• Previous
• Chapter 1 - Beginnings Chapter 2 - Orphans and a Hermione Moment Chapter 3 - Weasleys Woes Chapter 4 - Labor Pains Chapter 5 - Relationship building Chapter 6 - Far Reaching Decisions Chatper 7 - And so it begins Chapter 8 - Score one for the good guys Chapter 9 - The Pain of Birth Chapter 10 - Angels and Weddings Chapter 11 - Honeymoon Surprises Chapter 12 - Wives speak out and an Azkaban Field Trip Chapter 13 - Aftermath and a Reckoning Chapter 14 - Healing Conversations Chapter 15 - Dinner Guests and Mad-Eye Madness Chapter 16 - Politics and Angels Chapter 17 - Trick or Treat Chapter 18 - Whispers in the dark Chapter 19 - Difficult Times for all Chapter 20 - A Matter for Kings and Philosophers Chapter 21 - Christmas in Haven Chapter 22 - Pregnancy, Snorkacks and Luna rocks Chapter 23 - Muddying the Waters Chapter 24 - Dangerous Dagger Dilemma Chapter 25 - French Fried Troubles Chapter 26 - The pain of loss Chapter 27 - Necromancers, Amy and Trials Chapter 28 - An Elf in hot water Chapter 29 - The coming dawn Chapter 30 - Sunrise Over Britain Chapter 31 - A New Day Chapter 32 - Taking Stock Chapter 33 - Of Endings and Beginnings
• Next

Standard Disclaimer:

Severus Snape stepped onto the stage dressed in a chef outfit.

"Ahem," Alyx said, looking over Bob's shoulder.

"Huh?" Bob asked intelligently.

"A chef outfit?"

"Sure, watch this!"

Snape glared at Bob and looked pleadingly at Alyx, but there was nothing our fair co- author could do. Bob had control of the Word Processor and was holding it hostage for donuts again!

Alyx shrugged in resignation and Snape's shoulders slumped in defeat.

Amy walked across the stage holding a sign reading, "Now presenting, Chef Snape, and the amazing Technicolor Penguins."

Snape's eye's bulged after reading the sign and he threw down his cauldron and meat cleaver in frustration, never noticing that he sliced off four toes in the process.

Out in the audience, Harry Potter leveled his wand and fired off a transfiguration spell at Snape.

"Thet's it! I reffoose-a tu du uny mure-a stunderd deescleimers! Yuoo tvu deleeberetely turtoore-a me-a und meke-a my leeffe-a a leefing hell, yuoo hefe- a me- a cuukeeng pushuns fur oold sneke-a leeps und I vun't poot up veet it uny mure-a! Bork Bork Bork!"

Snape stopped talking and blinked in surprise. "Bork bork bork?" he asked himself.

Bob grinned at Alyx, who had to admit that this disclaimer was at least sufficiently different.

Hermione grinned at Harry and shot Snape with another spell.

Snape moved forward, frowning. He knew if he didn't say the words, something really bad would happen to him.

"De Authows of this stowy wish fow me to expwain that they make no cwaims to the wights to the chawactews contained hewein, uh-hah-hah-hah. Aww chawactews fwom the Hawwy Pottew univewse awe the sowe pwopewty of JK Wowwing and hew howde of cowpowate wawyews and bean countews. Oh, dat scwewy wabbit! No Mooses wewe hawmed in the cweation of this message."

Snape slapped his hands over his mouth and looked around in panic.

Amy walked back in carrying a basket and a large carving knife. A hand poked out from under the cloth covered basket. Snape gulped in panic and fled for the stage door. In a flash, he was gone.

Harry stood up and faced Bob, his expression outraged. "Hey, you bloody wanker! You let him go!"

Harry's angry shout still hung in the air when the theater was suddenly rocked by an explosion and the audience was showered with dust from the ceiling.

"Nah," Bob told him smugly. "He ran into the minefield outside the back of the theater. Now, let's talk about you calling me a wanker? Did you want to get laid anytime soon during this story?"

Harry blanched and looked around wildly.

Hermione grinned at him. "I told you not to piss off the authors."

Bob turned to Alyx. "Well?"

"So, where were the Technicolor Penguins?" she asked.

"We didn't have time. Snape, the pansy that he is, ran off before we got to them."

"You'd run too if you were constantly being blown up, cut up, shot into space, trampled by hypogriffs... Wait a minute!" She turned to stare at Amy suspiciously.

"What? So I'm a masochist!" Amy exclaimed, shrugging. "Besides, the Weasley twins are too cute."

Alyx looked between a grinning Bob and a smirking Amy and threw up her hands in despair. "I give up," she cried, and walked off as her dreams of becoming the next literary giant burned to ash on the pyre of Bob's twisted sense of humor.

---

---

Padfoot Manor, Evening (Sept 18th)...

Hermione was exhausted from another day of hand to hand combat training. She ached in places she never knew she could ache, but she was also starting to feel better about herself. Harry had helped her take a bath and she had noticed during his gentle scrubbing that she was developing noticeable muscle tone. She'd laughed when Harry suggested that they should occasionally spar and, given the problem with his leg, that she'd probably beat him.

Afterwards, Harry had applied the salves Danni had sent over, then he had Dobby bring her a nice soothing cup of tea before sending her to bed. He told her he had a few dispatches still to go over before he could join her.

She climbed into bed and turned on her side to watch him as he went over his paperwork, but found it difficult to keep her eyes open. In minutes, she was sound asleep.

Harry watched her carefully from the breakfast table where he occasionally rustled parchment to make it sound as if he was doing something. He leaned back in his chair and, for the first time in nearly a day, he relaxed his shields slightly. It was bad enough keeping his shields up to keep out Voldemort, but shielding a small portion of his mind from his wife was hard work!

That morning Amelia had sent over the paperwork, along with his credentials, diplomatic passports and the like for his new role as Ambassador at large. He had spent several hours that morning talking to the Minister about his role and what he could and could not do. He was rather impressed with the abilities of an Ambassador, and with Amelia's help, he used those powers for the first time today.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. He still had problems accepting what Amelia had thrown at him, but Hermione managed to convince him to see it from Amelia's perspective and he'd finally given in. Like it or not, he was now an Ambassador. He had already found one use for it, so maybe it wasn't all that bad.

He stood and checked his watch. It was nearly time.

"Sominus," he said, pointing a finger at Hermione. She glowed a slight pink for a moment and her sleep deepened.

He walked over to the bed, pulled the blankets off of her and then levitated her off the mattress. He reached into the front pockets of his pants, making sure he had their passports and the trunk with their clothes. Then, reaching into the back pocket of his pants, he pulled out a special portkey he'd been supplied with earlier in the evening. He gripped Hermione's hand and gave the portkey a squeeze.

A second later, they were gone.

---

Surprise (Sept 19th)...

Hermione rolled over in bed and her eyes opened suddenly. Something was wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on it, as she was still groggy from sleep. She could hear Harry bustling around the room, but there were other noises as well, unfamiliar noises that didn't make sense to her. There was a faint hum, and the sound of traffic?

Sitting up, she blinked and looked around in surprise. The huge windows weren't her normal bedroom windows, nor was the bed hers. The view from the window was completely foreign, though breathtaking.

"Harry!" she called in alarm.

"Coming! I'm just finishing up with room service!" he shouted back in reply.

"Room service?" she whispered questioningly. Climbing out of bed, she moved to the windows and stared out at what could only be Central Park and the rest of Manhattan Island to the south. Due south she could see the Empire State Building, with the World Trade Center towers looming in the distance.

Harry pushed a cart into the bedroom and frowned when he saw her out of bed.

"Harry, how did we get to New York?" she asked, turning to face him. She pointed over her shoulder towards the scenery out the window.

"Hermione, I can't serve you breakfast in bed if you don't stay in bed," he protested, ignoring her question.

"But... but..."

"No, no buts. Now, get back in bed so I can serve you breakfast," he replied, pulling her back to the bed and pushing her down. Once she'd settled back, he placed a tray across her lap and poured her a cup of tea, just the way she liked it.

"No more questions for now. We have a schedule to keep. Some shopping and sightseeing this morning, then lunch at some place called Tavern on the Green. I hope they don't mean a golf course. Back to the hotel by two for your spa appointment, then we have tickets to a show and late night dinner cruise with some friends afterwards," he told her firmly.

Hermione goggled at him, dumbfounded. "But what about our training... Haven... and how did we get to New York without having to go through customs? And how did I sleep through the trip?"

Harry stopped nibbling from his tray and looked at her. "Well, if you must know, I placed a sleeping charm on you last night. As to customs, well, let's call it diplomatic privilege. Maybe there's some advantages to being an Ambassador after all," he mused.

Hermione blinked, still a bit shocked. Then, uncharacteristically, she giggled. He leaned over and took a slice of bacon off her plate and held it to her lips.

She glared at him for a moment before taking a bite.

She watched him warily as he picked up a slice of bagel that looked to be a half mile wide. "And why are we in New York?" she blurted out before he could stuff something else in her mouth.

He put the bagel down, cocked his head sideways and stared at her for a moment, puzzled. "Hello? September nineteenth, remember? And whose birthday is that?" he asked archly. He wisely resisted the temptation to knock on her head.

When Hermione's jaw dropped, he laughed.

"You prat!" she said playfully and slapped him on the arm. "I thought you had forgotten about my birthday. I even asked the elves if you had anything planned. Winky and Dobby never said a word."

Harry stood and placed his food tray back on the serving cart. "Of course not, love. Dobby works for me and Winky would do anything to make you happy, even if it meant withholding information about your birthday surprise."

She glanced out the window again and felt a tingle of excitement. New York City! She picked up her tea cup and drank quickly. Putting the cup down, she then handed him the tray and bounced out of bed. "So, sightseeing, a play and dinner? Then back to Haven?"

He looked up from placing the tray on the cart. "A play? It never occurred to me that you might like a play. Your mum said you were fond of opera. She suggested that we go to the the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center. They're playing something called 'Aida'."

Hermione's eyes glowed. She adored opera and was certain Harry would too.

"Look, Hermione, it's your birthday. I've arranged for us to have a small holiday. We have today, tomorrow and the next day before we return to Haven. It's just a weekend, but sometimes you need a break.

"Your parents will meet us tonight for the show and then we'll have a special party. They'll be with us until tomorrow evening, when they'll return to Haven. The rest of the time we're going to play the rich muggles and enjoy ourselves. For now, though, you might want to think about getting dressed. Something casual, I think. The limo's already waiting for us."

That evening, a much pampered Hermione Potter exited the limo and entered the Opera House with her husband. Her day had been a whirlwind of shopping and wonderful cuisine. She was amazed that Harry had managed to put this together without letting any of it slip. And while she was thrilled, she made the classic mistake of many opera lovers. She assumed that Harry would love it, as well. As a result, she never bothered to explain it to her husband, who she knew had never experienced it before.

They met Dan and Emma in the lobby. Her parents hugged her and they talked for a while. Hermione learned her parents were staying at the same hotel, one floor below them in an executive suite and that they had arrived that morning. They had spent the day sightseeing and doing some shopping. Both Dan and Emma had been to New York on several occasions, so it wasn't new to them.

Dan pulled Harry off to one side, while Hermione talked with her mum.

"You've never been to an opera before, or seen one on the telly, right, Harry?" he asked.

"No, sir, but Hermione seems awful excited about it."

