Vox Corporis: Rebirth

Vox Corporis: Rebirth

Chapter 88

“Geisthersteller”



Original story ( VOX CORPORIS) by - MissAnnThropic

fanfiction (dot) portkey (dot) o r g /story/6586/1

Email: miss_anthropic at yahoo dot com



Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copywrite Act of 1998, this work is copyrighted 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: “Ent” is a term created by J.R.R. Tolkien and is copyrighted by the J.R.R. Tolkien Foundation, 1954. See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ent

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From Chapter 87 – “Decisions and Sadnesses”



The older of his twin brothers simply nodded. They had not stayed at Hogwarts for their NEWT’s, but that didn’t make either of them stupid. If he were Ginny, he’d be smirking; knowing that Harry was the one who had given them all of his Tri-Wizard Tournament winnings, and that because of that, they’d never prank him or Hermione. Besides, George was clear on the fact that poking Harry was like poking a dragon that had really bad hemorrhoids – a quick, efficient way of dying.



More minutes passed and with each minutes passing, their nerves frayed that much more. Eventually, their patience was rewarded. A very tired-looking Head Girl and Boy appeared. They walked to the Headmaster\'s desk and looked at him. “It’s done, sir. It took a while, but we did it. There’s nothing left of the accursed thing. It’s truly gone.”



“Very good, you two. I will share Ms. Chang\'s memories with Arthur and his children. I want you two to take the rest of the night off. We’re back at the Wizengamot tomorrow morning, for the investiture ceremony, and you have to look your best.”



The two exhausted teenagers looked at him, grateful for the dismissal; activated their private portkey, and disappeared.

************************************************

In the Antechamber of the Lords’ entrance to the Wizengamot; Friday, October 18th, 8:45 AM



“Let’s get this over with.”



Harry was fidgeting, and for the first time in a while was acting like the 17 year old boy that he was. Hermione had picked up on his nervousness and was pacing, herself. She was dressed in her most formal dress robes, and was wearing both the Queens’ favor, the tiara that she had been given by the Queen for their wedding, and the necklace that had been given to her by the Headmaster. The diamond itself was called Morgana’s Star and was imbued with ageless, mystical enchantments. 22-carat gold surrounded the diamond, as did a dozen smaller, trillium-shaped, perfect blue sapphires. It was priceless beyond description, of course, but that was not what mattered. That she was wearing it – that it was hers – amazed her – but what really mattered, though, was that Dumbledore had given it to her in recognition of her power and her achievements. After their wedding, she had been afraid even to touch it until she had spoken with Dumbledore himself and he had assured her that it had, indeed, been given to the right person. “Wear it next to your Gringotts’ medallion, Hermione. It won’t find a better home”.



“How did you know about that?” She had asked him. He pointed to a painting on the wall of his office.



“You spied on us?”



“No, Hermione, I didn’t. I did, however, ask the former Headmasters to tell me, without naming names, if anything extraordinary ever happened to one of the students, so that I could be kept informed – in a general sense - of things that were so unusual enough as to merit possible concern. Your receiving of a Gringotts’ medallion was something that qualified.”



Stomping her foot down and beginning to feel her anger rising, she said, “How did you know it was me, if you weren’t told my name?”



That caused the Headmaster to arch an eyebrow. “Come now, Hermione. Surely you don’t think that I miss very much, do you? Even if I didn’t see the exchange first-hand, it didn’t take very much to suss out. I remember the satisfied, happy looks on your parents’ faces, immediately afterwards. It was not much of a stretch to put that together with the information that such a gift had been given you.”



It was not the answer she had hoped for, perhaps, but she didn’t leave the Headmasters’ office unsatisfied, either.



“My shoes hurt.”



“Then change their size, Harry! I mean, really...”



“Oh stop it, Hermione. I know I’m being a prat and I apologize. It’s just that I absolutely hate this kind of thing and really, really wish that I wasn’t here and that this wasn’t necessary for us to do.”



“I know you do, Harry. I hate it for you. It was your idea, though, if you’ll remember.”



“I know, Hermione. And yes, I’d do it again, if it meant that we’d help the Weasleys. The point is that we’re being made to jump through ceremonial hoops that put us front and center in the media again. Any chance we can talk Luna into having her father –not- report this?”



Hermione thought about that for a moment – letting Harry feel and see all of her thoughts while she ruminated. Luna cared a great deal about both of them and she was fairly confident that the beautiful, blonde Ravenclaw who shared Ron’s bed would be willing to apply some pressure on her father to at least down-play the investiture ceremony and not include any pictures of the two of them.



“Do you think that would work? Having Luna’s father only print a short column about the ceremony itself and not including any pictures? Could we really get away with that?”



“Yes, I think so. We’d not be lying…only asking him not to ‘feature’ us. There are lots of stock photos that could be used…but he’d not do it if we asked him to not to, I think. We’re lucky that he now owns the major wizarding daily paper and doesn’t seem to give a damn about money. If only we could do something about Teen Witch Weekly!”



Hermiones’ laughter was gentle, but heartfelt, as she thought about all of the articles that had been written about Harry by the notorious rag. Nothing sold an edition of the magazine like new, candid pictures of Harry. The demand for more information about their relationship was constant and, occasionally, it caused Harry to let loose with a torrent of invective about the magazines’ writers, editors, and subscribers. Fortunately, there were no photographers allowed in the Wizengamot, so what little privacy they had as a couple would be preserved – at least for the moment.



The music that they were waiting for suddenly began, catching them by surprise. It was the Fanfare Militaire, which surprised them both. Harry told Hermione, via their link, that he had been expecting something like the third movement to Beethoven’s 9th Symphony or Scotland the Brave or something that was more traditional.



“Ready?”



“Bullocks, no, Hermione, but there it is.” He said, with a grin.



“C’mon, lover-boy. It’s time to claim our seats.” Hermione took his hand and the two of them started towards the door.

************************************************

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!



Dumbledores’ magical staff banged against the granite floor, filling the entire chamber with a sharp, staccato sound. His voice reverberated around the hall. “Oye, Oye, Oye. This special meeting of the Wizengamot of the United Kingdom of Great Britain is called to order. All witches and wizards having business before this honorable body come forward and be recognized and you will be heard. May Merlin protect this great and noble body.”



Several witches and wizards dressed in traditional, formal wizarding wear entered through the main doors at the back of the hall. They were lead by two hit-wizards, both of whom were armed with long staves that were pulsing with magic and long, black, English hand and a half swords. Even Harry, who had long since stopped fearing most all wizards or witches, felt a thrill of fear run down his back. Hit wizards were trained to dueling standards beyond all others, save for the Unspeakables.



He wondered for a moment whether even the almost infinitely terrible Mortuis curse would stop them. Given its power and the motivation that it took even to cast it, Harry thought that it would. Hermione almost chuckled silently in his mind. “Thinking about taking them on?”



Harry snorted. “Hell, no. They’d most probably wipe the floor with me. My powers seem directly tied to how I’m feeling. Someone messes with you and they die, plain and simple. Other than that…I’m pretty tame.”



Hermione nodded. She knew that Harry’s magic was, more or less, directly tied to his emotional state. The angrier he was, the more deadly, until he reached the point where it came out. When it did…it was either truly magnificent or truly terrible and awful to behold. When he was calm, he was powerful and focused – they both were – but it didn’t feel like God himself had suddenly decided to appear. That happened only when he was killing mad. Hermione was grateful for that, because she knew that Harry might be moved, in her defense, to do again terrible, even ghastly things – as he had the night that he killed Tom. She prayed that with Tom gone, their lives would have the peace and love that they had always wanted and hoped for.



“Harry, you know that you’re…we’re….both more powerful than either suspect. We do wandless magic as if it’s second-nature now. NO ONE else does that, save for the Headmaster himself. You know that.”



She felt his acquiescence and went silent, as not to provoke a row between them. His power was something that he didn’t want to talk about, or really acknowledge, even if it was patently obvious to everyone else. She knew that it made him feel apart; separate from everyone, and that bothered him. That she could match him, trick for trick and power for power, most of the time, was the only thing that kept him from feeling alone. Ron had certainly grown into his powers and was performing at a much higher level than he had ever done before….but he was nothing compared to Harry. The confrontation between Ron and Harry during the fall of their fifth year had been enough for Ron to realize that Harry was a hugely more powerful wizard than he’d ever be and that was all there was to it.



Hermione was grateful that Ron’s older brothers Bill and Charlie had, sometime during Ron’s sixth year, explained to Ron that there was no point being jealous of Harry because of it and that he’d just be wasting emotional energy if he continued along that path. They were sure, they had told him, that he’d eventually have his own, unique powers, and to be content with them. Eventually, with Luna’s help, Ron had come to accept that life was not always fair or even, and that he’d just have to work harder and smarter, if he was going to become the type of person in whom he could be proud.



“So far, so good”, Hermione thought absently to herself.



Because he had had nothing else to do, Harry had been following his wife’s train of thought in regards to Ron, and agreed with her assessment of the situation. He told her so silently, as they stood before the dais where Dumbledore sat. Joining hands, they looked up at the assembled body of wizards and witches. There were lots of smiles directed their way, as well as a few scowls. Noting each face, the two smiled back and tried to convey a feeling of happiness and appreciation for the support they were being offered.



Standing up, the Headmaster looked down at them and smiled. It was time for the Ceremony of Investiture to begin. The members of the Wizengamot quieted down and a light seemed to settle on the Headmaster, as he addressed the two.



“Lord and Lady Potter-Black, on behalf of the Wizengamot, I welcome you both. Today we do something we, as a body, have not done since your father, Lord James Potter, ascended to the leadership of your family. This is a day to celebrate. We also acknowledge, with sadness, that you are also claiming the leadership of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. We all grieve with you, for the loss of your godfather. Sirius Black was as good a man as this body has ever claimed in its ranks.”



There was a rustle among the body, as people sat up a little straighter and their eyes focused more intently on the pair.



“Are you two, therefore, prepared to accept all of the responsibilities that come with membership in this body? Will you give your lives, if necessary, to protect the secrecy under which we all live?”



“We do and we will” Harry and Hermione said together, as they looked up at the Headmaster.



“Do you both promise to protect and defend, with your lives if necessary, the Kingdom of Great Britain ?”



Hermione looked at Harry and then at Dumbledore. She knew, already, that Harry was loyal to the country, even if the people of wizarding Great Britain had been less than loyal to him.



Looking at the flag that hung from the wall, behind the Headmaster, Harry and Hermione both said, “We do.”



“Finally, do you both swear by Almighty God that you will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, her heirs and successors and that you will as in duty bound honestly and faithfully defend Her Majesty, her heirs and successors in person, crown and dignity against all enemies and will observe and obey all orders of Her Majesty, her heirs and successors and of the elected officials set over you both?”



“We do, so help us God.”



Hermione smiled. The wording of the oath was word-for-word right out of the military oath that British muggle soldiers swore when they were inducted. She wondered how many of the members of the Wizengamot knew that it was so.



Following her train of thought, Harry smiled inside. “Not many, if any, ‘Mione. But why should that surprise you? How can I keep from loving you?”



“You can’t, prat, and yes, I love you too. I wonder if the members even know the true meaning of irony.”



“You can be sure that the Headmaster knows. He probably instituted the oath, just to rub it in their faces.”



The BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Of the Headmasters’ staff cut off Harry’s next thought and the two stopped looking at each other and once again turned their attention to Dumbledore.



“Lord and Lady Potter-Black, let me be the first to welcome you officially to the Wizengamot. May your membership be long and fruitful and may your wisdom add to worth and work of this august body. May God bless this solemn body.”



Dumbledore’s statement was what the thing for which the rest of the body had been waiting. Almost as one, the members rose and applauded the two young people who were the center of attention. Still holding her husbands’ hand, Hermione thought that it was nice, for a change, to be applauded and not feel as though they had to do anything more than just be.



“Hermione, love. You know that we’re supposed to go to lunch with the Headmaster; the Minister for Magic, and several others? I suggested the Capital Restaurant, since we know Johnathan and we can get some privacy there.”



Biting her lip, as she sometimes did when she was concerned about something, Hermione looked around. “You’re not looking at me, love. Share?”



What Harry really meant was for Hermione to tell him what was bothering her. It was a word that they both used; partially as an invitation and partially as a way of expressing curiosity about what the other was thinking. Despite the astonishing openness of their mental communication, each could still effectively wall off the other – at least for a little while – so that they both could process private thoughts. Eventually though, the pressure became too great and they had to let down the barrier. It was as if there was an enormous, magical pressure to be completely open with the other that would not be denied.



Hermione dropped her barrier and let Harry into her thoughts. She sighed audibly as the mental pressure went away and a sense of peace and pleasure filled her again, as Harry’s thoughts once again mixed with her own.



