Vox Corporis: Rebirth

Vox Corporis: Rebirth
Chapter 86
“Thankfulness and yet, sorrow”

Original story by -> MissAnnThropic
http://fanfiction.portkey.org/story/6586/1
Email: miss_annthropic@yahoo.com

Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copywrite Act of 1998, this work is copywrited 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All characters are creations of Joanne K Rowling, © 2007, to whom I am deeply indebted.

CONTENT Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material and as such, it is not suitable for minors. If you are a minor, please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here. If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you view such material, please leave now. This story and characters are purely fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental. If you are offended by sexually explicit stories, please read no further. If you are offended by stories featuring group sex, bisexual situations, incest, or any other situation, please check the story code before reading the text. These stories are just that, stories, and do not promote or condone the activities described herein

In Gratia: The original story was created so beautifully and so powerfully by MissAnnThropic. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to her for her kindness in letting me ‘play in her sandbox’.

Note One: To those of you who reviewed my last chapter – THANK YOU! I was really flattered by your support and the encouragement you have all given me.

Note Two: This chapter is 20,663 words, comprising 46 pages of story. I write in Palatino Linotype font; 11-point type, with justified margins.

Note Three: I have borrowed (again) from my friend Ann’s work – one single sentence – from mid-way through Chapter 58 (57?) of her work. The chapter can be found here: fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) org/story/6586/58. Ann – thank you, as always.

Note Four: THIS CHAPTER IS RATED NC-17 for ADULT, SEXUAL CONTENT. If you are not of age, GO AWAY. YOU DON’T BELONG HERE.
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Chapter 85 – “Taking their Rightful Place”

Ron looked around and then at his soon-to-be wife. Speaking loudly enough to be heard around the Hall, Ron said, “I’m not really good with words, Luna, but there’s something I’ve been dying to ask you for almost a year now.” He hesitated for a moment – for dramatic effect and not because he needed the time – and then he took out his wand. Taking a page out of Harry’s play-book, wrote in big, fiery letters in mid-air, “Luna Marie Lovegood, I love you with all that I am and I will never be complete without you. Will you please marry me?”

Luna knew what was coming, because they had practiced the announcement together. She waved her hand in the air and most of the letters disappeared, leaving only her response, “YES!”

There was a huge round of applause as Luna threw herself into Ron’s arms and they kissed soundly and then another round of cheering as a very soft, golden light appeared around them. No one was more surprised than Ron himself and…no one was happier for them than the Head Boy and Girl.
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The Burrow, Catchpole St. Mary’s, Saturday, October Fifth.

It was another early morning and Molly was alone. Arthur had stormed out once again and Ron, the twins, and Ginny were no longer speaking to her. Their joint howler, the evening before, had made that abundantly clear.

The sun broke through the mist that hung like a curtain over the orchards to the east of the house and shafts of golden light had filled the kitchen. It didn’t break the grey clouds of sadness which were weighing heavily in her heart.

She had not slept the night before, and the Fifth of Ogden’s was calling to her from across the kitchen. She resisted. It was not what she wanted. Her father had given into Ogden’s call and she had seen what it had done to him.

She looked out the bay window, and into the garden. The early morning garden gnomes were starting to emerge from the soil, to raid her vegetable patch. Suddenly, she knew exactly what would make her feel better. Grabbing her wand, she gathered her cloak around her shoulders and stormed out the screen door. The first gnome she came across hadn’t even heard her approach and he paid for it. “Avada Kedavra!” she screamed and the gnome fell, dead.

Another gnome stuck it’s head up, almost at her feet, to see the commotion, and it, too, paid for its mistake. “Crucio!”

The gnome writhed and twisted, in agonizing pain, as the mostly red-haired matron thought of the young, kinky-haired witch who had stolen away Harry Potter’s heart and ruined her dreams of a big, happy, rich family. Molly stood, steaming, as she magically savaged the little creature. I can’t believe I helped that nasty, better-than-thou, muggle-born bitch alter her fancy dress! Fuck her and her whole family. Finally, exhausted, Molly looked at the gnome. It was beyond saving. “Avada Kedavra!”

By the time she was done, twenty-seven gnomes lay dead on the ground in and around the garden. Gathering them up with another wave of her wand, the lot of them was pitched into the compost pile. She knew that no one from the family, besides her, ever went back there. They’d be eaten by the ground beetles and maggots, with no one the wiser. Just as well, she thought.

She smiled to herself. There were many ways to take out ones’ frustrations, but to get chore done and take out one’s anger at the same time was, she thought, priceless. Looking around, her anger assuaged; she turned and walked back to the quiet, lonely house that was her home.
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Office for the Control of Forbidden Magics, Ministry for Magic; 7:45 Am.; Sat., October Fifth

“Sir!” The young officer called out as he picked up the red, silk scroll which had just appeared in the ‘Forbidden magics’ basket.

It was still smoking as he carried it to his boss and he didn’t stand too close to the desk as his boss, Harold Miceanthrope, took out his own wand and waved it over the scroll; causing it to unfurl and hang in mid-air. The middle-aged wizard scanned it quickly, to see what the alarm was all about.

Wide-eyed, the slightly stoop-shouldered hit the alarm button on his desk, which in turn caused claxons to sound in the MLE central office and in the Auror’s main ready-room.

“Phillmoor? Get Arthur Weasley up here, stat.” pointing to the scroll, he went on “That’s a report of twenty-seven uses of the Avada Kedavra curse and one use of the Cruciatus curse.”

The young officer went tearing out of his bosses’ office and to their emergency contact portkey. Slapping it hard, he called out “Arthur Weasley” and a moment later, the red-haired wizard, with a cup of tea threatening to spill all over his hand, suddenly appeared in the office.

Looking around, Arthur said, “What in Merlin’s boxers am I doing here?”

The young wizard, Phillmoor, looked at him with panic written all over his face. “There’s been a report of the use of Avada Kedavra at your home, sir. I was told to get you here as fast as possible.”

Cogs in the wheel started falling into place for Mr. Weasley as the younger wizard spoke. If there was a report of Avada Kedavra being used at his home, either Molly was under attack…..

His brain never got to the second possibility. Grabbing the secret, and illegal, portkey from his pocket, he activated it and was gone in the blink of an eye.
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The Burrow, Catchpole St. Mary’s, 7:52 Am.; Saturday, October Fifth

His wand was out and he was running hard from the secret portkey spot that they had chosen as a family many years before towards the house. He was disillusioned and his footfalls were silent, just as Mad-eye Moody had taught him. If anyone had tried to look for him, he was nothing but a blur, a shimmer of heated air, or the momentary distortion of an image, nothing more.

The back of the house was closer and there was no dark-mark over the house that he could see; which caused a huge sigh of relief, even as he ran.

At twenty feet away, he slowed to a quick walk. At ten feet, he crouched and continued moving towards the back door.

Everything looked like it was supposed to. There were no forced-entry marks and if he wasn’t mistaken, there was music playing on the Wizarding wireless in the kitchen. Taking a chance, he stood up enough that he could look in the bay window. Molly was just standing there, doing dishes.

Sheathing his wand, he stood up and cancelled the disillusionment charm.

Thinking better of it, because he was still not sure what he was walking into, Arthur drew his wand again and opened the back door.

“Molly?”

The unexpected voice froze her in mid-scrub. Arthur? What’s he doing…? Her mind moved as fast as her husband – but not fast enough to keep him from summoning her wand. It also didn’t prepare her for seeing him holding a wand on her.

“Arthur! What are you doing? And why in Morgana’s name are you pointing your wand at me?”
“Molly, I think you better sit down and I think you better do it now. Ministry officials are not more than a minute behind me and they’re going to be rather rougher on you than I might be.”

His wife of many years looked at him, with something akin to shock or perhaps fear, on her face.

“I’m almost afraid to do what I’m about to do, Molly. But, I know that if I don’t do it, the next person coming in that door is going to do it”.

He pointed his wand at Molly’s and said, “Priori incantatum”. What he saw was enough to make him want to cry, or at least to be violently sick.
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Hogsmead Village; Sunday, October Sixth, 3:10 Pm.

It was getting cold, because the sun was already starting to go down. The students had already gone back to the School and some of the shop-keeps looked like they were ready to call it a day. Foot traffic in the Village had slowed considerably from what it had been in the late morning and there were fewer and fewer people who looked like they’d be promising sources of information.

Turning a corner, she kicked a snow-bank and then swore to herself as some of the powdery snow fell down, into her boot. Whipping out her wand, she cast a warming charm on both of her feet, before walking down yet another fruitless alley.

After following several different couples, hoping to gather at least a spark of a story, she stopped and huddled in a doorway; trying to figure out what to do next. The sinking feeling in her stomach was something that she had never felt before. Fear. Fear of being no longer needed and fear of no longer being wanted by anyone. Bitter memories of being a little girl, and wandering the alleyways in the outskirts of South Gosforth, near Newcastle-upon-Tyne, alone and friendless, washed over her as she struggled with what to do next.

Pulling her coin-purse out a hidden pocket, she felt its weight and realized that she was going to have to start making some hard choices soon or she wouldn’t eat. She put it back and looked about. The alleyway was quiet. Looking for some sign; some hope, and feeling none, South Gosforth suddenly felt not so far away.

Pushing away from the sheltered doorway, Rita Skeeter headed for the one place where she knew she’d at least be able to get a drink in peace and perhaps even find the crumbs of a story that she could sell. It had not been that long since people had been finding her and giving her unsolicited, juicy bits of information that she could weave into a story. It amazed her how fickle people were. Lose one newspaper and suddenly…..whoosh…..everything goes to hell.

She was determined not to be a casualty of the destruction of the Prophet, even if she had to take a back seat to someone else’s fame for a little while. It was better to be alive and plotting than dead and fertilizing.
***
Myriad conversations had assaulted her ears while she sat, people-watching, and it was starting to get to her. The up-side of that was, of course, that she now knew who was sleeping with whom – at least among the Hogwarts professorship. There was one titillating bit of gossip that she had overheard regarding an associate professor sleeping with a recently graduated student, but it was far enough down the food chain that she discounted it as unworthy of further pursuit. Something had to break, soon, she thought, if there was any hope of her being able to feed herself decently.

She was just about to get up and walk out when she heard something that promised to change her fortunes. Looking up towards the bar, she saw something that just screamed newsworthy.

“ ‘Nother one, please…” The older, somewhat sloppily dressed, partially-graying redheaded woman slammed her glass down on the bar and looked at the barkeep.

“Sorry, luv, but that’s your eighth. I can’t serve any more. Be my license to do so, and I’ll not risk it.”

“What do you mean! I need another drink. What kind of place is this that a woman can’t even get decently pissed? G’mmie that bottle. I’ll pour it myself.”

Her tone was demanding and while she wasn’t slurring her words yet, she was well on her way. Rita could tell. She could always tell. Real drinkers were quiet and paced themselves. This woman was not that. She was, however, obnoxious, and was going to get thrown out.

She had been drinking shots of Ogden’s Special Reserve Firewhiskey – “Dragon Fire”. It was more than ten Galleons per bottle, which made it one of the most expensive drinks that he kept behind the bar. Her money was good, but she was already pissed, and there was no reason to waste the fiery liquor. Quickly, the barkeep reached out for the bottle; to take it off the counter and put it safely away, under the bar.

Rita couldn’t place her face…but she knew that she should know it. Something bugged her. The hair was red…at least she thought it was…but just about any appearance could be a disguise, and she had long since learned not to judge a book by it’s cover.

The woman made a fumbling grab for the bottle and missed. “That’s it, luv. I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I don’t need troublemakers here. Out you go.” To emphasize his point, his wand was out and it was pointed between her eyes. Sensing that she wasn’t going to get any further satisfaction, the matronly woman slumped off her stool and half-stumbled towards the door. Grabbing her traveling cloak from the hook, she turned, glared at the bar-keep and then, swearing louder than she might have ever done so when she was sober, said “fucking frizzy-haired bitch stole Harry”, before kicking the door open and storming out.