Dan chuckled. "She would be. We stumbled on one in the British Museum back when she was seven and she loved it. So did her mother. Me? I think I'd rather undergo root canal without Novocaine. Just remember one thing. A husband is supposed to sacrifice occasionally to keep his wife happy. Never forget that and you'll do fine," he said, then laughed to himself and walked back to join Emma and Hermione.

As far as Dan was concerned, watching the Potters might be more entertaining tonight than the opera itself. But then again, almost anything would be more entertaining.

They found their box and, for a while, Hermione's excitement spilled over to Harry. That excitement lasted for about ten seconds after the curtain went up. From there, in Harry's opinion, it was all downhill.

Hermione was having a wonderful time. Her parents were in the next box over, enjoying the show. Harry sat next to her with a half smile on his face, obviously enjoying the opera. It wasn't until the intermission that she noticed a muted feeling through the bond. She knew Harry was there, she could feel him, but it was almost like he was muffled somehow.

She glanced over and noted that he was still seated as he had been all evening, eyes half closed, a half smile on his face.

"What are you doing?" she sent to him.

The thought hit his shields and rebounded, causing her to wince for a moment. She frowned. That shouldn't have happened. She leaned closer to Harry to ask him again, and was startled to discover he had cast a silencing spell on himself!

She frowned and tugged on his sleeve, hard. He blinked and looked down at her hand. The silencing spell vanished and he looked around the theater. The house lights were on and people were moving around.

"That's it? The shows over already?" he asked, not knowing he was busted.

"No, it's not over," she hissed at him angrily. It didn't help that both her parents had noticed Harry and were now laughing at them. "This is just the intermission. And what were you doing? Your shields were nearly at full power...and a silencing charm?"

He had the grace to look suitably embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Hermione. It's not exactly what I expected, you know? I never thought I'd sit here listening to people scream at each other. And what is with them, anyway? This is America. Why are they screaming in another language?"

"It's singing, not screaming, and many operas are in Italian," she said, grinding her teeth. She glanced over at her father, who had fallen out of his chair and was laughing on the floor. Her mother was watching them, biting her lip and doing her best to ignore her husbands mirth, lest he set her to laughing.

Hermione pointed a finger under Harry's nose and was about to say something when the lights flickered. She firmly grasped his hand and turned back to face the stage. "No more silencing charms," she growled.

Harry flinched in acknowledgment, and then winced when the curtain opened and the screaming began again.

An hour after the Opera, Hermione decided to forgive her husband. The limo had taken all four of them downtown towards Battery Park, where they boarded a small luxury yacht run by a wizard. As they boarded, the rest of the Brotherhood and several other important guests arrived by portkey. With everyone on-board, the boat left the dock for a slow cruise around Manhattan Island while dinner was served.

Near the end of the meal, Minerva McGonagall stood up and called for everyone's attention. It had been decided before hand that one person would offer a special toast to Hermione and Minerva had won the honor.

"Seven years ago, an exceptional student entered Hogwarts for the first time. Miss Hermione Granger was a muggle born student who looked at our world with eyes full of wonder. She wanted to learn all she could about that world. Hermione had a drive and a will to learn everything she could and along the way she also made some very important friends. I think her friends have had more of an impact on her life than any book she's owned.

"Hermione, on your eighteenth birthday, we, your friends, have joined together to wish you the very best. We know that there have been dark times in recent months, and there will be more to come, but we also know you are strong and will weather them. From all of us, to you, a very happy birthday and may you have many, many more."

Minerva lifted her glass to echoes of "Happy Birthday."

Hermione blushed and buried her head in Harry's shoulder for a moment, embarrassed. She'd had just enough champagne to make her tipsy.

Harry watched in amusement as his normally serious wife blushed, giggled and hiccuped her way though the evening.

After dinner, the boat cruised back to the pier where they said good night to their friends. It was a weekend and, except for the Grangers, everyone else was returning to Haven. Remus knew he could call Harry back via the Brotherhood medallion, so there was little worry that anyone would be missed, should a crisis arise.

Harry, Dan, Emma and Hermione piled back into the limo for the ride uptown to their hotel.

"This has been a wonderful evening," gushed Emma.

Hermione knew she was still a bit tipsy, so she wisely refrained from speaking.

"What plans have you for tomorrow, Harry?" asked Dan.

"None really," he replied with a shrug. "This is Hermione's birthday, so I have a bunch of brochures of things we can do. I figured I'd let her choose from them."

Hermione squeezed Harry's arm and leaned against him.

---

Haven Operations Center (Sept 20th)...

"Come in!" called Caleb Newman.

The door opened and Draco entered.

"You wished to see me, sir?"

"Yes, Black. Take a seat, please."

Draco sat down and waited expectantly. He had worked with Caleb before and had grown to respect the man.

"Black, we have an operation in mind and we need your help with it," Caleb said as he stood and walked over to a large map on the wall.

"We know of two large camps that are being used to hold wizards. We think both camps contain upwards of a thousand or more people. One camp is a 'family' camp, meaning there is a strong possibility of finding children incarcerated there. The second camp is adults only. The population of these camps could easily be ten times that of Azkaban."

Draco's eyes widened at the audacity of the idea that Caleb was proposing.

"Now, the first problem is that the Dark Lord and his followers have set up numerous camps for muggles. Without close observation, it's impossible for us to tell one camp from another. We need you and your scouts to find the camps for us."

Draco nodded thoughtfully for a moment. "Perhaps the smart thing would be to first locate all of the camps we can find, then go back and monitor them to figure out which ones are magical and which ones aren't," he began. Then he scowled.

"Sir, if these camps are larger than Azkaban, are we planning on a rescue attempt? We were barely able to handle the influx of three hundred and forty prisoners. How can we handle thousands?"

Caleb frowned and moved back to his chair to consider how to frame his answer. "The Azkaban raid was a classic operation that suffered from one overwhelming flaw. We assumed the prisoners would be in decent health. As we now know, they weren't. We're not going to make any such assumption if this mission is approved. Our Ministry is already exploring options, including receiving aid from the Americans and Canadians to process the prisoners. We've also contacted the International Red Pentagram and they're offering considerable support, including healers, medi-witches and the use of three portable hospitals.

"The problem here is that we're talking about a dual objective mission. Phase one will be to rescue the prisoners and get them to safety. Phase two will be to lay a trap for any troops Voldemort sends so we can take a nice bite out of his forces."

Draco nodded and pulled out a notebook from his back pocket. He scribbled a few notes in the book before closing it again. "I'll start putting together a search plan right away. The two step approach is, I think, the best way, as we'll have located all of the camps."

Caleb nodded. "Good. Have a first draft of your plan on my desk no later than ten hundred, day after tomorrow."

Draco started to stand, but Caleb held him up. "One more thing, Black. Your Q Branch."

"Sir?"

"Since the formation of your Q Branch, they've fielded some very impressive items for the troops. I know Miles was leery of their methods, but as I've never really met them, I thought you might send for them now. I have a few issues I'd like to discuss with them."

Draco started to sweat a little. Caleb and the twins? That was sure to be an unhealthy mixture of personalities. Reluctantly, he nodded and pulled out one of the new pocket sized floo communicators and used it to call downstairs.

"Q Branch, what's the password?" said a female voice.

Draco's eyes darted towards Caleb for a moment, then back to his communicator. "Helga, I don't remember the password, nor do I have time for games! Please let me talk to Fred or George."

Draco stiffened as a bolt of electricity passed through him. His hair stood on end and the very tips began to smoke. He made a small whining sound, then his tongue stretched from his mouth before snapping back with a terrible force. He slammed back on his chair and it flipped over backwards. Draco moaned for a moment before he got up, picked up his chair and sat back down.

Caleb leaned forward on his seat and eyed his intelligence chief with alarm. Draco slumped in his chair and smoked. Literally.

"No password, no Fred or George. And I am not Helga!" said the voice from the floo. "I'm tired of people confusing me with my sister! Do I look like her? No! Well, maybe a little, but only an idiot would think I look like her! Anyone with half a brain can tell us apart. Don't you open your eyes and look? I mean, for crying out loud, you wizards are all alike. You think we muggles look the same. Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Wizard..."

Draco hastily snapped his communicator closed and looked at Caleb apologetically. "Why don't I just pop downstairs and bring them up for you, sir? This way, I can make sure everything is... er...alright?"

Caleb nodded. "Do that," he said dryly.

Draco stood and swayed for a moment, before dashing out the of the office.

Five minutes later, Draco re-entered the room. His robes looked torn and he was holding a handkerchief to his nose, trying to stem the flow of blood. Behind him followed two red headed wizards, who Caleb recognized as belonging to the Weasley clan, and two pale, blond women he thought might be the Johansens. Each of the Weasley men seemed to be carrying a body part.

"So, you're our new Ãœber boss? I'm Fred Weasley," said one red head. He reached forward with a hand, then grinned and shoved that arm under his other so he could offer his real hand to shake. Once he was done, he laid the arm and attached hand on Caleb's desk.

Caleb couldn't help but notice it was a very feminine looking limb, right down to the painted fingernails. He flinched back when the hand raised its middle finger, rudely offering its opinion of the meeting.

The other red head tossed a foot and part of a leg on top of the arm on Caleb's desk. "I'm George Weasley," he said, offering his own hand.

Caleb eyed the body parts on his desk suspiciously before shaking hands.

"Yes, I'm your boss, although you still report to Mr. Black. I called you here for a reason, but now I'm curious," he said, prodding the body parts with his wand, only to jerk it back when the hand tried to grab it.

Both of the Johansen twins giggled slightly and the Weasleys looked suitably embarrassed.

"Oh, that. Well, you see," said Fred

"We were testing our apparation mine," George said proudly.

"Precisely! It's a marvelous idea, really," offered Fred.

"Yes, step on the mine and it triggers," George replied.

"Guaranteed to splinch the person who steps on it," Fred said.

"Dead useful, we think," George replied in conclusion.

Caleb blinked and he grinned evilly at the two twins. "And these?" he asked, pointing to the body parts.

"Oh, those are Amy's, one of our lab assistants," Fred said sadly.

"Right. We're collecting her bits. If we find out where she apparated to," continued George.

"We'll be able to put her back together," Fred finished with a sad shake of his head.

"I still say we set the destination to Tibet," Fred muttered to George.

"No, it was Japan, around Mount Fuji, I think," George muttered back.

Draco stood in a corner of the office and resisted the impulse to whip out his wand and hex the both of them to bits.

"Gentlemen, please. I called you here for a reason," Caleb said in a strained voice. He looked suspiciously close to laughter.

"A reason? Well, that's different. Pay attention, brother mine!" George said imperiously.

Fred shot his brother an evil look, then turned back to Caleb and waited.

"I'm most impressed and pleased with the equipment you've come up with so far. But the one item in particular that has really caught our attention is your masking amulet. I realize that right now you've only made a few of them, but can you make more?" Caleb asked, leaning forward on his chair, watching them intently.

Fred and George exchanged a look, then Fred turned to Inga. "What do you think, love? You're the one in charge of production."

Caleb looked confused for a moment. "But I thought the Johansen girls were muggles!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, they are," said Fred.

"But they're right smart," offered George.

"Quite. We wouldn't get half our stuff out the door without them," Fred concluded, then looked at the two girls fondly.

"Well, Inga? Can we make more?" asked an impressed Caleb.

Inga pulled out a small calculator and a notebook. Her action was so smooth and so quick Caleb would have sworn it was done with magic.

"How many would you need and in what time frame, sir?" Inga asked in a husky voice that sent a shiver down Caleb's spine. He wondered briefly if the twins had any Veela in their background.

