came in, escorted by Joseph Grigson. The two Aurors immediately agreed to the Vows and in front of the Queen and her head of security. They swore to protect her life with all means available. That settled, James cast a communication charm, summoning Sirius to the estate. There was a Secret to tell.

.oOo.

Neville was reading on the patio with Susan sunning herself next to him when the multiple crack of apparition put them both on alert. Surprising himself, he flowed to his feet, wand at the ready. What spell he was going to cast, he had no idea, but he was ready.

Turning to the designated Apparition zone, he relaxed when he saw Remus and Lily standing there with he assumed Harry and Hermione blocked from view.

Lily wasted no time, "Is James here?" He frowned at her worried tone.

"No. He sent a message for Sirius to go to Paris this morning. When Sirius left, he said he'd be back in time for tea."

Alex came out of the house, her jacket on and glasses on top of her head. Neville smiled when she blinked in the bright sunlight. He really liked the muggleborn healer. She had a dry wit and used it to great effect. Earlier, the three of them had tried to play three handed bridge to no avail, but had quite a bit of fun in the attempt.

Harry beckoned to Neville with a wave as he headed into the house, loosening his tie as he moved through the doorway. Moving to the door, he heard Alex greet the group, "How'd it go?"

Following Harry, he felt Hermione and Susan behind him. A little thrill shot up his spine at being included in the doings of the family. He wanted very badly to be Harry's friend.

James and Lily had reclaimed the master suite, so Harry and Hermione had moved into one of the smaller bedrooms. The villa had twelve bedrooms, so space wasn't at a premium. The `small' bedroom that Harry and Hermione shared was larger than most master suites.

Tossing his jacket on the back of a chair, Harry unbuttoned a cuff. "Nev, have you ever heard of Dormred ap Morag?"

Blinking, Neville thought for a moment. He heard Harry ask, "Sue? What about you?"

When Neville replied, "No, mate. I've never heard of anyone by that name," Susan shook her head in negation. "Of course, the `ap Morag' means `of Morag' as in `son of' or `daughter of' in English, but beyond that…" he trailed off to let Harry know that was the extent of his knowledge.

As Hermione dragged Susan into the huge en suite to change and have their own discussion, Harry told Neville about their encounter with this mysterious person outside the colliery and his admission of guilt in the potioning of the Weasleys.

"Part of me is relieved that I finally know and that the Weasleys' weren't playing me for a fool, but the other part of me just wishes it would be over."

Neville shrugged, "So let it be over."

Harry stared. "What?" Neville objected. He could feel the heat blooming in his cheeks, but before he could stammer and leave, Harry threw his head back and roared with laughter. His shirt unbuttoned, he grabbed the stunned Longbottom in a bear hug.

"Neville, you're a genius."

Flustered, Neville pushed off as his face flushed red as roses. The girls came into the room, Hermione straightening her T-shirt. Still chuckling, Harry turned to the witches, "Neville, in all his wisdom, counsels me to get over it and move on."

Susan smiled as she shrugged in modest concurrence while Hermione just stared. Looking from the still blushing Longbottom back to the smiling Potter, she finally gave a little laugh that encouraged Neville. Shaking her head, The Smartest Witch of the Age told Harry, "Well, I think that Neville is the fount of wisdom today, because that sounds like sage advice to me."

Susan flopped on the bed. Staring at the ceiling, she said in a pondering tone, "I wonder why this Dormred has an axe to grind with your family, though."

From the bathroom, Harry called out, "I think my Mum is asking Granddad Charlus' portrait that question right now."

Neville sat next to his girlfriend, feeling a part of the group as an equal member for the first time. He shook his head as Harry buttoned his trousers while leaving the bathroom. "I think I'll wait out here until she calms down. She's cooled off a bit in general, but she can still get a bit…riled."

The other three laughed at the characterization before Harry told them, "I'm hungry. When's tea?"

As if on cue, Rauri appeared with a tea tray and sandwiches. Neville had grown up with house elves doing for him and his family, but he'd never seen the level of devotion or service among the Longbottom elves as that Rauri provided for the Potters. He was a young elf, still, at only a hundred and thirty. He'd easily survive Harry and Hermione's grandchildren.