Hearing the name “Harry” set off every alarm that she had as a reporter; Rita quietly slipped off her own stool - the one farthest away from the bar - flipped the bar-keep three sickles, and followed the drunken woman out the door. She was determined to confirm whether the woman was who she suspected she was, because she knew that if she was right, there was a huge story - maybe even several stories - to be had. The Galleons that Maliphila had lent her were not going to last much longer, and Rita didn’t want to be beholden to anyone any longer than she absolutely had to be. Only, this time, she would sell her stories to someone else. She didn’t need and actually really didn’t want any credit for the story…but she did need to Galleons that would come with a successful story or set of stories.

If the lead panned out, she’d write up what she knew and sell the facts, in a loose story-form, to a wizarding wireless reporter and let her take the heat. The memories of what Rowena had done to her were still too fresh in her mind to risk doing anything else. At least…not yet.

Gryffindor Common Room; 7:10 Am., Tuesday morning, October 8th.

The post owls had started coming directly to the common rooms of the three houses – mostly to avoid the mess that the owls always created when trying to land on or around the breakfast tables. It had been Hermione, predictably, who had pointed out to the Headmaster that having birds landing in or near food was incredibly unsanitary and vile and that wasting food – because a bird had landed in it – ran contrary to the schools’ ethos and should be avoided.

Dumbledore took her admonishments to heart and within a day, the post owls started showing up in the common rooms. Everyone was happy to receive mail earlier in the day – save those who were always trying for a bit of a lie-in – and so the practice was made permanent.

Ron was just coming into the common room when a large, imposing-looking Great Grey owl swooped in and dropped an envelope, which bore the Ministry’s official seal, into his lap and then flew back out again. He was just starting to open it when he heard “Morning, bro” and turned his head to see Ginny coming down the girl’s staircase.

Waving her over, he held up the envelope to show her what he was doing. She looked at it quizzically and then gave him a nod to continue opening it, since it was addressed to the both of them.

When it was finally open, he took the enclosed letter out and read it to her.

“Monday, October Seventh, 1997. To Ronald and Ginny Weasley, from Mafalda Hopkirk, Office of Magical Law Enforcement. Dear Mr. Weasley, Dear Ms. Weasley. It is my unfortunate duty to notify you of the arrest of your mother, Molly Ann Weasley, Saturday, October Fifth, on twenty-eight charges of the improper use of an unforgivable curse on a magical creature. She has been released on her own recognizance, pending a pre-trial hearing, scheduled for Wednesday, October 15th, 1997. Both of you may be present to give testimony, if you so desire. Thank you for your cooperation, sincerely, Mafalda Hopkirk”

Ginny could not process what she had just heard. It was too much and too fast. Ron sat, stunned. He could not believe what he had just read, but it was in black and white in front of him. More, he knew it was not a practical joke by Fred and George, because he was very certain that they had boundaries which they never crossed. The physical well-being and security of family, was one of those bright lines.

His beautiful, younger sister sat and down on his lap and started to cry and for the moment, it was all he could do just to hold her and tell her that everything would be alright.
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The Great Hall; 12:15 pm., Tuesday, October 8th.

There were times when having friends was both a blessing and a curse. The fact that Ron was pushing his food around his plate and not eating told his friends vastly more than anything that he might have told them outright.

Hermione was the first one to say something – at least to Harry. She squeezed his hand as she said, “We’ve got to say something to him, Harry. He’s probably really hurting – just like Ginny.”

“I know. I’m going to pull him aside after Animagus class tonight. Until then, we have things we’ve got to do. You’ll talk to Ginny? Or do you want to switch?”

The Head Girl thought about that for a moment and considered what the possible outcomes might be of Harry pulling Ginny aside. “If you’re going to talk to Ginny, Harry, you’ll need to have Neville there as well. They support each other just like we do and Neville will insist on knowing, anyway. Besides, you’ve never been able to say no to anything Neville has asked of you.”

Harry snorted, mentally. Neville was almost as much of a brother to Harry as Ron – whether Neville really knew understood it or not. Hermione understood that. She cared for Neville, too, and appreciated just how much Neville loved Ginny.

Finally, Ron pushed his plate away and got up. There were tears in his eyes and it was obvious that he was fighting back a great deal of pain. Harry could not fight the need to follow. “Hermione. I’m going. Ron needs me now.”

“I know. I saw. I’m coming, too”

The Headmaster and Deputy headmistress watched them and nodded their assent as Hermione and Harry rose and followed Ron out of the Great Hall.
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As they ran along the hall, trying to feel Ron’s ambient magic, Harry turned to his love. “Keep on him, Hermione. I’m going to get the Map.” With that, Harry disapparated away silently.

“I’ll find him, Harry….but you’ve still got to teach me how to do that little trick of yours.”

Hermione knew that she’d not be able to find Ron if he didn’t want to be found – at least if he went to the Room of Requirement. However, Sagehunter would be able to track him down by smell in a heartbeat, so she transformed and picked up his scent almost immediately. It was a smell she knew well and it was easy to follow.

Students scattered right and left as she raced along the corridor. At some point, she turned left and went up two flights of stairs. The smell went left, then right, and then straight. Bingo! Hermione knew in a flash where Ron was going. Ravenclaw Tower and Luna - the one person who had had grown to understand him best.

“Harry!! Ravenclaw Tower! Meet me there”. They had finally worked out how to handle their unique form of communication while in their Animagus form. It had been Harry’s idea, which both surprised and delighted Hermione. Guessing that the mind interprets thoughts slightly differently while in Animagus form, Harry had decided to work on creating a magical ‘translation’ spell. Eventually, it became obvious that the quickest way to handle the problem was not to create a new spell from scratch, but rather to tinker with the universal translation spell and modify it…or rather, let it modify the animagus transformation spell. By folding them together into one incantation, Harry was able to make himself understood to Hermione while he was Knight and vice-versa for Sagehunter.

“I know. I saw him on the map. I’ll meet you there.”

Less than a minute later, Harry suddenly appeared in the Ravenclaw common room; much to the confusion and annoyance of some of the sixth- and seventh-year students. They didn’t much like the idea that the Head Boy could suddenly ‘appear’ in a space that they had thought sacrosanct. Hermione entered through the Ravenclaw secret passage and saw her husband, standing in the center of the common room.

“Love? Is he here?”

“Yes. I can feel him now. He’s upstairs and he’s pretty upset. Luna’s trying to calm him down, but she’s not having much luck.”

That a member of the ‘golden trio’ was feeling sad was more than enough to galvanize the other two into action. They found the staircase leading up to the girl’s dorms and took them two at a time.

It was several flights up to where the sixth-year girl’s rooms were and neither Hermione nor Harry broke stride in their run of the stairs. What they were about to do was important and couldn’t be delayed.

Finally, the ambient magic in the air gave away Ron’s presence better than any announcement sign. Things were flying around Luna’s room; occasionally bouncing off walls or crashing into the window – which stubbornly refused to break. Hermione recognized a cushioning charm in action when she saw it.

Ron was sobbing on Luna’s shoulder in one of the rawest displays of emotion that Harry had ever seen in his friend. He was a mess, but Luna had risen to the challenge and was giving him what he needed – unconditional love and support.

She looked up to see Harry and Hermione standing, holding hands, and looking at their best friend. Their presence was a powerful message by itself and it let Luna know that she was no longer alone, but rather a part of an extraordinary and growing group of friends.

Harry stepped forward and put his hand gently on Ron’s shoulder. “Ron?”

The red-haired teen looked up; his face tear-streaked and blotchy. “It’s alright Ron. Hermione and I are here to help. I want to take you to your dad. He’s with the twins at their shop and they’re waiting for us.”

Ron’s expression was one of incredulity. “Don’t worry about how, Ron. That’s my job. All you have to do is say yes.”

Harry’s voice was soft, but his offer was real and Ron knew it. If Harry said that he was there to help, then he meant it. “Luna?”

Hermione nodded. “She’s coming with us, of course.” There was no point in asking if Luna wanted to come. Harry knew her well enough to know that there was not an army big enough to keep her away. She was Ron’s defender and that was that.

Ron still didn’t understand how Harry was going to move all of them to Diagon Alley, but knew better than to ask. It was Harry Potter and that was all he needed to know. Hermione, Harry, Luna, and Ron held hands and then Ron understood, as he felt Harry summoning his magic.
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A moment later, and a soft ‘pop’ and the four of them appeared inside Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.

A moment after that, three wands were pointed at the group; and then relaxed, as the two red-headed shop owners and their assistant saw who had just arrived.

“Harry! Hermione! What are you two doing here in such disreputable company?”

Hermione flashed George a look that instantly backed him down and made him put away the sarcastic comments. Hermione Granger might have put up with George. Hermione Potter did not – at least not when the happiness of their best friend was at stake.

From the shadows, a tall, red-headed man appeared. “Hermione? Harry? Thank you for coming so quickly.”

Arthur saw his youngest son and walked over to him, embracing him and making Harry’s heart ache for a moment, as he witnessed the love of a father for his son. Hermione felt the sadness
and ache immediately and put her arms around her husband.
Both George and Fred saw the look on Harry’s face and had seen where he had been looking and they both realized – probably at the same, exact moment – what Harry was thinking. It was one time when they both knew that anything they might say would be exactly the wrong thing to say, so they quietly turned towards their father and walked into the back room. It left Hermione holding Harry and letting him know that there was no doubt in her mind that James loved his only son and that someday, Harry would see him again.
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Ron was deep in conversation with his father when Harry and Hermione entered the back room, hand in hand. The twins were off in one corner, talking very quietly about only Merlin knew what, and Luna was sitting by Ron’s side, listening but interrupting the conversation between him and Arthur.

Finally, Ron looked up and saw his best friends standing, watching. Arthur looked appraisingly at the Head Boy and Girl, as if he had never really looked at them properly before. “Ron tells me that you apparated here directly from Hogwarts. That’s not supposed to be possible, but you clearly did it. Ron also told me, the last time he owled me, about the little ‘show’ you two put on, just before he announced his engagement to this lovely young woman here.”

Harry and Hermione both colored-up a bit at the memory of what they had done in the Great Hall. It was hard to deny that it was impressive, even unprecedented, magic for seventh-year students and neither of them wanted to lie to Arthur. Harry looked down at his shoes and then at Ron before answering. “We…..we’ve grown a bit, Mr. Weasley. Hermione and I together are stronger than any person at Hogwarts, probably, and yes, that includes the Headmaster. Maybe neither one of us alone could beat him, but together…” he let the thought trickle off.

Ron was nodding, as was Hermione. She was holding his hand and squeezing it gently, to let him know that she loved him and supported what he was saying. Arthur looked at them and said, “Ron and Luna have told me why the three of them signed the howler to Molly.”

A couple of footfalls and a look told Harry that Fred and George were paying attention to the conversation between their brother and their father. “We signed it too, Dad.” George said.

“I know, George. I know that you did and now I understand why. Molly’s not been herself lately and it scares me. That’s why we’re here today.” Arthur looked tired from the worry and stress and his sons saw it. It didn’t make them feel an ounce better about themselves – because they loved him and wanted desperately to love Molly.

Hermione spoke up. “Harry and I want to help, Mr. Weasley. If Molly needs a lawyer or whatever, we’d like to be able to provide that.” Her statement caught Arthur flat-footed. Hermione was the one Molly was off the rails about and yet she still wanted to help. The more Arthur saw of Ron’s friends and his fiancé, the more Arthur didn’t understand about what Molly was feeling. That discomforted him greatly.

Not wanting to hide the truth, the eldest Weasley looked at Hermione, with all the affection and support he could muster. “Molly didn’t want you two together, Hermione. She has some dream about Harry being with Ginny. I don’t know where it comes from, but I walked out on her one morning, after the Prophet article, and I think she’s just been banging on about that ever since.”

Harry looked at him and then looked at Hermione. “There will never, ever be anyone else for me but you, Hermione. I love you more than I can say.” Her eyes began to water as she heard Harry’s words echoing in her mind and felt his unreserved, total love for her.

“It doesn’t matter, Mr. Weasley. She can think whatever she likes. Her thoughts will never become reality.” At that moment, Hermione and Harry released the tight controls they kept over their magical bonding and let the golden light of the Nimbus lumens Amor fill the back room.

Luna and Ron beamed smiles at them, while Fred and George stood, slack-jawed and shocked. “Bloody hell!”

“Shut it, George!” Fred whispered tightly to his twin as Harry and Hermione floated into the air. They had never seen anything like the power the Head Boy and Girl were radiating and they prayed that they never would again. It was frightening to them, because they didn’t understand what was really happening.

