Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 26

"I don't think I've run this much in over a hundred years," Albus mumbled to himself as he jumped over a fallen tree. The surprisingly nimble old man was currently being chased by a graphorn which was irritatingly resistant to spellfire. Albus had dropped a tree on it a while back, causing it to cry out in pain, but it'd quickly continued its chase of the old man.

Gasping for breath, Dumbledore looked about to find his bearings. Nodding to himself, he headed off to the southeast. Behind him, he heard the two horned mammoth creature tearing through the underbrush. The blood running down the Headmaster's arm testified to the sharpness of the horns.

Trotting down a dry creek bed, he cast another spell on himself that infused his aged muscles with strength and energy. With renewed vigour, Albus ran lithely down the rock strewn terrain. It was the fourth time he'd cast this particular spell in the past few hours and he'd pay for it this evening. The strengthening solution he'd taken after breakfast had worn off hours before, so he'd had to resort to this spell which had more serious aftereffects. In anticipation of a difficult excursion, he'd stocked up on pain relieving and muscle healing potions. He'd need them.

The shrieking roar behind him spurred Albus to sprint again. Ignoring his creaking knees, he ducked under a tilting tree, passed over the lure of a kappa and headed for the trail that he could see at the bend of the streambed.

THUMP

Not needing to look over his shoulder for the old man knew what had just landed behind him, he jumped up the bank and sprinted to his destination. Now he heard the pounding of feet behind him as it gained on him. Smiling grimly, he focused on the hanging rope that he'd conjured earlier in the morning. It was hanging over the path a hundred yards ahead tantalizingly close while still far enough away to seem to be a mirage. It was suspended from a tree branch where the path he was on ended in a large clearing near the middle of the forest.

"Faster, damn you," he muttered to himself. It could very well be his imagination, but Albus was nearly sure that he could smell the breath of the graphorn. It was a rather unpleasant experience for many reasons.

Horns ripped through his jacket, nearly bowling him over. Arms wind milling, the old man ran as fast as his magically enhanced muscles would move. Another swipe from the horned beast missed, but he could feel the wind ruffle his jacket and trousers. Finally righting himself, he dove for the enchanted rope.

Just as he closed his hands about the rope enchanted as a portkey, he saw the two giants that'd made the clearing their lair stir and turn at the noise caused by the approaching wizard and purplish grey horned creature. The huge male giant grabbed his club while the female crouched in a defensive position, a crude knife held in front of her.

The jerk behind Albus' navel coincided with the two tone roar of the graphorn as it realized that while it missed its prey, it'd found something new. Two something's new.

While the magical vortex dragged the aged headmaster back to the room he'd rented at the Bonnie Prince Tearlach inn outside Inverness, Albus allowed himself to relax a bit. The forest was far more infested with dangerous creatures than he'd imagined. Setting the graphorn amongst the giants had been one of many efforts that he'd attempted to clear out the more dangerous creatures. Killing the chimera had almost destroyed the elder Dumbledore brother, but in the end, he was victorious.

The portkey deposited him in room 101 of the Bonnie Prince and it was a sign of the old man's tiredness and injuries that he stumbled upon arrival. Leaning heavily on the shrunken and magically reinforced boxes next to the bed, he chuckled to himself. I had to harvest the parts of the chimera. Patting the boxes, he added, I wouldn't be the academic that I am if I didn't.

Groaning as he gingerly shed the remains of his coat before peeling off his shirt, Albus took stock of his situation. He had enough money and potions to continue his efforts for a further three months. Culling the beasts was important, but was it the best use of his time?

A sad expression fell over his face. Rubbing his still short beard, Albus muttered, "First things first."

His eyes narrowed as he considered the battle in the forest that was most likely still on going. Two giants and a graphorn would most likely destroy each other in a death match, which was his intent. He'd done his best to rile the huge beast before luring it to the giants' lair. Wincing as he applied disinfectant to his bloody arm, Albus muttered, "I'll check on the results tomorrow."

His Energy spell wore off, leaving the old man weaving on his feet. Stumbling to the bed, Albus amended, "Maybe the day after next." Before he passed out from magical and physical exhaustion, he slapped a patch on his arm that had skin knitting potion infused in the cotton. With the last of his energy, he downed his potions before flopping back on his bed, insensate for the next forty hours.

.oOo.

Once again, Hermione pored over supplies list. Reviewing her notes from before their previous incursion into Britain, she mentally added a few items while subtracting others. Need at least one more tent, maybe two. Food for three more…how long? Four months should be good. A noise at the door made her look up. Harry was leaning on the door jamb, smiling at her.

Warmth suffused her, causing a broad smile to break out on her face. Had she the time to think about it, Hermione would have realized that her entire expression lit up when Harry looked at her that way. Her ring seemed very prominent on her finger just then. "Hey," she murmured.

"Hey," he replied softly. Still they gazed at each other. Hermione wasn't usually a mushy girl, but lately, she'd been scribbling `Hermione Potter' on corners of parchment or drifting off while thinking about her fiancé. Usually, she'd end up hunting down the green eyed wizard to have her way with him.

"Oi, break it up lovebirds. You'd think that you were the newlyweds in the house, not me and Hestia," Sirius snarked as he looked over Harry's shoulder. "Come on Padlet, we're meeting the Weasley brothers to go over their requirements for the mission."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione gathered her notes into a valise. "Sirius, the `Padlet' nickname was cute the first dozen times. Now, it's annoying."

Padfoot pouted, "Don't you love me anymore?"

Shaking her head at her adopted father's amusing foolishness, she reached for Harry's hand as they moved to the patio to Apparate to the Ministry building.

Hermione groaned as she appeared in the Apparition zone for the Ministry in Exile. While the mechanics for the teleportation magic were straightforward and simple to master, she always found the sensation of Apparition to be disturbing at the least. Shrugging off the feeling, she followed Harry up a flight of steps to the first floor where they found Bill Weasley ensconced in a small conference room, surrounded by books.

Hermione's interest peaked as she saw the titles of the dusty old books scattered about. Hefting Warding Palaces and Prisons, she opened it to the table of contents as she commented, "I've always thought that warding and enchanting were the pinnacles of magical artistry and science." Looking at Bill, she saw that he wore a reserved but agreeing expression. Returning to the book, she added, "The weaving of charms, runes and other spellwork for both disciplines can be brutish or incredibly delicate." Shaking her head, The Smartest Witch of the Age finished, "Artwork with a scientific approach. Sometimes, warding and enchanting can be wondrous creations."

"I'm impressed," Bill murmured. "That attitude is rare outside my profession and, I suppose, the enchanting guild. Not many see ward crafting and breaking in that light."

She shrugged off the compliment as Sirius asked, "Do you have a supplies list?"

Bill exhaled loudly as he leaned back in his chair. Gesturing to a parchment covered in writing, the lanky redhead grouched, "Without knowing what we're facing, I could never stop making a list. What I've got here are the basics that cover tearing down basic to intermediate level wards. For the really complicated protections that'll be around You-Know-Who…," he shook his head. "I'll have to take a peek at what I'm facing before calling back here for specific supplies."

Hermione saw Sirius frown. "You do know that `calling back here for supplies' isn't really an option. There isn't a storehouse here that has supplies that can be drawn. You and I will take that," Padfoot gestured to the list, "and go purchase it. If you need more, now is the time to speak up."

At that point the door opened, admitting Hestia. Her frowning face brightened when she saw Sirius in the room. "Sirius!" she greeted him. Moving to his side, she gave him a kiss before turning to Hermione and Harry. "Hey you two, how're things?"

Harry nodded to her while smiling, "Alright. You?"

Wrapping her arm about Sirius' shoulders, the beaming blonde replied, "Smashing."

Hermione smiled at the cuteness of the couple. She'd come to value Hestia - warts and all. Hestia was broken in her own way, but it was in a way that fit with Sirius' issues and as such, they complemented each other. So long as they were happy, Hermione didn't complain.

Sirius leaned into his wife's ear as Harry rounded the table to look at Bill's list. "What's wrong?" Padfoot asked.

Hestia's smile melted back to the frown she'd been wearing when she entered the room. "Oh, someone was just being a better obstacle than helper."

Hermione frowned, "How?"

Hestia shook her head, "He's just been pretty useless lately and trying to get his head in his job has been a fulltime effort that I don't have time to do."

Pulling his wife into his lap, Sirius asked, "Who?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw both Harry and Bill paying attention. Hestia glanced at the younger men before demurring, "It doesn't matter."

The long, awkward silence was dispelled as Bill cleared his throat. "Charlie is up in Romania at Fields of Fire to see what he can scrounge for his `animal control' role." Hermione smiled at the jibe as Bill continued, "But Mum wanted to invite everyone over for dinner this evening."

Sirius nodded for them all, "Sure. I don't know if Lily will be up to coming out; she had a baby two weeks ago. I'll ask."

