Merry Christmas!

She shoots, she scores. Seven days and the next one's up. Next and last.

I finished this on Friday, it just took me two and a half days to proofread (Cause of other commitments such as work), and then I wrote the nineteen years later bit after all that.

Now, we all know you're all interested in Fred's outcome so, a heads up, it happens in chapter 50.

I hope you all love the book. I don't know when I'll post anything new or continued for my others, or the new Harry Potter I started, cause I couldn't help it, but keep an eye out!

Enjoy! And thanks for loving, reading, reviewing and following my books! (Or my take on the books).

Love you all!


Chapter 1:

Alicia sat in her room, at her desk, her hand raised to the window. The room was empty of belongings and only held furniture as well as a bag on the bed. Alicia was staring a flask in her hand, in which there was a reasonable amount of liquid within it. She stared at it as the light from outside shone through it.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Alex and Portia were standing at the doorway behind her.

"Yes." Alicia said

"Aren't you going to be late?"

"Not yet." she responded, having not turned to them. She sat up properly, lowering her hand and moved from the empty desk which held only a currently empty cage.

"What's that?"

"Protection potion." Alicia said "You're all in danger for when I leave." she moved past them both and down the stairs.

"Why would he come here?"

"He'll think he can get information from you."

"But you've told us nothing."

"Doesn't mean he wont kill you." Alicia confessed as they went to the kitchen. "Stay here." the two girls shared a look as Alicia slipped into the room. She moved over to the food that was brewing and was glad to currently find the kitchen empty. She took the phial, which was larger than the usual and uncorked it as she moved over to the food.

Alicia eyed it again, staring at the liquid.

"I'm sorry." she whispered and she poured it over the lunch that was set to be served. Alicia frowned as she watched the phial empty before she moved back from the kitchen. She ignored the two girls who asked what she'd done and moved up the stairs to collect her bag and empty Owl cage. Alicia then moved to the Caretaker's office. She knocked and was given permission to enter.

"Ah, Alicia, you off then?"

"Yes." Ms Bane got to her feet and walked over to the women.

"You be careful." she said. Alicia nodded.

"Thank you Ms Bane, for looking after me all these years." she said and Ms Bane took a breath as though to steady herself. She nodded curtly.

"Well, you're more than welcome. I expect to see you again at some point, tell me how you're going."

Alicia rolled her lips before she nodded.

That would never happen.

The women held out her hand and Alicia took it, shaking it. It was as affectionate as the women would ever get and Alicia knew that better than anyone.

The girl left the caretaker's office with a breath, and back out to where Alex and Portia were. The minute they saw her they rushed for her. Alicia was tackled into a hug.

"Be careful!" Portia said

"Write to us if you can!" Alex ordered and both girls were crying. Alicia brushed the back of their heads in comfort.

It was a few minutes before the girls released her, their cheeks wet and their eyes slightly red.

"We'll see you again." Portia believed

"When it's all over." Alex agreed, nodding "Come and find us, we'll make sure Ms Bane knows where we are so you can." Alicia watched them all and her eyes pricked as she wanted to cry, but she held it all back and nodded, smiling slightly.

"I will. I don't know how long it'll be, but always expect me to turn up out of no where." and the two girls laughed as that was exactly what would happen. They shared another hug before Alicia picked up the cage, her bag being over her shoulder still, just the size of a purse and easy to carry. The girls looked at her as she held the door and waved, Alicia waving back.

There was a bell that signalled lunchtime and the two girls turned as Alicia opened the door. She closed it behind her and her tears poured over her face before she moved to walk down the front path and then down the road.

She paused to look at the building she'd grown up in, once torturous and full of bullies to become a place she treasured. And it would have never been that way without Portia and Alex. She owed them so much, and leaving, with the prospect that she could never see them again, broke her to pieces.

She had to turn and move away from the building before she went back and stopped everyone from eating the lunch.

She continued until she got to Privet Drive and moved for number four. Outside there was a car, Uncle Vernon's usually pristine car as he liked to keep it, though it was filled and packed. Uncle Vernon was outside with it and he was begrudgingly filling it. He ignored Alicia as she walked past him and into the house, closing the door behind her and moving upstairs. She went straight for a bedroom, swung the door open and closed it behind her before she leaned on it, her tears pouring down her face.

Harry had turned as the door opened and looked at his sister surprised as she slid down the door and slumped on the floor, her head on her knees.