Leaning back on his chair, he considered his manpower estimates for a moment. "No more than four thousand units in, say, six months?"

Inga's eyes widened for a moment and she glanced over at Helga. Helga looked at her and nodded. "Hong Kong or San Diego I think, Sis."

"Excuse me?" asked Caleb in confusion.

"I'm sorry, sir. We were talking about where we could go for the manufacturing process. We can perhaps make a couple dozen, if necessary, but that many is beyond our abilities. We're really a department of prototypers, not manufacturers. As Helga said, we'll probably have to send the job outside of Haven in order to get it completed in time."

Caleb frowned for a moment. "While it might be alright to send this job out to some company to make, what would it take to manufacture here in Haven?"

Helga leaned back and eyed Caleb. "Money," she said succinctly. "It always boils down to money, sir. We'd need a building, enchanters, stone carvers to carve runes, potion makers, metal smiths, a foundry to smelt the metals... The list is pretty long, actually."

"And if I could get you that? Or at least access to a facility here in Haven?" pressed Caleb.

"Then you'd have a place where we could make your Elf-Masks or anything else you might need," Helga replied promptly.

Caleb nodded. It wasn't something he could promise immediately, but if he had heard Lord Potter's plans correctly, he was sure he could obtain use of the facilities for the war.

"I'll let you ladies know if we can get something set up locally for you. Oh, and for the future, please make sure Mr. Black is aware of the password?"

The four members of Q Branch grinned rather evilly and nodded before filing from the room. Draco stood in the corner watching the four leave and trying to figure out how to apologize to the boss when Caleb started to laugh.

When Caleb noted Draco's dumbfounded expression, he only laughed harder. When he was finally able to gain control of himself, he looked at Draco with an expression of sympathy. "Don't let them get to you, Mr. Black. Boffins are a strange breed, no matter where you find them."

Draco shuddered and wondered if he brought an extra robe he could change into.

---

Padfoot Manor (Sept 22nd)...

Hermione entered the study to prepare for Harry's morning meeting. He was going to be a little late. They'd returned from her birthday weekend only yesterday, and his leg was in bad shape this morning. They had done plenty of walking and shopping on their trip and now Harry was paying for it. Unsurprisingly, she had spent an inordinate amount of time in book stores, including the magical ones in the Wizarding district.

Her mother had wanted to do a bit of clothes shopping and found herself having to literally drag Hermione out of the book shops. That had changed when they hit Victoria's Secret. On exiting the shop, she'd smiled rather wickedly at Harry, much to Emma's amusement.

Hermione shook away the memories and quickly leafed through the letters waiting for Harry on his desk, deciding which ones could be re-routed for someone else to deal with.

A few minutes later Remus entered the room, followed by Draco, Caleb and Amelia. All three exchanged glances when they noticed Harry missing.

"He's running a little late this morning. His leg was bothering him and he needed a little extra time," Hermione told them quietly.

"I heard about your birthday party, Hermione. I'm sorry I missed it. I hope you enjoyed yourself," Amelia said with a smile.

"It was quite a party, Amelia," Remus offered with a laugh. "But don't ask Harry what he thinks of opera in front of Hermione."

Hermione blushed. "I wasn't that bad about it, Remus," she protested.

"I don't know, Hermione. You were tipsy enough to call him an Opera Hating Boob," Remus countered.

Draco hid a snicker behind a cough.

Harry opened the door then to find Remus and Draco laughing, Amelia and Caleb grinning and Hermione hiding her face behind her hands. "Not the Opera Hating Boob comment again?" He asked, sighing.

"I'm so embarrassed. I'm never going to live that one down, am I?" Hermione asked plaintively as Harry limped over to his seat.

He looked at his wife and hid his smile, then looked to the others. "Well now, it's a bright Monday morning. Who wants to start off?"

Caleb glanced at the others then raised his hand. Harry motioned for him to begin.

"On October fifth, we intend to start an intense campaign to locate all of Voldemort's 'relocation and re-education camps'," Caleb said, then he stood and opened a case and withdrew a map from it. He looked around for a moment, then pointed to a spot on the wall. "Might I hang this there, my Lord?"

Harry cringed. No matter how many times he had discussed it with Caleb, he couldn't get the man to call him Harry anymore. The problem lie with the fact that Harry played two roles. As Lord Potter-Black, Ambassador, he outranked Caleb, politically. The Newmans were a relatively new pure blood family and had no seat on the Wizengamot. But Harry was also Caleb's second in charge when in the field. It made for a confusing situation that Caleb solved by using his honorific.

Harry nodded and Caleb placed the map against the wall, then applied a sticking charm.

"It's a nice enough map, Caleb, but I have several maps of Britain, including that one on the wall," Harry said, pointing over his shoulder.

Caleb smiled faintly. "That's true, my Lord, but that map doesn't possess the qualities this one does. Our boffins at Q branch have borrowed one of your ideas. I don't pretend to understand it in its entirety, but there is a larger map, just like this one, in our Operations Center. When a mark is made on that map, it's instantly repeated on about sixty other copies, including this one.

"On October fifth, nearly one hundred elf scouts will begin a mile by mile search of Britain. We expect the search to take at least two weeks. The elves will be teamed in pairs and, using a map like this, they will mark what they find while in the field.

"Also, Group Captain Anderson is willing to provide something he called Satellite photos, but they won't show the camps that might be hidden by magic."

Remus and Draco frowned, hearing that.

"Remus? Draco? Is there a problem?" asked Harry.

"Not really. I'm just not sure about the validity of muggle photography," Remus commented.

Draco nodded in agreement.

"Don't let it bother you, Remus. It's something muggles can do that we can't," Hermione told him.

"How can you say that, Hermione?" protested Draco.

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Do you remember what happened at Stonehenge? I'd welcome you to the Nuclear Age, but it's not really all that welcoming. As for satellite technology..."

Harry leaned across his desk and touched her arm, stopping her lecture. "Draco, a satellite is a machine that muggles send into space. There are all sorts of satellites these days, but the ones Group Captain Anderson is talking about are among the very best. These machines are capable of flying over a country and taking pictures of incredible quality.

"Before you dismiss it out of hand, I'd suggest you let Hermione find you a book or two on the subject. Perhaps a couple books on muggle espionage techniques might also help. You can share them with Remus when you're finished with them."

Remus and Draco both flushed slightly. They knew they had both been dressed down a little, but it was a gentle slap. Hermione knew she could have handled the situation better, but shrugged it off and wrote a quick note about the books they'd need.

Harry turned back to Caleb. "Please, continue."

"Yes, my lord. As I was saying, we expect this operation to take two weeks, perhaps more. That means we won't have good location information until at least October twentieth. One of the reasons that Operation Breakout was so effective was our information on it's location and setup. We'll have to do the same thing here and much more.

"As you recall, this will be a two phased plan. Through most of October we will be planning the rescue and entrapment phases. Hopefully, by mid-November, perhaps sooner, we'll be able to mount an operation."

Caleb looked directly at Harry and their gazes locked. "I know I'm pushing on this, my Lord, but if the rumors are true, at least one of those camps is a family camp, with children. And winter is coming on."

Harry nodded grimly. Everyone was quiet for a moment, considering the implications of winter in one of the camps.

"Anything else, Caleb?" Harry asked quietly.

"Yes, sir, one more item. I've been in touch with my counterparts among the Yanks and the Canadians. They are willing to put up more troops for this operation. They've also offered to set up receiving centers of their own for the rescued prisoners. Their troops will arrive here a day in advance of our attack and return directly to their own camps back in America and Canada. Oh, and we just processed a large group of Saudi Arabian Cavalry that Miles had made arrangements for, but I'm not sure what we're going to do with them."

Amelia smiled benignly at Harry. This was exactly what she had been talking about. The cavalry wouldn't have been in Haven had it not been for Harry.

Harry caught the Minister's smile, but avoided making eye contact with her. Instead, he turned to Draco. "Good brief, Caleb. Draco?"

Draco pulled out a folder and opened it on his lap before looking at Harry. "As you know, we have two students of questionable loyalty at the school. This ordinarily wouldn't have been much of a problem, or much of a benefit, either. However, when Healer August appealed to Headmistress McGonagall for more student volunteers to help at the hospital, it opened a door of opportunity for us.

"Mindy Joyner, one of the students in question, has been allowed to help in one of the liaison offices at the Ministry building. There, we intend to feed her information she can then pass on to her Death Eater parents. Most of the information will be correct, though relatively harmless. The rest will be incorrect and, it's hoped, be of benefit to us at the right time. It is our hope that we'll be able to fool the other side into thinking this is a reliable source of information.

"Also, Amelia had made me aware of the upcoming issues with a reinstated Wizengamot. I am wondering if you want us to take a more active role in monitoring their activities?"

Harry scowled. "I don't know if we want to get involved in spying on our own people, Draco..."

Remus held up a hand. "It's a distasteful idea, Harry, but also useful in wartime. However, I think this is more suited to O'Dalley and his group. Maybe Draco should talk with him?"

Harry nodded grudgingly. He still didn't like the idea.

Amelia cleared her throat to gain his attention. "Speaking of the Wizengamot, the building for their meetings will be completed in early October. We deliberately slowed the pace of construction by using only a few elves. Those members who have been pressing for its reinstatement have backed off until the building is complete.

"One member, however, is already becoming a problem. You see, in the past, the money that paid Wizengamot members their salaries came from the seating fees and taxes, which were split between the Ministry and the Wizengamot. Very few of the rescued members would be able to afford to pay another seating fee, though one isn't due until the turn of the century anyway. So basically, the Wizengamot is broke. We, that is the Ministry, has yet to collect any taxes and, to be frank, I don't think we can, legally, collect taxes on incomes and profits earned in Ireland.

"Amhar Coeur de Lion has been pestering the Ministry to fund the membership to pay for their salaries and those of any staff they hire. Mind you, this isn't in the Ministry's charter, so I've been able to brush him off. I've heard rumors that he's approached Gringotts about a loan, but they also turned him down. He might seek you out next."

"I doubt that," Harry replied with a snort. "The last time that man was in this house, I threw him out."

Amelia pursed her lips for a moment. "Yes, well, the simple fact is, he has raised an important point. The Wizengamot does need funding. If they can't find it, members may decide their votes are for sale."

"Back to business as usual with them, then. Look, Amelia, I'll pay a wage to any man or woman who is willing to help in the war effort. Everyone, even the lowliest clerk in your mail room, is helping in their own way. But these people aren't helping. That idiot, Coeur de Lion, expected me to grovel because of his name, then he tried to insult my wife. He's lucky I didn't gut him and send him back to Azkaban," Harry replied furiously.

Amelia looked at him for a long moment, waiting for it to sink in.

He stared at her, his eyes growing wider by the second. "Impossible! You're suggesting I fund the Wizengamot? Are you out of your mind? The next thing I know, you'll be telling me to pucker up and kiss their asses!"

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Not all of them are against you, Harry. Consider it a loan," Amelia told him, though she didn't sound happy about it.

"I just love how the government has become so free with my money," he growled, glaring at the Minister. "Tell me this. What happens if I don't front them a loan?

Amelia sighed. "You know these people. They are the same ones who nearly sent you to Azkaban for protecting yourself and your cousin from Dementors. You can refuse to fund them and they will have no choice but to disband. But when the war is over, they will reform. And when they do, they will come after me, and everyone involved in the war effort. They will call our government illegal and charge us with treason. They will try to arrest you, your wife, your friends. You know what these people are capable of. In short, we risk going from one civil war, right into another..."