Eventually, Hermione and Harry pulled their magic back and let themselves settle back to the ground. Arthur looked at them with tears in his eyes and a look of wonderment on his face. Surprisingly, it was Ron who moved forward and hugged his father. “It’s alright, Dad. Luna and I are beginning to learn how to do the same thing. It took us a while, but it’s happening.”

Luna was practically jumping in her seat, she was so proud of Ron. Charlie and Bill might be the ‘cool’ ones in the family, but Ron was the one who was the best ‘husband’ material – the best ‘catch’. He was going to be very successful in life, she knew, and they were going to have a great marriage. It was just a matter of time.

Arthur looked sad as he met Harry’s eyes. It was obvious that he was emotionally affected by the presence of the Nimbus lumens Amor in such young people. His voice was ragged as he said “Molly and I have never had that. You four are very lucky. Protect it.”

Ron, Luna, Hermione, and Harry all nodded that they understood. Ron looked at his best friends and at Luna. “I wish Ginny were here.”

“I can get her, Ron.”

Hermione didn’t resist the idea. “Be careful, love. Ginny might not understand why she has to come with you.”

“She will, ‘Mione. Ginny’s smarter than she lets on.” If the mood had been lighter, the Head Girl might have laughed. As it was, she just nodded, before Harry leaned over; kissed her soundly, and disapparated from the shop.
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Hogwarts Green House No. Three; Sixth-Year Herbology Class; 2:25 pm.; Tuesday, October 8th.

There was no one outside when Harry suddenly, silently, winked into existence, which was good, considering that his comings and goings via apparition seemed to upset people.

Looking around, he gathered his bearings and walked towards the second greenhouse to his left. The doors were open, to let in fresh air, while the students were being lectured on the fastest and safest ways to gather belladonna leaves. Ginny was the third student from the end, on the left, and Harry moved to where she was working. He had not yet been seen by any of the students, and he was hoping to collect Ginny and be gone before the students realized that he had been there.

Professor Pomona Sprout saw him and waved; a gesture to which he replied with one finger against his lips, indicating that she should not say anything and let him be about his business. She understood and turned away, not showing any sign that she had just seen him.

Before any of the students could turn his way, he disillusioned himself and silenced his footsteps.

Ginny was just standing up; stretching for a moment and easing the pain in her back, when Harry touched her shoulder and whispered in her right ear. “Shhhhhhhhh. Ginny. It’s Harry. I’m standing behind you, disillusioned. I need you to step back two steps and pick up your school bag. I’m going to take you to your brothers and to your father, in Diagon Alley. Ron needs you. Nod once if you understand.”

Ginny was smart. She nodded almost imperceptibly and backed up to where her bag lay on the ground. Bending down slightly, she gathered the straps in her right hand and stood up. The moment she did so, she felt Harry’s hands on her waist and then the infinite compression of disapparation.

The rest of the students didn’t even realize she had gone until one of them looked over to ask her to pass a bucket and realized she was no longer in class.

It took Professor Sprout almost five minutes to restore order in the class and calm the distress caused by her disappearance. She let everyone know that Harry had come and collected her and that no, she had no idea what it was about, but that it was the Head Boy’s prerogative to do so and that they were not to concern themselves with Ms. Weasley’s comings and goings.

Privately, however, Pomona was sure that Ginny had been taken to wherever her brother Ron was and that it was a family matter of some urgency. She hoped that the rumors that she had been hearing in the staff room regarding Molly were untrue, for Molly had been one of her favorite students in her day.
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The sun was out, the air was crisp, and the sky was a bright, vibrant blue in the early October afternoon as Michelle and Adrianne walked out of their Herbology class. It was nothing like the growing frost between them, however. That Michelle had been right about Harry, the ring, and everything annoyed Adrianne and their friendship had not been the same since the evening of Harry and Hermione’s wedding.

They walked in silence for some distance, each lost in her own thoughts. Finally, Michelle looked over at her once best-friend. She said, as quietly and gently as she could, “What are you thinking, Addi?”

Adrianne hadn’t heard Michelle use the diminutive of her name in some time and it brought a slight smile to her face. “Nothing, really.”

Michelle looked at her and could tell that ‘nothing’ was not what her friend was thinking. She wondered whether she should address what was clearly bothering her friend or let it rest. She knew that Gryffindor students were supposed to be known for their courage, so she forged ahead. “C’mon, Addi. I think we both know what’s bothering you. Let’s just get it out into the open.”

Her friend stopped and turned on her heel, so that they were face to face. “Why? Just so that you can say ‘I told you so’?”

Michelle dropped her book-bag and looked at her friend. “No. That’s not it, Addi. I wanted to clear the air so we could go back to being friends again. I’ve missed it.”

Adrianne was not prepared for that. She had accepted that their friendship had changed and that they’d eventually drift apart and move on to other friendships. She was not ready for Michelle to try to fix things. It surprised her, too, that not talking to Michelle had hurt her a very great deal and that she had also missed their times together. She felt the sharp pang of it as she saw the sadness and hesitancy written on Michelle’s face.

“So you’re not going to say ‘I told you so’?”

The beautiful witch looked at her and shook her head. “No. I never wanted to hurt you, Addi.”

Adrianne felt hot tears in the corners of her eyes and her voice choked up. “Forgive me?”

Michelle launched herself at her friend, to hug her. “Nothing to forgive, Addi. I just wanted my friend back.” Suddenly, being rich and from a ‘pure’ wizarding family seemed to mean a lot less to her as her friend hugged her and she realized that she’d give it up, in exchange for having a friend who really cared about her.
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2:31 pm.; Tuesday, October 8th. Outside the Seventh-year N.E.W.Ts transfiguration class.

There was no one in the corridor as Harry and Ginny appeared out of nowhere. Ginny looked around quickly to get her bearings. “Harry, what are we doing here?”

“Getting Neville. Luna’s already with Ron and Hermione. We don’t have a lot of time.”

The youngest Weasley looked up at him. “What’s going on, Harry?”

Harry was annoyed, but he tried not to let it show. “We’ve got to figure out how we’re going to deal with what’s happened to your mother. I need you and Neville to be there, so that your father can tell you what he knows and we can come up with a strategy.”

“So how do we get Neville out of class without anyone noticing?”

“Same way I got you. You’re going to go in, disillusioned, and tell him quietly that he needs to move over towards his bag. When he gets there, I’ll apparate in and tag you both and we’ll go straight to Diagon Alley.”

She smiled at him and waited for him to take out his wand, so that he could perform the disillusionment charm. But he didn’t. He simply waived his hand over her. It worked, to her astonishment, and she realized that despite how much power and magical skill he and Hermione had shown publicly, he was still hiding things. It frightened her a little bit – but not enough to keep her from making a mental note to ask Ron and Luna about what they knew.

Harry’s plan worked perfectly – but it almost didn’t - when Neville caught Professor McGonagall’s eye and hesitated. Whether she saw something to make her think that everything was alright or she felt Harry’s presence, Ginny didn’t know, but the plan worked and she again felt herself being squeezed through an infinitely long tube.
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2:35 pm.; Tuesday, October 8th; in the secure storage room at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.

There was less of a reaction when Harry, Ginny, and Neville winked into existence in the secure storage room of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes – that is, less of a reaction by everyone except the twins who owned and ran the shop. They looked like they had just been gutted when Harry appeared with his side-along passengers.

“Harry.” Fred said.

“You shouldn’t” George continued.

“Be able”

“To do that” George ended; finishing their odd, but endearing twin-speak mode.

Harry grinned. “If you two are talking about the anti-apparition wards that you had Bill design, you really ought to ask him not to base them on designs which are used at Hogwarts.”

Without saying more, Harry walked over to Hermione and kissed her. “I love you, my wife. I’ll teach you what I learned tonight, when we get home.”

“We’re going home tonight?”

“Yes. I think I’d like to. I know it’s only been two weeks, but the castle’s getting claustrophobic to me. Besides, we need a night away from everyone so we can talk freely, without interruptions.”

He could sense her agreement, even if she didn’t immediately say anything. They had been spending all of their waking hours studying; tamping down minor personality-conflicts; and teaching. The end of the month and its full moon were fast approaching and there was still much to be done to get ready for Ron and Luna’s first attempt at the animagus transformation.

Fred and George (“Gred and Forge”, as they liked to call each other) looked at Harry with something that bordered on awe or hero-worship. What they saw was raw, wild power in the hands of a seventeen-year old. They were too young to see beyond it, which was something about which Arthur knew he was going to have to speak to them.

Arthur took charge, as he very rarely did, and looked at the assembled young people. He began slowly; measuring his words and thinking about how what he was going to say was likely to affect them. “I want you to know that I think of all of you as my sons and daughters. I could not be prouder of you than I am today. Harry, Hermione – you are two of the most extraordinary people I’ve ever met. Neville – you’ve not married Ginny yet, but I count you a son already. You’ve made Ginny very, very happy – and for that, I am grateful. Luna – you are an amazing young woman and I am incredibly glad you’ve decided to join the family and make an honest man out of my son. He hopefully knows how lucky he is to have you in his life.”

Arthur looked at the twins. “Fred, George. You two have grown up so much. I am incredibly proud of both of you. You both have courage and skills that I never had. I love you both.”

It was the twins’ turn to color up. They had never heard their father speak with as much love as he did in that moment. It was an intensely private moment and both Hermione and Harry wished that they could have given the twins some privacy. It felt as though they really were intruders into a family matter where they didn’t belong. Harry almost took Hermione’s hand and disapparated the two of them out of the room, until Arthur was finished speaking.

Arthur’s manner – or at least his voice – turned more serious as he looked around. “Harry, Hermione. I know that both of you had nothing to do with the destruction of the Daily Prophet.”

It took a moment for the two of them to process what Arthur had just said. When they did, they came to their feet and looked at the tall, red-headed man who had called them his son and daughter a moment ago. “What?”

Hermione’s interrogatory enunciated what her husband was thinking. “The Prophet was destroyed?”

Arthur nodded. “Didn’t you hear about it?”

They both shook their heads. “We were on our honeymoon. No owls, no Wizard Wireless, no distractions of any kind. We’ve been back at school since then, of course, but in name only. We’ve been teaching and when we’re not teaching, we’re in class…..and then otherwise pretty much secluded, except for our Head-student duties.”

Arthur shook his head in amazement. “How could you not have heard about it? Didn’t these six say anything?”

It was Hermione and Harry’s turns to shake their heads no. “Why should they have?”

Ron looked up and met Harry’s eyes. “Because we were the ones who did it, mate. Us, plus Cho Chang and Dennis Creevy.”

Harry was aghast. “You burned the Prophet to the ground?”

Ron grinned and nodded. “Right down to the bare walls, and then some. Actually, it was my little fire-bug sister here who did most of it. Apparently she has this thing with fire. Scares the daylights out of me, actually.”

Ginny looked over at Neville and then at Harry. It was Ginny’s way of getting approval from Neville, before daring to approach Harry to see if he still supported and loved her.

He didn’t get a chance to respond to Ginny because Hermione cut in. “You mean you all went and attacked the Prophet, burned it to the ground, and got out without anyone calling the DMLE or anyone?

Ginny laughed. “That was Cho’s doing. She planned the attack, actually. Apparently, her father is a licensed portkey maker and taught Cho everything he knew. She made the ‘key for us and then got us in and out before anyone even dared lift a finger to try to stop us.”

A wild wave of new respect for Cho washed over Harry. She had always been interesting to him and he certainly had seen her as a fierce competitor at Quidditch when he watched from the stands. What made her brilliant, though, was the way she combined beauty, brains, and ambition with a really kind, supportive heart. More than once he had seen her taking a first-year by the hand and helping that young, fearful student get to class or overcome some challenge; magical or otherwise. Plus – she had that killer accent that made her just as sexy as hell. She was going to go far, Harry thought.

Hermione smirked as she followed Harry’s train of thought. “She’s all that, eh?”

Harry’s silent reply was gentle laughter. “She is, ‘Mione. But – you have all that and so much more. For whatever she has that’s positive, you have ten-fold. Besides, you have one thing that she’d never have in a hundred lifetimes. I love you.”