“It’s just that I have a bad feeling, Harry. I don’t know how to say it, but I think something’s going to happen if we go there. I can’t pin it down…I just know that something is telling me that something is waiting to happen and not going there might put it off a little while. I’m doubting myself and I’m feeling like a coward for wanting to run away with you and not be seen again until we’re married on New Years’ eve.”



“You’re not a coward, Hermione. I have learned to trust your instincts and I’ll go and tell the Headmaster that we’re not going to lunch with them, if that’s what you’d like me to do.”



“Fuck! I mean….god damn it, Harry! Listen to me. I’m turning into a wimp. Since when have we run from a fight?”



“Since we fell in love and realized that not all fights are our fights, Hermione. There’s something to be said for living to fight another day….or not fighting at all. I want to live a long, long time with you and love you every day of my life. I can’t think that’s a bad thing.”



The thing that had come to typify their relationship – the Nimbus Lumens Amor – sprang up and surrounded them. “Oh Harry. I love you, too. Let’s go to the damn luncheon. We’ll have our portkeys at the ready, though, ok?”



“Good thought. If either of us senses something bad, we grab the other and go; no questions asked, right?”



Hermiones’ mental ‘outlook’ brightened considerably, as she thought about the wisdom of her husbands’ suggestion. Squeezing his hand and pushing all of her love at him, she thought, “I love you.” She didn’t have to say anything more. Their decision was made and suddenly, nothing more had to be said. It was a very calming feeling.



Eventually, the applause died down and the two were escorted towards their newly created seats, off to the Headmasters’ left; a row down and forward of where Dumbledore sat, in his role of Chief Warlock.



The rest of the meeting was anticlimactic; save for the moment when an argument broke out between several of the members over the issue of giving new powers of taxation and regulation to the Ministry for Magic’s department of magical businesses. It seems that someone’s ox was being gored by the proposed legislation and he didn’t like it one bit. Both Hermione and Harry got the feeling that it was just all about money and the expectations of privilege and nothing more.



As they filed out, Hermione thought to him, “Are they all that petty? If they are, I’m not coming back!”



Harry laughed, over their connection. “Hermione, I love you. Of course they’re not all like that. Just 99% of them!!”



Hermione snorted out loud. “That few? My faith in our system is restored!”



“Seriously, Hermione. I get the sense that most of them are all right and they’re only petty like that when there’s money involved. Money is a damn corrupting force and most of the members are ‘pure-bloods’ or are half-bloods who wish they were ‘pure-bloods’. That’s one thing that has become damn clear in our politics class. Even if it’s not talked about in ‘Hogwarts: A History’, I know we’ve both read about how envy causes people to do terrible things.”



“I know, Harry. I just wish that we didn’t have to put up with their attitudes sometimes. For me, it’s like dealing with an open sore that you’ve just spilled lemon juice into.”



“Well, we’ll deal with what comes. Let’s go to lunch and find out what the Minister and Dumbledore are thinking.”



With a sweep of his arm, Harry led Hermione out of the antechamber and towards the members’ apparition point.

************************************************

Capital Restaurant, Friday, October 18th, 12:45 PM



The restaurant was reasonably quiet, given the fact that it was Friday and most of the magical people in London were either working at their desks (as Ministry employees often did) or they were otherwise occupied. The membership of the Wizengamot would have filled the restaurant to capacity, but there were enough places that catered to magical as well as muggle clients that no one eatery was ever overwhelmed with business.



Stephens’, in Edinburgh (which was too far to travel just for lunch), was the only other place where Harry felt really comfortable, though, and so it was into Johnathan’s hands that Harry entrusted their luncheon meeting.



As usual, Johnathan came over to Harry as he and Hermione led the party of twelve from the foyer towards the Maître d’s station. “Harry! To what to I owe the pleasure today?”



Harry took the outstretched hand and, with a very smooth redirection of movement, led the young man towards a corner. Once there, Harry spoke quietly and quickly. “Johnathan, I’ve got an important party here today, as you saw.” Johnathan nodded and then Harry continued. “Hermione’s got a bad feeling about today’s meeting and I need to you post one or two of your best people at the entrances, so that we don’t get any nasty surprises.”



The young Maître d\' swallowed hard, once, and then took out his own wand. “I’ll see to the security personally, Harry. I’ve got a couple of people who double as waiters who know their business – not like you, of course – but enough to give you some warning. Anything in particular we should be looking out for?”



Shaking his head, Harry looked frustrated. “I don’t know, Johnathan, but if anything happens, I’ll pay for any damages, ok? I’ll not see you or the restaurant hurt because of me.”



Johnathan smiled. “Harry, don’t worry. When you started showing up regularly, I spoke with Gringotts about some extra business insurance for just such situations. We’re covered for anything short of Riddle showing up for dinner.”



He immediately regretted using that particular name; seeing the look on Harry’s face. “I’m sorry, Harry…..”



Harry waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my problem. I just don’t want to see anything happen to Hermione. She deserves to have peace and quiet for a while.”



“I understand completely.”



“Good. Now, let’s see to the guests, ok? Please bring up a couple of the good bottles of Oregon Pinot Noir and two bottles of Chardonnay from Ile St. Re. There’s a winery….Gerard something or other.”



“Gerard Bertrand?”



Harry nodded. “Yes, that’s it. I heard Hermiones’ parents talking about it and I’ve tasted a little of it. I think my guests will like it.”



“Good choices, Harry. I think those will be fine. I set up the private dining room for you all the moment I received your patronus. Nice cat, by the way! I saw that it had changed from its original form…”



He let the implicit question hang when he saw that Harry wasn’t going to give him an answer.



“Well – go see your guests. They should have been seated by now. Ginger will be your waitress today and I have my best pastry chef on duty to make something good for afterwards.”



Smiling, Harry turned on his heels and walked towards the private room that had been set aside for them. He hoped that the precautions which he had just asked for would fend off anyone who might pose a problem. Constant Vigilance! Wasn’t just a phrase, but a way of life for him and Hermione. He just hoped that today it wouldn’t be necessary.

************************************************

Lunch, and the Minister for Magics’ somewhat inane small-talk, came and went and soon, delightful and terribly fattening deserts were gracing their plates. Hot coffee, tea, or mulled ciders were accepted or declined by the members of the assembled group. Hermione hoped, and she had silently told Harry so, that the more than seven bottles of wine that the group had done in would not cause those who were apparating home to splinch themselves. Drinking and apparating were as big a no-no in the wizarding world as drinking and driving was in the muggle world. She didn’t want to be responsible, as the hostess, for someone getting hurt on their way back to work or home.

Eventually, the Minister for Magic, the Deputy Minister, and the rest stood to take their leave. It was at that moment that things began to go awry.



Between the moment the Minister for Magic stood and Dumbledore rose to protect him, a beam of angry, red magic splashed against a wall.



“Harry!” Came Hermiones’ silent scream of warning. “Corner! Skeeter! Protego! Laceo! Bombarda!”



Hermiones’ spells; a shield charm, a cutting curse, and a modified version of the Reducto curse flew in Rita’s direction. The cutting curse caught the reporters’ left arm; causing a gash just below the shoulder. The second curse missed; smashing instead into a planter behind and to the left of the blonde woman.



The next moment, the Headmaster’s wand was out and he fired two almost-simultaneous spells at the former Prophet reporter. It was either her lucky day or she had gotten far better at dueling, because she used a modified deflector charm to push the two spells away from her and towards the ceiling.



That caused Dumbledores’ left eyebrow to ascend significantly and earned a definite frown from the legendary wizard. Rita saw it and taunted him. “Not so powerful now, eh, Albus? Surprised that a Ravenclaw could turn away your pathetic spells?”



“Ah, Ms. Skeeter, I see that you still have not learned the lesson we were trying to impart during your Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Duels are not won or lost by words or a bit of luck, but rather by the person who gets back up again one more time than his or her opponent. They are also not won by one person against such an assembly as has gathered here today for lunch.”



The former Prophet reporter snarled. “Screw you, old man. You never have grasped the true nature of man. See how you like this. Sectumsempra!”



Instead of hurling the curse back at Dumbledore, she changed wand-direction at the last minute and sent the awful curse at Harry, who, off-guard and off-balance, caught a part of it on his right cheek. It tore open a long gash that ran from his lip to his ear. The blood poured down his face and instantly covered his shirt and dress jacket in blood.



Harry was unceremoniously grabbed from behind by one of the Ministers’ hit-wizards, so that he could be healed and gotten out of the line of fire. While Harry was being cared for, the wizards and witches behind Dumbledore had erected a powerful anti-apparition field and were working to conjure an anti-portkey ward.



Hermione, though, seeing Harry bleeding and lost in a fog of pain, lost what little control she had over Sagehunter. In an instant, she was the Great Plains huntress and she leapt at the woman who had just hurt her mate.



In reality, there was much that Rita didn’t know. How to fend off one hundred and thirty five kilos of raging, uncontrolled lioness was one of the things for which she had failed to obtain instruction. It took less than two full seconds for Hermione to cover the distance between them. The moment that she did, Rita froze the sight of the five-centimeter fangs.



Hermione didn’t care what the ugly, nasty, vindictive woman thought or felt. She wanted her dead and Sagehunter was the fastest way to make that happen.



What happened next was a matter of debate. What Harry saw was Dumbledore reaching out with one hand and magically pulling Sagehunter away from Rita. What the Minister for Magic saw was a woman about to be struck down by a terrifying wild animal, but then stopped by an unknown force. What Hermione actually felt was a hand close about the nape of her feline neck and gently, but firmly pull her away from her intended victim and then close the distance himself, so that he stood face to face with the despicable woman, with Hermione still snarling and spitting at his back.



That Rita didn’t wet herself once she was face to face with him was a testament to her internal fortitude – which some, over the years, had called blind stupidity. The visage before her was far more terrible than any dementor. The feeling of awful and bone-chilling evil coursed through her like the bitterest night-winds that swept through the mountains north of where Hogwarts castle lay. The horrible black, pulsating outline and ghostly white skull, surrounded by a billowing black cape looked at and through her. The voice, raspy and full of menace, said “Be gone, Rita, for I will surely kill you if we ever meet again.”



No one else heard him, or if they did, was too scared to say anything.



Her one, almost-whispered word, before disappearing in the blue-white magic of a portkey, was “Geisthersteller”

************************************************

Headmasters’ Office; Hogwarts, one hour later



They had not made it out of the restaurant when Hermione had run away. Not actually ran, but rather had apparated away. The kiss that she had given him just before she fled was desperate, and filled with a sadness that had no name. It bothered Harry that he could no longer feel her magic because it meant she was either at their home in Godric\'s Hollow, or she had taken refuge in the chapel at Hogwarts. Harry guessed that she was probably in Godric\'s Hollow – because that is where they had decided to call ‘home’ and she felt safest there.



She had left the moment she had heard what Rita had said; the shock of it resonating through their bond in such a profound way that he was still shaken by it. The Headmaster had refused to tell Harry what it meant, which made him sure that it was not good. Harry had felt what Rita had felt – but didn’t understand why. He just knew that Hermione knew what the word meant and it scared her.



The other thing, besides the Headmasters’ silence, was why Rita had gone undetected in the restaurant. Of course she had been in her beetle form - that much was obvious. Somehow, she must have followed them from the Wizengamot -- or guessed correctly where they’d take lunch -- and smuggled herself into the restaurant in the clothing or personal gear of one of the employees. What galled Harry was the neither of the hit-wizards who accompanied the Minister for Magic had detected Rita’s presence. If they had, the whole incident might have been prevented – which would have kept Hermione from feeling like she had to take the foul, loathsome woman apart with her claws.



Finally, Harry looked at the Headmaster, who was sitting behind his desk, smoking his pipe and making odd, but somehow familiar shapes with the smoke. “Headmaster, you know that Hermione is going to tell me what Rita said. It’s a matter of time. Tell me what’s going on and then I won’t feel like you’re purposefully hiding things from me again.”



“Harry”, he said quietly, taking the pipe from his lips, “there are some things about me that you don’t need to know. If Hermione knows, and chooses to share the information, then I will answer some of your questions. Until then, please understand that I, too, have a need for privacy, and have the right not to share all of my life\'s experiences with you.”



It wasn’t the answer Harry was looking for, but he felt that he had to be content with it for the moment. “Sir?” Harry said, looking at the floor, “How was it that Rita wasn’t detected by the Ministers’ hit wizards? I mean…they should have had devices with them to detect hidden animagi…or something. How secure could the Minister really be if he can be surprised like that?”



A slight smile appeared on the Headmasters’ face. “Harry, those are good questions, and I suspect that the two hit-wizards who were with the Minister today are answering them – or at least trying to do so – to their bosses right about now. I suspect that such devices, which I know exist, will be made more readily available to the hit-wizard teams in the near future. Perhaps the Weasley twins would be interested in such a project?”