"We risk the same thing by putting them back into a position of power!" Harry exclaimed. "Can't you see that? Amelia, this does nothing to help the war effort. If anything, we'll be working against ourselves if I fund these people."

"We either deal with this now," Remus said quietly, "or find ourselves in Sirius' position, always on the run, hiding from the Ministry when the war ends and the Wizengamot is reformed."

Harry bowed his head. "Hermione?"

Hermione sighed and was silent for a moment. "I don't like it any more than you do, Harry."

"What do we do?"

"Call it a loan, payable within three years, at twenty percent interest, and hope it doesn't blow up in our faces."

Harry sighed and shook his head. "Get the figures needed to Remus, Amelia. He'll get the paperwork rolling for a three year loan."

"I know this is hard to take," Amelia began.

Harry held up his hand, then raised his head and pinned the Minster to her chair with the sheer fury visible in his eyes. "Understand something, Amelia. This is the last time I will let you back me into a corner like this. If I thought I could live with myself, I'd apparate every bastard on the Wizengamot back to England and let them rot there. I did not build Haven so that the Ministry and the Wizengamot could play fast and loose with my money, time or the lives of those who live here.

"From this moment on, you will take any funding requests to Remus and Hermione," he concluded.

When Amelia grimaced and looked away with a nod, he sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair.

"I know the Wizengamot problem isn't your fault, Amelia, and I've probably been more harsh than I should have been. But sometimes it's like we're back to Fudge's government. I'm paraded in front of the press, given positions and titles that I don't want, then asked to fund a government body I loath. It all has an element of sliminess to it that's repulsive to me. How you can deal with this sort of thing on a daily basis and not go insane is beyond me," he told her, shaking his head ruefully.

"I do understand your reaction, Harry," Amelia told him sadly. "I actually expected much worse when I brought it up. I don't like the idea any better than you do, but I'm trying to head off a future disaster here and, once again, I need your help to do it."

"You'll have it, Minister," he told her quietly.

On that note, the meeting broke up and everyone scattered to their various jobs. Harry sat at his desk massaging his forehead. The day was barely started and already he had a headache.

---

Hogwarts Castle (Sept. 30th)...

"Lights!" Harry commanded in parseltongue, causing the torches along the wall to flare up.

He climbed to his feet and cursed silently. Someday he would learn to land properly while portkeying! Dusting off his clothes, he looked around. The crates with explosives and other pranks was nearly empty.

He banished the empty crates, then reached into his pockets and withdrew several others, which he then expanded to full size.

When he was done with the crates, he looked up and was surprised to see quite a few new ghosts hovering in the far corner of the room. He saw Penelope and motioned for her to come closer, but she shook her head sadly and turned away from him.

"They will not come near you, nor anyone else, my Lord," the Bloody Baron said as he appeared by Harry's side.

Harry turned and bowed to the Baron, who bowed in return.

"What is wrong with them, my lord Baron?" asked Harry curiously, his gaze returning to the ghosts in the corner. As far as he knew, nothing could harm a ghost.

The Baron turned and looked at the other ghosts for a moment. "The Dark Lord's foul rite is creating ghosts who lack the ability to tie themselves to a location. It is a problem that all of us ghosts will face soon enough. In time, even I will join the others, slowly fading away, trapped in our memories and unable to break out. The magic which anchored us is gone. Without it, we are all doomed."

He turned to the Baron, surprised. "What? You're ghosts! You can't die."

The Baron smiled sadly. "Tis a shame that Hogwarts never gets around to teaching their students about ghosts. Most ghosts still hold a piece of their soul. That, combined with their own form of ghost magic, allows them to anchor themselves to a place. Myrtle, for example, anchored herself to the girl's lavatory when the Ministry exorcised her, while I am anchored to the Slytherin Common Room.

"Unfortunately, the Dark Lord's foul ritual is creating ghosts who lack an portion of their soul, so their magic is weaker. Then there is the fact that magic has fled Hogwarts. This is causing the newer ghosts to lose power. Eventually, they will fade until nothing of them remains. Think upon it, my lord. To know you are fading away to nothingness and being unable to stop it? They are terrified."

"And what of you, my Lord Baron? Will you also fade?" asked Harry.

"In time, I, too, will fade. But unlike these poor wraiths, my soul will simply cross over. All of the older Hogwarts ghosts will suffer the same fate. But for these newer spirits, they have no where else to go. They will fade and be no more."

As the Baron spoke, the other ghosts moved closer. When Harry finally looked over , he recoiled from the sight. Several reached out in his direction, moaning piteously. "Save ussss..."

He turned back to the Baron, distraught. "Is there nothing that can be done? Can I do something to slow, or halt this process?"

The Baron shrugged his shoulders in reply. "We need magic to anchor our spirits, but the magic of Hogwarts has been steadily draining away since the Dark Lord assumed control of the castle. Soon, it will be gone."

"Just raw magic? Not a spell or anything?"

"Just raw magic, but that isn't something you can come by easily."

Harry looked around the floor for a moment, then he selected a small stone. "I hate to do this here, but the Fidelius Charm should prevent anyone from homing in on it," he murmured.

The Baron watched him carefully as he transfigured the rock into a large quartz crystal. Holding the crystal in his cupped hands, he started filling the crystal with his magic. It was raw power, uncontrolled and unrefined, and the air around the crystal snapped and sparked with electricity.

After ten minutes, he stopped and shakily placed the crystal on a nearby table. "Can you anchor to that?" he asked, panting from the effort.

The Baron glided over to the table and held out his hand, touching the stone. He closed his eyes and his form seemed to sharpen and brighten just a little. The Baron looked over at Harry in amazement.

"Aye, my lord," he said reverently. "It's not a permanent solution, but I think we can."

The Baron raised a bloody arm and waved to the others floating nearby. Harry watched as, one by one, the ghosts came forward and touched the stone. He smiled weakly when Penelope passed him. She curtsied low and cried ghostly tears.

"I don't know how long the crystal will last. Send for me if it dims. Do not leave the chamber except when you go out on spying missions. The only real solution here is to bring the magic back to Hogwarts and that will not happen until the Dark Lord is defeated. We are working towards that end, and your help is appreciated."

The Baron looked up from watching the last of the ghosts connect to the source of magic and he smiled at Harry. "Your faith in us will not go unrewarded, my lord. Far too often wizards ignore us because we rarely interact with the physical world. You have shown yourself a friend to our community and we will support your cause to the best of our ability."

Harry bowed his head in acknowledgment of the Baron's words, then he picked up the portkey and vanished.

There was a moment of silence among the ghosts, then a cold wind whipped through the chamber. The Baron clapped his hands and ghosts gathered around him. "Come, it is time to teach you new comers how to possess a living being and other skills. Then we shall send word throughout the spirit world. Harry Potter is our ally and friend, and we will aid his cause."

---

Padfoot Manor...

Harry waved tiredly to the men outside the door and they opened it quickly. All portkeys to the manor came in through a hole in the wards to one, guarded room in the basement. Charging the crystal had used up a lot of his energy and he was nearly exhausted. He climbed slowly up the basement stairs, and headed for the master suite.

He entered the suite a few minutes later and stopped in surprise when he spotted Hermione, Narcissa, Emma and Luna sitting at the breakfast table. Hermione turned when she heard the door open and she stood up in alarm after spotting him.

"Harry? What's wrong?" she asked, rushing over to his side.

Narcissa opened a pouch on her belt and removed a small vial. Her Healer training had advanced to the point where she was allowed to dispense certain, more restrictive, potions.

Hermione led Harry over to the bed and sat him down.

"I'm alright, just tired. I ran into something I didn't expect and fixing it took a lot of power out of me."

Narcissa uncorked the vial and handed it to him. "Pepper-up. Drink it," she ordered, her tone that of a Healer dealing with an obstinate patient.

Harry downed the vial quickly, then sat back as energy pumped through his system and bled off steam through his ears. When the steam finally died out, he looked more awake and energized.

"Now, tell us what happened," Hermione said.

"I went to visit the Hogwarts ghosts to get an update on what was going on and to restock Peeves' pile of goodies. But I found the ghosts in bad shape. The magic is fleeing the castle and many of the ghosts created by that ritual of Voldemort's are dying."

Hermione and Narcissa frowned. "But ghosts can't die. They are already dead," protested Hermione.

Harry waved a hand at the two women. "I know, but without the magic to sustain them, they are fading out. The older ghosts, and the ones who died in a regular way, will simply cross over. The ones made by that ritual will fade out of existence and they were terrified by it. Apparently, a ghost like the Baron, or Nearly Headless Nick, still retains it's soul, or a part of it. They still need to anchor themselves to a location, like Hogwarts, where the magic will sustain them. But Hogwart's magic is fading quickly.

"I left them a stone I charged with raw magic. It will provide them with a temporary anchor. Charging the stone was... tiring," he said.

"What does it mean when you say Hogwart's magic is fading?" asked Emma in a perplexed tone.

Hermione chewed her lower lip, thinking. "I'm not totally sure, Mum... Hogwarts was one of the most magical places in Britain. I don't even know if it will continue to stand with all it's magic gone," she said finally.

"Oh, it will stand," answered Harry. "Voldemort will see to that. It's too much of an icon in his eyes. What scares me is if he's there long enough, the castle will be permeated with dark magics. It would be very hard to turn the castle back into a school if it's filled with his evil."

Emma leaned back in her chair, her eyes alight with possibilities. "I don't understand half of what I should, but it seems to me that there must be a way of cleansing the castle. If you don't mind, I think I'll look into it, maybe talk to Professor Flitwick about it. Now that we know there's a possible problem, we can plan for dealing with it."

Harry smiled in her direction and nodded. "In the meantime..."

"In the meantime, Mr. Potter, I think you should lay down for an hour or two," Hermione said crisply.

Harry looked over at her with bloodshot eyes. "That is a good idea," he mumbled as the pepper up potion began to wear off.

Hermione pushed him back on the bed, removed his shoes, and drew the blankets over him.

"Perhaps we should continue our discussion in the study?" asked Narcissa.

The other women nodded and followed her out of the room.

---

Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Oct 1st)...

Headmistress McGonagall looked up from her lunch. The first years ran into the dinning hall in formation.

"First years," barked one of the taller students.

"Who Rah!" the first years yelled in response.

"Fall out for lunch detail!"

Minerva frowned as her first year students scattered to various tables, then stood waiting for an order to sit.

"Sit!" barked that same tall student.

They immediately sat and began their meal. Minerva glared across the table at Miles, who grinned and shrugged apologetically. The simple fact was, Professor Stonefist, for all of his rough mannerisms, was turning out to be extraordinarily popular with the younger students.

Minerva had talked with several of the teachers and they were all unanimous in their opinion that this year's crop of first year students were among the politest and hardest working that anyone had ever seen. And as if to add insult to injury, the second years where beginning to fall into the same patterns.

She eyed the huge professor sitting across the table from her.

He had been watching his class with a trained eye and was generally pleased with what he saw. When he first accepted the job he thought it would be a nightmare training children, but instead he discovered an audience eager for his stories and even more eager to learn. The class didn't fully understand about the war, but they knew it was serious and wanted to do their part, even if all that meant was giving their parents one less thing to worry about by getting good grades.

"Professor Stonefist, if I might have a moment of your time?" said Minerva.

Stonefist turned and faced the Headmistress. "Of course, Headmistress," he replied.