Bill smiled, "Great. Now about this list," he murmured while rounding the table to confer with Sirius.

Hermione caught Harry's eye to see him quietly contemplative. Dinner at the Weasleys' meant dinner with Ron. Things hadn't ended well with their onetime good friend. "You alright?" she asked her fiancé.

Pursing his lips, Harry shook his head. "Not really. Thinking about Ron and Ginny. The twins, too."

She frowned. Ever since the Goblet of Fire proclaimed Harry to be a Champion, relations with the Weasleys' oscillated from bad to worse back to neutral. Ron had been particularly nasty in the aftermath, though. "I don't remember anything too bad with Ginny and the twins."

Harry shook his head in agreement, "Neither do I. Ginny was a bit bitchy when you and I first starting dating, but I think she was just supporting Ron. The twins seemed to be good friends up `til the Third Task."

The Third Task…when everything fell apart and the world began to burn.

"And Ron?" she asked lightly, her tone belying her feelings. Their friend had been a sore spot for many months. Harry's sense of betrayal by Ron had been strong during the Tournament. Hermione, on the other hand had a decided opinion about their old friend, it'd just been unvoiced until now.

Harry's mouth moved a few times as his expression showed he was searching for the right words. "The last time I really talked to him was that time in the library back at school." She nodded to herself. From the stacks she'd heard Harry ream their former friend.

"I was pretty harsh with him," Harry admitted while rubbing his neck in embarrassment.

Hermione knew that her expression was harsh by his reaction when she asked, "Did he deserve it?"

Shrugging, Harry demurred, "I was pretty brassed off at him, but…," his unspoken But I went too far didn't impress the brunette witch.

Trying to be generous, she brusquely told him, "You do what you have to do. I'm not feeling very charitable." Glancing over to Sirius and Bill and the now departing Hestia, Hermione gave the blonde witch a short wave. Seeing that Bill and Sirius were still deep in discussion, she told Harry, "Ron hurt you. Betrayed you. I don't like that and I don't want to be around people like that. I don't want people around you who are like that." Resettling in her seat, she declared, "I'm a bit protective of you."

His smirk irritated her. "What?"

"Now you know how I feel about your parents," he snarked.

Unable to form an intelligent response, she gave an artless shrug which told volumes.

From the other end of the table, Sirius announced, "We'll see you lot later. Bill and I have to get our act together. We've some shopping to do."

.oOo.

"I need to do this, Grandmother," William insisted in an undertone as he studied the tops of his shoes.

"I forbid it, William." The dirty blond haired young man flinched at the cold, final decree. This wasn't his Grannie with whom he was speaking, but rather it was Elizabeth, Queen of all Britons and his Sovereign. His family was odd in that they would easily slip from role to role with each other. Sometimes they were grandmother and grandson, other times the Queen would be speaking to her Crown Prince. To outsiders it would surely be odd, but he'd long ago accepted it. Taking a deep breath, he remembered Harry.

Harry was his friend, but also his hero. Billy'd never tell Harry as such, but The Boy-Who-Lived's commitment, dedication, perseverance and zeal to bring down the pretender government and its head was incredibly inspiring. If Harry could stand up to his parents, his uncles and even Hermione from time to time in his pursuit of what he felt to be right, so too could William.

Turning his face to his Queen, he saw that her face was set and hard but there was an undercurrent that he could easily read. She was terrified. Nodding to himself, he admitted that he could understand her position.

"You're afraid that I'll be killed. That your entire family will be exterminated."

She blinked at his matter of fact tone before nodding. The hesitation in the movement gave the young man hope that she was beginning to relent from her position. "From my earliest memory, I've been taught to be of service to all Britons. I was taught and told that one day I'd be King with all the attendant duties and responsibilities." Pausing as he remembered his now dead parents, Billy swallowed a sob. His parents had their issues but in the end, they were his Mum and Dad and they were dead.

Her composure regained from the momentary lapse, Eilizabeth rebutted, "That does not mean that you must recklessly thrust yourself into danger. If you are killed, who then will succeed to the throne? What of your duty?" Her eyes flashed in fear and anger. He'd ever challenged her on anything, but then again, he'd never felt as strongly about anything before this. His mother's face rose before him. Despite her faults, she cared passionately about those whose lot in life was a short straw indeed. As a young boy, he'd followed her into the AIDS wards where the living dead were heartened just for a moment by the presence of the beautiful princess whom all Britons loved.

Shoving his grief to the side, he readdressed his Queen, "Your Majesty, I feel that I must do this. I have a duty not only to the mission but to these people. Are they not Britons? Do they not deserve the succour of the Crown? Sir Harry has a standing in magical society that carries fame and fortune with it, as does Lord Blackmoor. However, I'm the legitimate political leader who can stand firm in front of these people who've been so long oppressed." Unbeknownst to him, his voice swelled with passion, "I'm the person who can lawfully guarantee those poor souls their due. I can stand in front of them," he waved his hand in a gesture to encompass the unseen gathering, "and promise them their rights."

William was surprised to see his Grandmother regarding him with a wistful smile and a tear in the corner of her eye. Reaching for his hands, she whispered, "Kneel before Us, William, Prince of Wales."

Moved by her emotion and the intensity of the moment, he knelt before her. He wanted so badly to be strong; to show his grandmother that he was resilient enough to earn her trust. The emotion was too thick, though, to be denied. Silently, tears began to track down his cheeks. He was frightened. He was consumed by grief for the loss of his family. He was afraid of losing his beloved grandmother. He was young enough to be excited about the adventure in front of him. All this and more swirled in the vortex of his heart.

Laying his head in her lap, he accepted her kiss on the crown of his head as his tears wet her skirt. He barely heard her whisper, "I name thee Sir William, Knight Grand Commander of the Bath. Go forth on your mission, Sir William with the certitude of the Crown's support." Raising his face to hers with a gentle tug, he wasn't surprised to see that she was weeping as he was.

"Go forth with certitude of the Crown's blessing and love." Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead before whispering, "I've never been more proud of you William. I love you."

.oOo.

"Moony, you got a minute?"

Remus looked up to see James standing in the doorway, a pensive expression on his face. Gesturing to a spare chair in his office, he replied, "For you Prongs, always."

James smirked, "But you'd tell Padfoot…?"

"To fuck himself."

The old friends chuckled before James sobered. "I need you to do something."

Taken aback by the gravity of Prongs' expression and tone, Remus reassured his old friend, "Anything. Just ask."

Staring out the window, it was evident that James' mind was hundreds of miles away. In a cottage in Godric's Hollow. On a plain in Wiltshire. In the outskirts of Hogsmeade. In a dark corner of Diagon Alley. In a graveyard near Little Hangleton.

His mind was all the places where James had fought the villain who called himself Lord Voldemort.

Remus had been expecting this discussion, knowing James as he did. His friend was a warrior, but he'd also been trained to do his duty. For too many years, he'd ignored his duty. After Charlus and Dorea died, Remus knew that James had done a lot of soul searching. Prongs' admission to Harry so long ago that he knew that he'd been a bully during their school years confirmed his supposition. James had executed an incredible turnaround in character during sixth year that could only be the result of the upheaval in his life instigated by the death of his beloved parents. He began to reach beyond himself, to care about others not only for how they related to him, but for their intrinsic worth. Knowing all this about his friend, he fired his first pre-planned salvo, "Harry's going to win. He'll come home safely."

James' face turned to his lycanthropic friend with a grave expression. "I pray that you're right."

With quiet assuredness, Remus continued his plan by telling his friend, "I am, James. Harry will be fine. We'll all be fine."

"I love you, Moony. You and Padfoot have a place in my heart that few can ever approach, but you're either an idiot or a terrible liar."

Grimacing, Remus waited. He'd hoped that platitudes would reassure his old friend. Sometimes James was a worrywart who needed his friends and family to tell him that all would be well so that he could move on with life. Obviously, this wasn't one of those times. Prongs was genuinely worried about his family. With his plan derailed, Moony waited.

"This team is going to seek out and engage the deadliest Dark Lord since Shinobu Tsukasa in the sixth century." Shaking his head slowly, he continued, "And Harry is going to do whatever he has to do to plant Voldemort six feet under, even if it costs him his life." Now James' eyes narrowed, "And once again, I'll not be there with him."

Remus thought he heard the click his friend's eyes as they focused on him. "You have to be there in my stead. You have to bring my son home." The stiffness in James' back sagged as he seemed to fold in on himself, mirroring his emotional state. Usually, James was a pillar of strength, but certain areas in his life - his family most often - were where he was vulnerable. Holding his head in his hands, Prongs murmured, "I've failed him too often."