The implicit suggestion to Harry was that he notify the twins and let them know that such a device could and would profit them if they made it available in quantity. Grinning, Harry looked at the old man whom he had come to regard as a grandfather of sorts. “I think that they would like that very much, Sir. I just can’t imagine who might suggest such to them!”



“Off with you then, Harry. I know that you are a busy young man; sending messages and saving the wizarding world and what ever else you get up to these days.”



It was cheeky of the Headmaster to say, but Harry took it with the spirit in which it was offered. He turned to wave on his way out, but realized that he didn’t feel happy enough to do so, and left the office.



After watching Harry take his leave, Dumbledore sat back, contemplating what would happen when Harry learned about the past and the terrible day that Albus Dumbledore became branded with the name “Geisthersteller”. The two of them were much more alike than he cared to think about – and in ways that he didn’t wish on his young protégé.

************************************************

Godrics’ Hollow; 3:05 PM



She felt him coming, even before he materialized in their bedroom. Perfectly attuned to his magic, she knew when he would arrive and so she waited on the edge of the bed. The fact that he was able to come and go noiselessly was only one of the things that set him apart from all the other wizards and witches in the country. He also shared a soul-bond with the most brilliant witch for a thousand years; who just happened to be a ‘first-born’ witch.



The moment that Harry turned around, Hermione flung herself into his arms. She had been afraid that he’d be mad that she’d run off without even letting him know where she was going, but he wasn’t. Hermione was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, he knew, and she’d not do anything to endanger either her own life (and by extension, his) or their relationship, so he hadn’t worried. All of that, and more, was shared across their intimate mental connection in less time that it takes most people to contemplate their next breath.



“I’d missed you, love. Meeting with Dumbledore was interesting, if not exactly enlightening.”



“I got that much, Harry. He didn’t want to be honest with you because he thought you might hate him, afterwards. Close your eyes for a moment and I will tell you everything I’ve known or just found out.”



Harry did as he was told and almost immediately, all of the information that Hermione had either ever read or had just recently found poured into his thoughts. He was impressed with just how much Hermione knew of the Headmasters’ back-story.



When he came across the important part, though, it shook him – even more than the Headmaster had thought it might, as Harry pressed him.



“Grim, isn’t it?” Hermione asked gently, across their link.



“Yes. Twenty-two thousand? All at once?” Harry was sick with the truth of it. More, it made him angry. Angry because Harry remembered the guilt and sadness that he had felt after killing all of the death eaters and now he knew that Dumbledore had known what Harry had experienced the night that he had faced Tom for the final time and had said nothing.



Now, too, Harry knew that Dumbledore had used the same curse – the forbidden Mortuis Curse – to kill an entire division of men before Grindelwald was destroyed. He knew, intellectually, that what the Headmaster had done was no more or no less than what had to be done in order for Grindelwald to be stopped. It was just the scale of it that made him feel sick.



Hermiones’ words in his mind were gentle – as she tried to consol him and reassure him of her love. “He was an adult at the time – and more than seventy-seven years old – when he took down Grindelwald. So, no, it’s not the same, Harry. You were not even sixteen yet! No wonder you felt guilt over it. No teenager should have to bear that kind of burden and you know it. Dumbledore did what he felt he had to do.



The entire conversation was taking place as the two sat side-by-side on their bed; holding each other and trying to find solace in the others’ touch.



“Can you tell me what ‘Geisthersteller’ means?”



“Yes, Harry. It means ‘Ghost-maker’. It’s a name that hasn’t been spoken in a long time. Remember when the Headmaster was telling us about wizarding government and the Wizengamot? Remember what he said about the Germans and the ICW? For a while, things didn’t add up for me and so I went and did a bit of digging. It took me a while to put all the pieces together, but I figured it out. The reason that the Germans don’t have representation on the ICW is because of Dumbledore. He’s forbidden from ever entering Germany. Not only that, but the Germans won’t even send a representative to deal with him. They’d rather go their own way so long as Dumbledore is alive.”



That surprised him. Surprised him because Dumbledore was so famous and so well-respected for all that he had done over the years. Famous not just because he had destroyed Grindelwald, but also because he was the co-discoverer of the twelve uses of dragon blood; had repeatedly fought off Riddles’ efforts to gain power; was Witch Weekly’s top-most eligible bachelor for almost ten years running [still held the record, according to Lavender Brown]; and, finally, was the long-standing leadership of both the Wizengamot and Hogwarts. If the Germans wouldn’t send a representative to the ICW, it meant that they really, genuinely and unanimously, felt that Dumbledore was someone with whom even speaking could not be condoned. Harry thought that was odd, because even the Yanks – who truly hated the Germans during WWII – were partners with them in many international organizations. If they Americans could do that, then why couldn’t the Germans finally forgive Dumbledore? There had to be something more to the story…but Harry couldn’t figure it out.



“It’s hard to tell why people settle on certain attitudes, Harry. I don’t know why the Germans can’t forgive him, either.”



Hermione could feel Harry’s twisting gut and knew exactly why it was happening. It was a very hard thing to think that the person who filled the role of grandparent could be capable of such death. It was as if Hermione had discovered that her grandmother was a professional killer or something. All she could do in the moment, though, was to try to comfort Harry and help him work through all of his feelings. She hoped it was enough. “You never disappoint me, Hermione. I love you and I know that you just want me to be alright. It’s just hard. He’s never told me any of this…and now you come along and show me things that I – we - should have known years ago.”



His words, though silently delivered, warmed her and made her realize just how much she loved her husband. She knew that there was no one like him and that she was very, very lucky to be his wife.



Neither saw the golden cloud that had sprung up around them. They didn’t need to, for they could feel it and that was enough.



“Make love?”



“Yes Harry. I need it too.”

************************************************

Hours later, Hermione woke next to her husband. He was face down; one arm draped across her chest. His back was silky-smooth and very well-muscled with not a centimeter of fat anywhere on him. The full-length dressing mirror, which stood upright in the corner of their room, was big enough for her to see his powerfully muscled arse and legs. There wasn’t a Greek god, in statuary, or in the heavens themselves, who could look more powerful and more beautiful than her husband did at that moment.



The mirror was a guilty pleasure of a sort, because it allowed her to watch him move above her as they made love. It helped her to cum, and cum hard, when she’d look in the mirror and see him above her; his arse flexing to some magical rhythm as he filled her again and again or when she’d kneel in front of him and watch his reflection in the mirror, clasping her hips in his hands and filling her with his enormous cock. She mused that if her mother ever found out about the mirror, she’d profess to being shocked….at least until Hermione took the mickie out of her by pointing out the mirror on the ceiling in her mothers’ own bedroom.



Harry must have felt her mental stirrings, because she suddenly felt his arm close about her and pull her closer to him. “I love you, ‘Mione.”



Hermione felt the warmth of Harry’s love – which was like shimmering, warm ocean waves – radiating off him, directed towards her. It was the most comforting thing that she had ever felt and she could never get enough of it. She knew that she’d die, rather than have it taken from her, and so she snuggled close to him; closed her eyes, and let her magic join with his.

************************************************



Godrics’ Hollow; 6:31 PM



“We’ve missed class, Harry!”



Hermione launched herself out of bed and towards her long, walk-in, cedar-lined closet and started pulling a pile of clothes together; finishing with her every-day school robe.



From where he lay on the rumpled bed, the young, black-haired, green-eyed wizard looked at her, the “Weasley” clock in the corner of their room, and then out the bay window which dominated one wall of their bedroom. It was dark outside and there was a pouring rain beating against its pane. He saw that his beautiful wife was banging around noisily – almost angrily – and he realized what was bothering her.



“Fuck. I’m sorry, ‘Mione. I didn’t mean to have us sleep late!!”



She turned at looked at him; a withering glare trying to paint itself on her face. Then she stopped and thought for a moment. It would have been easy to yell at him for having them miss their 4 PM animagus/transfiguration class – which they were supposed to be teaching. She had done it before….the night that they had arrived on the Hogwarts Express, and she knew, too, that it had broken Harry’s heart. Thinking back to when Harry had bolted from their first meeting with Cho in the Heads’ common room, after she had gratuitously insulted him, Hermione realized that she had been channeling some of her mothers’ less-than-pleasant, unkind, controlling personality characteristics since she and Harry had gotten married and decided to stop it, there and then. Harry deserved better – far better -and more, she knew that he loved her more than life itself. She hid her face in her hands; deeply mortified by her initial reaction to realizing that they had missed their class.



The sound of someone sobbing caught her up short and suddenly, she realized that she had been lost in her own thoughts and that Harry had probably ‘heard’ everything that she had been thinking.



Harry was sitting up on ‘his’ side of the bed, his arms wrapped around his knees, crying in a way she had not heard him do since he had received the news that Sirius had died. She ran across the room and threw herself on him; pulling him out of his self-embrace, so that she could hold him tight.



The sadness he was feeling was not because of anything she had said, but rather over the fact that she didn’t understand how much he loved her – and that he forgave her anything, no matter how big or how small. She pushed thoughts at him and in response; he opened his mind totally to her. They had done so for each other the night they were married and not since then, so she welcomed the openness.



“Harry?”

He could feel her need to be forgiven for her almost automatic reaction to whatever troubled her. “Hermione? It’s not the yelling that hurts. What hurts is that you didn’t take the time to ask me what I was feeling, first, before you yelled. It’s like you didn’t trust my motives or something.”



“I know, Harry. Now I know. I promise I won’t yell at you again. I love you too much.” And she did. She loved him more than she loved anyone else in the world. He was sure of it. It’s what made him so protective of her and what made him want to take them away from the wizarding world – at least far enough away that they could raise their children in peace and love each other, without worrying what others thought or did.



“Love? I don’t want to go back to school tonight. Since we’ve missed class already and the prefects will handle patrols tonight. Let’s stay here. I think we’ve gotten somewhere new tonight…and I don’t want to let go of it or you.”



One of the things that had always made Harry so special to her was the fact that although he had come to Hogwarts pale, too skinny, and lacking some of the courage that he would have had if his parents had lived, he was emotionally open with her. Not that he was that way with anyone else, because he wasn’t, but he was with her, and it was all that mattered. “Never again”, Hermione thought to herself. “Never again will I yell at you, Harry. I love you.”



“I know, love. I know.”



With that, the two of them fell back on the bed and held each other tight; each promising to never, ever let the other go.

=====================================================================================



In the tall spire of Gryffindor House, a tall redhead and his blonde bond-mate lay hidden by the curtains which surrounded the four-poster bed. Their need to make love satiated for the moment, the need for sleep claimed them. There was no one else to see the soft, golden glow which gathered around them, but it didn’t matter. Tucked into a corner, on a shelf in the farthest recesses of the Headmasters’ sanctum sanctorum, a small red crystal, with the letter W etched into its surface, began to glow as brightly as the brightest muggle bulb. Twenty-one generations of Weasleys had passed on since its creation at the hands of Sir Perceval Ignatius Weasley. From the other side of the veil, the eldest son whom Molly had lost at birth, Arthur Wulfric Weasley, smiled a contented smile.



Neither Ron nor Luna had any awareness of the alarms going off in the Headmasters’ office and it would be many hours before they would be told.



What mattered was that the seventh son of the seventh son was coming into his own promised power. The blonde witch who lay next to him smiled to herself as she felt his power growing, surrounding, and bonding to her own magic. She knew that she was no longer alone and would live a long, full life with the man who loved her so much. Minutes or maybe hours passed before a single, solitary tear escaped her eye as she dreamt about her mother, Selene, who had died during a potions accident. As the tear fell, the beautiful, thoughtful young woman felt long, powerful arms tighten about her and pull her even closer to him.



=====================================================================================

Saturday, October 19th, 10:17 AM, The Great Hall, Hogwarts



Breakfast on Saturday mornings was always a lazy affair, except for Quidditch days. It was no wonder then that Ron Weasley and his intended, Luna Marie Lovegood, were just entering the Great Hall in search of sustenance. What was odd though was that the Headmaster seemed to be waiting for their entrance. He looked down at them from the center of the staff table as the two walked up the aisle to the left of the Gryffindor house table.



Standing up, Dumbledore looked down at them with a smile on his face. “Mr. Weasley, Ms. Lovegood, if you could both be kind enough to join me in my office after breakfast, I would appreciate it very much. Something has come up that we must discuss today.”



Quickly analyzing whether or not he had done anything recently to merit punishment, he realized that he had not, and the sudden cold which had come over him while the Headmaster had stood to address him left with the same alacrity has it had arrived.



“Ah….yes, Sir. That is, we’d be pleased to join you.” Luna nodded her assent and then, taking Ron’s hand, guided them to a spot which she felt was appropriate for the two of them.