"You're a marvel, Rauri," Harry thanked him. Neville smiled. It was good to see Harry in high spirits and to think that he played a part of that was a good feeling. His Gran hadn't been the most positive of persons. Living with the Potter/Black family and with Susan at his side, Neville's outlook was growing and expanding. He was beginning to believe that he could be more than just a millstone about the neck.

There was another crack of Apparition causing the party to pause. While they were all listening, Neville noticed that all present drew their wands.

"Where's Pronglet and Hermione?" they heard Sirius call.

.oOo.

Arthur Weasley was sure that he'd be completely bald within a week should events continue as they had for the past month. All Department and Division Heads in the Ministry were briefed into the pre-planned activities for a host of courses of action should a host of Really Bad Things happen.

A Really Bad Thing like a revolution had been one of the many topics covered.

Amelia had sent out the message the night of the third task, "Fall of the Realm." Burying his initial emotional reaction, Arthur had overridden Molly's protestations (probably for the first time ever) as he packed everything in the Burrow that he could fit into five magical satchels. After the children were assembled, he used the emergency portkey provided by the ministry.

By the time the family arrived in the outskirts of Zurich, the Weasleys were fairly traumatized. The initial portkey had dropped them into a field south of Manchester that had been ringed with Death Eaters. Only Fred's earlier suggestion of having the next portkey ready had saved the family. Three other Portkeys between eight hours of walking across the western Irish burren, the Lowland fens and eventually the French Alps left the family exhausted and looking over their shoulder for more Death Eaters.

Fred and George were wide eyed while Ron whispered, "Dad, what's going on?" Ginny had silently wrapped her hand in his while Molly had just fretted. He knew that he was going to catch hell later, but for now, his family was safe. What else really mattered?

Handing one of the satchels to each of his sons, he hoisted the remaining two over his shoulders. "Come on, we've a long walk. If I remember right, there's a train at the bottom of this hill that will take us to the rendezvous point."

The train station had been where he'd hoped and it had taken them directly into downtown Zurich. Rummaging through the storehouse of his memory, he led the family of very tired redheads through the darkened night time streets of the Swiss city. Eventually, they found the townhouse that they needed. The twins were bantering back and forth over which of them would look better in lederhosen. Ron was uncharacteristically quiet while Ginny and Molly talked about this and that in low tones.

Loud knocks led to the door being opened by a very tired Amelia Bones. "Arthur," she breathed. Blinking owlishly, the Director of the MLE stepped back to allow the travellers entrance. When the door closed, Amelia cleared her throat, "You're the first to make it."

Wide eyed, Arthur ignored his wife's gasp and the children's sudden silence. "But we've been traveling for nearly a full day; surely others had a quicker journey..." Dread built in his belly as the worst occurred to him.

Amelia had nodded in understanding. Then it hit him, "The others are dead?"

She was long silent before answering, "I don't know. A dozen or so Aurors have made contact. Shacklebolt is organizing them back home. Some of the lower level personnel have escaped, but you're the first Department or Division Head to make it out."

Arthur had nearly wept when he came to the obvious conclusion. "You-Know-Who killed them all?"

"I don't know."

But you strongly suspect, he had said to himself. Nodding to himself, he said a little prayer for his most likely dead friends. "What now?" he asked, a bit dizzy from the news and his long journey.

"Now, you go to the townhouse next door. Your family can stay there as long as necessary. We need to begin organizing." Despite the late hour, the hard tones of her command demanded obedience while at the same time, conveying a similar desperation to that which Arthur felt.

That had been a month ago. Since then he'd made seven trips back to Britain and had become very familiar with the train and ferry schedules. His old winsome fascination for all things muggle was nearly burnt away. He was using public transportation to avoid detection and capture leading to an inevitably painful death. There was no time to wonder at the mechanical marvels about him.

He also became very proficient in casting Glamour charms over himself.