Miles snickered. Minerva had complained to him on several occasions that Stonefist refused to call her by any name other than her title. Minerva shot Miles a glare, then looked at Stonefist.

"Professor, I wanted to commend you on your work with your students. I admit that, at first, I was alarmed seeing first year students marching through the halls. But all of the teachers are reporting considerably few disciplinary problems with the first year students than with the other grades," Minerva said, trying to ease her way into the topic she wanted.

"They are a good troop, Headmistress. Eager to learn. That's important," Stonefist said, and for a brief moment a smile tried to form.

Minerva shook her head at the impossibility of it. It was rumored among the students that Professor Stonefist had smiled only once in his life, and that time it was an accident.

Eithne O'Keefe, the divination teacher, stood and immediately moved to another seat further away. Minerva looked at her inquisitively, then turned back to Stonefist again.

"Yes, well, there is one small, slight problem I thought I'd raise with you, Professor. It seems a few of your students have written their parents and they, in turn, have written me, asking why I'm allowing a Professor to call his students... What was the term? 'Pus filled midget maggot munchers?" Minerva asked in a painfully polite tone.

Miles snorted into his drink and sprayed Hagrid with tea, while Filius fell off his chair in shock. Hagrid looked at Miles in surprise as the man collapsed back in his chair, laughing. Hagrid reached down and picked up Flitwick, placing him back on his chair. The little man was giggling merrily.

Stonefist shot the little man a puzzled glance, then turned his gaze back to Minerva. "I shall endeavor to moderate my language, Headmistress," he said calmly.

Recognizing a victory, even if it was a Pyrrhic one, Minerva decided to retreat while she was ahead.

"Please do so, Professor. We can't have the parents complaining about the language being used by the faculty," she replied primly, then she looked over the wildly grinning staff in disgust.

---

Padfoot Manor...

Harry limped into the manor. He had taken time out today from the numerous planning sessions to spend some needed time dueling.

He used a specially built chamber in the Operations center to do his dueling training. The walls were reinforced to withstand spell blasts. Inside the chamber, Harry had his choice of human opponents or Golems, which were controlled by observers through a transparent panel. It wasn't uncommon when Harry was dueling for him to have an audience.

"You're late."

He looked up the stairs and spotted Hermione standing at the top, frowning at him. He could feel both anger and worry warring with each other over their bond. He leaned heavily on his staff and tried to grin through his pain.

"Sorry, love. Dueling training today was pretty rough."

Hermione's expression softened. "Well, you better get up here, take a fast shower and get changed. Our guests arrived nearly a half hour ago."

"Guests?"

"Don't tell me you forgot that Amelia was bringing some of the Wizengamot members by tonight?" she asked archly.

Harry groaned and wiped his forehead. "Fine, make my apologies to our honored guests and I'll be down as quickly as I can," he replied, then he apparated directly to their bedroom where Dobby and Winky were both waiting to help him get cleaned up and dressed.

Twenty minutes and several drying charms later, Harry apparated to just outside the sitting room where Hermione and Amelia were entertaining their guests. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and entered quietly.

"Yes, the town was nearly completed before we started moving people in here," Hermione said. She glanced up and, seeing Harry, she smiled.

"My apologies," Harry said. "My duties at the Operations Center ran longer than I had anticipated."

Hermione scowled, noting he was still leaning heavily on his staff. "Are you alright?" she sent him.

"I've had better days, but I should be fine."

Amelia stood and walked to his side. "Harry, I'd like to introduce you to some of the more influential members of the Wizengamot," she said, leading him to the small group standing near Hermione. "From left to right we have Alastair McShaney, Martin Haskel, Trenton Largo, Cyrus Banebridge and

Agatha Umbridge," she said.

Harry's eyes widened upon hearing the last name and he looked at the woman warily. Yes, there was a resemblance between Councilor Umbridge and his defense teacher from fifth year.

"Councilor Umbridge is Delores Umbridge's younger sister, Harry," Hermione offered helpfully.

Harry relaxed somewhat and the short woman approached him, offering her hand.

"My Lord, I'd like to apologize for what my sister has done to you. I know only a little of her crimes, but I know she died supporting that foul regime," the Councilor said quietly.

Harry reached out and took her hand, smiling warmly. "You need not apologize, Councilor. I'm pleased to meet you... all of you."

Dobby appeared a moment later. "Harry Potter, Sir, dinner is being ready in the dinning room."

"Thank you, Dobby. We'll be right there," Harry replied before turning to the group. "Shall we retire to the dinning room?" When he led them from the room, he tried his best to minimize his limp in front of his guests.

Several hours later he sat with Hermione, Amelia and their guests, sipping sherry in the sitting room. Harry drank a glass of chilled fruit juice. One of the advantages of their trip to Egypt was learning about different drinks he could imbibe. The dinner, thanks to the elves, had been superb as usual. He made a mental note to find a way to thank them without throwing them into a panic that he might give them clothes.

"I understand, my lord, that you will be assuming your seat among us, now that you've achieved your majority," said Trenton Largo. He was a tall, distinguished looking gentleman, his hair even more salt and pepper than Remus'.

"Yes. I understand I can claim two voting seats, that of the Black, and Potter families," Harry replied with a smile. He was feeling a little better about that loan for the Wizengamot tonight. Each of these members were actively doing what they could for the war effort.

Largo smiled. "I heard about that. Of course, with so few members of the Council, there isn't much we can do for now."

"I'm sure that will change in time, Councilor," Harry replied.

"Excuse me, my Lord, but Haven... What will happen to it when we go home?" asked Cyrus Banebridge.

"Well, I own most of the land, as you know. But when we return to Britain, I'm sure some people will stay behind, laying down new roots. As room becomes available, others will move in. The school will remain. If I have anything to say about it, it will become the sister school to Hogwarts and students will attend classes at both schools. I've also spoken to Headmistress McGonagall about the possibilities of opening up a center for advanced studies and apprenticeships."

Several of his guests exchanged approving looks.

"As to the more official buildings? The Operations center will probably be purchased by the Irish Aurory, who has expressed interest in turning it into a training center. The manor, of course, will remain as it has, a part of my family's properties."

"My lord, if I might..." Umbridge began, but stopped when Harry waved a hand at her.

"Councilors, I know there are rules that we must follow in public and while the Wizengamot is in session, but frankly this formality is giving me a headache. Please, all of you, I'm just Harry, Hermione's husband. That's all I ever wanted to be and thats all I'd like to be called for the rest of the evening."

"Very well... Harry," Umbridge said somewhat uncertainly.

"It gets easier the more you say it, Agatha," Amelia told her, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"I think I can speak for all of us here when I say I'd like to thank you, Harry. Not only for rescuing us from that prison but, more importantly, for what you're doing for the people," Umbridge said in a serious tone.

The rest of the Councilors nodded in agreement and Hermione smiled, watching her husband squirm under their accolades.

Harry mumbled something incoherent and Hermione leaned forward, laying a hand on his arm. He took a calming breath then tried again.

"Agatha, I can't possibly accept your thanks. There were nearly four hundred and fifty Aurors and others helping in that rescue mission. I just played one small part in it," he replied in protest.

Amelia snorted in disbelief and everyone turned to her. "One small part? Harry, the original idea was yours. You helped on the planning and you were second in command in the field when the operation took place. You had more than a small role in the rescue!"

"I think what Harry is trying to say is that is unfair to single him out alone when so many others took part in that mission," offered Hermione.

"Exactly!" exclaimed Harry. "There were so many good people helping there that day. They are all heroes."

There was a moment of silence, then Trenton Largo raised his glass in salute. "Well, then, to the Heroes of Azkaban!"

"And absent friends," added Harry quietly.

Everyone drank in toast, then Councilor Umbridge turned to Hermione.

"I understand you had the opportunity to visit the library at Alexandria recently?" asked Umbridge.

"Yes. Harry took me there as part of our honeymoon," Hermione said happily. "In fact, the Director of Magical Antiquities for the Egyptian Ministry sent us nearly fifteen hundred volumes, copied from their Druid and Celtic lore sections."

"My wife loves her books. In some ways I'm not sure if she doesn't think of me as a strange walking, talking book," Harry quipped, then he smiled at Hermione to show he was only teasing.

Hermione glanced at him, smiling sweetly. "Yes, my husband. I can read you like a book, a dirty book, at that," she sent him, her tone full of amusement as he nearly choked on his drink.

"For myself, I found the trip to the library fascinating because of the conditions under which it exists. They are still restoring sections of it. I can appreciate the books and scrolls, although perhaps not as well as Hermione, but I found the idea of rebuilding an ancient library that sunk into the sea a wonderful use of magic," Harry said, trying to recover from Hermione's comment.

"I have heard of that project myself, but have never seen it," lamented Umbridge. "Indeed, the expertise needed to rebuild and reconstruct ancient texts might help us, once we return to Britain."

Hermione's eyes lit up and Harry motioned for her to answer. He leaned back on his chair and sipped his juice, while Hermione led the group into a discussion of how to recover and rebuild the damaged libraries after the war.

---

Bucharest, Romania (October 2nd)...

A tavern had been at this location for more than eight hundred years. The name had changed hundreds of times, as had the owner. It was now called the Bloody Axe and its sign, that of a huge war axe dripping illusionary blood, hung from the post just above the door. Through crusades, wars, and plague, the tavern and the little street it was on had been protected. This was the seedier side of Wizarding Romania. This was the side most people feared, where dark arts ruled and Werewolves, Vampires and evil wizards and witches did their business. Knockturn Alley was a walk in the park compared to this place.

Dumbledore was intimately familiar with this region and it's customs. His Order had, at one time, used this region as a stepping stone to make contact with the Werewolf clans.

He slipped into the Bloody Axe and made his way towards the bar. The floor was dirt mixed with sawdust, and the only light came from torches along the walls. There was a brief moment of silence when he stepped into the room, and he tugged at the hood of his cloak to make sure it hadn't slipped off.

"Fire Whiskey," he said, placing a galleon on the counter.

The man behind the bar eyed the coin hungrily for a moment, then filled a large glass. The coin vanished in the process.

"You're a stranger to these parts," the bartender said diffidently.

Dumbledore nodded and said nothing.

"Best be keeping a close eye on your money then, stranger, or you're liable to find someone willing to slice your throat for it."

"They can try, but they might not like the results," countered Dumbledore. "I'm looking for Nickolai."

The bartender arched an eyebrow. "Nickolai only talks to people he wants to talk to. It's death to seek him out when he doesn't want to speak to you."

"He'll talk to me," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Bah! If you can find him, that is," the bartender replied with a chuckle.

"Oh, I don't have to worry about that. In fact, you'll find him for me."

The bartender looked around nervously but all he saw were the regulars to his tavern. "Why should I get involved?"

"Because the galleon you took from me was poisoned. If you want to live, you'll see that Nickolai meets me here in two days," Dumbledore said with a giggle, then he turned and walked out of the tavern, leaving the terrified publican behind.

---

Haven (Oct 3rd)...

Arthur pushed back his plate and sighed gustily. "That was excellent, Melinda," he commented. "For someone who didn't know how to cook a few months ago, you've sure come a long way."

"Thanks to your help," Melinda replied, smiling.

"I never taught you to cook like this."

"No, but you did teach me the basics. With that knowledge, Olga allowed me back into her kitchen and helped me to polish my skills. I know lamb chops aren't difficult, but I never would have tried to cook them had you and Olga not been willing to teach me."