Just as they were sitting, another well-known couple suddenly appeared in the Hall. No sound; no displaced pop! like the house-elves…..just their sudden presence. It was very, very unnerving for those who saw it. That included the Headmaster, who shook his head and slumped down into his chair. The Headmistress-designate looked at her lover and friend and knew exactly why he felt as he did. It was a hard thing to be the most powerful wizard in all of Europe for more than seventy years and then suddenly be displaced from that position. But, she couldn’t argue with his assessment. The Head Boy and Girl; Lord and Lady Potter-Black, were the most powerful people she had ever seen. Every movement; every thing they did resonated with just-barely-bridled power.



As the pair walked to their usual spots, they stopped to greet the tall, handsome red-head and his betrothed. The hugs were warm and intense; filled with an abiding affection that spoke of unbreakable bonds and understanding that surpassed usual friendships.



The Headmistress-designate and the Headmaster were not the only ones watching however. From a far corner, an unhappy young man watched the foursome. He had grown increasingly frustrated over the months. He had a girlfriend and friends around him who genuinely cared about him, yet he was dissatisfied. There was something about Lady Potter which fired his loins and made him want to do unspeakable things to her. They were dangerous thoughts, he knew. The family, as the Weasleys referred to themselves, had made it very plain that even approaching Lady Potter again would be bad or even fatal for him. It was gaulling.



Turning back to his food, and the conversation swirling about him at the table, Blaise Zabini did his best to forget about the lustrous beauty who graced Lord Potter’s arm. It was going to be a long morning, he thought.

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The knock at the interior door, to the office of the Headmaster, was made as gently as the tall red-head could manage. He had been called to the office only twice before – once because of the damn basilisk during his and Harry’s second year, and once because of the fallout from the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Neither conversation had been fun; though the first one went considerably better than the second. It helped that his beautiful wife was with him. It was funny how easily thinking of Luna like that had come to him, but in his mind, that was what she was already, and he no longer thought of himself as being carefree and without responsibility. Luna was his whole world and he would do anything to care for and protect her. Belatedly, he had realized that Harry had been a very good example for him, even if it had been at a distance.



“Come in, please”, came the voice from the other side of the door.



Hand in hand, Luna and Ron entered the Headmasters’ outer office. It was much more spacious than the sanctum sanctorum and had a much higher ceiling. Ron wondered if that was for Fawkes’ benefit as much as it was for style. Luna caught Ron’s eyes as they traveled from the phoenix asleep on its perch, up to the square, open windows which circled the high, vaulted ceiling.



“Sir? You asked to speak to us?”



The Headmaster, with Professor McGonagall standing behind him and to his right, looked at the pair. “Yes, Ronald. Thank you for coming so quickly after breakfast. I know this is not, generally, a place you want to be in, but rest assured that no trouble is to befall you today. Rather, you’re here – you’re both here – so that I can tell you about a prophecy that was made about you and to help you fulfill it.”



Ron’s lower jaw almost hit the floor; requiring Luna to reach over and gently, but firmly, lift it back into place. “Sir, you must be mistaken. Harry’s the one who gets prophecies and things about him. Not me. I’m a nobody.”



That statement made Luna take a very deep breath and turn to her husband (for that’s how she thought of him, too), so that she could excoriate him over his lack of self-worth. Professor McGonagall felt the young witches’ magic begin to rise and knew that she had to head off the impending explosion, before either said something that would be hurtful.



“Ronald Bilius Weasley! I will NOT have you speaking of yourself that way. I’m ashamed of you, that you would think so little of yourself, after all you’ve done to support Harry. He’s counted on you and you’ve always been there for him. Really! Your mother would be very disappointed.”



Ron’s ears flushed as red as the rest of him, as he felt his Headmistresses’ disapproval and saw the look of sadness on his wife’s face. McGonagall’s disapproval he could bear, he knew, but Luna’s disappointment made him want to fold into a little ball and beg forgiveness. Her approval and support meant much more to him than anything even his mother could say or do, which was saying a very great deal indeed.



He turned to her and looked her in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Luna. I’ll try to be better about that.” She nodded her acceptance and gave his hand a loving squeeze. It was enough for them both.



Turning back to face the Headmaster, Ron made an effort to straighten his shoulders and present himself with a bit more pride and dignity. Looking down from his imposing 2-meter height, Ron tried to show the Headmaster and Headmistress-designate that he was ready and willing to listen without further embarrassing interruptions or asinine statements.



“Ronald, now that we have that out of the way, let me tell you that this morning, very early, I entered my inner office. On a shelf was a small, ornately created item that has been a part of the resident Headmasters’ office for a very, very long time. It was created by Perceval Ignatius Weasley – twenty one generations ago - in the middle of the sixteenth century. When we are finished today, I will give it to you, as it rightly belongs to your family now.”



“But what…..?”



The Headmaster smiled. “But what about the prophesy? I’ll tell you, since you asked. The prophecy is that a man would be born, the seventh son of the seventh son, and when he knew love and had accepted his place in the world, would finally unleash the full potency of the Weasley Clan and would restore the family’s honor and position as one of the Ancient and Noble Houses.”



Ron was taken aback; thunderstruck by the enormity of what he had just been told. Then something dinged! in his mind. “Headmaster? How can it be me? I’m only the sixth son.”



It was Minerva’s turn. She looked at her young charges. “No Ronald, you’re not. You’re in fact the seventh son. Your oldest brother, Arthur Wulfric Weasley, died in child birth. Your mother never told you, because she was only in her seventh year here and it would have shamed her to know that you and your brothers knew of her indiscretion. She worked very hard to conceal the fact that she was pregnant and she was helped by all of the teachers at the time, who aided her in hiding her condition. I spoke with her this morning, early, and obtained her permission to tell you. Your father is waiting for you at home, as soon as we are finished here. He feels that there will be a great deal to talk about and that you’ll have to make some very important decisions soon.”



Ron could only nod. He had woken up with his wife by his side; his school work for the week completely finished, and with a Quidditch match to orchestrate against the Salem School Varsity Team for the morrow. A part of him was jumping up and down with pride at the thought of returning the name of Weasley to their rightful place on the Wizengamot and the other part was scared to death that he was actually going to have to lead. It was one thing to set strategy for a Quidditch team; quite another to sit as a part of the Wizarding government and made decisions which could affect the direction of the government. That was Harry’s job.



Luna pulled herself closer to him and he felt her arm snake around his body. “Ron?”



He turned to her and saw the uncertainty in her eyes. Totally gone were the odd looks and ethereal notions which she had affected during their early years in school. They had been replaced by her quiet, loving thoughtfulness and concern for the man who had come to love her so totally. Sweeping a lock of hair away from her face, Ron took his other hand and brought it to her left cheek, so that he could kiss her and whisper in her ear, “I love you, Luna, and we’ll get through this together. I don’t know what it’s going to mean, but I know that I can do it only with your help.” Oblivious for the moment to the presence of the Headmaster and Ron’s Head of House, the two teens kissed and let their emotions flow towards each other. Neither saw the soft glow which surrounded them.



As they kissed, McGonagall leaned down and brushed her lovers’ ear with her soft lips. “You think we do that, Albus? Wanna try?” Her voice was soft and seductive and her breath – a warm caress. He squirmed in his chair and she knew immediately that she had his undivided attention.



Turning his head slightly, he whispered back “Evil witch. At least you could wait until they leave.”



“And not a second longer, Albus” she said, running her soft fingers through the hair on the back of his head.



It took Ron and Luna another half-minute to break off their almost heart-stopping kiss. When they were finished, they were slightly breathless and completely flushed with embarrassment at what they had just done. The Headmaster chuckled; unwilling to make it easier on the pair. “So glad that you could both join us again. First, I’m sure, Mr. Weasley, that we will have no disciplinary problems with you for the balance of the year? Hmmm? I’ll take your silence as a ‘Yes’. Good, now, let’s talk about the prophecy itself.” His voice was friendly, but admonishing at the same time. It carried just enough warning that the two students got the message that their affection needed to be continued in a more appropriate place, which was definitely not the Headmasters’ office.



If it were possible to blush any harder than he was, Ron would surely have passed into the infra-red. As it was, he knew that if his mother ever heard of what he had just done, he’d be grounded until Ginny was named a saint or hell froze over, which ever came first.



The portraits around the Headmaster’s office were filled with the interactive images of previous headmasters and in each was a man or a woman, laughing hysterically. Never, in all their time on the wall of the office, had they heard the current resident tease a student in such a fashion. Their laughter became so distracting after a moment that the Headmistress-designate had to turn and say “Shush! All of you!”



Her words were enough to silence the paintings, but only just barely. Several of them could be seen still chuckling over what had just transpired.



The Headmaster continued. “There were only three people who witnessed the prophesy, Ron, and I wasn’t one of them. Unfortunately, the globe which held it was destroyed in the Hall of Prophesy during a death-eater attack.” He stopped and pulled out a very, very old-looking scroll from the lower right-hand drawer of his desk. Closing the drawer, he turned to face them again, even as he began to unroll it. “The only things that are known about the prophesy are the first two sentences of the first part; a middle part that we’re sure isn’t complete, and last sentences and the opening line of the second. There is some reason to believe that there might have been more, but all those who heard the seer make the prophesy were eventually killed. I have this scroll only because Perceval Ignatius Weasley’s son, James Tiberius Weasley gave his life to protect it and deliver it to Hogwarts for safe keeping.” Dumbledore stopped speaking and looked at the tall, only barely lanky-looking teenager and then laughed. Ron was wearing the same expression that he did on Christmas morning, just before presents arrived. It was as if he could barely contain himself, he was so excited and nervous. Rather than dragging the suspense out any longer than necessary, the Headmaster picked up the scroll and started reading:



“Darkest clouds of evil pursue; the House of the flame-haired folk weakens and falls. For the family to survive, obscurity demanded. Years of doubt and turmoil prevail. Fortunes lost. Seven pillars of flame, each ready to do his duty; seven women, loyal to the last. Six pillars burn and fall.



Only the Ghost survives.



Seventeen turns shall pass. The youngest son; shadowed and shamed for so long… last son of the Ghost… shall rise and bring glory to his family’s name;



Burdened by the guilt of battles missed, the youngest must prove his line or else the line shall die and the next dark lord shall rise. The youngest son must walk with the moon or all shall perish.”



Dumbledore put down the scroll from which he had been reading; swept his glasses away to rub his tired eyes. For a moment, the Headmaster looked every minute of his age and it made Ron feel a sadness that he had never expected. Putting his glasses back on, he looked at Ron. The young man was trembling and was as pale as the Headmaster had ever seen him. Luna’s hand was in his, even as he pulled her close for support.

Minerva McGonagall was worried for her two charges. Unlike Harry and Hermione, who had been tested again and again, Ron had never been presented with a real, personal challenge before. Certainly nothing like the continual, pressing fear of Tom Riddle and his murderous sycophants. She thought about what she could do to help them and was momentarily at a loss to know what would aid them best.



“Headmaster? Perhaps if we called Arthur here and had him sit with the Head Boy and Girl, this all might be sorted out.”



Albus Dumbledore knew a good suggestion when he heard it. Bringing Arthur to the school would give Ron and Luna a more comfortable environment in which to discuss what they had just heard, while at the same time allowing the Head Boy, in particular, time to advise his best mate on what it had felt like for him to carry the burden of a true prophesy.



Quietly, the Headmaster said to his best friend, “Good, Minn. The sooner, the better, I think. Should I leave you to it?



She nodded, almost imperceptibly, and then moved around the desk to take her two charges in hand and lead them to the staff conference room, which lay directly across the hall from her office. It was a room, much like the Gryffindor common room, and allowed staff members to meet with their opposite numbers from the other major schools of magic in Europe and North America from time to time. Every school had such a room, though most were not as old, nor as well appointed as the room into which the Headmistress-designate led her charges. She bade them sit, before moving over to the floo, to fire-call Arthur.



There was a sudden roar of green flame and then McGonagall’s voice, clear and crisp. “Arthur? You there?”



“Minnie!



“It’s me, Arthur. I’ve got Ron and Luna here and they need you. Can you floo here in a few minutes? I’m going to get Harry and Hermione to join them.”



“Oh? How much do they know?”



“It’s not what they know, Arthur. It’s what they’ve been through. We’ll tell you everything when you get here. I think it’s going to be a long afternoon.”



“I’ll be there in a moment then, Minnie. Tell Albus that he still owes me a bottle of Mead from the last favor.”



Minerva McGonagall laughed at the thought. She had been the promise-keeper for Albus’ pledge of one bottle of Lurgashall Winery’s Aged Christmas Mead and she knew that the Headmaster had yet to pay off. She would have to speak with him about it shortly, or else the Headmaster would pay double the price of the debt, in the form of a personal item precious to him, plus would become incontinent for a week as punishment for his failure. She was sure that he didn’t want that to happen.