There had been two close scrapes that he'd not told Molly. The first had been when he accidentally bumped into Lucius Malfoy of all people, as he walked down the sidewalk in London. Arthur had been consumed with the image he'd just seen, a mass grave outside Leeds. It wasn't a large grave, per se, but it had been more than a few bodies, none of which he looked at too closely. The four or so on the top looked fresh, but the odour that assaulted his nose told Arthur that the poor souls on the bottom had been dead for quite some time. All this had preoccupied him, when he'd bumped into the blond wizard.

"Watch where you're walking, scum," the wizard had snarled without looking back.

Stooping, Arthur had pulled at his non-existent forelock while mumbling, "Pardon, guv'nor."

There had been no threat, but Arthur had still nearly shit his pants.

The second occasion had been far worse. While shuttling supplies to the fledgling resistance, he'd planned to use the train to exit the country via the Holyhead to Dublin ferry. From Dublin, he'd portkey directly to Switzerland. It was a pattern that many had used, and would use in the future, however, this time the perfect storm formed.

It seemed that an `inquisitive soul' among the Death Eaters had thought to rune ward the turnstiles at the ferry landing with a ward that dispelled Glamour charms. That in and of itself wouldn't have been too horrible, but the fact that Alecto Carrow was watching the passengers as they streamed through the unseen magical screening was the key to making this a horrible day for Arthur Weasley.

Afterwards, he realised that Alecto hadn't been looking for a particular person, just a person whose features changed as they exited the turnstiles. That person was a) magical, b) trying to disguise him or herself and c) trying to escape the country. All those things put together warranted death as far as the surviving Carrow sibling was concerned.

When Arthur's glamour of an old man faded, Alecto hadn't hesitated. Her Entrail Expelling curse was poorly aimed, though.

The teenaged student behind Arthur stared in shock when his intestines suddenly exploded from his body, spattering on the pavement. As the screaming about him began, Arthur ducked only to fall flat next to the dying young man.

"Why?" were his last words. He was about Percy's age.

Through his own tears and terror, Arthur saw the witch who was standing on top of a table, trying to find her quarry amid the panicked and screaming crowd. Using his feelings of terror to fuel his muscles, Arthur hunched over and began to run for the ferry, shouting like the rest of the passengers. Only when he was halfway across the Irish Sea, did his heartbeat calm.

Arthur's job was to coordinate the resistance that struggled to stay alive back home. Supplies were the bane of his existence, though. Healing potions, food and ward stones were the most needed items. It seemed that they consumed Veritaserum by the bucketful as they screened candidates for joining the effort. Fortunately, the European markets were still open to him - if he had enough gold.

For now, he did. Amelia and James had negotiated a deal with the Gringotts branch in Paris. The goblins would `earn' a ten percent `processing fee' upon transfer of all the British Ministry for Magic's gold to the Swiss branch.

Three days later, Voldemort's coffers were empty and Amelia had millions of galleons at her disposal.

Now, Arthur was trying to make heads or tails out of this last communiqué from Terry Sheehan, the supply chief for all the Aurors in Occupied Britain. Sheehan was a good man but his handwriting left a bit to be desired.

Holding the parchment, Arthur muttered, "Seven casks of pickled murtlap or seven crates of fresh picked nottgrass?"

The door opened to reveal Amelia Bones. Looking up, he was alarmed. Hurrying around his desk, he conjured a straight back chair, "Amelia, sit down before you fall down."

The redheaded minister nodded as she slumped into the chair. Holding her head in her hands, she muttered, "The muggle government has fallen, but no one knows it yet."

Jaded now, Arthur nodded in understanding, "Polyjuice and glamours?" Settling on the edge of his desk, he saw her nod. Sighing, he asked, "Did anyone get out?"

"The Queen and the Prince of Wales' oldest son."

Closing his eyes, Arthur fought off the waves of hopelessness that threatened to drag him down. What else is going to go wrong?

Without changing her position, Amelia directed, "I left James with the Queen. I need you to summon Shacklebolt and Tonks back to be the Queen's guard so he can get to work in the ICW."