There were times when Harry knew exactly the right thing to say and it was one of those times. Hermione could feel herself become aroused as his love for her washed over and through her. Then she became slightly annoyed, because it was neither the time nor the place for those kinds of thoughts. Harry felt that, too, and pulled his magic back, in an attempt to respect her needs. Then he felt her reaching out with her magic. “Don’t Harry. I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to have you pull back. I love you too. It’s just that Arthur is working up to something big and….”

“I know, ‘Mione. I’ll be good, I promise.”

Hermione sent him a mental caress and the image of her in the sexy, pink cotton knickers she was wearing from earlier in the morning. “Later….I promise.”

They finished their silent dialog in time to hear Arthur beginning again. “What I need to say…” His voice faltered. “I need to say that Molly is going to be prosecuted to the fullest extent possible by the Ministry.”

Harry’s eyes went wide with both shock and horror. Justice as the Ministry was hard to come by unless you had money to spread around. That much was well known. It was also known that the Weasleys were not exactly the most popular family, after Ron and Ginny had kept the Minster out of Hermione’s room at St. Mungo’s. To top that off, there were people in the Ministry who had always felt that Arthur lacked the necessary ‘wizarding pride’ and hadn’t sympathized enough with some of the people he had arrested during most recent work as the Head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects.

“For God’s sake, why?” Harry almost shouted.

It was Luna’s turn to speak. “Because of what we did to the Prophet, Harry. They don’t dare come at the six of us directly, because of our friendship with you. I don’t know about Cho or Dennis – they could be in danger – but the six of us are pretty safe. The Minister for Magic doesn’t want to anger you directly, so he’s taking it out on Mrs. Weasley.”

“What can Hermione and I do to help, Mr. Weasley. Any monies I have are yours. We’ll get the best barrister or solicitors that we can for her, you can be sure.”

Arthur smiled. “Harry….you’ve never given less that all of yourself for all of us. If it were just a matter of getting the right barrister or solicitor to make this go away, I’d say yes in a heartbeat. It’s not, though. There are powerful forces who want to get even with us and with you because you and Hermione killed Tom. Many people saw it as the final straw. They’re tired of ‘mugglization’ and having muggle laws and muggle standards applied to wizarding laws and wizarding businesses. People just don’t want to change. They’re afraid of it and they’re afraid of you two. They’ll not say it publically, but they are.”

Hermione looked at the not-quite-shabbily dressed, emotionally-exhausted man. “So what do we do? There’s got to be something we can do.”

Luna looked, with a dreamy sort of look on her face, at Hermione, and then at Ron, and then at Mr. Weasley. “I think I know what we can do.” She shared a look with Ron and then his face became very animated and he smiled broadly, too.
************************
The conversation went on for some time and there were several moments when it became very, very heated. Not about whether what Luna had proposed was worth doing, but about the risks versus the potential rewards.

At one point, George and Fred made tea for everyone and tried to calm their nerves by showing off some of their latest gadgets and tricks. There were things that Harry knew, for a certainty, that were going to show up immediately on the ‘banned items’ list at Hogwarts and then there were some things – like the eavesdropping bug, which they had modeled after Rita Skeeter’s animagus form – that Harry was sure would be deucedly useful for the Aurors and any others who sought to collect surreptitious information.

One of the things that Hermione saw laid out on the impromptu display table was a telescoping book stand – like a music stand, but made for books – that could be placed next to a student’s oversized chair, so that the textbook could be referenced more easily.

Then Harry saw the thing that he just knew every Hogwarts common room would have to have: A miniature Quidditch pitch – with small players that up to six players per side could control. It was intended as a table-top game. It instantly had Harry, Ginny, and Ron drooling like little kids.

Harry looked at the twins and said, “Guys…that makes this whole trip worthwhile. I’ll buy the first thousand that you make and I’ll re-sell them to current and former Hogwarts students – at a mark-up of course – and I will take the difference and give it to Hogwarts for scholarships.

The twins eyes went very, very wide when they realized the size of the order Harry was putting in, but not as wide as Ginny’s and Neville’s. Too late, Harry realized that he had just given away a secret.

Ginny looked at him and Hermione with awe, even as a tear started down her cheek. “Natalie?”

Hermione nodded and reached out to comfort Ginny. Natalie and her brother had taken to Ginny from the get-go and the three of them had eaten lunch together often. Ginny had been their ‘big sister’ at school and had made a real effort to teach them about the school and show them around. Their deaths had hit her particularly hard.

When Hermione let go of Ginny, Neville stepped in, to fill the void and comfort his love.

Once he was sure that Ginny was going to be all right, the conversation went on. There were many things to cover before everyone felt comfortable with the plan that was taking shape.
************************
The Burrow; 2:50 pm.; Tuesday, October 8th

The knock at the door shook her out of her reverie. It was the last thing she was expecting, as she gazed out the bay window, over her garden. There were leaves scattered about the lawn and a small, European brown rabbit (Oryctolagus cuniculus) was eating a root, near one of her rose bushes. A family of them had taken over one of the warrens that were no longer being used by the garden gnomes. Rabbits were something she could deal with. If there were too many of them, the family would just have to deal with a dinner of braised rabbit crepes or roasted rabbit pot pie. The thought made her smile – in a way that was almost maniacal.

Molly walked to the front door. Her main wand had been taken from her and broken, pending the outcome of the trial. However, very few people knew that she still had her mother’s wand as a backup. It wasn’t quiet as good for complex charms work, but it was more than adequate for everyday uses. She felt safe, having a wand. That was mostly because she had been the best duelist of her year and had been more than a match for some of the young professors who had been teaching at the time.

Looking out the peep-hole, Molly saw the very last person she might have expected. Rita Skeeter. The reporter was once again dressed in stylish robes and was sporting a new pair of glasses, along with a new coif for her blonde tresses. Taken together, she looked every bit the society reporter.

Opening the door, with her mother’s wand ready at her side, Molly looked at the younger woman. “May I help you?”

Gone was the slightly whiney voice that she had once used. Gone, too, was the sibilant, fawning voice that she used when she was trying to play the role of the alluring vamp. What came out of her mouth was much more the product of her muggle upbringing: the north end of London, slightly upper-crust British accent that she had heard every day from her parents.

It was a quieter voice though, and that alone caught Molly by surprise. “Hello, Mrs. Weasley. My name is Rita Skeeter. I was hoping to ask you a few questions about what you know of Harry Potter and his wife.”

Molly’s eyes went hard and fixated on Rita the moment she said the word ‘wife’. Rita saw the reaction and put up a hand, as if to ward off an attack. “I take it you feel about her the same way I do. If you invite me in, maybe we can sit and compare notes?”

The matron of the Weasley clan nodded and stepped aside, so the reporter could enter. The front door was not one that the Weasleys used very often. There was no real point to it; except that every home was supposed to have a front door and Molly would have thought it unnecessarily odd not to have one.

Rita entered the house and immediately, it struck her that the house was a real home. There were no ornamental knick-knacks on shelves; nor frivolous art on the walls nor even unnecessary clutter. Everything seemed to have a purpose. The table was of a polished oak; but was made rustic-looking by the fact that it had dings and gouges in the surface from years of use from a large family. The chairs were slightly creaky; made so by the repeated heavy impact of growing boys. She took it all in as her eyes swept the kitchen and dinning room.

Her eyes swept upwards and saw, much to her amusement, the entire collection of Gilderoy Lockheart’s books. Molly followed the younger woman’s eyes and blushed when she realized that she had been ‘found out’. Rita actually laughed when she realized she had been caught. “Oh, don’t worry, Mrs. Weasley, I have them all, too. You’re not the only one who was taken in by that smile.”

Molly rolled her eyes and then gave up; laughing as she sat down, across from where Rita was still standing. Waiving a hand a her guest, she signaled that Rita should also sit.

“Tea? Coffee?”

“Tea, I think.” Rita replied, graciously.

“Milk or cream? Sugar?”

“Ah. Milk, please, and no sugar. Waistline doesn’t need any encouragement.”

Molly’s eyes traveled up and down her guest for a moment and took in the fact that she could not be more than a standard ‘petit’ in size. Her eyes were mirthful for a moment. “Let me guess. Your seventh-year robes still fit?”

That made Rita laugh out loud. “Not hardly. I was a big girl back then. I really, really liked food…and it showed. I’ve been fighting that battle ever since.”

The older woman winced. “I’m the opposite. Once I was thin, like my Ginny. Then I got married and the babies came soon enough. It’s been a loosing battle ever since.”

Rita’s eyes softened and Molly looked, shocked at what she saw. Silent tears had formed at the corners of the younger woman’s eyes. Seeing that the tears had been discovered, Rita looked up at Molly as she wiped them away. “I can’t have children….”

That single statement threatened to shred Molly’s poise. She couldn’t imagine a world without her children and the inability to have a family was a recurring nightmare for her; unbenounced to Arthur. “I’m so sorry…..”

Losing her long-hardened shell, Rita said softly “I was cursed by someone who didn’t like the way I reported about his business activities. I lied in my article – well – I didn’t tell the whole truth….and he took it personally. I’ve never been able to find the counter-curse.”

Molly was horrified. Making someone barren was a vile bit of the blackest magic, because it destroyed family lines. Families - particularly healthy, large families - were the most precious thing in the wizarding world because of the naturally low birthrate of witches and wizards and the sometimes unnaturally high mortality rates due to the violence which seemed to plague wizarding Britain.

Seeing her distress, Rita waived it off. “I’m alright with it, most of the time. I probably wouldn’t have made a good mother, anyway. I’m too self-centered and too calloused now to really be a proper parent.”

Rita’s unflattering commentary about herself startled Molly. It was unexpected of the woman who was known to have an acerbic pen and caustic wit. She looked at her hostess. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m a little too honest for my own good. Well – I wouldn’t be, if it weren’t for Rowena Granger. She cursed me that I can never knowingly lie, either in anything I write or say.”

Molly chuckled. Rita continued, “It actually makes things a little less jumbled, because now I don’t have to worry about to whom I told what lie. It all comes out as truth, no matter how hard I try not to have it happen.”

“Then you’ll tell me why you’re really here?”

Rita nodded. “I want to get even with Potter and his wife. I’m not sure how, but somehow, I want to show everyone that the two of them are dangerous and shouldn’t be trusted.”

The idea appealed to the red-haired matron, but after thinking about it for a moment she said, “Not going to work, Rita. Harry doesn’t care about being trusted and he doesn’t care what people think of him. He just wants to be left alone. He has Hermione, a home, and that’s all he wants.”

A thought struck the younger woman. “What if we took her away from him? That would hurt him most.”

Molly looked at her. “You can’t be serious. Short of a Witches’ duel, there’s no way to get at her. And besides, hurting her would just bring him down on you. Trust me, you don’t want that. Ron and Ginny have told me some of what Harry can do. He’s pretty much the last person on Earth you want mad at you.”

It was Rita’s turn to spout an idea. “What if we engineered it so that it was Hermione making the challenge? That would put Harry out of it, at least in any meaningful way, and leave her fate to whomever she was dueling.”

Molly’s tone turned angry and bitter. “That would be me. I was the best duelist in my year. I can take on the little bitch. Besides, it would be payback. She took Harry away from my Ginny and I’m going to take away her life.”

“Unforgivables? Y….you…..you know how?”

Molly nodded, hesitantly.

It was Rita’s turn to be horrified. Other than death-eaters, absolutely no one dared use an unforgiveable, because they took so much emotional energy and hatred. You had to be reasonably unbalanced to start out with in order to use one effectively. Aurors she had known said that they were a mid-range weapon of ultimate last resort, but that when used correctly, they were devastating. She realized that Molly was not the lily-white soul so many had made her out to be. It also made the rumors of pending charges by the Ministry against her for their use much more believable.

“I learned from my Uncle, Ignius Prewett. He was the black sheep of the family. In fact, I learned more from him about dueling than all of my professors at Hogwarts combined. I still have some of his private books on techniques, upstairs in the attic. Arthur knows nothing about them, of course. He’s never been able to see through my concealment charms.”

Sitting back for a moment, Rita considered what she had just learned. Molly, of course, would make a perfect foil for her plans, at it would keep her hands clean of the dirty bits of work that had to be done in order to make it all happen. It was simply a matter of pushing her just the right way to get the proverbial snowball rolling.