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12:19 PM; The Great Hall, Hogwarts



Hermione rarely traveled alone, but Harry had been called away to Gringotts after they had met with Mr. Weasley, and had not yet returned. She looked around, trying to find a place to sit. Fortunately, Ginny Weasley was sitting next to Neville and, waving a fork full of salad, invited Hermione to join them.



As she walked the rest of the length of the table, the fact that her necklaces were outside of her cotton blouse and glinting in the sun was lost on her. After going to the loo she hadn’t taken the time to tuck everything in because she had been interrupted by one of the young fifth-year girls, Kim Chong, who was trying to talk to her about being bonded. She and her intended, Ethan James something-or-other, a sixth-year, were more serious than many of the other couples in the school and wanted to know what it was like to be young and bonded. Hermione had tried to formulate an answer on the way to the Great Hall, but was distracted by Harry’s absence and confused about why the young girl would want advice from her.



She was just turning to sit down with Ginny and Neville when she heard someone yell from not too far away. It was not a voice she immediately recognized. “YOU BITCH! THAT NECKLACE BELONGS TO MY FAMILY!”



Hermione’s head whipped around and saw Blaise Zabini standing up, glaring at her, his wand out. She looked at him; at a loss to know what to think. “MISBEGOTTEN, MUDBLOOD BINT! GIVE THAT NECKLACE BACK! IT BELONGS TO OUR FAMILY.”



Hermiones’ wand was not yet out, but there were many others who had quietly unsheathed theirs and were ready for whatever might come. The few teachers, who had arrived at lunch, including Remus Lupin, were watching intently and had their wands out in plain site. Ordinarily that was more than enough to diffuse any tensions that might gather in the Great Hall, but Zabini seemed quite inured to those kinds of warnings. No one present was in any way really afraid for Hermione. She was far more powerful than any seventh-year since the Headmaster himself had attended Hogwarts (with the exception of Harry) – and that was a very, very long time ago.



Fully facing Zabini, Hermione drew herself up and said, clearly and distinctly, “No, I don’t think so. The necklace was given to me for my wedding, by the Headmaster himself, and I don’t recognize your family’s claim on it.”



He was purpling as he pointed his wand at her. “I DON’T FUCKING CARE WHAT YOU THINK! THAT NECKLACE BELONGS TO MY FAMILY! LACEO!”



The cutting curse had no chance of hitting her, as her shield bounced it away harmlessly, but it did invite a dozen or more powerful, hatred-driven stunners to slam into Zabini from all sides. Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood were looking murderous, as were a half-dozen of the seventh-year students from the three houses. Remus Lupin had cleared the Teachers’ table in one incredibly smooth leap and he disarmed the student by purposefully stepping on Blaise’s outstretched wand-hand. The wrist gave way with a sickening crunching sound, to everyones immediate satisfaction.



Bending over to scoop up Zabini’s fallen wand, Lupin casually snapped it cleanly in two pieces and watched as the halves disintegrated into useless, magic-less dust. Some wands did that. Especially those made by the more paranoid wandmakers. It was a ‘security’ feature, so that their wandmaking techniques could not be discovered easily. Other wands, like those created by Ollivander, before his death, could not be ‘reverse-engineered’ or otherwise tampered with, because of the unique bond that was always created between the wand and the wizard or witch as the wand was used. Lupin noted that Zabini must have opted for a wand that had, nominally, more power, in favor of less durability. It didn’t do to have one’s wand completely disintegrate during a battle, if it was somehow compromised. Ollivander (and his son, apparently) could repair minor damage and sometimes even major damage, if given the time. That was why people had always been willing to pay a premium for his wands.



Looking up, Lupin looked at the students who still had their wands at the ready, in case Zabini somehow managed to get up again. “Will someone escort Mr. Zabini to Madame Pomfrey? Oh, and make sure that he’s searched for hidden portkeys before he’s revived.” If ever, the DADA teacher thought to himself. “Teach you to attack Hermione Potter. Moron”, he thought.



Hermione watched in fascination as Zabini was bound tight with ropes and then levitated out of the hall. The hand that suddenly appeared on her shoulder startled her, as she wasn’t expecting anyone’s touch. “Mione?”



“Harry?”



She turned around fast and, seeing that it was indeed her husband, threw herself into his arms. “I love you, Harry. Thank God you’re here.” She continued to snuggle her face into his broad, powerful chest for several long minutes.



“What happened, ‘Mione? Why did I see Zabini being none-too-gently floated out of here?”



Hermione opened her thoughts to him and let the whole scene which had just happened pour out to him. It went very quickly, linked as their minds were. “Why didn’t you call me, love? I could have been here in an instant.”



“Because I knew what you were doing was important and because I was perfectly safe. Zabini doesn’t have either the hatred necessary, nor the training sufficient to use a really dark curse, much less one of the Unforgivables. Besides, Remus was watching the whole thing and had his wand out the entire time. I was as safe as I could be. If I had felt threatened in any way, you better believe I’d call you.”



The relief washed over him as he heard and felt Hermiones’ thoughts. He was very glad indeed that she had enough wit to call him if a situation warranted it and gladder still that what Zabini had done was seen by so many people. “No more blood, ‘Mione, except for Draco. He’s the last one. We’ll do what we have to do, and then never, ever again.”



He could feel Hermiones’ heart-felt agreement with that sentiment. Killing was something that they knew was an evil to be avoided at all costs, unless it was absolutely necessary. They also knew that Draco Malfoy was out there, somewhere, waiting and bidding his time, and that sooner or later the two of them would have to hunt him down and kill him. It was not something they ever dwelled on though, and while the situation was not ‘urgent’ yet, it was getting more important



Remus Lupin looked at the Head Boy and Girl and realized that his presence was no longer needed – at least not in the sense of being an authority figure who had to impose order or discipline. The students had done that on their own and, once again, the hall was filled with buzzing chatter – but at a very controlled and reasonable level. It was clear to the Potions Mistress, as she watched from the Professors’ table, that what her colleague had told her was correct and the Head Girl and Boy had a very calming effect on the students….except on Quidditch days. Then all bets were off.

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2:39 PM, the Hospital Wing



“How is he, Madame Pomfrey?” The Headmaster said quietly, as he looked at the quiet, barely breathing form of Blaise Zabini.



She shook her head softly. “Not good, I’m afraid, Albus. He received a dozen stunners for his trouble and more than a few of them were at the top of the expected scale for power. Whatever he said to the Head Girl, he sure as Hades torqued off somebody.”



“He tried to curse the Head Girl because of a necklace that I gave the Lady Potter for their wedding. It’s been waiting for her in the Headmaster’s private school vault for a very long time and yet Mr. Zabini claimed that his family rightfully owned it. He must have been referring to something that happed a great many centuries ago, because the necklace in question has been prophesied about since more than a hundred years before I was born.”



“Oh. Well, whatever happened, he’s…” Her voice choked in her throat and tears started to form at the corners of her eyes. “He’s not going to make it, Albus. Magic is resilient, but it has its limits. Harry might have survived such a massed attack, but I’m pretty sure no one else would have. “



Albus Dumbledore looked down on the pale form of his young charge and as he did so, he said to the matronly medi-witch, “If I were younger, I’d have tried taking a long look at what’s going on inside his mind, to see if there’s anyone there still. As it is, I’m afraid to do so, because I’m worried that he’ll die while I’m in his thoughts and will take me down with him. It happens from time to time with people who are licensed to practice legilimency.”



“I know, Albus. I thought the same thing. Have his parents been called?”



“Yes, and they’re coming in a few minutes. I just hope they’re not too late.”



The medi-witch was openly crying now. It had been a long time since she had lost a patient and that was in a time before she had taken up duties at the school.” The Headmaster put a knowing hand on her shoulder as he straightened up slightly and said, “Sometimes, fate is cruel, Poppy. He didn’t deserve this fate, but he chose his own path and insulted the one person whom all the others would defend.”



She looked up at him; drying her eyes with the cuffs of her duty robes. “Will they….?”



Shaking his head, he looked at her. “No, Poppy. They’ll not be punished. Not one of them alone could have ever killed him, except the Lady Potter herself, and she didn’t use her wand at all. It took collective action and theirs was not willful, just reactive.” She understood. Punishing the students who had cast the stunners would have sent a very negative message to the entire student body and would have cast in doubt the Headmasters’ commitment to ensure the safety of all of his students; especially those who had done so much for the people of magical Britain.



Even as she gathered herself for the coming storm, the doors to the medical wing burst inwards. Rachel and Gaither Zabini were looking at once angry and frightened as they made their way towards Blaise’s bed. Dumbledore turned and composed himself, so that no trace of his usual smile could be seen on his face. There was no joy or happiness to be found in the loss of a couple’s only son; only sadness and remorse for the situation which would soon claim his life.



Rachel Zabini, a tall, lean, beautiful, and elegant brunette fell to her knees next to her son’s bed at the same time Gaither Zabini came face to face with the Headmaster; drawing his wand and pointing it under his chin. It was exactly as Dumbledore expected and he calmly pushed it away with his right hand. “There’s no need for more violence, Gaither. I didn’t cause this and I certainly didn’t wish it.”



The Headmasters’ eyes traveled down to where Rachel knelt. She was sobbing over her son, even as Blaise’s breaths became more and more shallow and it rattled in his chest. Poppy Pomfrey knew that it wouldn’t be long before he stopped breathing altogether and passed on to the next great adventure. Not knowing what else to do, she fell to her knees next to Rachel and drew from her shirt a chain with a silver cross at the end. Placing one hand on Blaise’s chest, she felt that his pulse was weak and thready. She began to pray, as her early, muggle, Catholic upbringing had taught her. “"May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up on the last day. May he bless you and keep you and make his face to shine upon you. Have mercy on him, O God”. As quietly and gently as she could, Poppy Pomfrey rose and helped Rachel to her feet. Blaise was gone.



Gaither saw that his son was dead and turning his head, he began to weep. Rachel took her husband in her arms and the two held each other for a very long time. Poppy turned and walked away; tears filling her eyes as well. It had been a long time since she had lost a patient and she had never lost a student under her care before. It would take a long time to get over the sadness that she felt.

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Eventually, the mourning parents separated and looked at the Headmaster. It was clear from their eyes that they wanted to know what had happened to their son.



“Your son”, Dumbledore began quietly, “died because he attacked the Lady Hermione Potter with a cutting curse in the Great Hall today. He was stunned by a dozen students. He couldn’t survive it. I’m very sorry.”



Rachel drew herself up and looked the Headmaster in the eye. “Why would Blaise do such a thing?”



“He believed that the Lady Potter was in possession of an item that belonged to succeeding members of your family; a long time ago.” Gaither Zabini looked at the Headmaster, slightly taken aback.



“What could she possibly have had that he would do such an incredibly stupid thing as attacking the consort of one of the most powerful heads-of-house in all of wizarding Europe?”



“The Star of Morgana”



That made Blaise’s parents suck in their breath. “She has it?”



Dumbledore nodded. “Yes. It had been in the possession of the Headmaster or Mistress of Hogwarts since 1754. There was a prophesy regarding its disposition and the Lady Potter was its intended target. I gave her the Star for a wedding gift, seeing no other formal way to transfer it to her. It has since bonded with her.”



Both Rachel and Gaither, being of pure-blood stock, understood the implications of such a bonding. Only the rightful owner of the Star could bond with its magic, since it was imbued with unspeakably powerful, mystical enchantments to help the most powerful witch of the age. They both knew that when the time came, Hermione Potter would have to pass on the necklace to the next deserving witch, no matter where she lived or from what bloodline she came. They didn’t stop to consider why it had not been in the hands of the Headmasters/Headmistresses of Hogwarts for so long, without finding a new mistress with whom to bond.



Rachel Zabini’s tears began to fall afresh on her husbands’ chest, as he held her close. It was obvious to the Headmaster that the discussion was at an end and so he started to walk away, in order to give them the privacy to grieve their son. Just as he was about to reach the doors of the Hospital wing, Rachel Zabini called out to him. “Albus? Please tell the Lady Potter that we don’t hold her responsible and that we are sorry for what happened to her. She was blameless.”



He nodded and then turned back towards the doors, so that the two parents could not see the tears that were forming in his eyes. He had very rarely heard such a willingness to forgive from those who had just suffered such a horrible loss. It was a rare and special thing and it moved him. As he walked down the hallway towards his private residence, he promised himself that he would let Hermione know what had happened and that she was not blamed for Blaise’s passing. He knew that she’d want to hear that from him directly. Harry would be relieved that he didn’t have to, once again, charge to his wife’s defense or otherwise protect her.