Now Arthur frowned. "Amelia, Kingsley and Tonks are our two most effective agents…"

"And the Queen is more important!" Bones barked. Looking at him through red-rimmed eyes, she snarled, "We need her to win back our country!"

Pursing his lips, he finally acquiesced with a nod. "I'll send the message right now." Turning back to his desk, he picked up a square piece of slate that had a gold band running across its midsection. On the top half he wrote, Chameleon and Lion to home base soonest.

Arthur and Amelia sat in silence as they waited. When there was no immediate response, in a low voice, she asked, "Are they running an Op tonight?"

Silent, he shook his head. They should have answered by now.

Finally, on the bottom half of the slate, the words, Understood, expect in twelve hours.

Sighing, he followed protocol. Erasing the original message, he checked his desktop code table. Authenticate K3F.

A moment later, he saw U7S. Sighing, he double-checked himself. Yes, that was the correct countersign. Erasing one more time, he wrote, Godspeed.

The reply surprised him, Rule Britannia. Out. Someone was feeling patriotic on the other end.

Looking up, he saw Amelia asleep in the chair. Checking the clock on his desk, he saw it was eleven at night. No wonder the team didn't reply very quickly. A quick transfiguration turned Amelia's chair into a twin bed. Dousing the lights, he stuffed the slate into his pocket before locking his office as he made his way out.

As a rule, they minimized the usage of magic. At home, before the fall, Arthur would have Apparated across the street to the house his family occupied. In Switzerland, he walked. As a rule, the British expatriates were doing their level best to avoid drawing attention to themselves. Switzerland, as a country, would be outraged if they knew about their activities for they violated the traditional Swiss neutrality. Amelia had a team working with Spain, France and Denmark to attempt to establish more permanent facilities.

It was a nice night, but Arthur had long ago decided that city life was not for him. He missed the quiet nights deep in the countryside of Devon. Ottery St Catchpole was naught but a village of five hundred and he longed for it. For now, though, his family was safe.

Turning the key on the lock to keep the night out of doors, the balding redhead turned when he saw the glow of a candle behind him.

"Arthur?" he heard Molly whisper.

"Hullo, love," he greeted her. With a weary smile, he kissed her. "How was your day?" he asked.

"The twins are still too quiet," she told him. Shortly after their arrival in Switzerland, Fred and George had a frank discussion with their father about the goings on back in Britain. Since then, they had been unobtrusive and focused; the antithesis of their usual boisterous selves.

"And Ron and Ginny?" he prompted as he followed her to the kitchen.

"Ronald is still withdrawn. It's like when he was little and had done something wrong. You remember the time he broke that vase when he was five?"

Nodding, the tired father remembered. "It's as if he's done something horribly wrong and is just waiting to get caught," his wife explained.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow," his sighed. "Ginny?"

Molly shrugged, "She and her brothers study and do the assignments that Albus provided but…"

Arthur nodded again. Ever since Ginevra's horrible first year, the happy bubbly girl who'd dreamed of being a princess had been extinguished. Molly had wanted to use their winnings from the lottery to pay for a mind healer for Ginny, but he'd thought that a change of scenery would be the ticket to cheer her up. He thought the trip to Egypt would do for her what a mind healer couldn't.

How wrong he'd been.

Even now, nearly three years later, she still struggled to come out of her shell. Following the settlement from Lord Richmond, the first thing Arthur had done was engage the best mind healer in all Britain to work with his daughter.

Sometimes he wondered if it was too little, too late.

Setting to table, he dug into the onion soup leftovers, soaking his bread before swallowing noisily. Normally, he loved Molly's cooking, for she was an excellent cook, but tonight, he was just feeding the engine.

"How was your day?" his wife asked in a subdued tone.

"Busy," he replied.

"Was there any word?"

He frowned as his face fell. They'd not heard from or about Percy since Britain fell. Arthur had unofficially put the word out to the resistance cells to look for signs of their lost son. So far, none had reported any sightings or word. Shaking his head in reply to Molly's question was all the answer he could muster.