"Alicia, what's wrong?" he asked moving over to her.

"I—" she took a breath "I did it." she said "I made them forget."

"Forget? Who?"

"Everyone. Ms Bane, Portia, Alex," Alicia said

"You used magic!" Harry said surprised. Alicia shook her head and she took a few breaths, composing herself and wiping her cheeks.

"Before we left Hogwarts, I went to see Professor Slughorn." she admitted "And I asked a favour of him. I couldn't use magic but I couldn't leave everyone at the orphanage in danger of Death Eaters and Voldemort, if they came looking for us and attacking them…" she explained "I knew last year what I'd have to do, but doubted I'd be able to." She took a breath. "I got Slughorn to make a rather tricky version of a Forgetfulness potion." she explained "It was created to erase any memory of me from anyone who drank it and I put it in the food made for lunch so everyone in the orphanage would get it." she said sadly.

"I told Alex and Portia it was a protection charm and as I was leaving they were telling me how I had to come and find them after everything was over and Ms Bane said I'd had to visit eventually… but I can never see them again, even if everything is solved and the war ends, they'll never know who I am." she whispered and Harry pulled her into a hug.

Harry's room was rather clean, there was a pile of things in one corner that consisted of Harry's school and Quidditch robes, cauldron, parchment, quills, and most of his textbooks. Also in the room was an old rucksack, packed with things by the looks of it and there were a sizeable stack of newspapers on his desk beside his Snowy Owl, Hedwig.

"I'm sorry Alicia." Harry whispered

"It's best for them." she said nodding "But the idea that I'll never get to know— I had to make sure that potion was strong enough that it couldn't be easily broken, like a memory charm. If there was a simple antidote, it'd be useless. They'll never remember me." she looked at her brother and he ran a hand over the top of her head. She leaned it back against the door and took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself down. She closed her eyes momentarily before looking around. One paper sat aside from all the others on the desk and it seemed as though Harry had been reading it when she came in.

"What you reading?"

"The article written by Elphias Doge." Harry answered and Alicia nodded. She'd read it. It had appeared in the paper shortly after they'd arrived in Surrey, a story about Albus Dumbledore written by the hand of a friend of his, who met him on their first train ride ever to Hogwarts. It brought many things to light.

For one thing, Albus Dumbledore's father had been sentenced to Azkaban for the rest of his life after killing three young muggles. Alicia had never been more shocked by some news, though not all families were perfect. Despite this, Dumbledore never became a muggle-hater like his father, and from the man Alicia had known, she wondered if that had solidified Dumbledore's care for muggles more so.

Alicia had been aware of Aberforth, Dumbledore's bother, for Mad-Eye Moody, the ex-Auror had pointed him out when he'd given the twins a picture of the original Order of the Phoenix two years ago. From the article however it seemed Aberforth had little of his brother's brains and was more an action person than his brother, who preferred talking and books. Despite this is seemed the boys got along somewhat.

Alicia had been most interested in the article for she had never had much chance to ask Dumbledore about his life before he became a teacher at Hogwarts, or much about his family, or schooling life. It had upset her quite a bit, to believe that she'd never put much thought on it.

It seemed misfortune followed Dumbledore. His mother had passed away after he finished school and it turned out Dumbledore had also had a sister once, though she'd also passed somehow. Apparently she'd been in poor health. Alicia had never known such a thing.

Of course if Alicia had found all of this out sooner she'd have gone to a library to discover more, such as details about the Wizarding Duel Dumbledore had had with a wizard named Grindelwald in 1945. It was such a part of history that all knew about it, but Alicia wondered how Dumbledore knew he could take on the man, did he have that much confidence in himself?

Alicia watched as Harry got to his feet and moved to the newspaper. He ripped out the article by Elphias Doge and put it with his rucksack before throwing away the rest of the newspaper. Alicia got up and moved to the window, opening it. She wondered if Noel would come back before they left or if she was already at The Burrow. Harry however grabbed another newspaper, a shard of mirror on top of it.

"Alicia." she turned to him as he picked it up and she turned to look at the article he was reading.

It was an article about Rita Skeeter who had written a Biography about Dumbledore.

DUMBLEDORE — THE TRUTH AT LAST?