As he slowly made his way to the suite he had called home for so long, he thought that he would be happy to be away from the stresses and sadnesses that often came with the position. He wondered if that was something he should feel guilty for thinking or if it was natural, after so many years of service to one cause; one place. Perhaps I should talk to Minnie. She’ll know what to do, he thought. It had always been so; that he relied on her for wisdom and support for as long as she had been deputy headmistress. A sad smile came to his face as he thought about the relationship between Harry and Hermione and about what Harry had told him regarding the kind of love that he felt from Hermione. She’s always been there for me, for as long as I have been at Hogwarts. I would be lost without her.

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Tuesday, October 22nd, 7:14 AM, 7th Floor hallway, Hogwarts



Harry turned. Everywhere he looked, students were wearing black armbands, with the sigil of Ravenclaw on it and Blaise’s full name written in perfect script below the House/clan shield. Blaise had originally been in Slytherin, but had been re-sorted, when Slytherin house was disbanded. The memorial for him would be held at the end of the week, in order to give all those who wanted to stand and say something personally and supportive about Blaise the time to prepare their remarks. As he walked along, heavy footsteps were echoing in the hallway behind him, making him hesitate for a moment.



“Hey, Harry, mate, wait up!”



Harry stopped and looked at his tall, red-haired friend. Smiling a goofy kind of smile, he said “Hey Ron, what’s up? I’m on my way to breakfast.” Ron grinned. Food was his favorite diversion at Hogwarts, besides Quidditch.



Ron looked at him for a moment. “Can I ask you a question?”



“Sure, what’s the problem?”



Ron fell into step with Harry as they walked together down the multiple flights of stairs and towards the Great Hall. “Did you have dreams before you and Hermione did the animagus change?”



Harry turned his head to look at his best friend. “Yea, we did. Are you?”



Ron swallowed “Yea, at least I think so. I had a dream last night that I was flying. It was weird though, because I could have sworn that I had four legs and a tail.” The number of animals that had four legs and a tail was quite high, Harry thought. It was funny that his best friend’s form might also.



“Flying? Really? That would be too cool. “Have you asked Luna if she’s having dreams, too?”



Blinking, Ron looked at him. “No. Should I?”



Stopping before they got to the huge doors of the Great Hall, Harry caught his friend by the arm. “Yes, I’m sure that she’s having dreams too. You might want to find her this morning and talk to her about it. If she has questions, the two of you can come to us and we’ll talk about it.”



They entered the Hall and Hermione, as Harry expected, was not there. She was with Prof. McGonagall, having gotten a very early start to work on a very advanced transfiguration lesson. Part of Hermiones’ course-work, that she was doing as independent study, was to combine the summoning charm Accio, with the transfiguration charm, Vera Verto, with the permanence charm, so that raw product: stone, wood, pure metals, could be turned into finished products like furniture, buildings, art, books, etc. in one smooth step. It was very challenging and Harry was glad that he didn’t have to try it until Hermione had figured out the basic mechanics of the magic. Sometimes it paid handsomely to be married to the smartest witch in a million years.



Hermiones’ gentle voice caressed his thoughts. “Thank you, Harry. I love you for that. I’m just as proud of all that you’ve done.”



“It’s the truth, Hermione. I love you, too. Come to breakfast?” He felt her assent and heard her thoughts in response. “Two minutes, love, and I’ll be there.”



Sure enough, two minutes later, Hermione appeared noiselessly near the head of the Gryffindor table. Harry stood and took her into his arms. “Get it all done?”



“No. Not yet. Let’s sit down and we can talk. People are staring at me.” Students were, in fact, staring at her. They knew why, of course. Blaise Zabini had died only three days before and there was still talk that somehow, she should have known he was going to go nuts and attack her. There was also some quiet conversations being heard around the school about the fact that not even the Headmaster could come and go by apparition within the school and that neither Harry nor Hermione should be allowed to continue as students, because they were so far beyond everyone else already. The professors did what they could do to suppress such talk, but it persisted.



The truth, that Harry had shown her, one magical morning when the sun was first rising over the eastern wall of the castle, what she had to do in order to be able to apparate within the school. True to his word, it was far easier than anyone could have believed.



And yet….



The sarcophagi of the four founders were located in a perfect marble alcove, off the main courtyard of the castle. Saying nothing, Harry had knelt in front of Godric Gryffindor’s tomb. At the near end of the sarcophagus was a plaque which read:



HERE LIES GODRIC I, KING OF MAGICAL GREAT BRITAIN AND NOBLEST OF THE ROYAL FOUR.



“GREATNESS LIES IN SWEARING FEALTY TO A CAUSE LARGER THAN ONES’ SELF.”



Hermione looked at the inscription and then at her husband. He flashed her a knowing smile.



“Maybe Binns was good for something after all, eh Hermione?” There was laughter in his voice, which rang as laughter in her mind. She swatted him gently on the arm for it. Her furious note-taking in all of their shared classes over the years was a point of amusement and gentle teasing.



“Prat. Just because I like to be prepared…” She let the thought trail off in his mind. It would have earned her a retort, but Harry was too excited about seeing his wife be able to come and go by apparition throughout Hogwarts.



“Well? He thought to her. “Are you going to give the oath?”



“Of course, Harry. I’m just taking in the moment. I’ll be the first girl since Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff to be able to come and go at will. It’s something I want to remember.”



“We’ll use the pensieve, Hermione. I want to remember this day, too.”



Harry’s only question was whether to tell the Headmistress-designate or any of the other teachers what they had discovered. “There’s a part of me, ‘Mione, that really wants to keep this a secret” he thought to her. Not for the first time, Hermione agreed with him. It was sort of a ‘pay-back’ for all years Harry had been kept in the dark about Tom Riddle; his family fortunes, his multiple titles, and all of the things about the magical world that he should have been told when he young. She felt that he deserved to be able to decide whether or not to share this precious secret.

Hermione stroked his arm affectionately. “Tom’s gone, Harry, and I think that just maybe, the ‘adults’ around here deserve to be kept out of this. They should get a taste of what it’s like to be on the outside, looking in.”



Turning towards Godric’s tomb again, Hermione took out her wand and touched the inscription with its tip. “I, Hermione Jane Potter, do swear and promise, on my life and on my magic, that I will support, defend, and protect this school, its secrets, and students from now until I am released from this vow.”



A dark blue and gold field of light wrapped around her, just as it had for Harry, when he had made the oath. He could feel Hermiones’ magic flare and grow even stronger as the wards of the school grew to accept her, too. Smiling, he said, “I think you’ve done it! Try apparating to our bedroom and back.”



Grinning, Hermione spun on one foot and disappeared silently. A few seconds later, she reappeared with no noise. She was beaming. Harry leapt to his feet to hug her. “I love you! I am SO proud of you, Hermione.” She could feel his love radiating at her in waves. His love for her was like bathing in a warm, endless ocean; buoying her up and surrounding her.



He could feel that she had somehow grown stronger magically and it thrilled him. He didn’t like the feeling of being somehow more powerful or more ‘special’ than her, and anything that brought the two of them closer together was good in his eyes. “You’ve grown magically, ‘Mione. Can you feel it?”



She paused and looked at him. He could tell that she was thinking about what had happened to Blaise. Reaching out, he touched her face softly. “It wasn’t your fault, Hermione. Blaise attacked you even after all the efforts we had made to help him find happiness. I wish we had been able to talk to him first, but he made his choice and there’s nothing we can do now.”



The only thing which made them feel better about what had happened to Blaise was the fact that his mother and father had forgiven her and them, and had left Hogwarts in peace; claiming neither the right of vengeance nor life-debt. Not that the Wizengamot would have upheld either claim, but they could made a go of it; finally embarrassing the two of them enough that they might have had to pay out several million galleons to settle the claim.



The hour bell sounded above them, derailing their conversation. It was louder than usual - but they were outside; practically right under the bell tower. “We should go, ‘Mione. We have a class to teach.”



Silently agreeing, she took his hand in hers and the two disapparated away to the other courtyard, where the animagus class was held.

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Friday evening, October 25th, 7th-year boy’s suite, Gryffindor tower.



“And? What else did the Headmaster say?”



“He said that I’m going to start private lessons with him. He wants to teach me some wandless magic and how to use of the family magics that I’ve supposedly inherited.”



Harry sat on the edge of one of the four-poster beds, grinning at his best mate. Harry could feel Ron’s trepidation, but could also see the excitement that Ron was feeling. It was quite a role-reversal to see Ron being singled out for special treatment and attention by the Headmaster. It was frustrating that neither he nor Hermione had gotten a chance to be at the meeting where Ron was told about his prophesy. Harry knew that while Ron was overwhelmed by everything in the moment, he’d settle out pretty quickly because that was just the kind of person Ron was. He was incredibly resilient and strong (even if he had a jealous streak that threatened to get the better of him from time to time).



“Did he say what you’ll be expected to do for your family? You told me the prophesy, but I’m not clear on who the ‘Ghost’ is. Also…what was the deal with ‘proving the line’?”



Ron laughed outright, but it seemed at least a little bit forced. Harry wondered if there was something Ron was nervous about. Harry noticed that Ron couldn’t look him in the eye as he started to answer the question. “I……Luna and I……wehavetohaveababytogether.”



Harry goggled. He knew what he thought he had heard, but he wanted to be sure. “Ok, slow down and say that again.”



Ron didn’t even look up as he said, much, much more quietly. “Luna and I have to have a baby together before I turn 18, so I have to get her pregnant in the next two months.”



“Oh.” It was all he could say. For good measure, he said, “Oh my God.” Then he paused and thought about whether he wanted a baby with Hermione. Knowing that he did – very much – Harry put his hand on Ron’s shoulder. “Mate? Do you love her enough to want to be a parent with her?”



Ron looked at him, as if his question was bordering on stupid. “Yes, of course.” His voice must have carried at least a bit the scorn that he was feeling, because Harry recoiled a bit. Ron caught himself and then said, “I’m sorry, Harry. That didn’t come out well. The answer is yes, I not only see it in my mind, but I feel it. I’m just scared, that’s all. I don’t know if I could ever be as good a father as my father is.”



Not knowing what to say in response to that, Harry just looked at him. He had never known his own father, but he knew how special Sirius had been to him and thinking about it, Harry realized that Ron probably felt as least as strongly for Arthur as he did for Sirius. It was not a perfect comparison, but it was close enough.



Ron would do fine as a father. He was sure of it. The only issue, to Harry’s way of thinking, was how Luna was feeling. She was a delicate personality (at lest partially because of the loss of her mother, Harry knew) and so laying on her the fact that she had to basically agree to allowing her body to be used in order to protect the Weasley clan’s future bordered on an unacceptably high cost. It smacked too much of what Riddle did to his followers. Hermione’s voice in his mind was unexpected, because she had been quiet for over a half-hour; busy as she was talking to Luna. “Then why didn’t Bella or Narcissa have more children, Harry? Draco was Lucius’ only son and Bella didn’t have any. Crabbe and Goyle were already born by the time Tom started his second rise and besides, what Luna is willing to do is not a sacrifice, from her point of view. It’s only a speeding-up of what would have happened anyway.”



“But do I tell him that?”



“Yes. I think it would help. He deserves to know that Luna is excited about being his wife.”



Harry snorted, mentally. “I think he knows that. Luna is demonstrative; you have to give her that!”



Hermiones’ reply to that observation was an outright giggle. “Harry….you have a way with words sometimes, you know that?”



“Not as much as you do, love. I don’t read nearly enough to have your turns-of-phrase. I’m just a distant second in comparison.”



A nudge from Ron brought Harry back to the reality of his circumstances – which was that Ron was looking…rather, staring…at him. “Harry! Mate! Snap out of it.”



Turning towards him, Harry took a moment to compose himself. Since Ron already knew that he and Hermione could share thoughts, there was no danger in saying “Sorry, Ron. I was talking to ‘Mione.”



Ron rolled his eyes. “That’s just too weird at times, Mate. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have someone else’s voice in my head. I can barely deal with my own.”



A goofy grin spread across Harry’s face. “I bet. I’d go crazy if I had to deal with your voice in my head, too.”



Fast hands reached out to pull Harry over and soon the two friends were wrestling and trying to ‘noogy’ each other. Seeing an opening, Harry reached down behind Ron and grabbed the waistband of his boxers and pulled up, hard. The yelp that accompanied the movement was something that Harry knew he’d remember for a long time. Wedgies hurt. There was no other way to describe the feeling of having ones’ undershorts pulled up tight between the cheeks of ones’ arse. Ron had instantly turned several shades of deepest red; mortified was he that he had been gotten so easily. Not even Bill and Charlie, in their best days, had ever been able to get him like that.