Now Remus understood what James wanted. This wasn't worrying or the expected concern of a parent for their child in an extremely dangerous situation. This was the weight of Prophecy. Everyone thought of Harry and to a lesser extent, Hermione, when considering the prophecy of Sybill Trelawney. However, both James and Lily alongside Voldemort played a part in the fulfilment of Destiny. Not only was James tied to his son through the loving bonds of parenthood, family and affection, but through the cold, iron bindings of prophecy. There was nothing that Moony could say beyond, "I'll do whatever I can to bring him back to you, James."

It was a long moment before the whisper could be heard. "Thank you, Moony."

.oOo.

It was late in the afternoon when Bill and Sirius returned to the conference room in the Ministry that they'd appropriated for their use. Sirius stacked the small chest of blank dragon bone plates in the corner, placing a bag of goofa dust on top of it. Rummaging through his pockets, he withdrew shrunken vials of phoenix tears, mermaid tears and freely donated unicorn blood. Together, the three vials had cost close to ten thousand galleons. The magically shrunken cask of dragon's blood was slightly smaller than a normal drinking goblet, but held nearly five hundred gallons of the powerful, viscous fluid.

Stretching, Sirius watched Bill unload his booty before the lanky young man turned to a trunk. After levitating the standard Hogwarts trunk to the table, Bill rubbed his chin while he muttered to himself under his breath.

Rolling his eyes at Bill's preoccupation, Sirius asked, "What's up with the trunk?"

"I need a place to store all this stuff so it's portable, protected and easy to access."

"So a few Space Expansion charms and we're off to your Mum's for dinner. What's the problem?" Sirius snarked. He was hungry and really wanted to eat. Molly Weasley wasn't his favourite witch in the world, but he'd heard that she could cook up a storm.

Bill glanced at his dark haired companion, "Fleur's much better at this. She's excellent at delicate wandwork, where I'm better at the intricate and long incantation spells." Sirius rolled his eyes. On and off the whole day, the tall man had mentioned the Frenchwoman with more than a passing fancy. It was obvious that Bill was in love, but Padfoot didn't have time or inclination to indulge the other man. There was a war on and even though the eldest son of Arthur had worked the system to get his girlfriend assigned to their team, Sirius had other things on his mind. Hestia, for one thing was on his mind.

Smiling at his own hypocrisy, Padfoot clapped the taller man on the shoulder. "Let's get…"

They were interrupted as the door to the conference room opened to reveal a bright eyed, scarred blonde whom Sirius recognized immediately. The way her eyes were focused on Bill, Sirius doubted that she even noted his presence.

"Fleur…" Bill whispered.

She didn't reply with words, but flowed into her lover's arms. Their passionate kiss was Sirius' cue to leave. Sighing to himself as he skirted the table, he chastised himself for his earlier attitude. He'd found love with Hestia. Moony and Alex were a heartbeat from marriage. Harry and Hermione, Neville and Susan…they'd all found that one person who made them complete. Who was he to denigrate Bill, even if he'd been a bit annoying in his moping? Smiling to himself, he closed the door behind him as he heard both lovers weeping in joy and relief.

.oOo.

"Look for me by the moonlight… Watch for me by the moonlight…I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way," Alex murmured under her breath.

Gently adjusting her godson on her shoulder, she kissed the baby on his shell-like ear. Robbie was an island of hope and love in the midst of fear, horror and war. Across from her, Remus napped on the couch, his face relaxed as a small smile curled his lips. Her eyes teared as she recalled how gentle and loving Remus was with his godson. He'd been singing half-forgotten songs with such quiet sincerity that the new-born babe was compelled to pay attention to the man who held him.

Remus was going to be an excellent father, she decided. Seeing him with the baby had let fall the last barrier in her heart allowing Alex to admit that she loved this man with all her heart, all her soul and she desired no other. As Remus sang an old Irish ballad of days long lost with troubles deeply held, Alex gave herself over to her man in all ways. They weren't married and may never legally be allowed to do so, but in her heart, she became his wife in that moment.

Cuddling the babe to her chest as he snuckled and snorted, Alex sighed. Love, life and family. What more could a person want? Her dreams of a department chair at the hospital were ash and rightly so given what she'd seen and done. There were men dead at her hand. She'd been patching up those who'd delivered death to their fellow men while condoning that behaviour. In the face of the nightmare of war, her petty ambitions paled to insignificance. Love was all that remained that claimed the title of `worth'.

"You're so warm, lad," she murmured to the baby. Gently squeezing Robbie to her chest as a sigil of purest love, she allowed the feeling to overwhelm her. When they'd gone to Wales, a part of her had said goodbye to the mortal coil. She knew full well that they could've been caught and executed by the ascendant Voldemort regime. After escaping, they were now returning to the trap causing a part of her to scream in rebellion.

Looking across the room to her love, she railed against the idea of losing him. Feeling the babe in her arms, she refused to die before delivering their yet unborn child; the child not yet conceived that she was now determined to bring into this world. Watching the sandy haired man across from her, she amended her thought, Our child. Remus and my child. Suddenly, there wasn't anything more important in the world for Alex to do than to love and be loved.

Closing her eyes, she took a long cleansing breath. She knew that she could be melodramatic. Alex smiled sadly to herself in remembrance of long nights of suffering after Remus had left her. True, she'd suffered as any other woman would have suffered, but she also had to admit that she could sometimes be a bit of a drama queen, blowing situations out of proportion.

Shoving the weightier considerations to the side, Alex sat back in the chair. Holding little Robert Justin Potter, the blonde healer loosed her hold on active thought, drifting in her memories. Searching for none, but communing with all, she sat in the experience of her life. As the smile curled the edges of her mouth, she couldn't help but think that despite the trials and tribulations, her life was good.

Her godson's blanket tossed over the two of them warded off the chill as Lily got out of the house for the first time since Robert's birth. Alex had noticed that her friend was getting a bit stir crazy so she'd volunteered herself and Remus for minding duty. He was still a bit peaky from the full moon and she wanted some quiet time for herself. Even William had gone to the Weasley feast, leaving the two of them alone in the house with only the house elfs about.

Remus woke with a yawn before scrubbing his face with his hands. Blinking, he asked, "How's he doing?"

"Fine," she smiled. "He's been out like a light."

In the twilight, Remus squinted at the clock. "Lily should be back soon. She didn't want to be gone for too long." Standing, he stretched before shuffling to Alex's side. Alex couldn't help her smile as Remus tucked his large forefinger into Robbie's chubby fist. "Hey, little man," he whispered.

.oOo.

Susan Bones did not like Ron Weasley.

The twins were alright, but sometimes their pranking had too vicious an edge to it that she didn't like. Ginny was a non-entity aside from her general reputation throughout school that she was…'enamoured' was a soft word for her fascination with Harry. "While I think that Harry is quite handsome," Susan had told Hermione when discussing the topic while dressing earlier, "It's a bit creepy how she's always blushing and paling around him. I mean really. Grow up." With a wicked smiled, she reassured her frowning friend, "Don't worry, I'm very happy with my Nev."

Hermione shook off the implication that Susan would try to poach Harry as she countered, "Ginny hasn't been like that since first or second year, has she?"

Shrugging, Susan replied, "Maybe not as bad, but the whole school knows that she's stupid over Harry."

Ignoring the possible teenaged fantasies of a girl she barely knew, Susan followed the family to the door of the Weasleys' temporary residence in Spain. Harry and Neville were joking about in front of her and Hermione, causing both young women to smile. Both their beaus had been far too serious for far too long.

"How's Harry doing with the whole `leadership' thing?" Susan asked Hermione in an undertone. She knew that no matter how confident The Boy-Who-Lived was, it had to be a bit intimidating to face the prospect of ordering adults about while executing an undercover special operations insertion with the goal of killing the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries..

"Pretty good, actually," Hermione replied. "His Dad pulled him to the side the other day, laying out some truths." Susan's expression must've shown her confusion and curiosity. "He told Harry that just because he was in charge, it didn't mean that he didn't need to listen to advice from people more experienced than him. I have to agree, by taking the experience of the older members of the team it'll increase our chances of success." Hermione smiled, "And James told him that he'd learned from hard won experience that `please' and `thank you' were a vital necessity in this situation."

Susan chuckled. Harry had told her and Neville about his father's chequered past. `please' and `thank you' were most likely very foreign to a teenaged James Potter.

The door opened in response to James' knock revealing a beaming Molly Weasley. "Welcome! Welcome everyone." Motioning to the crowd, she greeted, "Come in, dinner will be ready shortly."

Following the herd through the door, Susan nearly stopped and stared at the older redheaded witch. She'd never met the Weasley matriarch, but was still shocked at her appearance. Her face was drawn with dark circles under her eyes. Clothes that'd been tailored for a fairly plump woman hung off her thin shoulders like sails. Remembering her manners, she nodded to the other woman as she passed her into the house. "Thank you for the invitation," Susan greeted as she passed the older woman.

"You're very welcome here, Susan. Make yourself comfortable in the lounge."