"Lamb chops might not be difficult, but the cherry-pecan sauce you drizzled over them was wonderful," he told her.

"I'm glad you liked it," she said. Standing, she began to gather up the dishes on the table.

"I'll help." Gathering up his plate and glass, he stood up and groaned. "I think I ate too much," he muttered sheepishly.

Laughing, Melinda dumped the dishes into the sink. "Don't worry about the dishes. Dilly was a bit put out with me when I told her I was going to cook. She can be a demanding little thing when she wants to be. She ordered me to leave the dishes to her. So, if you'd like, we can take tea in the living room."

"Sounds good to me," he said as he dumped his dishes into the sink next to hers. "If I left now, I'd be waddling down the street."

"We can't have that, can we. Much too undignified." Removing a tray from the cupboard above the stove, she placed it on the counter and smiled when Arthur handed her two cups. Adding sugar and cream pots, she picked up the tray. "Will you grab the kettle there on the back of the stove? I set it to brewing just before we finished dinner, so it should be ready. It'll be hot, so make sure to use the towel there on the counter."

When he picked up the kettle, she turned and led the way into the living room. Once they were settled on the couch and the tea poured, they both leaned back and relaxed. They were silent for a time, comfortable enough with each other by now that moments of silence were easy, rather than awkward.

"Why has your schedule at the hospital been so erratic lately?" Arthur asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Payback," she said, smiling. "I spent time at the manor helping with Mr. Boot's treatment, which meant others had to cover my shift at the hospital."

He frowned. "That doesn't sound right. It's not like you were on vacation."

"It was, actually. Well, almost. Therapy is different. It can be demanding, but for much shorter lengths of time. At the hospital, I work twelve hour shifts. At the manor, I worked between four and six, depending on what we had scheduled for Terry."

"So you ended up with free time," he said, understanding.

"Right. And those covering my shifts had to cut into their own free time to do it." She shrugged. "Now it's time for payback."

"You don't sound like you mind very much."

"I don't, not really. It keeps me busy and I love my work. My time at the manor was nice, but I couldn't do something like that for long. I feel lost with too much free time. I never know what to do with myself."

"You could spend more time with me," he said quietly. When she looked at him, a bit surprised, he blushed furiously. "Sorry. Forget I said anything," he mumbled into his teacup.

She placed her cup on the coffee table and turned to face him more fully. "No, I don't think I will."

"Melinda," he began as he placed his own cup on the table.

She reached out and took his hand. "It's my turn now. Be quiet and listen," she told him gently. When he nodded, she looked down at their joined hands. "I enjoy the time we spend together, Arthur, but you're as busy at the Ministry as I am at the hospital. I was surprised you actually had time to come over for dinner. When we do go out, we're almost always interrupted, either by people wishing to speak to the Deputy Minister, or by the hospital calling me back because they need an extra healer."

She stopped then and shook her head. Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes to his, meeting his gaze. "What I don't think you realize is just how much I resent those interruptions. But we both have responsibilities that neither of us would shirk, no matter how much we may wish to from time to time. If I could find a way, I'd spend a lot more time with you."

He reached out with his free hand and brushed her cheek gently. "We'll just have to be more creative with our time," he murmured. Leaning down, he brushed his lips across hers once, twice. Hearing her breath catch, he deepened the kiss.

When his arms wrapped around her, she moaned and let him pull her down on top of him. Stretched out on the couch, they explored each other tenderly at first. But when she bit his lower lip, he grasped her hips and pulled her tightly against his erection. As her hips bucked against him, he bit back a groan.

It took a moment for the frantic knocking on the cottage door to register, but when it did, they both froze. A moment later, Arthur cursed.

"Someone better be dying," Melinda muttered as she pushed herself up. Trying to tame her hair and straighten her skirt, she rushed for the door as Arthur stood and tried to fix his shirt, now missing several buttons.

Ready to tell the person at the door to get lost, she jerked it open and blinked in surprise. "Ginny?" Noting the way the young woman held herself, bent over slightly and clutching her stomach, she grew concerned. "Ginny, what's wrong?" she asked as she pushed the door open wider and helped her in.

"I was training and there was an accident," Ginny said, panting from the pain.

"Why didn't you see the medic?" Melinda asked as they walked slowly towards the couch.

"Ginny? Merlin! What happened to you?" Arthur exclaimed as he rushed towards her.

"Dad? What are you doing here?" Her face flushed in embarrassment. "I was hoping to see Melinda alone."

"Yeah, well, that makes two of us," he muttered as he reached her side and helped her to the couch.

Her eyes widened as she noticed her father's shirt was missing buttons and hung open. Swinging her gaze to Melinda, her jaw dropped as she saw the healer's hair, her skewed skirt. "Oh, Merlin. I'm sorry! I didn't mean..."

"Never mind that. Tell me what happened," Melinda snapped as she grabbed her wand from the mantel.

"I can't. Not in front of my father," Ginny hissed.

Melinda's eyes narrowed.

"Don't be foolish," Arthur snapped. "Tell Melinda what happened."

"Dad!"

"Arthur, why don't you go into the kitchen for a few minutes? I'll call you when we're done."

Looking between the two women, one stern, the other pleading, he threw up his hands in frustration. "Fine!"

Once Arthur had left the room, Melinda turned back to her patient and began casting diagnostic charms. "What happened?" she demanded.

"We're learning hand to hand combat. I was fighting with one of the instructors. I rushed him just as he tried to kick me. He missed his target and kicked me between the legs. I think he hit my pelvic bone or something, I don't know. The pain was intense! He sent me to the lockers and told me to change and go home. Only, when I took off my training gear, I noticed blood."

Seeing her embarrassment, Melinda understood. "When is your period due?"

"Three weeks," Ginny told her, relieved that she didn't have to explain further.

"This is why you didn't go to the field medic?"

"The medic's a man!"

Melinda shook her head, smiling. "They've seen it all, Ginny. There's nothing to be embarrassed over. Hmmm. Diagnostics show no internal damage," she said, moving her wand around a bit. "But... Yes, there it is. Nothing to worry about." She tsked. "That kick must have been pretty hard to cause this. Lacerations from the blunt force trauma, I'd say."

Twenty minutes later, Melinda put her wand on the table and walked towards the hall closet. "Get dressed while I get you a few potions. I keep some of the more common ones here at home. Since the neighbor's child had his lip split open by his sister, I've learned to be prepared. Ah, here we go."

Taking a few bottles from a bag on the closet floor, she walked back to Ginny and set them on the table. "Two for pain relief, one for the bruising. The bleeding has been stopped and the lacerations closed. However, there are a few things you need to abstain from.

"First, no training tomorrow. After that, you're too take it easy for a week. If your instructors have any problems with that, you tell them to talk to me. Understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Second, no penetrative sex for one week."

"What?" Ginny exclaimed as she looked up from buttoning her pants, her eyes wide.

"I know you're still a newlywed, but I mean what I say. Abstaining for a week isn't going to kill you, and you need to fully heal. I'm sure Neville will understand."

"I wasn't actually going to tell him about this," Ginny muttered as she sat back down.

"Now you don't have a choice," Melinda said, grinning. "He'll understand. I want you to take a dose of the pain reliever while I go get your father."

"Don't tell him!"

"Don't worry, Ginny. 'Female trouble' is usually enough of an explanation for most men. Take the potion. I'll be back in a minute."

Ginny uncorked the bottle and took the potion. The relief was immediate and welcome. She set the empty bottle on the table and stood up, slowly. Feeling no pain, she sighed happily and picked up the other bottles.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked as he walked quickly towards her.

"Fine, now," she told him as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight. "Really, dad, I'm fine."

"You scared the breath out of me," he told her as he pulled away and looked at her carefully.

"I'm sorry for it," she said as she slipped out of his arms. "But I'm okay now. I think I'll head up to the manor and see if I can catch dinner with Neville."

"If you need anything, or have any problems, you let me know," Melinda told her as she walked the young woman to the door.

"I will. Thanks."

"You're welcome. And next time, don't be embarrassed to go to the field medic. Had it been serious, you may not have gotten here in time," Melinda told her sternly as she opened the door.

Ginny stepped into the doorway, then turned around and looked at Melinda, then her father. "So, umm, dad? Do the boys know about..." She waved her hand between him and Melinda.

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked, frowning.

"Your shirt, Melinda's skirt? The fact that you both have rats nests for hair? It's obvious I interrupted something," she said, her eyes dancing.

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Ginevra Weasley! Don't you dare!"

"I don't understand," Melinda said, looking between father and daughter. "Dare what?"

"Dad doesn't want me to tell the boys about the two of you," Ginny said, laughing outright. "But I think they should know. The twins, especially."

"NO!" Arthur all but shouted as he lunged for his daughter.

"Ginny, wait!" Melinda exclaimed as she reached for the younger woman.

Dancing away, Ginny laughed and, with a small pop, apparated away.

"Oh, Merlin," Arthur groaned

"She wouldn't!" Melinda said, still staring at the empty doorway.

"She would," he told her morosely.

"If she does, she better not come to me to treat her next injury. I'll make her itch for a week!" she growled as she slammed the door.

---

Padfoot Manor...

"Missy? Oh Missy, yous musts be waking now." said the small piping voice.

Luna opened one eye and peered down at the small elf staring up at her. She had been sleeping, naked, and quite comfortably, on top of Draco. His arms were still wrapped around her. She glanced at the clock Two in the morning? Someone must have discovered a smores infestation, she thought. They wouldn't wake me otherwise.

"I'm awake. Has someone found that smores nest I was worried about?" Luna said softly. She really didn't want to wake Draco. They had fallen asleep after making love and he needed his rest.

"No, Missy. Twilla don't know about Smores nest, evil creatures wif long teef and nasty eyes, but Master Hairyhead asked me to bring you a message," said Twilla, waving a scroll.

Sighing, Luna reluctantly rolled off Draco and threw the coverlet back over him to cover his nakedness, before accepting the scroll from Twilla. Scanning the message, her expression changed and she stood. "Tell Hagrid I will be there within half an hour."

Twilla nodded anxiously, then vanished with a pop, while Luna walked over to her wardrobe and started to pull out clothing.

After dressing, she left the message from Hagrid on the nightstand and hurried outside. Unlike Harry, who could apparate through the manor house wards, she had to walk. She reached the edge of the manor's wards, then apparated to the edge of the wards protecting the school.

Arriving at the school, she winced, hearing the discordant keening coming from the Angels. Hagrid and Headmistress McGonagall stood nearby, trying to figure out what was wrong with them.

"Could they be ill, Hagrid?" asked McGonagall.

"I don't think so Purfessor. I ain't sure what's wrong yet. Ah... here's Mrs. Black now," Hagrid said, beaming at Luna. Her unique abilities with animals and other aspects of Nature made her a favorite of Hagrid's and Professor Sprout.

Luna hurried over, pulling the shawl about her shoulders tighter against the breeze. Summer was over and the nights were getting quite chilly.

"When did this start to happen?" Luna asked breathlessly.

"Within the last hour, Miss L... Mrs. Black," Minerva said. She gave the young woman an apologetic glance, then looked over towards the dormitories where most of the lights were now on. Crowds of students hung out the windows, watching the spectacle.

Luna frowned. She had been working when she could with the Angels and they were not acting normally. In the past weeks, their true voices were becoming apparent, but the sounds they now made were nothing like their true voices. Normally very melodic, their bell like voices were a joy to listen too. Their voices seemed to contain a phoenix like quality, uplifting the spirit and bringing hope to the hopeless. But tonight the sound they made could only mean one thing. They were in pain for some unknown reason.