Vengeance would be his; he swore….but not until he sort out his immediate problem. Harry saw his friends’ predicament and laughed out loud. “I’ll get you, Harry Potter. Just you wait. If I have to, I’ll get Ginny to help me…but I swear to Merlin, I will get you.”



Harry thought about it. Ginny was a formidable opponent, to be sure, as any young girl with six older brothers would have to be, but she was only a sixth-year, and Ron would have to get Ginny over the hurdle which was her residual crush on ‘the-boy-who-lived’, before coming after him in any serious way.



Harry collapsed back onto one of the beds. “You and what army, Ron? I mean…Ginny’s not going to help you for this. She’s going to thank me for getting you so well and then she’s going to go tell the twins that I got you.”



Even as he glared at Harry and pranced around the room, while trying to adjust himself and undo the wedgie, the door burst open and both Luna and Hermione came entered. Hermione knew immediately what Harry had done, while Luna had no concept of the kind horseplay with which young men often entertained themselves.



Luna ran to him and tried to take him in her arms, but Ron backed away, towards the shared walk-in closet that served all five boys who lived in the room. “Give me a sec, will you, love?”



She bit her lip, and then nodded. Hermione put her hand on the younger girls’ arm and pulled her away, while Ron finished adjusting his clothes. Ron turned and saw his best three friends looking at him; silly smiles on their faces. Ron guessed that Hermione or Harry had told Luna what had happened. Luna stepped forward and put her right hand on his chest and looked up at him. There was love in her eyes for him and it nearly brought Ron to tears. It was still hard to accept that such a beautiful girl could fall in love with him and would be so willing to bear a child for him and, in a greater sense, for his family.



Putting a protective arm around his fiancée, Ron looked at the Head Boy and Girl – Lord and Lady Potter-Black, and saw the same kind of love between them. It was completely unmistakable in the way that they held each other and it blew his mind that he could have ever thought that he and Hermione would have made a good couple, when it was so absolutely clear that the only true match for Hermione was Harry, and vice-versa.



“Better now, Ron?” Harry said.



“Ya…but I am so going to get you for that.”



“Give it your best shot, Ron.” Harry said, with a Malfoy-worthy smirk. “I’ve been waiting to do that to you for years.”



With that, the four fell into a round of laughter that was completely infectious. Between Harry’s over-the-top posing and Ron’s faux-anger and threats of great bodily harm, the four spent the better part of the next hour teasing each other and becoming comfortable with the sense that the Golden Trio was now the Golden Quad.

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After a while, the group’s emotions settled down and they began to talk about more personal things; things that they knew were coming. The most painful of them was Molly.



Harry was hesitant to brooch the topic, but he knew he had to, and he also knew that Ron knew it, too. Hermione squeezed his hand softly; physically reassuring him that it would be alright. Taking a deep breath, Harry caught Ron’s eyes. “Ron? You know we’ve got to talk about what’s coming. We’re not far away from when your mother will be here and we’re going to have to have it out with her. Well – Hermione’s going to have to, but you know what I mean.”



Ron squirmed uncomfortably. His mother was a topic that got his blood-pressure up and made him generally angry. Not angry, really, Ron realized. It was more…frustration and despair. He loved his mother very much and she had been the center of his world when he was younger, so what was coming for her scared him. Hermione had promised him that she would not hurt Molly if she could possibly avoid it, and made a magic oath, even before he could stop her, that she’d not cast magic at Molly under any circumstances. That had made Harry really angry and the row that had threatened to kick up between Harry and Hermione over it was something that Ron regretted a lot. Fortunately, it had diffused itself, after some quick thinking by Luna, and everything seemed back to happiness between the Head Boy and Girl.



“It’s alright, Harry. I knew what you meant. It’s just that I’m scared.”



It took a lot for Ron to admit such feelings, both Harry and Hermione realized. “Ron’s grown up a lot since Tom”, Harry thought to his wife. “He’d never have admitted that during fifth-year”.



A pulse from Hermione signaled her agreement with Harry’s observation, and more, her desire to hug Ron and reassure him that it was going to be alright. “Go, ‘Mione. He needs the friend that you’ve always been to him.”



Hermione got up and crossed over to where Ron and Luna sat. “Ron, stand up.” The tall, red-haired boy who had long been her friend did so; towering over the Head girl by almost 25 cm. Hermione threw her arms around him and held him; just as she had done when the three of them, plus Ginny, were at St. Mungo’s, almost two years previously. She had hugged him fiercely then too, when she had healed enough that she was finally been able to stand; so that she could thank him for his friendship and his loyalty in protecting her and Harry’s privacy.



It was a sign of Ron’s maturity that he gathered Hermione in his arms and hugged her just as tightly; unafraid at last to show her just how much he cared about her. “Thanks, Hermione. I love you, too.” Ron said quietly to her.



Those words earned him another crushing squeeze, as she let him know how much she appreciated him. “Friends forever, Ron”, she said in his ear. Easing away from him, she kissed his cheek and then turned and went to sit back down with Harry. “Good for you, love.”



Harry smiled at his friends and then said, seriously, “Ron, Hermione and Luna have put together a strategy for beating Molly, no matter what she does. With Hermiones’ ability to apparate within Hogwarts, and her animagus form, she should be able to disable Molly without doing any damage that isn’t immediately fixable. If Molly starts using Unforgivables, she will be immediately arrested, for violating the code of the duel and for the Unforgivables themselves. Given that we can show the Wizengamot, meaning me, Hermione, Neville, and the others we’ve brought onto the Adjudicating council, that Molly is under the influence of a powerful curse, we should be able to get her to St. Mungo’s pretty quickly, and out from under the jurisdiction of the MLE. Now, the only thing that is up in the air is who is going to be Molly’s second. We’re betting that it will be someone she knows and trusts. As you both know, the current plan is that all of the Hogwarts professors will rebuff Molly’s requests to be her second, as will the Headmaster, your father, and whomever else the Headmaster can get to before this all goes down. As We’ve already agreed with the Headmaster, it would be best if we can get Rita Skeeter to be her second. And yes, before you ask, we know what we’re doing. Rita is not the one who’s masterminded what’s happened to your mother, but she’s in a position to know who might be. More, she took a shot at me and the Headmaster wants her dead. I’m just has happy to let him take care of her for us.”



Ron looked at him. “Mate, it sounds good…and I want to believe…but…” He stopped for a moment. “Do you both think that Hermione can stop her quickly?”



Both Harry and Hermione nodded. Harry’s voice turned serious and lost any hint of humor. “Ron, I don’t think you realize what the two of us can do now. Those ‘parlor-tricks’ that the two of us did in the Great Hall are nothing. Hermione and I…Dumbledore said that we’re the most powerful students Hogwarts has seen in the last five-hundred or a thousand years. Plus – Hermione is wearing the Star of Morgana, which he said marks her as the most powerful witch currently living. If she says that she can stop Molly without hurting her, then she can.”



Both Ron and Luna looked at Hermione with a new appreciation. There were some tremendously powerful witches around, including Minerva McGonagall, and so for Harry to say that Hermione was even stronger meant that Hermione had changed a lot since she and Harry had left St. Mungo’s. Ron made a mental note that Harry only reported what Dumbledore had said about their abilities and had not, curiously, said that the Headmaster was correct – at least insofar as Harry was concerned. Hermione was watching too. She had been paying attention to the various expressions playing across Ron’s face, but then stopped herself to watch Luna, instead. The young blonde seemed to be totally engrossed in what her fiancée was saying and feeling.



Hermione was not blind to what Luna offered to Ron, of course. Not only was she a truly beautiful young woman, with her amazing, long, blonde hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and lean, model-quality body, but she was also tall enough that she wasn’t dwarfed by Ron’s height. More, Luna was a Ravenclaw – which meant she was (as far as the sorting hat was concerned) thirsty for knowledge and was really willing to work for it. Hermione had not been surprised to learn that quiet, eccentric Luna Lovegood was only third in her class, in behind Marietta Edgecomb (no. 2) and Padma Patil, who was first in her class.



Hermione had realized Luna’s specialness years before, but had never slowed down long enough and taken the time, the way Harry had, to tell the young girl what she thought of her. It shamed Hermione somewhat and she made a note to herself to rectify that sooner than later. It wouldn’t do for her best friends’ fiancée to feel unappreciated or unnoticed and, she realized, if she truly wanted to call herself a friend to Ron, she ought to get to know a lot more about the things Luna thought and believed.



“You’re right about that, ‘Mione. Luna deserves that. The necklace we gave her for the wedding was nice, but it doesn’t substitute for real friendship.”



Harry’s thoughts startled her and caught her up short. “When did you become so sensitive?”



“Oh, just hanging around with this certain girl. You might know her. Gently flowing brown hair and the most amazing, chocolate-brown eyes and this killer…and I do mean SMOKING HOT body…and an incredible love for books?” Hermione blushed. She couldn’t help it. The depth of Harry’s feelings for her really did overwhelm her at times. His love was worth more to her than all of her possessions in the world; including all of her books. “I love you for that, Harry. Thank you.”



He put his arm around her waist as she sat on the bed next to him and pulled her onto his lap. She felt one of his hands go up her back and the other; take her closest hand in his. Turning her head and leaning close, she felt his lips on hers, even before she expected it.



“How is it, Harry, that I could go from thinking about Luna and wondering what I could do to be a better friend to her, to thinking about how quickly I can get you back to our room, so that we can make love?”



“Don’t know, love, but I like the way you think!”



She didn’t have a comeback for that. All she knew is that she suddenly wanted to be naked with her husband and make love with him for as long as they could get away with; regardless of whether Ron was alright with the plan for dealing with Molly or not.



“Don’t you dare start feeling guilty, ‘Mione. We’ve told Ron what we’ve thought of why we believe it makes sense and he seems alright with it. We can’t ask for more.”



“Let’s call it a night, then. Tell Ron we’re going to head back to our room and that we’ll see him tomorrow.”



Harry did so, on Hermiones’ behalf, and as quickly as their impromptu get-together started, it ended.

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The next two weeks flew by and soon, it was Halloween. The School’s ghosts had planned a huge party for all of their kind and had gone far and wide to bring other disembodied spirits to the festivities. Nearly-Headless Nick was ecstatic that over one hundred other spirits had said they’d attend. It was going to be the biggest coming-together of such spirits in many hundreds of years.

“I actually got the idea from you, Harry,” he had said as he glided along next to Harry. Harry was on his way to his individual, advanced studies class with Dumbledore when Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington had drifted out of a nearby wall.



Harry looked at him, the question why? clearly written on his face. “Oh. Well, it’s like this, Harry. When you and Mrs. Potter got married, near her parents’ home, you invited muggles and magicals alike, without regard to status. That set the ghosts here talking, including the Bloody Baron, who said he was proud of you for doing it. I was so shocked to hear him speak that I thought I might pass on. I have been here since ‘the mistake’ - that was almost four hundred years ago, mind you – and it was the first time he had ever said more than two words back to back.”



Harry thought about that, as the two of them stopped in front of the stone gargoyle guardians that protected the Headmasters’ office. Deciding that he didn’t know what else to say, Harry turned to Nearly-headless Nick and said, “Please tell him that I said thank you and that I appreciate his pride in me.”



Nodding, the amiable ghost drifted through the wall opposite to where the two were standing. Shaking his head in reaction to the slight weirdness of what had just occurred; he looked at the two guardians and said “Carmel twizzle pops”



It was going to be one of those days, he thought, and he might as well just embrace the weirdness, rather than struggling against it. When they were first living together in Godric’s Hollow, Hermione had taught him a muggle saying that she had picked up. “Lord, give me the courage to accept those things that I cannot change; the courage to change those things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” Hermione had told him that the alternate ending to the saying was “…and the wisdom to find enough spaces to hide the bodies of all those who really ticked me off.” She had said it with such a straight face that he had found himself rolling on the floor, holding his sides, laughing. It was in that moment that the two realized that they had finally gotten past the fear and uncertainties of the long struggle against Tom Riddle and could finally live, and laugh, again.



As Harry reached the top stair and stood before the door to the Headmasters’ outer office, he thought about his parents and the fact that it was the sixteenth anniversary of the death of his parents and, for the first time, he wasn’t sad or mopish, but rather, quite hopeful for the future. It was a good feeling.

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Friday evening, November First; moonrise – Approx. 9:25 PM



There were students everywhere; all talking excitedly about what was about to happen. Many of the oldest students, as well as some of the fourth- and fifth-year students were carrying large glass jars full of what looked like grey gravy and wearing nothing but black robes.



Harry and Hermione had been asked to lead the celebration and teach the actual ritual to the first group making the animagus transformation. Ron and Luna had asked the Headmaster for the privilege of trying first and he had passed on the request to the Head Boy and Girl, with his recommendation that it be granted. There was no way, of course, that either Harry or Hermione would ever even consider saying no to their best friends. As a result, Harry held Luna’s hand and Hermione held Ron’s hand as they were walked to the large ritual circle which Professor McGonagall had created for the evening.