Nodding, Susan followed Hermione and the boys to the sound of voices near the back of the house. Entering the room, he heard Hermione exclaim, "Fleur!" before her friend hustled across the room to embrace the newcomer.

.oOo.

Bill hadn't been this angry since he was thirteen and his mother grounded him for the entire summer before his fourth year for `inappropriate discussions' with Grace Floworth down the lane. As the Potter entourage came in the house, he directed his glare at the floor when moments before it'd been focused on his mother.

Wrapping his arms more tightly about his lover's waist, he pulled her back against his chest. He felt more than heard her sigh of relief at the tight embrace in which he held her. "Sorry," he whispered into his paramour's ear.

"Eet's not your fault, love," she replied.

Squeezing Fleur in acknowledgement, he told her, "I'll talk to her when we get some time alone. I've always known that she was opinionated, but she's just being rude to you."

There was a miniscule pause before the witch in his arms asked, "Ees eet because I'm Veela?"

He smiled, "More likely because you're French."

She chuckled throatily. "That ees much easier to deal with." She wiggled back into his embrace, purring in contentment.

Bill swallowed back his instinctive reaction to pin her to a wall, taking her right then. The easy give and take, the casual intimacy that existed between them was incredibly arousing for him. Many adults say that women are aroused by emotional stimuli where men are aroused by visual stimuli. Bill was firmly convinced that the nature of his relationship with Fleur - utter lack of pretence with a willing vulnerability that was astounding - made him want his other half in a very carnal way thereby turning the stereotype on its head.

"Tonight, my love," she whispered.

Chuckling into her hair, he gently kissed her head.

"Fleur!" a voice exclaimed. Looking up, he saw Hermione rushing across the room, obviously to embrace his girlfriend. Quickly disentangling himself from Fleur lest he be squeezed unmercifully, Bill smiled to see the two witches hug.

"Bill," Harry greeted him with a handshake.

"Hey, Harry. Neville, Billy," he nodded to the sandy haired wizard and the Prince who stood behind Harry and to the witch standing next to him, "Hey Susan."

"How are you?" Hermione asked Fleur as she stepped back from Bill's better half. He was gratified that Hermione didn't seem to be staring at Fleur's injury. While his girlfriend wasn't very vain, she didn't like people staring at her for any reason.

"I am glad to be here," Fleur replied with a glance over her shoulder at Bill. His smile at her was returned full force.

Hermione hooked her arm in Fleur's, steering her away from the men, "So, when did you and Bill happen?"

A shuffling sound announced the entrance of Fred and George. The twins greeted the visitors with half-hearted smiles which were returned with quizzical expressions. Bill frowned. There was something very wrong with the twins and he'd no idea what it was. Talking with Charlie, his younger brother thought that the family pranksters were angry, but Bill was at a loss as to the targets of their wrath asides from a general hatred of Voldemort. The crowd began to murmur and chat as Susan Bones asked him about how he got into the curse breaking profession.

The crowd began to hum with a myriad of conversations. The Prince attached himself to Bill and Susan's conversation as Bill saw Ginny quietly sidle into the room. She struck up a conversation with Neville about something or the other as Bill began to explain the apprenticeship process in the Cursebreaking Guild.

There was a pause in the other conversations, causing Bill to look up. Ron stood in the doorway, his expression neutral as he surveyed the visitors. Bill knew that his youngest brother had had a falling out with the Potter contingent, but based on the carefully neutral faces in the room, it must've been far worse than he imagined. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to Susan and the Prince. Ron was a big boy who had to clean up his own messes.

.oOo.

"So, how is your little one, Lily?" Molly asked. "I was hoping to see him tonight."

Lily watched the older witch, seeing a trace of wistfulness passing across her lined face. The time displaced woman hoped that her pity didn't show on her face, but Lily felt incredibly sorry for Molly. To lose a son…she shuddered at the thought. When they were freshly returned to the timestream, she and James had thought Harry lost. That wasn't really true, though. They feared that he was lost and it'd only lasted for a few very long hours.

Looking at Molly, Lily wondered if knowing that Percy was dead would be better than fearing he was dead. Both are horrific options, she decided.

"We thought that Robbie should stay home tonight. Remus and Alex are watching over him. She smiled, "We're giving his godparents some uninterrupted time with their godson." Sirius took the platter that Molly handed him, heading over to the table. Lily poked him as he walked past, "No sampling."

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius grumbled.

James and Arthur were awkwardly chatting in the corner of the kitchen while Hestia set the table. "It's not the Burrow," Molly observed sadly, "but it's home for now."

Swallowing the urge to ask, How are you dealing with the loss of your home? Or worse yet How are you dealing with the loss of your son? Lily settled for nodding sadly.

"So it seems that Bill has found a special lady," Lily observed. Changing the topic to anything safe was her goal. Unfortunately, she wasn't successful.

Scowling, Molly shot over her shoulder, "I wish that Bill had chosen a more proper type of lady."

Frowning, Lily couldn't help herself. "What's wrong with Miss Delacour? Harry and Hermione like her and she comes from a good family."

There was a hesitation in the other redheaded witch before Molly replied, "I'm sure that Bill could've found a suitable English witch just the same."

Rolling her eyes, Lily moved to the window. She'd never understood the old English/French prejudices. True, the countries had warred on and off for over seven hundred years, but still…

Ignoring Molly Weasley's silly bigotry, Lily brightly praised, "The food smells delicious, Molly. I don't know when I've been this hungry just from the smells of dinner.

Smiling wanly, the mother of seven nodded. Inside, Lily groaned. Nothing is going right tonight.

.oOo.

Hermione turned to see Ron standing in the doorway to the parlour, an expression of wary neutrality on his face. Swallowing her immediate ire, Hermione shifted slightly to take Harry's hand. Reassured at the slight squeeze that he gave her, she waited. Based on the discussion she and he'd had earlier, it seemed that Harry was more disposed to mending fences with their one time friend - to a degree. There's no way Harry will let Ron all the way back into his heart. He's been hurt too deeply and despite his huge heart, Harry isn't likely to offer all-encompassing forgiveness. He's learned his parents' lesson of betrayal too well.

"Hey Ron," Harry offered in a friendly tone. "How've you been?"

The tall redhead slowly moved in their direction as conversation resumed in the room. Shrugging, Ron replied, "Good enough; better than some, worse than others."

Hermione blinked at the mature measured response. Who are you and what've you done with Ron Weasley? she muttered to herself.

Harry half turned to William as he introduced him, "Billy, this is an old friend, Ron Weasley. Ron, this is Billy."

Ron frowned at the lack of surname in the introduction, but extended his hand nonetheless. William had been insistent upon not being introduced as the Prince of Wales. Everyone wanted to have a nice, normal night and the mix of politics and titles would most likely throw things into a tizzy. While Arthur would immediately know who the young Prince was along with James' elevation to the Dukedom of Shrewsbury, the Potter contingent didn't want that to be the focus of the meeting. Tonight was about family, friends and a last send off before the last dive into the fire.

After the introductions, an awkward silence fell over the group of teens. Harry had extended the hand of friendship, limited though it was, but now it was up to Ron to take the next step. Based on the tall redhead's expression, the brunette witch couldn't tell if Ron either didn't know how to proceed or was unwilling to do so. From Hermione's side, an unexpected source piped up, "Do you know when you'll be heading back to Britain?" asked Ginny Weasley.

Hermione regarded Ginny closely. The young woman's face was lacking in that desperate crush that'd been so debilitating earlier in their teen years. Now, she had a calm expression with hints of fear. Fear for her brothers and possibly her old friends. Regardless of when, the what was well known to all: they were returning home with violence in store.

"We're not sure, yet," Hermione replied for Harry. "We're in the middle of preparations and supply purchases. When that's done, we'll be ready to go." While all present were supposed to be friends, it would be stupid to announce a timeline for the operation. After all, Peter Pettigrew had been best friends with James Potter.

Nodding, Ginny chewed her lip. "Oh. Well, I hope it all works out." She glanced about the room, "I hope everyone who goes comes back."

"So do I," Hermione breathed in agreement. Squeezing Harry's hand tighter, they all drifted to silence as each of the young people contemplated the prospects of the immediate future.

.oOo.

Harry leaned into Hermione as everyone moved to the magically expanded dining room, "Is it just me or is Ginny acting…?"

"Normal?" she supplied.

"Yeah."

Shrugging, Hermione offered, "Maybe she's just grown up. Susan and I were talking about it earlier."

"it's kind of nice," Harry mused. "All that blushing and squeaking got on my nerves."

Hermione smiled. She'd no problems with Ginny. Her crush seemed to have faded and Hermione couldn't hold a crush against anyone. Wrapping her arm in Harry's she broadcast to the room, He's mine.

Looking about, Hermione steered Harry toward the middle of the table of fifteen. Ginny on Harry's other side, Hermione got Fleur on her opposite side with Ron at the far end of the table next to his mother.