"Oh, you poor babies," Luna murmured, then she stepped up to the two Angels. Both creatures looked at her and ceased their keening. Their expressions, however, were still those of pain and confusion, a great deal of confusion.

"It's all right," she crooned to them. "No one here will hurt you."

The two floating Angels stared at her and their expressions eased. Luna reached out with both hands and grabbed a hand of each creature. She smiled. "Do not be afraid. I can help."

All motion, all sound, ceased in the clearing. Minerva and Hagrid looked around nervously. It wasn't normal for all night sounds to cease like this. Even the breeze had died.

A faint glow sprang up around Luna. Sparkles, like millions of fairy lights, filled the clearing and danced to some unheard melody. Minerva and Hagrid gasped when they saw the grass at their feet growing, spiraling upwards. Strange creatures began to pop in and out of existence in front of their eyes.

"Ah... Now I understand," Luna said with a smile.

Between the two Angels, a light appeared and they moved closer together. Both Angels reached for the light with their free hand. The light slid up their arms and quickly covered both Angels, then widened to include Luna.

"Don't be afraid. It's a natural and wonderful process," Luna told them softly.

The creatures smiled at her, then extended their wings. Releasing Luna from their grip, they spiraled upwards together, each circling the other. As they went, the glow surrounding them changed from its normal white to a white with a hint of pink at the edges. Their voices filled the night air like the sound of hundreds of tuned bells in some heavenly choir. No one who heard their song could fail to be uplifted by it.

At the zenith of their flight, the Angels burst forth in a rainbow of colors before returning to white again. Slowly they spiraled down to the hover in front of Luna, Hagrid and Minerva.

Luna stood, mesmerized by the spectacle, completely ignoring the creatures popping in and out around her. When the Angels began their descent, she shook herself free from their song in time to see a small man, no more than a foot tall and with a huge phallus, appear. This time he was blue and the horn in the center of his forehead was a shocking yellow. He wore a polka dotted vest and he appeared to be enraged at her. He stroked himself a few times and proceed to make many rude hand gestures at her. Then he noticed Minerva. He eyed her up and down for a moment before letting out a long low whistle.

"Behave yourself," Luna chided him gently.

The little man glared at her and vanished with a pop.

She chuckled and turned her attention to the two patiently waiting Angels. "This is not the end of the adventure. Soon it will be time to take the next step. When that time comes, call me and I will help you," she told them.

The larger of the two Angels moved forward and dipped slightly. Then to everyone's amazement, it opened it's mouth and, using a perfectly modulated string of bell tones, said, "Thank you."

The two Angels then rose up in the air, soaring above the school, glowing and calling to one another. Luna watched them for another moment before pitching to her knees, her eyes filled with tears.

There was a pop of someone apparating in, then Draco pushed his way between Minerva and Hagrid. He stopped next to Luna and scooped her up in his arms.

"Let's take her over to Hagrid's cottage," suggested Minerva.

A few moments later, Hagrid opened the door to his home for the others. "Fang! Down, you mangy mutt! Down!"

Draco slipped past Hagrid, who was dealing with Fang, and lowered Luna down on a ragged looking couch.

"What happened?" Draco asked tensely. He didn't like seeing Luna upset. He sat next to her with one arm wrapped protectively around her.

Minerva conjured a tea set and poured Luna a cup. Draco accepted the cup with a smile, waited until she had calmed down before holding up to her lips to sip from.

"I'm sorry, Dray," she whispered several minutes later.

He cupped her cheek in one palm and she leaned into his caress. Unlike the bond that Harry and Hermione shared, allowing thoughts and emotions to pass freely, Draco and Luna's bond was different. They could share thoughts, with a lot of work, emotions were easier. But one thing they could share easily was strength. Luna sat quietly for a moment, drawing strength to calm herself and to settle her magic, which had flared high tonight.

"It's alright, Luna. I was just worried, waking up and not finding you. Then I found the note from Hagrid, and I could feel you were upset. I came here as quick as I could."

"Can yer tell us what 'appened to the Angels tonight, Luna?" asked Hagrid.

Luna looked up at Hagrid for a moment, smiling gently. "The Angels are a new species. Because of that, there are some things they know instinctively and some things they don't. Tonight, our Angels felt the imperative to bond with their mate. You see, they mate for life and the pull is strong, but they didn't know how."

"Will the others need the same help, Mrs. Black?" asked Minerva.

Luna shook her head. "No. What one Angel knows, they all know. I don't know how, but that's the way they are. Anyway, I had to help them with the first bonding. Now all of them, even those in Britain, know how it's done. By morning, most will have selected their bond mate."

"Did that Angel really speak?" wondered Minerva.

Hagrid glanced over at her and nodded. It was something he wanted to know, as well.

"The Angels are intelligent, Professor, like Centaurs or Goblins. Because they are a new species, they haven't had time to develop their own language... And I've been trying to teach the pair at the school to speak English. Until tonight, I thought I hadn't succeeded," Luna said with a dreamy smile on her face, then she turned to Draco.

"Oh Dray, you should have seen it. It was wonderful. I could feel the love connection between the pair, and when the bond was made, it washed over everything. If you think that tonight was something, I can't wait until they couple. We felt the spill over from their bond tonight and it makes me wonder what we'll feel when they mate and have babies," she said. Her eyes became unfocused as she thought about it, so she never noticed Draco wince.

---

Haven, The Weasley Residence (October 4th)...

Arthur trudged down into the kitchen, feeling groggy. He'd had trouble getting to sleep last night, for several reasons. His visit with Melinda had left him unsettled. Ginny's visit to Melinda's had put a crimp in the rest of their evening. To say the two adults parted that night with a great deal of sexual tension and frustration would have been an understatement.

Then there was the gnawing knot of worry in his belly over what Ginny was going to do. The Weasleys were vicious at teasing and Ginny barging in when she did and finding them disheveled gave her enough blackmail material to have him owing her for years!

He grimaced. There was only one way to undercut a potential blackmailer. He didn't like it, but it was probably for the best, anyway.

He cringed before walking into to the kitchen. He could hear the sounds of laughter on the other side of the door, and he was certain Ginny's voice was among them. She didn't normally come over for breakfast, opting instead to spend most of her free time with her husband, as she should.

He pasted a smile onto his face, opened the door and greeted his family. The room was more crowded than usual, making him suspicious. The twins and their girlfriends sat at one side of the table, while Bill, Charlie, Ginny and Neville sat at the other.

Everyone turned to look at Arthur when he entered and the sound level dropped to nothing. He blinked in surprise, and noted that that twins, both sets, seemed to be trying very hard not to laugh. Bill and Charlie were looking at him questioningly, while Neville seemed a bit nervous. And Ginny! Ginny watched him, a smug look on her face.

Arthur took his place at the head of the table, while those in the room remained silent. He poured a cup of strong tea and took one sip before putting the cup back down and standing up.

"That's it! I won't let you hold this over my head for the next year or two, Ginny," he said loudly.

Everyone turned to stare at Arthur. Ginny looked surprised.

"Yes, you came to Melinda's house last night and, yes, our clothes were in disarray. But we're adults. If Melinda and I want to get... ummm... 'friendly', that should be our business and no one else's"

Fred and George blinked, then leaned against each other, giggling. Arthur shot them both an angry glare. The Johansen twins' eyes lit up at the possibility of gossip. Bill sipped his tea, watching and listening to his father attentively. Charlie's expression alternated between anger, shock and amusement.

"I mean, really, Ginny. As much as I don't like it, your Mum's gone. I'm an adult, with adult needs, those same needs as you and Neville are just discovering for yourselves..."

Neville choked on his drink, spraying tea from his nose and hitting Fred squarely in the face. That lit off George, Inga and Helga. George slid under the table, clutching his sides, while Fred glared at Neville, who was still coughing. Ginny was turning a wonderful shade of red, trying to contain her laughter.

"And just because my shirt was missing a few buttons and her skirt was practically on backwards is no reason to suddenly think we're doing something dirty. And then, even after she helps you, you run out of there like you're going to tell the entire world about it."

"Dad," Ginny began.

"And don't think I don't know..." Arthur interrupted.

"Dad," she tried again.

"... what's going on in here. You've told them already, haven't you? I could see it in your eyes, young lady!"

"Dad!"

"Well, I won't have it. I like Melinda, a lot. It wouldn't surprise me if it turned out to be something stronger. I intend to keep seeing her, no matter what pranks or blackmail..."

"DAD!"

"WHAT?"

Ginny leaned back in her chair and gave him a sweet smile. "I like Melinda, Dad. It's one of the reasons why I went to her last night. I trust her and think you and she would be good for each other. But I haven't told a soul. Not even Neville knew what I saw last night. Until you came in here and started yelling, that is."

Arthur sat heavily in his chair and looked at the grinning and laughing people around him. Three people were still under the table. Neville, having recovered from his coughing fit, was holding Ginny while she tried in vain to muffle the shrieks of her laughter against his chest.

"Oh, bugger!" Arthur muttered. The laughter around him doubled.

Charlie shook his head in disgust. "I'm surprised at you, Dad. Ginny might have held out for some small measure of blackmail, but you know she prefers more practical slapstick type pranks. Blackmail isn't her style. And in order to cut her off at the knees, you come in here and confess to your sordid affair! The only thing missing is the photographs!"

Arthur peered closely at Charlie. He knew his son still grieved for his mother and was uncomfortable with Melinda, but Charlie's grin let Arthur know he was only teasing him.

From under the table a hand appeared and waved. George, it seemed, liked the idea of photographs.

"I don't know, Dad. I wonder if it's time we gave you 'The Talk'?" Bill asked in a serious tone. The rest of the table broke down in peals of laughter and Arthur sunk his head into his hands.

"I'm never going to live this down. I can tell," he moaned.

Ginny got up from her seat and walked over to hug her father. "Perhaps you won't, Dad, but if it gets really bad, maybe you can asked Melinda if you can stay over there for a while," she said with a grin.

Arthur looked up and smiled weakly at his daughter. "That reminds me, honey. Melinda said you can go to her the next time you're injured during training," he said, thinking of Melinda's threat. When he saw Neville's eyes narrow and sweep her body for injuries, he thought that maybe Ginny hadn't told him about her training accident. His daughter's grimace confirmed it.

His quick mind set to plotting. Revenge was, after all, a very sweet thing, and it wasn't often he had one of his children in the cross hairs.

---

Bucharest, Romania...

Dumbledore pushed his way through the door and walked to the bar. Behind the counter, the nervous bartender watched him fearfully. The past two days had been terrorizing for him. First his bowels tied up in knots, then he broke out into cold sweats. He was barely able to perform his duties, he was so nervous. It had taken most of his money, and some considerable begging on his part, to convince Nickolai to come to his tavern today to meet the stranger.

Dumbledore smirked under the hood of his cloak and motioned for the bartender to approach. The man did so, though hesitantly. Dumbledore tossed another galleon on the counter and the bartender flinched back from it in terror.

"Fire whiskey."

The bartender poured the drink, then used the towel he held to push the coin back at Dumbledore.

"O-O-On t-t-the h-h-house," he stammered, then flinched again when Dumbledore giggled under his hood.

"Have you done what I asked?"

"N-N-Nickolai is in the last booth in the back," stammered the bartender again.

He glanced up at the mirror above the bar. He could see Nickolai sitting in the back booth. Around him were several of his men. Dumbledore had expected no less.