The circle itself lay in the center of the Quidditch pitch, and was surrounded by lit torches. Hermione was given the honor of burning a pentagram into the grass, using bluebell fire. Then she explained to Luna and Ron what they had to do. Harry grinned as he set the air around the outside of the circle to shimmering; remembering Ron’s initial reaction to having to be naked for the transfiguration. Ron had been sitting in the seventh-year common room, in front of the fire, with Harry in the opposite over-stuffed chair. The butter-beer in his hand had almost spilled everywhere when Harry told him about making the change with Hermione.



“But Harry, mate! You and Hermione…you’re married and you were supposed to be together. How could being naked be that big a deal?”



Harry smiled, mirthfully. “Well – it was at first. First, you have to remember that Hermione and I were both oblivious to what was right in front of us. You even said it, later on. You said it was ridiculously obvious to you and to everyone else that Hermione and I should be together. You said, when we got back from Christmas, that I was the only one who could deal with her Hermioneness.”



Ron looked at him. “What’s that got to do with being naked together?”



Harry took a long pull on his own butterbeer and then set it down next to him. “Ron…Hermione was…” his voice dropped down and Ron could see Harry was fighting himself over how much to say. “Ron…she was beautiful...I watched her undress and I wanted to touch her so much that it hurt. When she asked me to paint her with the potion, it was so hard not to kiss her and…” Harry broke off again. Harry looked up. He had been staring at the floor, so as to not be embarrassed by the blush he knew had taken over his face. Deciding that a factual recitation of what had to happen would save him further problems, he said, “Ron…use the tip of your wand to paint Luna with the potion, after you put the individual tokens at the five points of the pentagram. Make sure that they are spread evenly. Once you have done that, take the tip of your wand and paint both of her breasts. Once you’ve done that, take some more of the potion at the tip and run a line down between her breasts, all the way to her sex. Do her back, from the base of her neck, all the way down. That will focus the magic and make her transformation faster. You’ve already memorized the spell, so we don’t have to go over that. Just remember – the transformation is disorienting at first. Hermione and I have been doing it long enough that it’s second nature to us, but it’s going to weird you out. You’ll have to do it a couple of times just to get the initial feel of it. Once you’ve done it three or four times, we can get out and move together, the four of us, ok?”



Ron looked excited about the prospect of being an animagus, but apprehensive at the same time. “You’re going to be fine, Ron. I’ll set up a privacy screen for you and Luna, so no one will be able to see your tiny bits.”

Ron reached over and whacked Harry with a pillow for his cheek – which caused an all-out pillow fight to ensue. By the time it was over, both had forgotten about their fears and trepidations. As they sat, breathing hard, Ron looked at him. “You know, Harry, I was damn jealous of you in fifth year. Now, since I realized all that you’ve gone through, I’m surprised you even bothered to keep me as a friend. I sure as hell didn’t act like I was your friend very much of the time.”



Harry batted the comment aside. “Ron, you don’t know how much you and your family have meant to me. You’ve always been my friend – even when you were jealous. I just wish that you had known that I would have given you anything you asked of me, if I could have.” The ginger-haired boy nodded. Harry thought he knew that Ron and his brothers, Fred and George, had done something good for him….but he wasn’t sure what. For a moment, he struggled to remember something that he knew was a good memory and then gave it up. Either the memory wasn’t that strong or something was blocking it. Harry found that, upon reflection, that it didn’t matter to him and he could let the whole matter drop. In fact, it felt good to do so. Harry wasn’t sure why, but it did.

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Moonrise plus 20 Min. – Approx. 9:45 PM



Ron stepped into the circle first, by his private agreement with Luna. After placing his twelve tokens at the various points of the pentagram, Ron looked up at his fiancée. He expected her to giggle or something, but she didn’t. It was as if this particular ritual focused all of her considerable talents upon the task at hand. When it was done, she had a loving, but determined look on her face. Ron knew his bride-to-be well enough to know that she was thinking about one thing only – his successful first transformation. They both knew that Madam Pomfrey was standing just off the pitch grounds, in case something particularly bad happen. She didn’t expect anything of the sort, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared.



Hermione gave last-minute instructions to Luna and then pushed her forward, so that she could mark her husband-to-be. She did it in loving, albeit short stroked in the front and back, and then poured the rest of the potion on his broad shoulders. Just as soon as she had backed out of the circle, a powerful glow overtook Ron and he began to change. First, his arms and legs became….longer…stronger… and were covered in reddish-brown hair. His torso elongated and grew much larger. Soon, it was clear what Ron was going to be – some kind of horse. The next surprise was the set of huge, matched wings which sprouted from his back. Also unexpected were the set of wicked, recurved, steely-black horns where Ron’s ears used to be. Finally, Ron’s head became something much more closely resembling that of a normal, really large, horse. Luna looked at her massive animagus fiancée and clapped wildly. Ron had become a Night Mare. Standing something over eighteen and one-half hands high at the shoulder (one point nine meters), he was a massive, imposing presence.



“Ron?” Came Hermiones’ voice. “Can you hear me?”

He nodded, making sure that Hermione understood that he could understand the spoken word. Stomping with both of his front feet, Ron rose up and came down hard – and it looked suspiciously like he was playing.



Luna ran into the circle once she realized that the transformation was complete and stable. Throwing her arms around his neck, she whispered to him “I’m so proud of you, Ron!! See? I told you that you could do it. Besides, Hermione and Harry would never let you forget it!”



Whinnying his approval of her happiness, Ron walked out of the circle and butted Harry with his nose. Affectionately, both Harry and Hermione reached out to touch him and reassure him. Ron found that he liked their touches. He wished that they had brushes in their hands, though.



“That’s odd,” Ron thought to himself. “Brushes?”



Ron said the spell in his head to reverse the change and sure enough, he was back to being the gangly 6’4” naked teenager. Luna put a black robe around his shoulders; dropped her robe, and then stepped into the pentagram.



His first question was, “What am I? I could see hooves, so I assume some kind of horse…”



Hermione cut him off with a massive hug; ignoring the fact that her friend was wearing nothing more than a silky black robe. So excited was he that the issue of his own nakedness was forgotten. “You’re a Night Mare, Ron! Oh!!! I’m so excited for you. You’ve got wings and horns and you’re beautiful!”



Luna looked at her fiancée expectantly and Ron realized that no matter how good it felt to hear, and feel, Hermiones’ excitement for his achievement, his primary responsibility was to Luna. Stepping into the pentagram, Ron reached into the jar that Luna was holding open and fished out the tokens which were soaking in the potion. He took two and then Luna did the same. After her tokens – fifteen in total – were distributed, Ron asked Harry to hand him his wand, so that he could paint Luna.



Before he began though, Ron looked down into his lovers’ eyes. “Ready, love? I’m really excited for you and I know you’re going to be successful.”



“Oh Ron, I love you too!! I’m really proud of what you’ve done and I can’t wait to see what my form is!”



Leaning down, Ron kissed her and then took his wand in hand and, dipping it into the grey goo which was the transfiguration potion, began painting his love. Ron made it a loving, sensuous act, which surprised Harry somewhat, while Hermione could barely resist the urge she had to take Harry somewhere private and make love to him, so turned on was she.



After Ron was finished, he stepped out of the pentagram and out of the circle and watched Luna intently. She smiled at him and then said the incantation silently. At first, nothing seemed to happen and she stood, puzzled. Then a powerful, magical glow began at her legs and worked its way up. It was not how Harry or Hermione had ever transformed and they stood watching, transfixed, as Luna’s form was revealed. Suddenly, a beautiful, white-winged unicorn was revealed. It had Luna’s blue eyes and had a golden blonde mane and a long, off-white horn which jutted up from a place just above her eyes; at the center of her forehead. She was the most beautiful creature Ron had ever seen and he ran to her.



From where he sat in the stands, the Headmaster shook his head and muttered about ridiculous odds; students who always did something he wasn’t expecting, and generally about the fact that he really, really needed to retire and let someone else deal with things.



The rest of the evening was a happy, crazy blur as all but one of the students who tried the transformation made it on the first attempt. All students made it on the second attempt; which left both Harry and Hermione excited and satisfied with the semester. As the evening came to a close, all of the students who had participated gathered in the center of the pitch and became their animals. Ron and Luna were first to transform and they let the rest of the students touch them all over, before trying their own transformations. Neville turned into something neither was expecting. One moment he was Neville; Lord Longbottom, and the next he was an Ent. There was a gasp, all around, as Neville transformed into a ten-meter tall creature that looked like an English Brown Oak with a discernable face, and long branches that served as hands and legs. Ents were an old, old species that were virtually unknown outside of the great forests of central and Eastern Europe. They were tree-guardians and known to live for thousands of years, if they chose to do so. Ginny, on the other hand, was the biggest surprise of all. What she became was the talk of the wizarding world for months and proved that the Weasley family was much more than it appeared. One moment she was standing naked in the middle of the pentagram, the next, she was afire, and had become a small, golden phoenix. All those who were present suddenly went silent. It was highly unusual for one member of a family to become a magical creature, but unheard of for two members to do so, and everyone, muggle-born or not, knew it. Minerva McGonagall was struck dumb by what the youngest Weasley had become.



She grabbed her lover’s arm and pulled him close, so that she could whisper to him. “Albus! What in Merlin’s name is going on? Did you expect this? How are we going to explain any of this to the Wizengamot?”



Albus looked at her and then said, just as quietly, “We’re not, Minnie. I was given permission by the School’s board of governors to have Harry and Hermione run this course and I am not going to have them gainsaying the outcome. Besides, think about the influence that we’ve just gained as a result this.”



“You can’t be serious, Albus! Are you going to bet the School’s future on what happened tonight?”



“Yes, Minnie, we are. These students have just gained an extraordinary advantage in the magical world and every single one of them will be grateful for it in the future. The goodwill we’ve gained is enormous. They will send their children here in the years to come for the very reason that they were allowed to make the transformation. More, they’ll always remember that it was Harry and Hermione who taught them.”



Minerva McGonagall was astonished at the level of subversive planning that Albus was admitting to her. She had thought that the animagus class was Hermione’s idea, not the Headmaster’s. Then she thought about whether she’d have agreed to oversee the class if she had known what Dumbledore was planning and had to admit to herself, grudgingly, that she probably would have. She tugged on the Headmaster’s sleeve, to pull his attention back to her, so that she could talk to him. “Albus Dumbledore! You are not going to be able to hide what has happened here. The children are going to talk to their parents and you are going to have huge problems as a result. Ginny’s transformation is going to shock people. No one has become a phoenix in over a thousand years and now, not only has Ron become a Night Mare – a creature never seen anywhere in Europe before – but now, his sister has become a powerful magical creature who will live over fifteen hundred years.”



The Headmasters’ face was lined with concern as well as consternation. “I know. I’m sure that she doesn’t yet understand that her form is both a blessing as well as a curse. She’s going to outlive all those whom she loves, save Neville, and will see generation after generation pass away before she dies. If Tom Riddle had only understood how empty such a life could be, if not lived for a good purpose, he might not have gone down the road that he did.”



“You helped create him, Albus. Always remember that.”



Minerva McGonagall did not mean to be cruel in her comments, but her reminder to the Headmaster of his ultimate failure with young Tom Riddle was more than enough to twist that particular, emotional knife. She knew she’d have to apologize to him, almost the moment that it was out of her mouth. It was going to be a long, long night.

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Moonrise plus 90 Min. – Approx. 11:55 PM



Harry and Hermione were running the perimeter of the Quidditch pitch as Knight and Sagehunter. Behind them came an Ent, a night mare, a queen unicorn, a flying fox (Parvati Patil), an Irish Setter (Seamus), a Doberman Pincer (Michelle Sullivan), a red fox (Rebecca Bones), a skunk (Adrianne Brand), a Greater Kudu (Padma Patil), and a myriad of other animals. Among Harry’s favorites was Ernie McMillan’s form. He had become a red kangaroo. Somehow, his magic had gotten it right, by making him into a creature that could stay still only rarely and had a very, very tiny brain. Harry thought it fit him perfectly.



By the time the festivities were over, sixty-two children had made the transformation. Harry was sure that not all the forms had been recorded and he intended to keep it that way, at least for a while. Hermione had expressed a quiet suspicion that the Headmaster might have ulterior motives for allowing so many to become unregistered animagi and Harry was forced to agree that everything might not be on the up and up.



By midnight-thirty, Harry and Hermione were in bed together; still awake and alert from the events of the evening. It was a good thing that the next day there were no classes.



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Next chapter: Molly meets Hermione.



As always, please review.