Frowning, Hermione wondered what their old friend was playing at. Was he so indifferent to their situation or was he holding back out of fear and guilt? Shaking her head, she saw Harry watching her.

"Ron?" he asked sotto voce.

Her resigned and frustrated nod told all.

Harry frowned into his plate. "I don't know. I tried, right?" he looked to her for her evaluation. Hermione nodded in concurrence, knowing that he wanted the truth, not a sugar coated lie. She felt that Harry had extended the hand of friendship - or at least acquaintance - to their old friend but Ron had let it fall without comment.

"Do you want him back in your life?" came the soft question from her left. Turning to see the clear blue eyes of Fleur watching her carefully.

Hermione considered before replying quietly, "I'm not the right person to ask that question."

Fleur's focus switched to Harry, reiterating the question without asking. He took a long breath before replying so only Hermione and Fleur could hear, "I'm not opposed to it, but I'm not bursting with eagerness, either."

"Then let him make his decision. If the answer is no, can you accept that?"

Hermione was suspiciously quiet. She knew that Harry was fully aware of her opinion. Ron Weasley could fall off the end of the world and she'd not cry too much over it.

Harry nodded, looking over to his right as he signalled the end of the discussion.

Looking over the table, Hermione saw a distinct lack of something. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to identify what was missing. It was Sirius that gave her the clue. Usually, her adoptive father was gregarious and loud at mealtime. His barbs flew alongside guffaws and groans. James was of the same type while Lily and Hestia were more sedate, but still outgoing. Tonight all the adults were quiet while the young adults were unconsciously following their lead. Something was wrong and all knew it.

Looking to the foot of the table, Molly Weasley's expression told the tale. Her usually ebullient expression was closed and shuttered. Pain radiated past her mask of welcome and friendliness. Her son was missing and probably dead. Glancing at Arthur, Hermione saw the same pain and reserve on the balding man's face. This was a house in unacknowledged grief. There was no event, no body and no casket, but the house was suffused in pain and anguish.

"So, Lily, tell us about your plans?" Arthur asked in the stilted silence surrounding the table. "When are you planning to return to work?"

Hermione watched Lily intently so she didn't have to meet any of the Weasleys eyes. Things were just wrong and it was very uncomfortable. "Well," Lily replied as she spooned up vegetables for herself before passing it on, "Robbie is sleeping well and growing like gangbusters, so I'll probably be back to the ICW in a part time role next month. A month or so after that, I'll be full time."

Molly smiled wistfully, "I remember that Percy was a very quiet baby. Bill wouldn't sleep through the night for love or money while Charlie scared us all with a fit of stomach problems. Percy…he was a good…," she trailed off as tears sprang to her eyes. Shaking her head, the distraught mother tried to clear her mind, but to no avail. With a muted sob, Molly rushed from the room.

The silence stretched for a moment until Arthur stood. "Please, continue with your meal. I'll just check on Molly."

With a stone in her stomach, Hermione looked at her plate without the hint of hunger. Glancing about, she saw Ginny near tears. Giving Harry a gentle elbow to slide back, the brunette witch reached over to take her friend's hand.

Ginny blindly gave Hermione a squeeze before wetly murmuring, "Thanks."

"Of course. Can I help?" Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Sirius begin to tell a story of the Marauders in hopes of kick starting the meal.

Shaking her head so that her red hair waved like a curtain, Ginny replied, "Mum's having a hard time about Percy. None of us are glad that he's…missing…but she's having a particularly hard time." She looked about the room, as if memorizing all the faces. "I just don't want to lose anyone else."

Looking about the room, Hermione felt a tug of guilt. Most everyone at the table from the Potter contingent was happily in love with their spouse/affianced/significant other. Billy was the only unattached member of the family, but he was also coming to terms with the near extermination of his family and finding his feet in the greater Marauder family.

Nonetheless, all were rejoicing in family found and growing. Young Robbie was the focus of the current love and affection in the family, but they'd been growing and celebrating for months now Remus and Alex had found each other. Sirius and Hestia were married. Looking to her right, she watched Harry for along moment. My love, she mused. All were together, all were loved and all were cherished. What if it were Remus that was lost? Hestia?

Hermione knew exactly what would happen should the family lose Harry. It hadn't been so long since her man was trapped in a magical coma and the family feared for his recovery. Sirius had rampaged in a self-destructive cycle that nearly killed him and Remus. James and Lily had been nearly catatonic in their worry and I was…. She shook the thought off, refusing to revisit her despair. It was only recently that the family seemed to be coming out of their collective pain and trials. The Weasleys were still in the heart of their tribulations.

Molly and Arthur looked twice their age. She'd lost at least three stone if her robes were any judge and Arthur was nearly bald. The bags under his eyes told of long nights staring at the ceiling of their temporary home here in Spain.

The twins were so silent as to be nearly sullen. They'd stopped being the youthful jesters who looked to take the piss out of any situation, come hell, high water or both.

Ron was withdrawn into himself. The redhead boy who'd once been one of the best of her friends was an enigma now. His reactions, action and general demeanour were so different from the young man she'd once known that Hermione was at a loss to read him.

Bill was nearly himself, but Hermione attributed that more to Fleur's presence than any other reason.

Ginny was afraid; afraid for her brothers and afraid in general. Talking with the young redhead, it seemed that since Percy had disappeared, the young woman was beginning to feel the mortality of her family for the first time. Usually a very feisty and fiery personality, Ginny was far more sombre than Hermione remembered.

Was all this due to the loss of the least favourite son of the Weasley family? Surely, there must be more? Hermione mused to herself.

.oOo.

"That sucked."

Hestia nodded emphatically. Sirius' summation of the evening had all the grace of a prison shiv but was accurate, nonetheless. The blonde Deputy Minister for Magic half smiled as she saw Hermione lay her head on Harry's shoulder while the family regrouped in the sitting room off the veranda. The sun had long set but the moon was just past full, illuminating the room without the aid of magical lights. She snuggled deeper into Sirius' arms, enjoying his warmth and savouring his special scent.

"I hope that I don't seem too insensitive, but was Mrs Weasley's grief a bit…much?" asked Billy in a hesitant tone. "I, just like everyone else here, know how pervasive the loss of family can be, but…." He trailed off, his conclusion unspoken.

In the corner, where Lily was nursing Robbie, she offered, "It's as if the family has been destroyed...savaged. She not only lost her son, but her home, everything that she knew as familiar and safe. Now her oldest two sons are going back into the fire."

Shaking her head at the words because of their inexactness, she refocused on her babe. Harry watched her cling to her son. Hestia, in her turn, watched with affection as the mother wordlessly connected first with her baby then her firstborn. Hestia wasn't a maternal type of witch and was most definitely not brooding. However, she did love her extended family and cherished their affections for her and each other. It warmed her heart to watch green met green giving Harry renewal, life and love. Hermione was the love of his life. James was his hero, his inspiration and his Father. Remus, Sirius, Hestia, Alex and the rest were family and she was content to be so. Lily was his Mum, though.

"I cannot imagine the pain that Molly and Arthur living through," Hestia offered. Harry frowned. He could tell that there was an unspoken addition to her statement that he couldn't extrapolate. Something that Hestia either knew or surmised about the situation.

"What?" James prodded. Apparently, Prongs had come to the same conclusion.

Sirius sat up, opening his eyes to evaluate his wife. Hestia shook her head with lips pursed. Amelia had forbidden her discussing the possibility of Arthur's traitor status and Hestia had intentionally never followed up on their original supposition. Sometimes it was better not to confirm suspicions. "I don't know anything, but there's more going on with Arthur." Looking about the room, she smiled apologetically, "I can't really speak about it."

A thick silence filled the room. Harry shook his head. "They don't matter," he reiterated his mantra from the previous year. She watched as one by one, he met the gaze of every person in the room: his family. "Only the family matters," he concluded as he and his father exchanged a meaningful look. Hestia's arm tightened about Sirius' waist as his did about her shoulders. Their love and life was increasing while the Weasley family was in tatters. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right but it was true, nonetheless.

.oOo.

The door opened soundlessly. With a deliberate tread, Sirius and James entered the cell to find Bellatrix Lestrange bound to a chair.

"Oh cousin," she purred to Sirius. "I didn't know that you liked it rough. Untie me and I'll take you to the heights of pleasure."

James didn't know if he should vomit or laugh. Noting the madness dancing in the witch's eyes, he settled for a shake of his head. He and Sirius were here for some answers. I doubt we'll get anything useful, but we've got to try.

"Gesundheit," Sirius replied distractedly. "Cousin, we're here because we need some answers. Very detailed answers." James saw Padfoot root in his pocket for a moment before withdrawing a small vial. "You can do it the easy way or the hard way."

"Cousin," she giddily chided with more than a hint of insanity, "You must know that I will never betray my master." Her face hardened, malice and evil sliding over her as if poured from a spigot, "His will be done!"