He considered his next thought, but decided she needed to know. "You-Know-Who has overthrown the muggle government. They're using glamours and such to impersonate the Prime Minister and the Queen. The Queen and one of the Princes got out, but the rest of the leadership are…"

Her lack of response garnered his attention.

Looking over, he saw her soundlessly weeping. Moving to her side, he gathered her into his embrace. "There, there, Mollywobbles."

"He's won," she hoarsely whispered. Arthur didn't need to ask who `he' was.

"For now. For now." Closing his eyes, he laid his cheek on the crown of her head.

.oOo.

"Horses?" Charlus repeated in confusion.

The portrait tapped his chin as he muttered to himself, "Horses, horses, horses, horses…of what does that remind me?"

Turning to his right, he called, "Grandfather Cadfael! Wake up!"

The spade bearded portrait jolted from his doze, "Wuzzat?"

"Horses, Grandfather Cadfael. It turned out that a Dormred ap Morag potioned the steward to keep him away from young Harry. Lily here," Charlus motioned to the redhead, "encountered this scoundrel who said…" Turning to Lily, he asked, "What did this person say to you, my dear?"

"He said, `to ask his dear father about the horses. That should jog his memory'." Lily was very annoyed by this whole thing. She thought that they'd all moved on but this bastard Dormred had brought it all back in a rush and she was mad as hell.

Cadfael frowned, "Horses?" His face cleared as his eyes opened, "Oh! Yes…let's see…it was in the late 800's if I remember aright."

"800's as in 800 AD?" Lily asked incredulously.

"Yes, dear. As I was saying, our southern neighbour had contracted with Owain, the then Lord Potter, to purchase two breeding stallions." In an aside, Cadfael muttered, "That fool loved horses more than his own wife." Shaking his painted head, the eldest Potter continued, "There was a dispute about the quality of the horses. This Dormred claimed that he'd selected a bay and roan stallion but had been sent two black stallions. Owain disputed the claim as to the colour requirement."

Holding his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture to the visibly fuming Lady Richmond, Cadfael admitted, "I've no idea who was telling the truth. I was already a three hundred year old portrait."

Grumbling, she nodded before waving a `get on with it' gesture.

"The dispute came to blows to the point where the Potters and this Dormred…well, they made war on each other. Dormred was not a wizard…" Cadfael trailed off, his expression uncomfortable. "It was a slaughter. Dormred's home was razed and his crops burnt. Owain was brutal in his fury. Every so often, a supposed descendant of the original Dormred appears in our family history making mischief at various levels. Sometimes it's petty larceny, other times it's been murder." He shrugged, "It's obviously not the original that you met, but most likely a descendant of him and he's continuing the legacy of the family to enact vengeance against the Potters while using the name of his wronged ancestor."

There was silence for a twenty count as Lily processed the story. Finally, she burst out, "You've got to be shitting me!"

Ashamed, Cadfael shook his head. "It's a rather unpleasant section of the family history, my dear."

"But…why didn't one of Owain's descendants - a decent one that is - try to make restitution? And this man we encountered was a wizard…" Her shock was interrupting her normally smooth thoughts causing Lily to grope for answers.

"Well, Owain's son, Haydn forsook all claims to Dormred's lands. He tried to pay a blood price, but Dormred's grandson refused the payment. Killed Haydn's steward in fact. A few others have approached the subsequent Dormred's in attempts to try to right the wrong, but all have been rejected. Usually with violence."

"Do you know the family name?" Lily asked incredulously.

"I'm sorry, no."

"I don't need this. Not now," Lily muttered as she scrubbed her face.

"As far as the current Dormred being a wizard, well, it's entirely possible that they intermarried with a magical clan a purpose to help enact their revenge."

Floored, Lily shot back, "Revenge for an act eleven hundred years old?"

Charlus smoothly interposed himself, "Revenge is never logical, my dear."

Blowing out her breath loudly, Lily sighed. "True." Shaking her head, she nodded to both Charlus and Cafael's portraits, "Thank you grandfathers, you've been most helpful."