“How do we make this happen, then? I heard a very sad rumor about a howler, Molly, and I have to tell you that I’ve got it from a very good source.”

Molly immediately started to tear up. She didn’t say anything. Rather, she turned away slightly and the tears fell. Some of them sparkled in the sunlight and others splashed hard into her dirty brown work-robes.

Rita took Molly’s reaction as absolute confirmation that what she had heard was correct: Molly’s children had sent her a howler that put them on the outs with her until such time as she put aside her anger at Hermione and welcomed both Harry and Hermione back into the Weasley family. She had also heard, after the fact, that there were tensions growing between Arthur and Molly over the same issue and that Arthur had been working much longer hours recently, just to avoid dealing with her. Rita wondered, somewhat sympathetically, if Molly wasn’t suffering from her own version of what muggles called ‘post-traumatic stress disorder’ because of the war against Tom and the fact that Molly’s two youngest children were almost killed during the fight.

She stood, finally, and walked around the table and over to where Molly was sitting. Putting a comforting hand on Molly’s shoulder, she said, “I’m sorry, Molly. I know they mean the whole world to you. Not talking to them must be very hard for you. Maybe once Hermione challenges you to a duel; your children will see that you are right and that they should be apologizing to you, instead.”

Her tears stopped eventually and she looked up at Rita. “Maybe you’re right.” She swallowed hard, once, and then said, “But how can it happen? I mean…I’d have to be close to Hermione and goad her into calling me out, in front of everyone. If Ron and Ginny are still siding with her, they might not understand that it’s for the best.”

“You leave that to me. I know that I can get you the information you need and can pick the best time to make it happen. All you have to do is be the actress and show everyone that you’re the injured party.”

Molly nodded. It made sense to her. All she had to do was be in the right place at the right time and it would all come together. Then she could dispose of Hermione and get Harry together with Ginny. A little Amortentia in Harry’s food; some special ‘alone’ time with Ginny; and things would be well on their way.

“Ok. So…how do we do this?”

Rita smiled inside. She knew that manipulating an otherwise good person was so easy. All you had to do was get at their sense of justice and then push a little.
************************************************
Headmaster’s office; Wednesday, Oct. 9th, 7:45 Am.

“You are sure about this, Arthur? It’s Molly’s freedom that we are talking about. What you have proposed is a high-risk / high-reward strategy.”

Arthur looked at his Headmaster. “I’m sure, Headmaster. Ron, Luna, my twins, Harry, and Hermione all concur. It’s the only way to ensure that Molly receives the punishment that she has coming, but in a setting where she can be both helped and monitored all the time. It means that we will be able to see her regularly while she serves out her sentence.”

Dumbledore turned to the two youngest Weasleys who were standing next to their father. “Are you two all right with this?”

They both nodded. Ginny’s eyes were puffy-red from crying, but her shoulders were back and she stood tall and straight next to her brother and father. Ron, for his part, was paler than usual, but stood resolute.

Minerva McGonagall, who was observing the proceedings, turned and whispered quietly to Hermione and Harry, “Are you going to be able to take your seats on the Wizengamot in enough time to make this happen?”

Harry inclined his head twice; almost imperceptibly. What Harry was planning on doing was unprecedented in the history of the Wizengamot. No current student had ever been elevated to the head of a major family, nor had any woman ever taken on the mantle of leadership for a family, but Hermione was planning on doing just that. For political reasons, she would take leadership of Clan Potter, while Harry would take the leadership of Clan Black.

Neither Harry nor Hermione had yet dared to discuss with Dumbledore the gifts that they had been given by the Queen and both wondered what his reaction was likely to be. It had been a shock to learn that Dumbledore’s private estate – large though it was - was surrounded entirely by Harry’s new holdings in Scotland.

Finally, the Headmaster turned to Harry and Hermione and his expression was serious, but hopeful. “Molly’s trial, such as it will be, is scheduled for Monday, the Forth of November. In order for any of your votes to count, you have to have taken your seat on the Wizengamot no later than….”

The Headmaster took out from his pocket a small piece of paper, which he tapped once with his right, index finger. Suddenly, he was holding what looked like a muggle day-planner. Flipping through several pages, he landed on the one he thought correct.

“If I am correct, and I usually am…” Harry chuckled. He had heard that line from the Headmaster before. “You two have to be installed formally by next Friday, the eighteenth of October. That means that I have to present you two before them the day before, so that the proper ceremonial books and robes can be made and the chamber re-configured to accommodate the two new seats.”

The Head Boy and Girl nodded. “One more thing, Hermione. I do not know if Harry has told you, but you get another ring for your jewelry collection. This one, unfortunately, never comes off, once you put it on. Harry, would you please transfer the ring to Hermione? You know the charm, don’t you?”

Harry looked at Hermione. “Are you ready for this, love? It’s a big step. It makes you even more visible in the wizarding world than you already are. People are going to be gunning for you because of this.”

“Let them, Harry. I have the best defense in the whole world. I have you.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Forever, Hermione, until the day we go to the next great adventure. I love you.”

He began the charm by tapping his signet ring and muttering “Amor victoris est.”

The ring began to glow and he could feel it loosening it’s grip on his finger. He looked at Hermione and reached out to take her fingers and place them on his ring. “Vobis, meus amor, ego tribuo meus domus veneratio.”

There was a holding of breath as Harry slipped the ring free and then slipped it onto his wife’s right-hand ring finger. It glowed as it shrank to fit her petit finger; finally settling to a comfortable, but permanent adornment. Harry also noticed that the stone had changed. It was now a deep, almost sea-green emerald and it looked much better on her hand than it had on his.

“It’s beautiful, Harry.”

The Headmaster looked at Harry. “Do you have the Black Family ring, Harry?”

Harry nodded. “Dobby!”

Everyone stood and waited for the air to be rent by the appearance of the elf. No one expected that he would do what Harry had shown him how to do…which was to appear in the shadows silently; appraise the situation, and then step forward. The first indication that Dobby had arrived was the sudden, very gentle tug on Harry’s pant-leg.

He turned and looked down. Dobby was smiling up at him.

Dropping to one knee, Harry looked his friend in the eye. “Dobby? I need you to do a special favor for me. I need you to go home and go to that special place, where we keep the special things and get the Black Family Ring…” Harry couldn’t mention it out loud because only Dobby, as the secret-keeper, could talk about the magical vault they had constructed in the basement of Godric’s Hollow. It was where their special items – forbidden books, powerful magical items, such as Godric Gryffindor’s sword, and other things – were kept. It was as secure as anyone could make it. Not only would an intruder have to know about the vault, but he/she would have to get past wards and enchantments that he, Hermione, and Dobby (with Dumbledore’s advice and guidance) had created specially. Then the intruder would have to cope with the fact that the vault itself, and all its contents, were kept at absolute zero – making it by far the coldest place in the universe. Time literally stood still inside the vault; for without movement, time could not pass. Hermione had tried to explain it to Harry, but had gotten quite lost when she had started talking about Bose-Einstein Condensates; the general theory of relativity; and how energy, movement, and time were interrelated.

It was just the sort of thing that Dobby lived for. He liked doing special missions for Harry and to be entrusted with the delivery of a powerful symbol like the Black Family ring was just the thing. What protected Dobby from all the wards and enchantments was the fact that they were built using his, Hermione’s and Harry’s blood, intermingled. Their combined powers and unique magical signatures allowed them to open the vault; restore the flow of time within the vault; retrieve whatever any of the three of them needed; and then exit the vault; restoring the protections as they went. It was a system that made the Gringotts’ vaults look very, very insecure in comparison.

Dobby nodded and received a gentle stroking of his ears from Harry before he winked away.

While they were waiting, the Headmaster looked at the two of them and stroked his beard. It was a nervous habit that he had seen on others – but no one else did it in quite the same way.

“Hermione, Harry. When we move to have you two installed on the Wizengamot, there is going to be opposition. I can’t say for sure how much, but it will be there. You both are going to have to be prepared for potential reactions. Magic cannot be used within the chamber to hurt any other member, but once you are outside the council chamber, that’s not true. You will have to be on your guard and prepared for anything. Depending on how many members are there, and which factions are most strongly represented, you will be more or less at risk. If our faction shows up in good numbers, I can assure you safe passage in and out. After that, however, you will both need to take precautions. I wish it weren’t so, but my wishes don’t seem to count for as much, anymore.”

His voice sounded sadder that Harry had heard in some time and he was about to respond when Dobby quietly appeared again. He was holding in front of him a small grey box which bore the Black Family crest and motto: “Toujours pur”
If he hadn’t loved his godfather so much, the motto would have been very offensive. As it was, however, it was just one more thing to remind him of the loss of another, incredibly special person from his life.

Harry carefully slipped Dobby a galleon and gave him the rest of the day off. Hermione saw it and nodded. “We’ve got the rest of the day covered, anyway. Dobby’s been anxious to be with Winky, so we might as well make it easier for him.”

“I agree, Harry. That was well done. No one else saw it.”

Harry grinned. “Of course they didn’t. I’m a wizard, aren’t I?”

“The best, Harry, the best. I love you.”

Nothing more needed to be said. He reached out and pulled her close and the two of them hugged and kissed, as only they could do, several inches off the ground.

Hermione giggled into his shoulder when, from across the room, came Ron’s laughing voice. “Show offs!”
************************************************
Settling back down, the Head Boy and Girl somewhat sheepishly looked at their Headmaster. “Sorry”, they both muttered, embarrassed.

Dumbledore waived it off, smiling. “You have every right to want to be affectionate and, after all you have done, you’ve more than earned the right, I think.”

Ron took the Headmaster‘s absolution for Harry and Hermione‘s kisses as a carte blanche to kiss Luna. They had just started to kiss when he felt stinging hexes – albeit low-powered ones – pinging off his body. He reluctantly pushed away from Luna and looked at the assembled group with annoyance, and then amusement, as he saw the bemused smiles all around. Dumbledore looked at him over the rim of his spectacles with his famous ‘I’m-about-to-admonish-you’ look and it was sufficient to make him mind his manners. Harry noticed that Arthur had declined to say anything by way of reprimand to Ron. He silently pointed it out to Hermione, via their link, and getting her amused reaction in reply.

Turning to Harry, Dumbledore said, “It’s time, Mr. Potter, for you to take the Black Family mantle. There are but a few of the family left, including Nymphadora Tonks, yourself, Narcissa Malfoy, who was Narcissa Black, and Nymphadora’s mother, Andromeda – who was the daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black.”

“Not much of a family on that side, then.”

“Not many members, Harry, but a long history and vast wealth, as you now know.”
Harry swallowed hard. There was more money under his control than he would ever need. More money than anyone could ever need, even in several lifetimes. It haunted him and made him feel somehow unworthy to be friends with the Weasleys – who truly were good people.

“I know, Sir. It takes some adjusting.”

The old man nodded. The Gryffindor legacy and fortune, as well as his own, smaller, personal fortune, were burdens that he longed to put aside. They had always been distractions from what was most meaningful to him. Knowing that Harry felt the same way comforted the Headmaster, because it reassured him that power was not Harry’s goal – nor was control of wizarding society.

“Are you ready for the ring, Harry?”

“No, Sir. But I don’t think I have a choice in the matter, do I?”

Harry’s tone was bitter, but neither Dumbledore, nor anyone else in the room was offended by it. They all knew that Harry had long since earned the right to be frustrated with the number of things that he had been obligated to do – things he could not pass by or put aside – not the least of which had been to dispose of Tom and his minions.

“I’m here, Harry. I will always be here for you. I love you for who you are. You know that. The only title that you will ever have that matters to me is ‘my husband’.”

Just as suddenly as Harry’s mood had gone dark with his frustration over being forced to take the Black Family mantle of leadership, it went light again with the Nimbus lumens Amor as he felt Hermione’s love for him and her pride in all that they had done together wash over and through him.

They had not been standing more than an arm’s length apart, so it was easy to reach out and pull Hermione into his embrace again. She went very willingly and again, they lost themselves in the joy of their love.

A moment later, amidst a chorus of pretend gagging sounds from Ron and his twin brothers, they separate from each other far enough so that Harry could extend his right hand out and allow the Headmaster to slip the Black Family ring onto the ring-finger of his right hand.