James glanced at Sirius. Seeing his own disgust and revulsion mirrored on Padfoot's face, Prongs muttered, "Hard way it is."

Sirius nodded reluctantly. After taking a steadying breath, Sirius began in a voice far deeper than his usual tone. Magic interlaying and interweaving with his words, he commanded, "Bellatrix Lestrange, born Bellatrix Black, I am your Lord and the father of your blood."

The crazy woman began to shriek and writhe in her bonds. She knew what was coming. Veritaserum is useful in that it forces the person dosed to tell only the truth. The limitation is that it doesn't compel the dosed person to speak. They can refuse to answer, thus bypassing the powerful potion. In court testimony or other cases where the dosed testifier is unwilling to answer, the common practice is to pair the potion with a strong Confundus charm, obviating the person's reluctance to speak. Given the fractured nature of Bellatrix's mind and her slavish devotion to Voldemort, both Lily and Alex had advised Sirius that a Confundus strong enough to compel testimony could very well leave the Dark Witch a gibbering mess. So far, the Ministry in Exile had been unable to compel Bellatrix to provide meaningful information surrounding the location of Lord Voldemort. Other information that she'd deemed unimportant had poured out of her in a torrent, though. Whenever questioned about the Dark Lord, she'd glared malevolently at the questioner.

So Sirius was resorting to the family magics, something he'd sworn he'd never do.

"I invoke Familia Obedientia," the Earl of Blackmoor continued. "Now be silent!" he thundered at the shrieking woman.

Scowling, her lip curled, Bellatrix was quiet. Her eyes promising a long, tortuous death, she glared at the lord of her house.

"Open your mouth," Sirius wearily commanded. James waited for the insane woman to comply before taking the bottle from his cousin to administer the dose. Five minutes later, Sirius compelled, "You will answer all questions put to you."

James took up the questioning. It was obvious that the stress and strain of maintaining the dominance of his will over Bellatrix's was taxing Sirius. As both he and his friend were heads of houses, they knew that the magic of the Family Obedience compulsion came from the head of the family. Ensuring that the dictation quill was recording every word on the neverending parchment roll, James began.

"Where does Lord Voldemort keep his primary residence?"

"Where he wishes to you disgusting blood traitor," Bellatrix responded with a demented smile.

Rolling his eyes, James muttered, "So, you're going to be like that, are you?" He took a deep breath, before continuing. "What is the name of the building or facility where the wizard commonly called Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord or You-Know-Who, but born Tom Riddle, resides?"

After a flicker of resistance, Bellatrix spat, "My master is most often found in Buckingham Palace."

"When not in residence at Buckingham Palace, what is the name of the building or facility where Lord Voldemort resides?"

"Usually he's at Balmoral Castle."

"And other times?" James asked, hoping that she'd not resume playing word games.

"Many times, other devoted servants of his will be graced by his presence in their homes."

Sighing in relief at her lack of recalcitrance, James pressed, "Are there some who are most often graced with his presence?"

James tried to hurry the questioning. Off to his right, Sirius was sweating heavily as his face paled. Bellatrix was a powerful witch with a will of steel that was further strengthened by her insanity. To dominate her will, even with the advantage of being her head of house, was a difficult task. A very small part of him felt sorry for Sirius, but he was immediately reminded that they were doing this for Harry. All remorse fell to the wayside.

James had seen the horrors that humanity can perpetrate upon one another. In the dark of the night with only his wife at his side, he'd admit to having been a perpetrator of some of those horrors. Watching the insanity and darkness in the eyes and expression of Bellatrix Lestrange was to see the realization of potential for perversity, sadism and evil that all humanity carries. This woman was so warped by hatred, bigotry and dark magic that she was irreversibly damaged - irreversibly destroyed.

For a fleeting moment, James wanted to laugh. This woman was held up as an example of all that a wizard or witch should be by the Dark Lord. What James saw was the willing victim of evil. She was the personification of destroyed and decimated humanity. This woman had willingly thrown herself into the pit of madness and irrevocable perdition.

Once again, James shoved aside his personal thoughts and considerations to get the job done. Glancing at Sirius, he saw his brother in all but blood was holding out, but just barely. Redoubling his efforts, James moved the questioning into the defences of the major targets.

Unfortunately, Bellatrix wasn't well versed in wards or the protective enchantments that'd been crafted about the palaces. Her joyful reply of, "I know nothing about the wards!" seemed to focus her hatred of him and Sirius while crystallizing his loathing of her. However, she'd gleefully told about Voldemort's attempt to hatch a basilisk. Toward the end, she'd been boastful, "Enjoy the dragon that's in the courtyard of Buckingham palace! I believe that it's a Vipertooth!"

The Lord of the House of Black was trembling at this point. Glancing at his watch, James saw that they'd been going for over three hours. Without preamble, he drew his wand before Stunning the witch in her bonds.

Sirius exhaled sharply, slumping in his chair. Leaning his forearms on his thighs, he panted as if he'd just finished a long race with an enormous weight on his back.

"If I never do that again, I'll have done it too many times," Padfoot muttered.

James gently clapped his cousin on the shoulder, "Wartime old man."

Nodding, Sirius concurred with James' sentiment, though neither wizard was happy about it. "Wartime or not, it felt like dark magic."

James was quiet. Considering that Sirius had a much more flexible understanding of what constituted dark magic, for him to say as such brought Prongs up short. Gently laying his hand across his friend's shoulder, he murmured, "I know. Thank you for doing this for Harry."

With a determined expression, Sirius straightened. "Him, Hermione, all of us. I'd do anything for our family."

Lips curling to a small grin, James said, "Come on. Drinks are on me. Let Weasley clean up this mess."

.oOo.

"You don't have to do this," he told her.

"Yes, I do."

Harry watched Hermione square her shoulders before raising her hand. Knocking on the door of her parents' home, her face assumed a neutral cast.

Three weeks before, she'd wondered in passing about her parents; how they were doing and all. After returning home from the disastrous dinner party with the Weasleys, Hermione had told Harry that she wanted to visit her parents before the Marauder strike team returned to Britain.

On the outside, Harry responded as he ought to: "Yes, dear," or words to that effect. Inside, though, he was deeply conflicted. Talking it over with James had helped clarify the situation some.

"You see, wizards want to fix everything, witches want to talk it over. Most of the time, your Mum tells me something to get it off her chest. She's not looking for a solution." James waited, looking at Harry expectantly.

"So, Hermione doesn't really care about my opinion, she just wanted me to listen to her?" Harry hoped that this was the right answer or else Prongs was going to prank him quite severely.

"Yes, grasshopper."

Nodding, Harry mulled over the conclusion before his brow furrowed. "Well, why the hell did she bring all this up to make me mad and all?"

Harry's frown deepened when James' chortling became a belly laugh. "This is a witch thing. You need to just sit there and listen unless something really bad is going to happen if you don't speak up. Trust me," he laid a reassuring hand on Harry's arm, "I've screwed this up far too many times not to have learned this lesson."

"Oh," he replied, his brow clearing from upset to mild confusion. Shaking his head after a minute, he waved a hand, "I'll trust you here Dad. This is too much for me."

"Seriously, though, this is her parents. These people have hurt her and may very well hurt her again. You need to support her in this. Go with her. Don't argue, but be supportive…that type of thing."

Harry didn't like that. He was far more inclined to action in the face of danger. Mute observance was not something he was experienced in or inclined to do. "Can't I just hex them into a large-ish puddle of goo?"

"Nope."

"Crap."

Shaking off the memories of his dad teasing him unmercifully, Harry braced himself. He didn't like Steven and Alice Granger. They were snobbish, status seeking and unpleasant. At the same time, they raised Hermione. No one inherently bad could raise such a young woman.

The door opened, Harry held his breath while he felt Hermione stiffen at his side.

Alice Granger opened the door, her face set in a pleasant smile He watched her expression shift from the half smile to surprise when she recognized her daughter standing in front of them, to a hint of fear when she recalled the standing in which she stood with said daughter.

Instinctively, Harry's hand curled in preparation for drawing his wand. Shaking his head at his automatic response, he took a deep, steadying breath.

"Hullo, Mum."

Her eyes bright, Alice greeted, "Hello love. Harry. Please, come in."

As Harry crossed the threshold he was pleasantly surprised at being included in the welcome. Having thought it over, he was prepared for the Grangers to take out their frustration and anger on him, possibly blaming him for their crumbling relationship with their daughter.

"Hey love, who was at the door?"

Steven Granger rounded into the room, a pleasant expression on his face while drying his hands with a dishtowel. His genuine smile melted to a fixed expression. "Oh, hello you two."

The fractured family wordlessly moved to a sitting room where Alice offered tea. Harry gave a half smile while accepting a cuppa. Twirling his spoon in his cup, The Boy-Who-Lived forced himself to stay silent. Be here for Hermione he chanted to himself.