.oOo.

The castle was quiet. Even for the summer holidays, it was quiet. Minerva strode at her usual pace up the corridor to the Headmaster's office. Without pausing, she called out, "Ardu Aris," causing the door warden to leap to the side.

Riding the steps to the top, she bypassed the office proper, opening a recessed door. "Lights," she called, not pausing. In the centre of the room was a block of mithril that was roughly a cubic meter in size. To her knowledge, it was the largest single piece of mithril known on the planet. It'd been mined, in one piece, in Ireland about the time that Hogwarts had been built. Somehow, Salazar Slytherin had obtained the magnificent specimen so as to serve as the master ward stone for the school.

The unique ward stone was the only thing that was keeping Voldemort and his minions at bay. Over the centuries, the magical metal had absorbed the ambient magic in the castle to the point where it was nearly a magical being unto itself. It was not a boast to say that Hogwarts' wards were impenetrable, because they were.

Minerva did her usual inspection of the stone. Nodding, she was gratified to see that the wards hadn't flickered, despite the nearly continuous assault by the Dark Lord's forces. Since the Third Task of the thrice bedamned tournament, there had been between a dozen and two dozen cursebreakers attempting to bring down the Hogwarts wards

To her knowledge, the attributes of the unique ward stone of Hogwarts had never been written down so even the knowledgeable Voldemort didn't know that his efforts were for naught.

Nodding her satisfaction at the status of the wards, she moved to join the only other full time residents of the castle for dinner. Filius and Pomona would be glad to hear that the wards were holding. The bastard Death Eaters had been casting the Killing Curse at the wards as much as they could muster all day long in an attempt to shatter the magical protections. In their vanity and stupidity, they were reverting to form: brute force lacking in all meaning of scholarship or subtlety.

Shaking her head as she descended the stairs, she wondered at the lunacy. While the Killing Curse was unblockable and a powerful curse in its own right, the drain on a witch or wizard was enormous. Most average magicals could only cast it about four times in an hour. The magic expended was far disproportionate to the magic imparted in the spell. Voldemort, being a mage, was most likely not subject to that limitation, but still…

Sassenach morons, she derided them to herself. Pausing at the window, Minerva could just barely see the flashes of green impacting on the far away ward line. Shaking her head, she moved off to the teacher's quarters where they all ate these days.

She'd not seen Severus since the end of the school year, and To be frank, it's no great loss there. In his communiqués, Albus had insinuated that Severus had been tasked to do some great deed to undermine the new Voldemort regime. He requested that she provide aid and succour should Severus seek it. It was a difficult request with which to comply. The former head of Slytherin house was an odious man who had the manners of a troll and the compassion of a shark. His personality - despite his own assertions - was brutish and petulant. He was a model Death Eater, if truth were told. Despite Albus' reassurances, Minerva seriously doubted that Severus was her ally.

There wasn't much she could do about the Death Eater coup, but she was keeping the castle ready for whatever purpose that might be needed in the future. Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated what all the purposes might be.

.oOo.

"Where's Pronglet and Hermione?" Sirius called as he and Billy the Fish walked in the back door.

The young man was reeling from the multiple shocks he'd experienced. Sirius had immediately responded to James' call, Apparating to France. The introduction to the Queen had been a bit odd. James was in his suit that Lily had purchased for him, but Sirius was wearing bright yellow shorts and a purple tank top. Shrugging, he returned James' horrified stare, "I was exercising like the Hun doctor wants. You said it was urgent."

"Quite right, my Lord Blackmoor," the Queen had demurred after a pause. James then filled Padfoot in on the details of the situation, nodding to the blotchy faced teen who sat on a far off chair.

Sirius nodded, Poor kid. Parents, brother, aunts and uncles. Tough break.

Working out a communication system with the Queen so she and her grandson could exchange letters was easy. "I'll purchase you an owl, your Majesty," James had cheekily told her.

The dry reply of, "Wonderful," had Sirius smothering a guffaw.