Coming next week, the shocking story of the flawed genius considered by many to be the greatest wizard of his generation. Stripping away the popular image of serene, silver-bearded wisdom, Rita Skeeter reveals the disturbed childhood, the lawless youth, the lifelong feuds, and the guilty secrets that Dumbledore carried to his grave. WHY was the man tipped to be Minister of Magic content to remain a mere headmaster? WHAT was the real purpose of the secret organisation known as the Order of the Phoenix? HOW did Dumbledore really meet his end?

The answers to these and many more questions are explored in the explosive new biography, The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, by Rita Skeeter, exclusively interviewed by Betty Braithwaite, page 13, inside.

Alicia moved back as Harry ripped the paper open and went to page thirteen, his fist barely missing her nose. The article was topped with a picture showing another familiar face: a woman wearing jewelled glasses with elaborately curled blonde hair, her teeth bared in what was clearly supposed to be a winning smile, wiggling her fingers up at him.

Alicia ignored this and she and Harry bent over the next part of the article.

In person, Rita Skeeter is much warmer and softer than her famously ferocious quill-portraits might suggest. Greeting me in the hallway of her cozy home, she leads me straight into the kitchen for a cup of tea, a slice of pound cake and, it goes without saying, a steaming vat of freshest gossip.

"Well, of course, Dumbledore is a biographer's dream," says Skeeter. "Such a long, full life. I'm sure my book will be the first of very, very many."

Skeeter was certainly quick off the mark. Her nine-hundred-page book was completed a mere four weeks after Dumbledore's mysterious death in June. I ask her how she managed this superfast feat.

"Oh, when you've been a journalist as long as I have, working to a deadline is second nature. I knew that the Wizarding world was clamouring for the full story and I wanted to be the first to meet that need."

I mention the recent, widely publicised remarks of Elphias Doge, Special Advisor to the Wizengamot and longstanding friend of Albus Dumbledore's, that "Skeeter's book contains less fact than a Chocolate Frog card."

Skeeter throws back her head and laughs.

"Darling Dodgy! I remember interviewing him a few years back about merpeople rights, bless him. Completely gaga, seemed to think we were sitting at the bottom of Lake Windermere, kept telling me to watch out for trout."

And yet Elphias Doge's accusations of inaccuracy have been echoed in many places. Does Skeeter really feel that four short weeks have been enough to gain a full picture of Dumbledore's long and extraordinary life?

"Oh, my dear," beams Skeeter, rapping me affectionately across the knuckles, "you know as well as I do how much information can be generated by a fat bag of Galleons, a refusal to hear the word 'no,' and a nice sharp Quick-Quotes Quill! People were queuing to dish the dirt on Dumbledore anyway. Not everyone thought he was so wonderful, you know — he trod on an awful lot of important toes. But old Dodgy Doge can get off his high hippogriff, because I've had access to a source most journalists would swap their wands for, one who has never spoken in public before and who was close to Dumbledore during the most turbulent and disturbing phase of his youth."

The advance publicity for Skeeter's biography has certainly suggested that there will be shocks in store for those who believe Dumbledore to have led a blameless life. What were the biggest surprises she uncovered, I ask?

"Now, come off it, Betty, I'm not giving away all the highlights before anybody's bought the book!" laughs Skeeter. "But I can promise that anybody who still thinks Dumbledore was white as his beard is in for a rude awakening! Let's just say that nobody hearing him rage against You-Know-Who would have dreamed that he dabbled in the Dark Arts himself in his youth! And for a wizard who spent his later years pleading for tolerance, he wasn't exactly broad-minded when he was younger! Yes, Albus Dumbledore had an extremely murky past, not to mention that very fishy family, which he worked so hard to keep hushed up."

I ask whether Skeeter is referring to Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, whose conviction by the Wizengamot for misuse of magic caused a minor scandal fifteen years ago.

"Oh, Aberforth is just the tip of the dung heap," laughs Skeeter. "No, no, I'm talking about much worse than a brother with a fondness for fiddling about with goats, worse even than the Muggle- maiming father — Dumbledore couldn't keep either of them quiet anyway, they were both charged by the Wizengamot. No, it's the mother and the sister that intrigued me, and a little digging uncovered a positive nest of nastiness — but, as I say, you'll have to wait for chapters nine to twelve for full details. All I can say now is, it's no wonder Dumbledore never talked about how his nose got broken."

Family skeletons notwithstanding, does Skeeter deny the brilliance that led to Dumbledore's many magical discoveries?