Feeling Hermione stir at his side, Harry half turned to see her better while still keeping Steven and Alice in view. He knew her parents weren't going to attack them, but it made him more comfortable keeping an eye on them. "Mum, Dad, I wanted to stop by to tell you that we," she turned to Harry indicating the both of them, "are heading back to Britain soon; probably for the duration of the war."

Alice blinked furiously before looking to her lap where she began to twist a napkin. Steven murmured, "Oh," as he frowned in obvious concern. Alice took a deep breath before she opened her mouth. Emotion smothered whatever she'd wanted to say as her mouth only worked like a landed fish, no sound allowed to pass.

"Is there any chance that we could convince you not to do this?" Steven asked in a low tone.

Harry frowned. He'd expected a host of negative responses ranging from anger to incredible indifference, but this intense…concern?…fear? that the Grangers so obviously felt was not a response that he'd dared consider.

As Alice blindly groped for Steven's hand, Harry watched two very flawed parents do their best so that they didn't fall to pieces in fear for their child. Regardless of her age, Hermione would always be Steven and Alice's child. Living with a loving and mostly functional family for the past year and a half and now watching his parents raise his younger brother, Harry had an inkling of how the elder Grangers felt about Hermione placing herself in harm's way. Twenty years later, when his eldest daughter Elizabeth boarded the scarlet steam train to Scotland, Harry would admit to himself that he hadn't a clue how the Grangers felt.

Softly, Hermione replied, "I need to do this, Dad."

Again, Alice opened her mouth but shut it again before speaking. Harry cocked an eyebrow, Looks like they're learning to think before they speak. Though, he ought not to be too harsh on them. It's not like I've never leapt before looking.

Finally, Alice asked, "Is there anything that we can do to help?"

Confused and surprised, Harry gaped. This considered and mellow support was the last thing he'd expected from Hermione's parents. Flying dishes and cursing were higher up on the list of `I think they'll do this' than what he was seeing.

Again, Hermione replied in a friendly, soft voice, "Not really. Pray for us."

Both Alice and Steven nodded soberly. "Of course," her father told her. "We'll continue to do so."

Blinking in confusion, Harry began to get annoyed. Swallowing his ire, he waited. Granted, the Grangers weren't evil per se, but they sure as hell weren't understanding models of liberal thinking by any stretch of the imagination. So far, they'd been very moderate and understanding - generous even - in their actions and words which confused and angered Harry. Why now? Why couldn't they have been supportive from the start?

"I see that you two have formalized things," Alice commented with a watery smile and a nod to Hermione's hand.

Harry watched his fiancée smile as she held out her hand for her parents' inspection. "It was Harry's great grandmother's." She smiled widely which in turn caused Harry to smile broadly. He had the hardest time scowling when Hermione smiled. "It was very romantic; he took me to dinner in Paris." She smiled at him fondly as she took his hand. "He was so nervous the entire meal that I knew that something was going on."

Deciding to help her, Harry picked up the story. "I pulled the bag out of my jacket and before I could even start this very well crafted speech that I'd planned, she," he indicated to the grinning witch at his side, "Pipes up with a `yes'." He was pleasantly surprised to hear Alice laugh while Steven smiled fondly at his daughter. "So I say, `Can I ask you first?' to which she just says, `If you insist' before I get to ask when she says `yes' again." Shaking his head, he snarked, "Took all the drama out of it, she did. It was a really good speech."

By now the three Grangers were chuckling and Harry realized that he was very close to being comfortable and having fun with Hermione's parents. Taking a deep breath, he focused on being supportive of his woman. If she wanted to have a good visit, he'd bleed to make that happen, regardless of his own feelings.

Harry drifted along in a sea of polite and friendly conversation. No `deep thoughts' were shared nor were any of the painful incidents of the recent past revisited. Despite the low key nature of the talk, there seemed to be a momentum to the conversation. It kept swirling and changing direction, but was always moving in a direction; a finite conclusion that was beyond the chit chat. Finally a silence descended upon the group as Harry watched Hermione's gaze focus in ether. The group sat on the cusp of this destination and Harry was unsure as to which way the penny would drop. Blinking, his fiancée returned to the present, "I'm not sure what will happen in the near future."

Looking for the reassurance of his presence, she glanced at Harry. Turning back to her parents, she told them, "But no matter how difficult things have been, I always have and always will love you."

There was a long pause where The Boy-Who-Lived saw his future father in law swallow his deep emotion. Finally, he croaked out, "As we love you, Pumpkin."

She didn't want to stay long, so they moved to the door. As he helped her into her jacket, Harry murmured, "Alright?" to which she nodded.

After pleasant farewells and promises to keep in touch as much as practical, Harry and Hermione headed out. "That was a bit surreal," the witch observed.

"Yep." What more was there to say?

She hooked her arm in his, "Thank you for being so understanding."

Trying to cheer them both, he joked, "Noticed that did you?" With a comical leer at her bosom, he asked, "How appreciative are you?"

Hermione grinned as she squeezed his arse, "Very."

Laughing, they Apparated home. Handing his coat to Rauri, Harry offered his observation, "Does it feel like we're saying goodbye to everyone?" The other day they'd had dinner with the Weasleys who'd been intertwined with the Potters in so many ways. Today he and Hermione had gone to see her parents.

With a grim nod, Hermione agreed. "Yes, it does." Her steely expression told the whole tale. She wasn't giving up. Hermione refused to be a burnt offering sacrificed for the war. Watching her, Harry felt his own spine stiffen. He wanted a family with her. To watch their children and the rest of his family grow up surrounded by love.

Wrapping his arm about her waist, he guided Hermione to their room. "Love you," he told her for it was all that mattered in the moment. Things seemed to be looking up with the Grangers pere and mere. Unfortunately, they didn't matter. Glancing to his right, he saw that Hermione seemed more at peace than she'd been that morning. For that alone, he'd call the day a victory.

.oOo.

James knocked on the door to Harry and Hermione's bedroom, Lily standing at his side. "Come in!" their son called from inside. The elder Potter opened the door to see Harry folding his clothes prior to packing everything in a trunk.

"Hey," Harry greeted them.

He didn't say it, but James was glad that Hermione wasn't there right then. He and Lily wanted to have a private moment with their son. "You about ready?" Prongs asked.

"Just about," Harry replied as he rolled a pair of socks. Tossing them into a pile he counted his T-shirts before stacking them into his trunk on top of his cold weather clothes. Flopping down on to his bed, Harry asked, "What's up?"

Lily sat in the chair next to the doors that led to the patio as James gathered his thoughts. Finally, he told his son, "I want you to know that I've never been more proud of you than I am right now."

Harry blushed as he ducked his head. Smiling, he muttered, "Thanks, Dad."

The Duke of Shrewsbury nodded before adding, "But you need to know that you don't have to do this."

Harry frowned. "Yeah, I do."

Prongs waited. No matter how many times Harry stood into danger, he still wanted to protect his son. At the same time, James needed to hear Harry say that he was choosing this path of his own free will.

"How many more people need to die before I `need to do this'?" Narrowing his eyes at his father, Harry scowled, "Of course I need to do this."

"Scared?" James asked.

Snorting, Harry jibed, "Of course I'm scared. I'm bloody terrified. This is Voldemort I'm hunting, not some kelpie."

Lily jumped into the conversation, her tone authoritative, "He may be Voldemort, but you're Harry Potter." Her green eyes burned with intensity and passion for their son, "And you're a powerful wizard."

Prongs was mesmerized as Lily and Harry locked gazes. She seemed to pour her soul into her words as she told her son, "You are the wizard who will be remembered in ages yet to come as the beacon of light in this time of pain and sorrow. Merlin, Godric Gryffindor and Harry Potter; those who stood against the wave of darkness. Those who stood against evil at the height of the tide and commanded, `No more!'."

Enthralled at the power she was weaving into her words, James could only watch.

Harry was drinking in the words as a parched man does a glass of water. No false modesty or embarrassment reddened his cheeks now. James had intended to try to boost his son's confidence before the team departed the next day, but Lily was doing a much better job than he could've planned. Mute, he watched.

"You are powerful. You are strong. You are a warrior," Lily declared. Harry's head cocked a tic, the unspoken question clear. "You've proved yourself in the hunt for Dormred ap Morag, in the battle with Bellatrix Lestrange and most of all with your constant training with Dumbledore, you`ve shown us all that you possess the finest qualities of a warrior..."

They were silent, contemplating her statement until she finished the thought; "Nobility, compassion, dedication, conviction and the courage to do that which is necessary to protect the weak from that which preys upon them in the dark."

Silence invaded the room, smothering them in its thick blanket as they all digested Lily's words.

James decided now was the time for the gift. Digging into his pocket, he withdrew the bottomless bag.

Reaching into the bag, James grasped the hilts as he said, "You are going on a quest that makes Beowulf's task look like an afternoon jaunt. As such, you'll need this."