Moving to the young man, Sirius nodded to his cousin, Tonks, and the big Auror - Shacklefoot? No Shacklebolt. Clapping his hand on the young man's shoulder, he greeted him in his usual Padfoot manner, "Hey kiddo, I'm Sirius."

Through tearstained eyes, the Prince regarded him with a puzzled expression. "What are you serious about?"

The dark haired wizard roared with laughter. Turning about, he called, "Prongs! This kid is a keeper!"

Turning back to the young man who was smiling in a confused manner, Sirius explained, "I'm Sirius like the star, not the mood. Come on, you'll be staying with us," he nodded to James, "for a bit. There's some kids your own age."

Nodding, the distraught teen replied, with a shaky voice, "Of course. Let me pack my things and…well…"

In a moment of compassion for the young man, Sirius softly told him, "Don't worry. I'll let Hestia take you shopping. She's my fiancée and loves to shop. Maybe we can get Hermione and Susan to help."

The young man stood, nodding absently. "What's your name?" Sirius asked.

"Really?" the Prince replied. "You don't know my name?"

Shrugging, Sirius replied, "Nope. Never heard of you before ten minutes ago."

With what appeared to be relieved satisfaction, the Prince nodded. "I am William, Prince of Wales." He teared up a bit as he announced his new title.

Deciding to go for it, Sirius gave him a devilish smile, "I'll call you Billy the Fish then." There was a choking noise behind him, but Sirius didn't look to see if it was James, the security forces or the Queen herself. It didn't matter, because the Prince started laughing, as was Sirius' intent.

"C'mon, kiddo. Let's get out of here. Hold on tight." Nodding to his cousin, Sirius Apparated back to Spain.

"You hungry?" Sirius asked when the teen had caught his breath.

"No, thank you. I believe that I'd like to lie down for a bit, though. It's been a…trying morning." The last was barely a whisper.

"I'm really sorry for your losses. All of us here," he waved his hand at the villa, "Have lost loved ones. Most have lost their parents. Others have lost all. James is an orphan, as are Remus, Neville and Susan. Alex lost her brother." His expression sombre, he met the young man's eye. "You're among friends here is what I'm telling you."

"Thank you, Sirius." Nodding, the boy swallowed, "Will you introduce me to the family?"

"Attaboy," Sirius whispered, chucking the teen on the shoulder. "C'mon."

Inside the house, Padfoot heard Harry return his bellow with, "In our room!"

"You're not shagging are you?" Sirius shouted. "I'm not coming in if you and my daughter are horizontal, vertical or any other orientation while doing unspeakable things." He winked at the now laughing Prince.

Hermione stuck her head out the door, glowering. "Sirius…" she began to reprimand him before she saw William. Her face was confused for a millisecond before recognition dawned and her eyes rounded. "Oh!"

Her head withdrew as Sirius turned to the young man walking beside him, "Looks like she recognized you."

Billy sighed.

"Hey, they're good kids and I'm sure you'll get along."

They rolled into the room, hearing Hermione hiss to the other teens, "Get up!"

Sirius saw Neville with a teacup in his mouth; Harry had a full sandwich stuffed in his gob while Susan was standing there, a confused expression on her face.

"Hey everyone, this is Billy the Fish. Billy, that red faced one is Hermione, my daughter, the redhead is Susan, the confused looking fellow with bits of sandwich on his shirt is my godson Harry and the last, but not least is Neville." In a stage whisper, Sirius told William, "Susan and Neville are dating. Harry and Hermione are engaged. You're not getting lucky with either of the girls. Or the boys if you're bent that way."

Mortified, Hermione hissed, "Sirius!" while Neville, Harry and William burst into laughter. Susan's broad smile did much to put everyone at ease.

"Ok, here's the actual introductions," Sirius said in a haughty drawl. "Your royal highness, may I present my daughter, the Lady Hermione Granger-Black, heir to the title of the Earl of Blackmoor…" he cut off when Harry began to pelt him with bits of food from the tea tray. When a stalk of celery somehow became lodged in Sirius' nose, the entire assemblage dissolved into hysterical giggles.