He felt a surge of power and looked down to see the onyx stone, which had been engraved with the crest of the family, glow with an eerie light. The ring wasn’t cursed – of that they were already sure – but no one was certain of the powers the ring might or might not bestow on the wearer. Magical objects tended not to remain magical over the long-term, because the ‘size’ of the magic that a person could imbue in an object was disproportionate by a factor of 10 to the power that the object could retain.

Harry’s arithromancy professor had told him that the reason that magical items didn’t hang onto the magic with which they had been imbued, over the long term – was that a person’s magic regenerates every day, with proper food, exercise, sleep, and practice – while the same was not true for the object. Every use of a magic object drained the object, such that eventually, it would fail. Certain items, like brooms, were always interacting with the wielders’ own magic, and thus were constantly recharged. Other things – like wands – had complex magics woven into them, as a part of their design, and again, recharged with daily use.

Thinking about it gave him a slight headache at times – because it was all so complicated.

Looking up at his Headmaster, Harry said, “Are we done, then? Is there anything else that needs to be said or planned for?”

“Arthur – there is one more thing that you and I need to talk about, I think.” He looked about his outer office. “I think that the rest of you can go and get on with your days. I will let you know if I need to say anything further to the rest of you, together.”

Standing, Ron, Ginny, Luna, the twins, Hermione, and Harry moved towards the outer door and the spiral staircase which would take them down to the second floor and the administrative wing of the school.

“Wait, Harry. We need to talk about Mr. Weasley. Let’s go to our room.”

Once the seven of them were safely down the stairs and out into the corridor, Harry hung back and waited for Hermione. The moment that the rest had their backs turned, Hermione took Harry’s hand and activated their private portkey.
************************************************
Head Boy and Girls’ common room, Wednesday, Oct. 9th, 9:35 Am

Landing with little more than a quiet ‘thud’, Hermione and Harry again found themselves in their common room. There was a fire was going and their favorite chair – a loveseat for two – was in front of it in such a way that it caught a great deal of the fire’s heat and light.

Settling into it, the two of them folded themselves around the other. “Much better” Harry thought to her, as she rested her head on his chest. “I’ve missed making love to you at night. It’s been almost a week!”

“I know. I’m feeling it too, Harry. There’s been so much to do that we’ve not had the chance…..”

It always amazed her how quickly Harry could push her buttons and move her to feeling desperately needy and wanting. Sneaky person that he was, Harry had slid his right hand under her skirt and found the edge of her soft, cotton knickers and was following it with his fingers. He felt her move her legs apart enough that he could caress her sex through her knickers. “Oh God, Harry. That feels so good. Your hand feels so warm. Please don’t stop….”

“I won’t. I love touching you.”

She could feel herself getting very wet and started to grind her sex against his insistent movements. “Finger me?”

“Do me afterwards if I do?” Harry sent Hermione a mental image of what he wanted her to do and she ‘sqee’d’ as she felt his desire for her.

Once she was wet enough, Harry silently cast an ‘Engorgio’ on his thumb and index fingers; made sure they were well-lubricated, and then slowly started to push them into her. She felt his magic infuse his body for a moment on only belatedly realized what he was up to. By the time she did, she was doubly impaled.

“Just relax, ‘Mione, and go with it. You’ll love it in a sec.”

And love it she did. Her muscles started to relax after a minute or so and she started to push down onto his fingers, making them fill her up in front and back. Her knickers were pushed to the side and she knew they were soaked with her juices.

Soon, she was gasping and burying her face in his chest as he pleasured her. “Ohohohohoh…..ooooooooooo, Harry!...oh god oh god oh god…feels so good!”

Harry could feel his erection pressing painfully against his slacks and he grew more and more turned on as the perfume of her hair and the magic of her hands clutching his chest permeated every part of him. He pushed at her images and feelings of desire that he had experienced in the previous week. Wave after wave of images showing her how much he desired her played in her mind from him.

It didn’t take much more to trigger the release that Hermione so desperately needed. It began in her toes and raced up her legs, across her back, across her painfully-hard nipples, and down to her core. As it hit, Harry pushed his engorged fingers deeply into her, so that she would experience all the pleasure that he could give her.

Collapsing against him, her breathing started to even out. “Oh Harry, thank you. I love you so much.”

His left hand came up her back and clutched her hair; drawing her head back, so that he could kiss her. “I love you, Hermione. Making you feel good is what I live to do.”

She could feel his tongue intertwining itself with his; their lips pressed together in a dance of love that filled her soul with such joy that she could not express it. Harry could feel, though, and it was so intense that it made him want to either cry or shout to the heavens.

Her eyes were wet with tears and, as they broke their kiss, she looked at him and he felt her thoughts, “Take me, Harry. Do what you were thinking of earlier. Fill me”

“You sure?”

Hermione cupped his face with her small, delicate hand. “Yes, Harry. I want to feel you inside me, now. I want to fall asleep with you in me.”

He didn’t need any more convincing. Vanishing his trousers and boxers with little more than a thought, he cancelled the engorgement charm on his fingers and then used both hands to pull her skirt up around her waist and move the already very wet gusset of her knickers aside. Once she was ready, he impaled her on his enormous erection; groaning with the pleasure of being one with his wife again.

Hermione moaned deeply and tried to grind her sex against him as the prodigious girth of his member stretched her and filled her completely.

Once he was buried to the hilt in her, he reclined the loveseat and pulled Hermione up enough so that they could lie together comfortably. His hands moved up and down her back in gentle, loving circles. Hermione growled her frustration as his hands refused to move downwards. “Harry…..do it. Feel my arse… I want your hands on my arse…please?”

There was no way that he was going to refuse to do the thing that he so often dreamed about doing and Hermione knew it. She had chosen this particular pair of cotton knickers with some care when she dressed; hoping that she’d get a chance to feel his hands on her at some point during the day. They were soft; pink, high-cut at the hip, and had a very pretty, and delicate scalloped lace edging to them.

Harry’s excitement was obvious. The moment that his hands made contact with her knickers, his erection throbbed inside her and became even harder than it had been before. For her part, Hermione felt like someone had just ‘turned up the volume’ on their mutual excitement or was trying to push her over the edge of sanity with orgasmic pleasure.

“You like my knickers a lot, don’t you.”

“Fuck, yes, Hermione. I love how they feel against your skin and they look sexy as hell.”

“Sexier than the girls from the Quidditch team?”

“You’ve got to be kidding, ‘Mione. Yea…Alicia and Angelina are both really sexy, ‘cause they’re so fit…but all they ever wore were really plain, ribbed, white cotton knickers. Comfort over fashion, I guess.”

“I thought you liked cotton…” Hermione pressed herself hard down onto his cock; savoring how it felt to have her husband’s hands on her arse, squeezing and caressing her so intimately.

“I do…but on you.”

It was the right answer, apparently, because Hermione used all of her most intimate muscles to milk him and caress him as only a woman can do. It was more than he could take and she felt his release coursing through his body, even before he began to send his seed deep into her body.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Oh god, oh god, oh god….oh!!!!!!!!! Hermioneeeeeeeeeeee!”

Spasm after spasm wracked his body; giving him the release that he needed so much from the woman he loved beyond all reason.

No one was around to see the powerful, golden glow that filled the room; sweeping aside all the other ambient magic in the room and replacing it with theirs.
************************************************
Almost an hour later, the pair of them began to stir again. Harry ran his fingers through her hair as she lay atop him. “You all right, love?”

Her cheek was warm against his chest and her breath was slow and even. She said, sleepily, “Never better, love. That was wonderful.”

The fire had burned low in the fireplace and Harry felt too lazy to move or even conjure another log, and resisted the temptation to call Dobby and ask him to re-build the fire. Instead, he summoned a blanket from their bed and wrapped it around the two of them. Harry felt much better, knowing that she was happy and warm. With Tom gone, it was getting easier and easier to relax completely.

As they drifted off again, he mulled over the fact that they still had to talk about Mr. Weasley and what was likely to happen to Molly if she did something stupid. Harry had the nagging feeling that she might try to do something unthinkable, like challenging Hermione to a duel. That could not be allowed, if they could help it – but Mr. Weasley had to be ready to deal with it, if it came to that. Neither Ron, nor Ginny, nor any of the Weasley children would ever know what to think or how to react if Hermione was forced into a lethal confrontation with Molly.

Just before sleep finally took him, he decided it might be a very good idea to get the Weasley children together and talk to them, before something terrible happened. It would be the right thing to do and it would comfort them to know that both Hermione and Harry were thinking ahead and trying to head off the situation before it became a reality. He also knew he wouldn’t be able to do it without Dumbledore’s help – and Fawkes’.
************************************************
Hogwarts Medical wing; Saturday, Oct.12th – just after sunrise

There wasn’t supposed to be a medical confinement wing at Hogwarts. In fact, the entire corridor had not even existed until the patient had been diagnosed. Worse, the passing of time had shown that the wing was absolutely necessary and had protected both students and professors at the school.

Professor Dumbledore had been loathe to create it – or rather, ask the school to create it – but he had done so and the school had responded; just as it had for hundreds of years, in reaction to the ever-changing needs of the student body. How it did so was a complete mystery.

Now the patient lay in her padded cell; kept warm by charms placed by the Headmaster; fed by the ever-watchful house-elves who were dedicated to the needs of the hospital wing, alone.

Poppy Pomfrey had made for herself a new habit of rising early every morning and checking her patient. There was a fairly generous-sized window cut in the upper part of the locked door, which allowed for two-way conversation; light, and a view out over the castle grounds. Most mornings, as the medi-witch looked in, her charge was still asleep. This morning, however, when she looked in, she was greeted by a part of sparking blue eyes looking back at her.

“Poppy?”

“Oh! Rowena! How are you feeling today? I’ve not seen you up this early in some time. I’m surprised.”

The former Unspeakable looked at her and nodded. “I’ve not been myself, lately, Poppy. Something’s been very wrong with me, but I think I know how to deal with it now. I need to see the Headmaster as soon as possible.”

The request momentarily startled the famed medi-witch, but she quickly regained her composure. “I can get him this morning. I happened to hear that he would personally be teaching an advanced transfiguration class this morning to selected sixth and seventh-year students. I’ll summon Fawkes and have him come down at once. Can you tell me why you need to speak with him?”

Rowena shook her head. “I wish I could, Poppy, but until I speak with him, I can’t tell you what I have realized. I will tell you though that it was because of one of the Hogwarts elves and the Bloody Baron that I figured out how I could be healed.”

The mention of the Bloody Baron set Pomfrey back on her heels for a moment. “Are you sure? Why would he be involved in what’s going on? How did he help you?”

Again, Rowena shook her head. “I can’t tell you that yet, Poppy. If Dumbledore says it’s ok, then I will, I promise.”

That seemed to mollify the medi-witch. “Ok. I’ll call Fawkes and ask him to summon the Headmaster. I believe you can be expecting him shortly. I’ll have your breakfast brought to you in a few minutes, alright?”

“Thank you, Poppy. You’ve been good to me. I know that I’ve not been myself recently….”

Pomfrey waived it off. “To me, you’re just another patient, Rowena. Of course, I’m going to do my very best for you! How could I not?”

Just then, a diminutive house-elf, wearing a smaller version of the clothes that the medi-witch wore, along with the Hogwarts crest on her chest and the shield of Asclepius on her shoulder, suddenly appeared inside the cell. She was bearing a generously laddened tray of food.

“I brought your breakfast, Professor. I hope it’s what you wanted. Just call for me if there is anything else you need, ok? My name is Cerci.”

Before Rowena could stammer her thanks to the well-dressed elf, she disappeared; leaving behind a very confused, but very hungry (former) muggle-studies professor and a slightly grinning medi-witch.

Rowena looked at her, through the bars in the door. “Did you get her to dress like that, or was that Potter’s doing?”

Laughing, the matronly witch said, “Neither. Cerci saw what Dobby was wearing and liked it so much that she came to me and asked if she could have a uniform, too. She said that she wanted everyone to know where she worked and that this is her home. I was so shaken by the conviction in her voice, and her sincerity, that I couldn’t say no. Ever since, that uniform is what she has been wearing daily and I’ll be damned if I didn’t see another Gryffindor house-elf experimenting with a uniform the other day, too.”