Drawing his hand out of the bag, the flash of polished metal reflected in Harry's glasses. Holding out the Sword of Gryffindor, James told his son, "This is the sword of our ancestor." Nodding to his wife, he reiterated, "As your mother said, he too stood against the darkness that threatened to overtake our land. He drew this blade in defence of those who couldn't defend themselves."

An idea occurred to him, and as usual, James ran with it. "Kneel before me, son."

Harry blinked before he moved in front of his father, bending a knee.

James placed the blade between the two of them, point in the floor. Automatically, Harry placed his hands over the hilts. James placed one hand over Harry's while the other covered the crown of his son's head.

"As you go forth into danger, go with the blessing of your father, your mother and the father of your house." There was a flash of magic as James muttered the familial blessing spell from the family grimoire. Even though Lily was the Lady of the House, she wasn't a blood Potter and couldn't know the spell.

Leaning forward, James kissed his son's forehead, "I love you son."

Choked with emotion, he heard Harry reply, "I love you, too, Dad."

.oOo.

"Mum, I don't want to argue. Just give us a kiss and we'll be going."

Bill was really getting tired of his mother's fretting and domineering ways. The night before, just before they fell asleep, he'd told Fleur, "I realize that she's completely flipped her switch `cause of Percy and all. I realize that she's always been fairly controlling, but love…," he'd trailed off as Fleur laughed softly.

After placing a soft kiss on him, the blonde Veela has chastised him, "Bill, she loves you. This is how it shows up."

The night before, he'd had to admit the truth of his lover's statement. This morning, he was wilfully ignoring it as his mother got on his last nerve. Trying to forestall any further argument about whether he and Charlie should return to Britain, he kissed his Mum on the cheek and called out, "Let's go. Sirius is expecting us."

Not a completely cold hearted bastard, Bill had looked over his shoulder, met his mother's teary gaze and told her, "Love you mum."

"I love you, Bill," she croaked in reply.

Shaking his head, he headed down the front steps of the townhouse his family had been provided by the Spanish Magical Ministry. At the foot of the steps, he met Fleur and Charlie. Grimly, he asked, "You two ready?"

Nods from both preceded three cracks of Apparition.

Shaking his head - Apparition always caused his ears to pop - Bill moved down the hall to the large conference room at the Ministry where the team was assembling for their jump off to the base camp in Wales.

Rounding the corner, Bill saw Alex Price sorting a pile of potions and checking off items from a list. Shrinking a potions rack to the size of a matchbox, she nodded to the newcomers as she carefully placed the miniature potions into a traveling case. "Morning, everyone," she greeted. "Ready?"

Bill nodded while Fleur replied, "Oui. Do you need help?"

Alex smiled, "Actually, yes I do." When Fleur moved to the healer's side, the beloved of Remus Lupin told the group, "When we first infiltrated Britain, I divided the healing supplies between the groups so that if one was captured, we still had enough supplies. This time, we don't have that problem but I have more supplies than anyone save Susan. She's got the food."

"I can take quite a bit," Fleur offered as she unslung her satchel. "I have much room here."

Bill turned to the corner to see his supplies stacked neatly. The portkeys that Sirius enchanted the other day were affixed to the trunks with a Sticking charm. Looking to his right, he saw Charlie inspecting his own supplies. Everything seemed to be in order.

Now the shakes started.

Bill had been in some very tight spots in his life. When his treasure hunting team had entered the burial chamber of the self-proclaimed `God of India' it'd been a nightmare of blood and terror. Since the fall of Britain, he'd killed more people than he kept track and had suffered many wounds. This time it was different, though.

He was intentionally looking for Voldemort.

What the fuck am I doing? he screamed to himself. Looking across the table to his beloved, he kicked himself in the arse again. And to her, too?

Bill was a brave man. He'd done much and been willing to do more. Right now, though, he was swamped by fear.

The door opened, admitting the bulk of the Potter contingent. The Prince and Lupin were discussing the werewolf hierarchy in Britain while the rest were quiet. Harry and Susan's impassive and determined expressions impressed Bill the most. It was evident that both young adults knew what they were facing and while not looking forward to the experience, they seemed to be unafraid.

Seemed to be unafraid or were unafraid? Glancing about the room, he chastised himself. Get a grip, Weasley. They're all scared, too.

A soft hand caressed his arm. Looking over to Fleur, Bill took a deep calming breath. Nodding to her he smiled to thank her for her reassurance.

For a few minutes, noise swamped the room as everyone double checked their supplies against a list provided by Hermione. Bill and Sirius moved to the corner to inspect the curse breaking supplies, but Bill was confident that everything was in order. He'd warded the trunks the day before to alarm and change colour should someone have tampered with them.

Finally, everyone stood still, looking to Harry for guidance. The supply cases had bee portkeyed to the Welsh base. The food, cash reserves, medical supplies, various other orts and oddments were ready and packed.

One by one, Harry looked to the members of his team. On the back wall, James, Lily - holding baby Robbie - and Hestia Black were watching the gathering. A part of Bill's brain registered that his father wasn't there, but Harry began to speak before Bill could pursue the thread.

"Yesterday, I was terrified about this mission." Bill blinked as Harry gave voice to what Bill'd been worrying just moments before. "I was convinced that this was a near suicide mission that I was obliged to attempt due to the prophecy."

There was silence as the dark haired wizard looked about the room. Hermione returned his gaze with a quiet assurance and confidence that caused the young man to smile. He nodded to the side of the room as he added, "But then my mother reminded me of something."

The smile vanished. In its stead was a deadly implacability and gravity that locked Bill into the seriousness of the situation. "There is a lion in the jungle and that lion is us. Deadly and powerful." Harry's green eyes were on fire with power as he met each of their gazes and in so doing, infused them with confidence and belief. Bill felt his doubts and fears melt like so much butter on the hob.

"Voldemort is a monster. Powerful and knowledgeable, he is a formidable foe, but he is not omniscient nor undefeatable. We can beat them."

This quiet declaration seemed so self-evident that Bill wondered why he ever doubted himself or their mission.

The corner of Harry's mouth curled. Holding out his hand, he showed them all a coil of rope that Bill figured was the portkey to Wales. Around the room, he saw the rest square themselves to the moment.

At his side, Fleur was grim faced. He knew of her pain and her desire for retribution. Susan was on the other side of Fleur, he expression disturbingly similar to the French Veela's.

Neville and Sirius were relaxed. Hermione all business. Alex adjusted her pack, her face expressionless. Charlie fidgeted as he always did before something big. Looking back to the front of the room, Bill saw Harry watching him. Acting with more confidence than he'd felt just twenty minutes before, Bill nodded to Harry, receiving an answering nod. Again, Harry looked about the room.

"It may not be the right day, but I think that something that I read recently is appropriate." Harry bowed his head, remembering. Looking up, his face was alit with power and majesty. His voice rang clear causing all in the room to stand up straighter, wishing to be better men and women, wishing to give their very lives if it should be necessary. Bill had found a man who he would follow. A man who he would follow until the end of his days.

"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he today that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother…," he tailed off for a moment before picking up the thread and finished the speech.

"…gentlemen in England now-a-bed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day."

As one, they all reached for the portkey. The last thing that Bill heard before he was born away in the magical vortex was Harry's voice incanting, "Libero."

End Act II

A/N

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

2. The recommendation for this chapter

3. Little known fact (to me at least): There is legislation afoot in the UK that would end the male primogeniture to the British throne for the children of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. Their eldest child will succeed their father to the throne regardless of gender, nor will said child be prohibited from marrying a Roman Catholic. Interesting.

4. Tearlach is the Scots Gaelic spelling for Charles and is roughly pronounced as `Charlie', hence Charles II's nickname as `Bonnie Prince Charlie' by his Highland Armies during the Second Jacobite Uprising.

5. My grandmother was a good woman. She believed in right and wrong. She believed in helping others and looking out for her family. She took care of all of us, regardless of how shabbily or well we treated her. She was also the granddaughter on both sides of Irish immigrants. Her husband (my grandfather) was also descended on both sides from Irish immigrants. My dad, (the oldest son) married an Irish lass. She was a favoured in-law. My uncle, born on March 17, married a woman that horrified my grandmother. She was *gasp* German. My aunt is a wonderful woman whom my grandmother came to love, but there were a few years of polite conversation with `The Frau' in the family. Seriously. I'm not kidding. I'm attributing Molly's dislike of Fleur to what I described of my grandmother. Personally, I think that I'm being kind. Otherwise it's because Fleur's a Veela and that's a very disgusting prospect.

6. I apologize for the extreme lateness of this chapter. It's over a month later than I like to deliver a chapter. Real life has been in session with week-long power outages, a new puppy, illness and the omnipresent duties of being a full time father, husband and breadwinner. Thank you to all the readers for your patience.

Chapter complete 4/19/13

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