Sirius looked about, pleased with his efforts as he picked food out of his hair. My work here is done. "Alright, you kids have fun, keep your clothes on, stay in the wards and be ready to head out for a late supper in an hour or two."

Waving to everyone, he walked out. Behind him, he heard Harry ask, "Are you hungry, Billy? We've plenty of tea left."

One last thing. "Rauri,"

The elf appeared in front of Padfoot, already in a deep bow. "Yes, my Lord?"

He may dissolve into quivers of happiness. "You'll need to set up a room for another long term guest." Wait for it.

"I see, and who may this person be?" Rauri asked in his usual polite tone.

"The Prince of Wales." C'mon, Rauri, do it!

The elf blinked thrice before he squeaked, "Of course…" Clearing his throat, he eyed Sirius for a moment to see if he was in earnest. Sirius stared back. "Of course, my Lord. I shall have his Highness' room ready momentarily."

The elf popped out, leaving Sirius vaguely disappointed. He wanted some bug-eyed surprise or orgasmic delight. All he got was a little squeak. Can't have everything he mused. Heading off, he went in search of Lily and Hestia. There was news to impart.

.oOo.

Harry felt Hermione crawl into bed. He was nearly asleep, but when she cuddled up to his side, he had to smile. He'd never get used to the wonderful feeling that quivered up and down his spine when she did that. "Hey," he muttered.

"Your Dad just got home."

"Did Mum kill him?" he asked with a sleepy smile.

"No. After the discussion with the portraits, she was calmer. James didn't know the story at all."

Bobbing his head, Harry began to nod off again.

"Poor William."

"Hmm," Harry murmured, somewhat aware that she'd spoken. The sharp jab to his ribs woke him fully. "What was that for?" he whinged.

"I need to talk," she announced in a surprisingly subdued voice.

Rolling toward her, Harry asked, "About what?"

"I think we should get my parents out of Britain."

"Oh," he replied, a bit nonplussed. "Ok. Let me talk to Dad and Sirius tomorrow and the four of us will figure out how to get them out."

She was silent for a moment before asking, "That's it?"

"What more do you want me to say?"

She humphed, rolling onto her back. "I wanted to talk about how I felt about it all."

Rolling his eyes in the dark, for he knew he was safe in the dark, Harry gently replied, "Love, tell me."

He could feel her narrow her eyes, "I wouldn't want to keep you up."

Ignoring her petulance, he waited. Finally, she gave in, "I feel so conflicted. They don't deserve to die for their relationship to me and despite everything that happened they're still my parents."

She was quiet so he prompted, her, "But?"

He felt the bed move as she nodded, "But it still hurts."

Sighing, he rolled over, looping his arm across her. Harry had no idea what to say, if anything could be said so he just held her. Placing a soft kiss on her shoulder, he told her, "I love you and support you."

"I love you too."

A/N

1. I own nothing. Thanks to all who reviewed the first sixteen chapters of Last Casualties. Story status, as always, can be found on my Author's page on fanfiction (dot) net. Mostly I update the status on Mondays. Mostly.

2. Recommendation for this chapter is a Pride and Prejudice fanfic; Given Good Principles by TuesdayMorning423. It's amazingly well done. If you enjoy the works and world of Miss Austen, peruse this story on fanfic dot net.

3. The then Princess Elizabeth made her `duty' declaration vow on her 21^st birthday (1947) while on a tour of Southern Africa. "I declare before you all that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service and the service of our great imperial family to which we all belong." The Queen is an intensely private woman (can't fault her) so there's very little to read about her adult life that's not slanted by tabloid journalism and the like. Reading her words gives me the impression of a woman of great dignity. *shrugs* But I've never met her, so who knows.

4. The annus horriblus was 1992. Everything seemed to go wrong that year for the royal family.

5. "Ardu Aris" is Gaelic for "Rise Again."

6. "Billy the Fish" is the Duke of Cambridge's call sign when he flies for the RAF on SAR missions. I think that's hilarious.

Chapter complete 3/4/12

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