Rowena started to laugh, and then started to cough, as a piece of raspberry pastry momentarily lodged itself in her windpipe. She coughed a second time and then smiled at the medi-witch. “Thank you. That was one of the better laughs I’ve had recently, even if this pastry” She held up the remains of it, “tried to attack me.”

Poppy nodded and then moved away from the door, to leave her patient in peace while she ate.

Once she was back in her office, she reached over and picked up the large mug of tea which she had abandoned and took a couple of swallows, to finish it off. She was just about to make another one when she remembered that she had promised Rowena that she would summon Dumbledore.

Picking up her wand, she tapped it once on the desk and the lifted it into the air. It started to sparkle as she did so. Moving it in a clockwise direction, she called into the air “Fawkes! I have need of you. Please come to me.”

Lowering her wand, she waited. It had never before been more than a moment between her call and Fawkes’ arrival. She loved seeing the phoenix arrive. The column of fire that it left in its wake was truly special to see. She could always feel the magic of Fawkes’ departure, but had never been able to feel the sudden thrill of magic that portended his arrival. It would be no different on this particular morning. One moment, she was alone in the office and the next, there was a great, fiery bird hovering in mid-air.

She looked at him. He was so truly beautiful and rare that in that moment, she felt compelled by the strongest desire to touch him. “May I….May I touch you?”

Fawkes nodded his head and spread his wings so that she could touch his neck and chest. What amazed him was how soft and delicate he seemed to be. There was something amazingly familiar about him…as if she had seen him before. Then she realized – she had. The night that Harry had first defeated Tom, she lay dying in a field, not too far away from Little Winging, after a long battle against a group of death eaters. The Aurors she had been assigned to care for had all been killed and she was the only one left. Something rescued her that night...and now she knew. It had been Fawkes. She owed her very life to him. Gratitude and love for him rushed to the surface and she wished she could tell him how much his gift had meant to her. Somehow – he knew – and Phoenix song filled the room as she stroked him. It filled the hallway; filled the ward; and then filled the school. Everywhere it spread and each person who heard it felt the love and peace that nothing else, save the purest, truest love, could match.

Poppy felt her tears and did not resist them as she stroked its feathers. You are so beautiful, Fawkes, she thought. How many people have you saved that I could never have healed?

It wasn’t clear whether Fawkes heard her thoughts or not. What was clear, though, was that a special bond was created in that moment and she felt it – as surely as she had ever felt anything in her life. It gave her a confidence that she could, and would, do more with her life and that her best days were ahead of her, instead of behind.

She looked at Fawkes and, after touching his chest one more time, she simply said “Thank you.” Fawkes bobbed his head in what looked like a nod of understanding and it made her smile.

Almost as an afterthought, she said, “Fawkes? Could you tell Dumbledore, please, that I need him down here? Rowena Granger needs to speak with him soon. Please?” Again, there was the head-bob and suddenly, with a powerful wave of magical flame, he disappeared.
************************************************
Headmaster’s office; Saturday, Oct.12th – a few minutes before 7 Am.

There was a flash of light in his outer office. Albus looked up and smiled at his beautiful familiar. Merlin’s familiar – the phoenix who had adopted him – looked at him and trilled, gently. The Headmaster cocked his head, as he felt, rather than heard, Poppy Pomfrey’s words relayed to him.

“Oh? She wants me to see her? Did she say why?”

Fawkes indicated that she hadn’t and that he was hungry. Dumbledore grinned at the beautiful bird. “You’re always hungry, Fawkes. You eat more than I do, sometimes.”

The phoenix chirped at him, slightly annoyed. Dumbledore chuckled. “Yes, I know. Minerva would scold me for not taking better care of myself.”

Just then, the inner door, which led to the Headmaster’s private quarters, opened and a voice called out to him, quietly. “I’d scold you for what, Albus?”

Albus knew he was ‘busted’, as muggles said, and that there was nothing for it but to answer honestly. “Good morning, Minerva. Sleep well?”

“Oh, honestly, Albus. You know I did. Now, tell me why I’d scold you.”

Dumbledore pointed to Fawkes. “My friend here was saying that I need to take better care of myself and eat more and that you’d scold me for not doing so.”

The soon-to-be headmistress drew herself up to her tallest, most regal height and said “Well, Mr. Dumbledore” Minerva was playing the roll of ‘schoolmarm’ to its ultimate degree “You should never question those in authority. I may certainly have to give you detention if I catch you not doing what you’ve been directed to do!”

Rather than talk to her from across the room, Dumbledore moved to her side and took her hands in his. “I can never say no to you, Minni. I am your humble student…”

She looked at him and then drew him in for a lingering kiss. Once they separate, she held his face in her hands and whispered, “We’ll see about your punishment later, Mr. Dumbledore. I can see that it might take several nights of ‘corrective’ treatment.”

The Headmaster had never been immune to her charms; nor did he want to be. “I will make sure that my schedule is clear, Ma’am.”

She smiled lustily at him and then buried her face against his chest. “You had better.”

After holding each other for what seemed like a long time, she looked up at him again. “What’s happening this morning? I thought I heard Fawkes arrive back in your office a few minutes ago.”

He nodded. “Yes. Apparently, Poppy needs to see me straight away this morning. I was about to change and go to see her. Will you join me?”

“Is it Rowena?”

“I think so, Minni. I can’t imagine why Poppy would call us down so early if it weren’t something important. Since there are no other patients, it has to be her.”

The Deputy headmistress nodded. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.” She turned and walked back into what had become ‘their’ room, by agreement, to change into her official robes.
************************************************
Hospital Wing; Saturday, Oct.12th – a few minutes after 7:30 Am.

Albus and Minerva knew that there were no in-bed patients in the hospital wing, so their entrance was somewhat noisier than it might not otherwise have been – which was to say that they didn’t silence their footsteps, nor did they make an effort to quiet the door as it opened.

The hospital wing was laid out in roughly a ‘U’-shape, with Poppy’s office located along the short leg at the bottom. It made it possible for her to keep a general eye on both those in the front ward – the ones who needed more rest than constant tending – and then those in the rear ward, who needed privacy, security, and something approaching around-the-clock care. Harry’s bed was always in the rear ward; so that he could be protected from any who might wish to do him harm while he was disabled. The back / secure wing had but the one entrance, so that no one could get into the ward without being spotted.

Poppy was lost in thought as she planned her day. There was paperwork to catch up on and then there was the matter of Rowena. Poppy felt that she had done all she could for her, medically, and that it was time to move onto other kinds of therapies. She was just about to take the short walk back to the new hallway that the school itself had somehow provided when two faces leaned in her doorway.

Albus looked at the medi-witch who had served the school so well. “You sent for us, Poppy?”

His voice startled her and she whipped around, to look at the Headmaster. “Oh! Merlin preserve me! You scared me.”

He laughed to himself and then said to her, “I’m dreadfully sorry, Poppy. I didn’t mean to do so. I seem to have that effect on people, though.”

“Too damn quiet for your own good, I think, Albus.” She looked around. “Hello, Minni. Albus convince you to come with him this am?”

Minerva McGonagall clung to her lover’s arm. “Didn’t take much convincing, Poppy. Albus has a way with words, and he told me that you’ve come to a decision or something about Rowena.”

Poppy snorted. “Not hardly, love. Actually, it was she who asked for Albus, here. Seems she’s had a breakthrough or something. She mentioned a house-elf and the Bloody Baron. Said they had helped her work ‘it’ out, whatever ‘it’ is.”

McGonagall looked at her, quizzically. “The Bloody Baron? Really? What would he have to say?”

“Don’t know, but whatever it was, Rowena’s in better spirits than I’ve seen in at least the last two weeks.”

The Headmaster started stroking his beard, as he listened to their conversation, and then said, “I think it might be high time for me to have a one-on-one with her. I might be able to get some things from her that she’s not telling you.”

Poppy Pomfrey looked slightly alarmed. “You’d take it from her mind?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “No, she’s had quite enough of that kind of trauma, thank you. No, what I meant was that I think that I might be able to persuade her to tell us more about what she’s thinking, if I have face to face with her, alone. There’s enough of the student/teacher relationship left, I think, for her to be willing to open up to me.”

“Shall we go, then? I think I’d like to see her happy and healthy and out of my ward before anyone gets the idea that I’m running some kind of prison or something. Wouldn’t take much to get a very bad rumor going.”

Both the Deputy as well as the current Headmaster nodded. They knew the poisonous effects of rumors more acutely than most and neither was willing to have another, groundless one get going. Rumors, especially malicious ones, made the school very much harder to govern and often helped to destroy relationships – even ones that had existed for a very long time.

Poppy stood and accompanied her two friends to the new, secure wing of the hospital. There were but three cells and only one of them was occupied. When she heard the approaching footsteps, Rowena stood and made her way to the door. The first person she saw was the Headmaster himself. “Albus! You came! Thank you.”

“Of course, Rowena. This situation has caused me very great pain and I want you out of here and teaching again just as soon as we can arrange it. I’ve already met with the Board of Governors and they’ve agreed that all of your back pay will be forward to your Gringotts account just as soon as you’re healthy. You’ll suffer no professional effects from your stay here. No mention of it will be made anywhere and because of the destruction of the Prophet, it’s unlikely to make it into print.

Rowena had not heard that bit of news and here eyes grew wide. Albus could tell she was dying to know the details. “No, Rowena, I can’t tell you who did it. I can tell you that its destruction was complete and total and that it will never be rebuilt. Its attackers saw to it. Actually, they were remarkably thorough…..”

Rowena knew better than to pry. He had occlumency shields that were thought to be a mile wide and several miles deep. However, she was dying to know what had brought it about. “Can you tell me why?....”

Dumbledore grinned. “They wrote about Harry and Hermione the day after their wedding. Really, Hermione, in particular, and it was most unflattering. Apparently, some people took offense to it and made sure that no other such article would ever again be printed.”

Even though Harry and Hermione were nominally on her shit list, Rowena appreciated the fact that there were a great many people who owed the two of them their very lives and that a poisonous article in the Prophet would have attracted a considerable amount of ire. That the paper was destroyed, permanently, was all to the good. It gave people like the despicable Skeeter woman one less outlet from which to vent her scurrilous opinions.

“That’s the second-best news I’ve received this week, Headmaster. I’m delighted to hear that that rag…that piece of filth…was put out of business. It could not have happened to a better organization.”
“Though I’m loathe to say it in public, Rowena, I agree with you. For far too long, Inkwell Blaine had been allowed to print pretty much whatever he felt like; knowing that he had the protection of the Ministry for Magic. It’s time for a new ethic in wizarding journalism, I think. The Quibbler does seem to be on the rise, though, and that might serve the wizarding community – at least here in Britain – just fine.”

Rowena nodded. She had read the Quibbler and when it wasn’t publishing articles about crumpled-horn Snorkacks, it published unbiased, and often very well written and researched news pieces. It was also the only wizarding paper that could explain muggle technology and terminology competently, and in context of what was occurring in the wizarding world.

Albus looked at her. “Rowena, let me come in and we can talk. I’d like to know what you’ve discovered, during your talks with the Bloody Baron and the house-elves.”

Caught unawares, Rowena and Poppy both looked at Albus. “It’s fine”, he assured them. “Nothing’s going to happen, except for a pleasant, and I hope informative, conversation.”

Poppy was less than sanguine, but relented, because Albus always did seem to know what he was doing and she wasn’t about to start second-guessing him now.

She tapped the door once, with the wand that had appeared suddenly in her hand, and it sprang open. “Let it open, Poppy. I assure you that we will be quite all right. I should be out in an hour or so. If either of you need me, come find me. Otherwise, I’ll find you, all right?”

Both Poppy and Minerva nodded their agreement and moved back, down the hallway, towards Poppy’s office.

Albus said nothing until they were away. Once they were, however, he turned on Rowena. “What have you found, Rowena? I’m asking now as the senior-most Unspeakable.” His voice turned to one of authority and power. “Tell me.”

There was a powerful compunction in his voice that she could not resist. It bypassed all of her built-in controls and triggered something that had been implanted in her many, many years before.

“The Sanguis Ritual, Albus. I’ve found out how to do it. It will allow me to be free.”

“The Bloody Baron knew the ritual?” He was mortified.

“Yes. He told me how to do it and told me who has to do it with me, as the recipients.”