Albus smiled and laid a small vial filled with a black liquid on the counter. "The antidote," he said simply.

When he turned and walked to the back booth, the bartender scrambled for the small vial.

He walked up to the table and sat down.

Nickolai sat, reading a paper and sipping a cup of Turkish coffee. Without looking up from the paper he spoke. "Andre says you have some business with me, and yet I do not know you."

"Let's just say I am here because I know you have wizards for hire, and you stable only the very best," replied Dumbledore in a low voice.

"How do I know you don't work for the Aurors?"

Dumbledore pushed back his hood. He had not grown back his beard and his white hair was closely cropped. He looked little like his former self.

Nickolai peered at him for a moment. "You look familiar, but I don't think I would forget a purple eye patch like that."

"No, you wouldn't know me, especially as I am now. But several years ago you met with an associate of mine, a man named Remus Lupin. He wanted your help in making contact with the werewolf clans."

Nickolai's eyes widened and he searched Dumbledore's face again. "But you're... Al..."

Dumbledore raised his hand, his wand gripped tight. After casting several silencing charms, he tucked it away and smiled. "Now you know who I am and why I want our meeting kept secret."

Nickolai folded his paper carefully and laid it on the table. In response to the subtle signal, two of his men stood and moved to prevent anyone from coming towards the back of the tavern. Another man cast a set of security and privacy charms.

"Impressive, Nickolai. Now, can we talk business?"

"Anything for the great Albus Dumbledore," Nickolai said with a slight bow from his seat.

"I have need of some men, say fifteen to twenty, who are good with a wand, will ask no questions, but will follow orders," Dumbledore said.

Nickolai raised an eyebrow. "It sounds like you are going to war, my friend."

When Dumbledore failed to respond, Nickolai's eyebrow raised even higher. "Very well. I can get you such men, but it will not be cheap. How long would you need them for?"

"A month at the minimum, but perhaps I can sweeten the deal for you. If you allow me time to train your men, then when I am done, they will be worth so much more."

Nickolai thought for a moment. Men trained by the great Albus Dumbledore would be formidable indeed, and they would carry a higher price than his usual thugs. Perhaps he could turn this to his advantage.

"And if I let you train more than just the men you need, say, in exchange for a discount?"

Training Nickolai's men wouldn't really take up any extra time. I was planning on training the men I used anyway, but I could always add more to the training, he thought.

"You'll provide a secure place for me to train your men?" Dumbledore asked, then he had to suppress a laugh.

Nickolai eyed him nervously for a moment, then nodded.

"Deal!" Dumbledore said.

"Excellent! Come, my friend, we will have some excellent Gisca pe varza and then we shall introduce you to your new students," Nickolai said in a loud voice.

Dumbledore smiled. In the back of his mind he was wondering if there might not be a way for him to 'borrow' all of Nickolai's men when the time came.

---

Padfoot Manor (Oct 10th)...

"Hermione Jane, will you kindly feed your cat once in a while?"

Hermione looked up from her notes, startled. "Harry? What are you on about? And where are you?"

"I'm outside with Eocho, Dobby and some other elves. We were trying to test a new tuning method for the portals when your cat decided to eat my test subject!" Harry sent. His mental tone sounded like a cross between amusement and irritation.

"Honestly, Harry, he's half cat, half kneazle. It's his nature to catch mice." she sent back, then she walked over to the large window and opened it to look out at him.

"So how did you solve the tuning problem? And did you fix your addressing issue so you could use names instead of numbers?" she called down to him. He grinned up at her.

Harry pointed to a small book that floated next to the pedestal. "It's simple. The name of the receiving portal has a number assigned to it. For example, Haven School might be forty three. But you don't need to know that, just know you want Haven School, which you tell the Pedestal by speaking the name.

"Haven Operations Center," Harry said firmly.

The small book flipped open and the pages started flipping until it found the right entry, then the control stick on the Pedestal moved on it's own.

He grinned up at her and pointed at the book. "The book is the key. It's a copy of a master book and automatically updated. Right now, every destination I give it goes to that other portal, but that will change once I start making more."

"But will it allow for animate transport now?" she called down.

Harry frowned and looked at the portals. "I think so. It took the conjured mice with no problem. I was about to use a real mouse when Crookshanks decided he wanted a snack. Dobby is put out over it too. We don't have a lot of mice around the manor, thanks, I guess, to Crookshanks, and it took Dobby most of the morning to find and catch one mouse."

"And what about the safety features I suggested?" she asked.

"They're all installed. It's age protected, you can't transport to an unknown destination, you can't transport to a portal that is already in use and so on. There were a lot of conditions and it means a much larger rune base for the frame itself, but I can see why you'd want all those safety features installed."

"Hang on, Harry. I'll come down. I want to see this for myself," she called from the window, then she vanished.

"I guess she doesn't trust me," Harry murmured to Eocho with a grin.

"I suspect she wishes to be able to share your triumph personally, rather than yelling out a window like a fishwife," Eocho commented.

He chuckled at the imagery Eocho provided.

Harry sat on a stool next to the table they had set up to lay out their notes. On one side of the table a pile of rune stones lay in a jumbled mix. Several decidedly muggle-looking wood working tools also lay on the table, along with a massive tome.

"Did the stone circles ever really provide transportation, Honored Teacher? That's something I've wondered about," Harry asked.

Eocho looked thoughtful for a moment. "I have never heard of them used as such, Maglios, but some circles were said to be gateways to the heavens. Did they mean gateways like your portals? That I cannot say, for I have no knowledge of it. Even in my time many circles had been abandoned, their purposes long forgotten. I remember my master telling of circles for healing and for fertility. He spoke of circles with many purposes. The first circles weren't even made by our people, but by an earlier race, whose memory and history has been lost."

Hermione came up to them while Eocho spoke and waited quietly. Eocho rarely spoke of his past or his time. He would speak of the Brotherhood and it's history, but of his own personal history, little was known.

Harry looked a little chagrined. "I had thought the portals were recreations of what the circles did," he said, then he turned to look at the nearest portal frame.

"No, Maglios. The circles might have been used for transport at one time, but that knowledge is long lost. I do not think you have brought the past back to life. Instead you have invented something new," the ancient shade said with no small amount of pride in his tone.

Harry turned and smiled at Hermione. She looked at huge tome and arched an eyebrow at him.

"That's the master list of portal frames. Add a new frame to the master list and it will appear in every local book within it's range," he told her softly.

"What's the range to the master book?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Right now there's no limit, but that isn't practical. We'll have to impose a limit of some kind, probably by region, like a muggle telephone book. But I couldn't set that up until we figure out what we're doing with the Goblins."

Hermione nodded while she examined the upgraded portal. She had been talking with Remus about what they'd need to make these on a large scale. The project was daunting, to say the least.

Crookshanks wandered around the side of the Manor and, spotting Hermione, he ran over to weave between her legs. She reached down and picked him up, scratching his head.

"You can't set a frame to a destination that doesn't exist, Hermione. You'll note that this pedestal still has the manual tuner. That's because this is the more advanced control pedestal. The consumer pedestal will most likely look like a stand with the address book on it," Harry explained, then he conjured a mouse and walked over to the pedestal.

"Diagon Alley," he said in a loud voice. The book next to the pedestal flipped open and pages started to flip crazily, then it stopped and the portal frame filled with the bubbling fluid.

Harry walked over to stand near the frame and he flipped the mouse through the portal. Crookshanks, spotting the mouse, leaped from Hermione's arms.

"CROOKSHANKS!" she screamed.

Harry lunged, catching the cat by his hind quarter, but it was too late. His front paws had already touched the frame fluid.

Hermione watched in horror as Harry and Crookshanks seemed to stretch, and then vanish with a sucking sound.

---

Author's Notes:

YES! It's showtime! Hello my darling, hello my baby, hello my ragtime gal... urk... enough of that.

This is the dreaded authors notes. Our guest author couldn't be here tonight, so you'll have to make do with just little old Bob and Alyx.

To all those stargate nuts out there, no we are not patterning Harry's portals after stargate.

Other magical races? Let's see, we've had goblins come to dinner. Angels being born. Hordes of house elves... What more can you ask for?

The fidelius charm was dropped on the manor house. Harry just neglected to tell us about it. We've punished him severely for that oversight and he promises he won't do it again. If he does, we've threatened to put him into a gay Veela Draco fiction for our next story.

Steve, yes we will be revisiting Hogwarts and Peeves for a quick look this chapter. I'm surprised at the page counts, but then our files are bigger in Sunrise, than they were in Sunset.

Oh yeah, to the person offering to marry me. Ummm Can you send a resume? Perhaps some explicit photos as well? I know I'm married, but perhaps I can use them to motivate Alyx. No I didn't say that. Ignore that. Crap I'm doomed.

Amanda, we love your questions. We like questions, it shows we're making our readers consider the possibilities. Questions and more questions!

Yes great battles are coming... to Britain and Ireland.

Katherine Summers, Harry's Birthday? First off, we're tripping into October here and he got married the day after his birthday. You don't top that sort of present.

Yeah we admit that Draco/Luna is a unique pairing. And I have to tell you now, Draco likes it, but is convinced she's certifiable. Wait til you see what she does to him next chapter.

A Dubog is a log like creature found in swamps. You can find more information about it at the Harry Potter Lexicon Bestiary.

Musings, Alyx is most upset with you. She really wanted her own stalker and she was most disappointed when she discovered you gave up stalking her. If you'd like, I'll save you the trouble of stalking her and fedex her to you.

I'm sorry, but fish on my pizza is just so wrong. Maybe it's right for you, but I'll pass.

Darkangel, while Harry is indeed Lord of House Black and House Potter, no where in this fic or in Sunset did we say he's the heirs of the founders. Harry's involvement with the Wizengamot is entirely involuntary. He'd rather ignore Amhar and worry about the war.

Again, we will repeat, we are not responsible if you get grounded for reading our story. Or you lose your job, your husband, your kids or your cat. Fan fiction is addicting, but it shouldn't... oh heck, tell your parents to buzz off, you have another chapter of Sunrise to read! Just don't blame us.

• Previous
• Chapter 1 - Beginnings Chapter 2 - Orphans and a Hermione Moment Chapter 3 - Weasleys Woes Chapter 4 - Labor Pains Chapter 5 - Relationship building Chapter 6 - Far Reaching Decisions Chatper 7 - And so it begins Chapter 8 - Score one for the good guys Chapter 9 - The Pain of Birth Chapter 10 - Angels and Weddings Chapter 11 - Honeymoon Surprises Chapter 12 - Wives speak out and an Azkaban Field Trip Chapter 13 - Aftermath and a Reckoning Chapter 14 - Healing Conversations Chapter 15 - Dinner Guests and Mad-Eye Madness Chapter 16 - Politics and Angels Chapter 17 - Trick or Treat Chapter 18 - Whispers in the dark Chapter 19 - Difficult Times for all Chapter 20 - A Matter for Kings and Philosophers Chapter 21 - Christmas in Haven Chapter 22 - Pregnancy, Snorkacks and Luna rocks Chapter 23 - Muddying the Waters Chapter 24 - Dangerous Dagger Dilemma Chapter 25 - French Fried Troubles Chapter 26 - The pain of loss Chapter 27 - Necromancers, Amy and Trials Chapter 28 - An Elf in hot water Chapter 29 - The coming dawn Chapter 30 - Sunrise Over Britain Chapter 31 - A New Day Chapter 32 - Taking Stock Chapter 33 - Of Endings and Beginnings
• Next