"He had brains," she concedes, "although many now question whether he could really take full credit for all of his supposed achievements. As I reveal in chapter sixteen, Ivor Dillonsby claims he had already discovered eight uses of dragon's blood when Dumbledore 'borrowed' his papers."

But the importance of some of Dumbledore's achievements cannot, I venture, be denied. What of his famous defeat of Grindelwald?

"Oh, now, I'm glad you mentioned Grindelwald," says Skeeter with a tantalising smile. "I'm afraid those who go dewy-eyed over Dumbledore's spectacular victory must brace themselves for a bombshell — or perhaps a Dungbomb. Very dirty business indeed. All I'll say is, don't be so sure that there really was the spectacular duel of legend. After they've read my book, people may be forced to conclude that Grindelwald simply conjured a white handkerchief from the end of his wand and came quietly!"

Skeeter refuses to give any more away on this intriguing subject, so we turn instead to the relationship that will undoubtedly fascinate her readers more than any other.

"Oh yes," says Skeeter, nodding briskly, "I devote an entire chapter to the whole Potter-Dumbledore relationship. It's been called unhealthy, even sinister. Again, your readers will have to buy my book for the whole story, but there is no question that Dumbledore took an unnatural interest in the Potter children from the word go. Whether that was really in the children's best interests — well, we'll see. It's certainly an open secret that the Potters have had a most troubled adolescence."

I ask whether Skeeter is still in touch with Harry or Alicia Potter, whom she so famously interviewed last year: a breakthrough piece in which Potter spoke exclusively of his conviction that You-Know-Who had returned.

"Oh, yes, we've developed a close bond," says Skeeter. "Poor Harry Potter has few real friends, and we met at one of the most testing moments of his life — the Triwizard Tournament. I am probably one of the only people alive who can say that they know the real Harry Potter."

Which leads us neatly to the many rumours still circulating about Dumbledore's final hours. Does Skeeter believe that the Potters were there when Dumbledore died?

"Well, I don't want to say too much — it's all in the book — but eyewitnesses inside Hogwarts castle saw Harry Potter running away from the scene moments after Dumbledore fell, jumped, or was pushed and Alicia Potter was first by his side. Harry Potter later gave evidence against Severus Snape, a man against whom he has a notorious grudge. Is everything as it seems? That is for the Wizarding community to decide — once they've read my book."

On that intriguing note, I take my leave. There can be no doubt that Skeeter has quilled an instant bestseller. Dumbledore's legions of admirers, meanwhile, may well be trembling at what is soon to emerge about their hero.

"She knows you best!" Alicia demanded angrily "She knows nothing about you!" She got to her feet and kicked the deck angrily, causing Hedwig to hoot angrily as she finished the article.

"Sorry," she mumbled. Harry seemed to agree with her anger for he balled up the newspaper and threw it, with all his force, at the wall, where it joined the rest of the rubbish heaped around his overflowing bin.

Lost in his anger Harry began to stride blindly around the room, opening empty drawers and picking up books only to replace them on the same piles. His mind wasn't in it, it was stuck on Rita's words.

Alicia wanted that book regardless of Skeeter downgrading the best wizard ever. What ever it was about Dumbledore's past that she found out, it did not change the man she had grown to know. She would not let Rita's words tarnish her memory. Everything Dumbledore went through helped him to become the man he was and that was something no one could ever deny.

"Lies!" Harry bellowed out of no where, and like a neighbour outside, pausing to restart his lawnmower, Alicia turned to Harry. He sat down hard on his bed, the broken bit of mirror dancing away from him; he picked it up and turned it over in his fingers.

"Harry, it doesn't matter what Rita says, Dumbledore was still Dumbledore. So what if he wasn't always perfect." Harry looked at her before his gaze was caught by the mirror.

Alicia stalled over to the window and looked out it, curiously. After all, they'd never see this street again. Harry and Alicia didn't need to come back to Little Whinging after today and both doubted they'd ever return willingly. Alicia almost felt sad to do so. It was probably one of the little reminders left of her parents, besides Remus Lupin. Petunia, now matter how nasty, had been her mother's sister after all.

Alicia frowned. To think, those who could tell them the best stories were slowly dissipating.

Alicia turned to glance at Harry, who was staring at the mirror, his finger suddenly bleeding.

Eventually… I could be the only Potter left.