The Headmaster’s mind was making cognitive leaps. “Harry and Hermione?”

“Just Hermione, as she’s my relative. She and Harry can cast the final charm together, but only she can receive the sacrifice.”

The Sanguis Ritual, Albus knew, was one of the oldest and most terrible rituals. It literally stripped a witch or wizard of his or her magic; leaving that person a squib at best; a complete muggle at worst. It had been used to punish Tom’s recalcitrant followers when he had first come to power, and legends talked about its use to make one witch or wizard almost unstoppable for a period of time. It also came with a terrible price –much like the drinking the blood of a Unicorn - but infinitely more painful. Misuse of the ritual made the taker of the magic into a dementor, over time.

“And you would do the ritual voluntarily?”

“Yes, Albus. It’s the only way I can be free of what I did. I have to do this.”

“Tell me everything, Rowena.”

And she did. For almost an hour, she spoke, uninterrupted. At the end, Dumbledore sat, holding her hands in his, and watching as cathartic tears caressed her cheeks. He might or might not get his muggle studies professor back; but she would, at last, be free of the guilt and pain she had been carrying for so long.
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Great Hall, Monday, October 14th, 6 Pm.

Dinner had just finished when the Headmaster stood to address the assembled students. “I have good news tonight to tell all of you. Ronald Weasley and Luna Lovegood will be trying their first animagus transformations on the First of November!”

There was applause all around the Great Hall, as Ron and Luna stood and took it in.

“Secondly, I am pleased to say that the Potters are not the only couple whom I will have the pleasure of uniting in marriage this year! Mr. Ron Weasley and Ms. Luna Lovegood have asked me to bind them in Marriage on the day after Thanksgiving! So, all students are invited to stay at Hogwarts over the holiday and celebrate this wonderful event. Thanksgiving is the Twenty-second this year and the wedding will be the next evening. I hope all of you can join me in congratulating them!”

There was much wilder applause following this announcement. It was quiet something for there to be one wedding at Hogwarts during a given school year, but to have three was almost unprecedented.

When the applause died down, and the magical confetti stopped falling on the couple, Dumbledore looked at his Head Boy and Girl and said quietly, so that only they could hear him, “My office. After dinner. “

Neither Harry nor Hermione knew why they were being summoned to the Headmasters’ office, but since they were way ahead in all of their classes, and hadn’t been caught shagging in the back of the restricted section of the library (it had always been one of Hermione’s favorite fantasies), they didn’t understand what was going on. However, they knew Hogwarts was like that occasionally, and that they’d just have to go and find out what was going on.
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Headmasters’ Office, Monday, October 14th, 6: 45 Pm.

Minerva McGonagall was pacing back and forth, in much the same way that the current occupant of the office had a habit of doing. It made him smile to see her so, because it meant that she was beginning to know more of what he had experienced for more than thirty years. It was one more way that they knew each other and it pleased him.

A knock on the inner, solid Mahogany door, stopped her in her tracks. “Come”.

The door opened and Hermione entered in, with Harry in tow.

Dumbledore stepped out of the doorway to their private room as they entered the outer office. “Welcome, Harry, Hermione. Thank you for getting here so quickly. We have much to discuss and less than optimal time in which to do it.”

They looked back at him, somewhat mystified. Things had been very, very quiet in the school since they had returned from their honeymoon, so discipline could not have been what they had been summoned to discuss. The Minister for Magic had not approached them about the destruction of the Prophet, so that was probably not on the agenda. That left Hermione’s grandmother, Rowena.

Hermione looked at the old man. She had followed Harry’s rapid train of thought and agreed with his conclusion. “My grandmother?”

“She has, apparently, found a solution to her problem. However, it is a solution that is radical and I am very uncomfortable endorsing it. The magic involved has always been viewed as very, very dark, though it need not be.”

Hermione had not thought about her grandmother in days. There had not been much reason to do so and she had had confidence that Rowena was in the best of care with Poppy Pomfrey.

“What is it that she’s suggesting?”

Albus sat down, harder than Hermione was expecting. “It’s old magic, Hermione. Older than this school, I’m afraid. It’s called the Sanguis Ritual.”

Hermione’s eyes flared. “You’ve heard of it, Hermione?”

“Only in passing. It was referred to in a book about blood sacrifices. It hasn’t been performed in England in five hundred years.”

Albus shook his head. “I’m sorry to say that you’re wrong, Hermione. Some of Tom’s forces used it when they were first coming to power in the 1970’s.” Hermione blanched with horror. “I take it by your reaction that you know what it does?”

“Yes, Sir. At least, I think I do. It strips a person of his or her magic and makes that person a muggle or a squib. You can use it to make yourself twice as strong, magically, but the moment you do, you start down the path towards becoming a dementor. It’s horrible.”

Hermione was edging towards hysterical. Harry could feel how she was starting to panic, and so he moved closed to her, so that he could touch her. “It’s alright, Hermione. It’s Rowena’s choice. Remember, she lived almost twenty years as a muggle. She told us, remember?”

Hermione felt like she wanted to faint. What the Headmaster was saying was that her grandmother was willing to undergo the most awful; likely the most torturous magical ritual that had ever been invented in order to atone for what she had done to her husband. It literally ripped away half of who a witch or wizard was as a person. It completely changed how that person defined him- or herself and was like taking away, permanently, one of your three most important senses. The very thought of it staggered her and made her feel ill.

Harry could not, really, understand what Hermione was feeling. There was no doubt that he felt was she was feeling, but he didn’t really understand it.

She poked him mentally, as he stood there, feeling lost. “Harry, it’s like being raped when you’re a virgin. It takes from a girl something that has defined her during her whole teenage life. It’s like being violated mentally. Remember what we did to Rowena…to get to her memories? What she is proposing is like that…only worse…terribly, horribly worse. It would be like if Fred lost George, or the other way around. It’s how they define themselves.”

That got Harry’s attention. He knew, because he had always seen it, what Fred and George had as twins. Watching them as beaters on the Quidditch team during his first three years had made it very, very clear and obvious. He felt bad that he understood Rowena’s sacrifice in terms of the twins, rather than in terms of a girl being raped, and he told Hermione so.

Hermione grabbed his arm and held him tight. “It’s not your fault, Harry. You’re not female. I’m sorry if I pushed too hard at you. It’s just that….what she’s suggesting that she should do is…It’s like giving up your own life to save someone else.”

The Headmaster watched the two intently and wondered what was going on. He saw their eyes flicking back and forth, but didn’t hear a sound between them. It was odd enough that he made a mental note to interrogate them about it, later.

Finally, Hermione spoke for the two of them. “Headmaster? Who has to do the ritual itself? I mean…doesn’t it have to be a…..”

“A blood-relative?” he finished for her, sadly. “Yes, it does. It means that you and she will have to do it together.”

The thought of it made Hermione want to wretch. The overwhelming, nauseous feeling coming from Hermione threatened to beat Harry’s tight mental defenses and he stood there, tight-jawed, and fought the feeling back as strongly as he could. It did not go unnoticed.

Dumbledore walked over to Harry and with a very gentle finger under Harry’s chin, lifted his face so that he could look into the young man’s eyes. That he should have known better was beside the point. The moment that the Headmaster’s gentle mental intrusion began, it was slammed away, forcefully, and sent the aged professor staggering a step.

For the first time in his life, he swore in front of a student. “What in Merlin’s fiendish hell was that?”

Because he was still fighting the nausea, Harry couldn’t answer directly. However, he did have, just barely, enough presence of mind to focus on Dobby and beg him to come to the Headmaster’s office. Hermione felt it, but could do nothing about it. She was still riding the waves of her own revulsion at the thought of having to use magic to strip her grandmother of her magic.

Dobby appeared; his ears wriggling, and he looked around for Harry. Once he spotted him, the little elf saw his master’s distress and tried to intervene. With a touch of one finger from his elf-friend, the nausea eased and Harry was able to speak somewhat coherently.

“Dobby…please...tell the Headmaster why he couldn’t read my thoughts. Make him promise never to tell anyone else except the Headmistress. We can trust her.”

Dobby nodded and then pulled the Headmaster aside, as Hermione continued to struggle with how she was feeling.

Eventually, Hermione’s reaction eased and she started to straighten up. Harry was still walking around in small circles, trying to fight the affects of the feelings which had permeated his wife’s mind. She sent a small probe into his mind. “You ok, love?”

“I will me, ‘Mione. That was rough. I didn’t expect that to happen. We’re going to have to build up some ways of helping each other get through those kinds of feelings.”

Turning to face the Headmaster, they saw him looking at the two of them with what could only be described as profound admiration. “Harry, remember when we first spoke of your animagus transformation? Remember when I said to you: “After all the impossible feats you have accomplished since you were one, I don’t think there is a witch or wizard today who would argue how magically gifted you are, and I would generally consider myself among the most generous of those who allow that you will one day be one of the most powerful wizards our world has ever seen… but even still you manage to surprise me…”
He paused for a moment and then grinned, broadly. “You’ve both outdone yourselves, this time. Dobby told me what you did with the mutual Legilimency charms. I would never, in a million years, have thought to use elf-tears and elf-magic as the binding force for such an ability. Dobby will probably outlive you both, barring anything terrible, so I think that you can expect to have this power with you your whole lives. It astounds me that you would have come up with it, Hermione. More, that it worked so flawlessly. When I tried to enter Harry’s mind a few minutes ago, to see what he was feeling, I was thrown back, hard. Tom, on his best day, did not have that kind of power. So, I feel that I have to retract my statement from your fifth year. You, Harry and Hermione, have both become, now, the most powerful witch and wizard of our age. I do not doubt that books, maybe hundreds, or thousands of books, will be written about the two of you after you pass to the next, great adventure.”

Hermione was fairly glowing with his praise. She had never been spoken of so highly in her life and it was a heady thing. Secretly, she thought that Harry was by far the stronger of the two of them, but Dumbledore didn’t need to know that. It would only provoke a dialog that might go on all night and she was getting tired.

“Headmaster, about my grandmother…..”

“Sadly, Hermione, without your active cooperation, Rowena will always be a danger to herself, until the day that she gains enough courage to harm herself fatally. I do not believe, for a second, that you want that on your conscience, nor do I think that you lack sufficient courage to see through to doing what must be done.”

“Sir, if you please….I was actually thinking…Since she’s voluntarily giving up her magic, it removes the taint from it and makes it pure. Is there any way it could be used for a good purpose?.....” She let the question trail off, inviting him to explore a different path of thinking.

“Oh my God, Hermione. Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking? Oh…yes, I can see you are. Never mind”. Harry backed out of his wife’s thoughts, as so not to distract her from what she was about to say to the wizened Headmaster.

There had been very few times in his life when a student has bested him with an original thought. It was usually the mark of an enormously gifted student; one brighter than all of his or her peers by a long ways. It was obvious that Hermione was such a student….and it was equally obvious that the only wizard in the whole world with enough power, patience, and love to meet her step for step was standing right next to her, holding her hand.

“Oh my, Hermione. You did bring your ‘A’ game tonight, didn’t you?”

Even Minerva McGonagall was lost and she whispered to her lover that it was so. He turned to her and whispered back, as only a lover would do, completely ignoring, for the moment, that the Head Boy and Girl were in the room and watching them. Harry cracked a wicked smile as he looked at his Headmaster and long-time friend. “You two are together, aren’t you?”

Hermione had seen it, but had not been as quick to add two and two. It was McGonagall’s reaction which confirmed it for the Head Girl. “Oh, you scamp! One word of this and you’ll be doing detention from now until eternity, I’ll see to it!”

Her exaggerated threat to Harry set Hermione and Harry rolling with laughter for several minutes.

Even Albus Dumbledore was not immune to the humor of the moment. He turned to his companion, friend, and lover. “I think the muggle term is ‘busted’ “– a comment that set her laughing, despite her vain attempts not to do so.

************************************************
Eventually, sufficient control was restored by all parties present, final plans were made to accomplish Rowena’s heroic sacrifice. Further plans were set in place to contact St. Mungo’s, in order to discuss the impending availability of the rarest of all gifts and it’s potential applicability in healing one of their long-term care patients. It had been a long day, but well worthwhile, Harry thought, as he and his beloved, used their private portkey to return to their private sanctuary.


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