Harry Potter and The Charmed Ones

Chapter 1

-Harry-

I am a normal man.

Well, save for the fact that I am sitting in an office filled with newspapers containing moving pictures, a large spinning top and a mirror that did not show my reflection sitting on my desk, stacks of letters written in different colored inks littered about my desk and floor, and four balls of light rotating in a circle near the ceiling. Yes, aside from all this, and the fact that I once defeated the darkest and most evil wizard of all time, I am fairly normal. I am a normal man, working in an office, and I have a wife and three kids waiting for me at home.

After all these years, I am finally normal.

The door to my office nudged open and my best friend, brother-in-law, and fellow Auror shuffled in.

"Harry, it's one in the morning," Ron Weasley said, stifling a yawn and clutching a steaming styrofoam cup of coffee. "Can't we go home?"

"This paperwork has to be done by eight," I responded, "and we're ages behind. I told you the mid-day chess competition was a bad idea."

Ron groaned and sat himself down at his desk, which was across the room from and facing mine. "Come on, Harry, you're head of the department."

Chuckling, I dipped my quill into my ink bottle. "I can't just do whatever I please, Ron."

Ron scowled. "If I'd known being an Auror required paperwork, I'd've thought twice about becoming one." He eyed the large stack of paper on his desk wearily. "I feel like I'm back at Hogwarts. Only now I can't copy from Hermione." He sighed begrudgingly and dipped his own quill into his ink bottle.

"Speaking of Hermione," I said, "Ginny wants to have the family over on Friday. Are you guys free?"

Ron shrugged, yawning again. "I dunno. Probably. Have Ginny owl Hermione." He signed a couple forms and then gave his cramping hand a break. "Why does Ginny want to have everyone over? Don't we see enough of each other already?"

I laughed and glanced up at Ron. I noted that my own stack of paperwork was much smaller than that of my friend's, and I was very grateful that I am not as big a procrastinator as Ron. "She picked up a new recipe," I explained. "She can't wait to test it out on everyone."

Ron looked up nervously. "Why does she need the whole family for that? You're her husband; it's your job to eat her cooking before everyone else to see if it's deadly." He heaved another great sigh as he returned to his mound of paperwork. "It would be a real shame if the whole Weasley-Potter family was wiped out in one night... maybe I'll send Rose off to her friend's house for the night, so someone will be able to carry on the family line."

I only had time to laugh and exclaim, "Come off it!" before our office door was opened again. A fellow Auror, Artie Davies, stepped inside, holding a thick manila folder.

"Bloody hell, not more!" Ron groaned in frustration, throwing down his quill in irritation.

Davies grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. This is really important. But it's not more paperwork."

"Couldn't it have been really important eight hours ago?" Ron whined. "Or in eight hours?"

I glared at Ron, who had an obvious tendency to complain when he was tired. "Sorry," Davies said again. "I've been investigating this all day. I think you need to see it." He took a seat in front of my desk and held out the file. I took it, and Ron stood up and walked over to look over my shoulder.

I opened the file and picked up the first article that was piled in it – a picture. "What is this?" I asked. The photo showed a woman, laying dead, in her living room. She had a large, bloody wound on the side of her abdomen, her eyes were open, her wand was lying next to her, and there were black scorch marks on the off-white wall behind her.

"That's Miss Agatha Puggle," Davies supplied. "She was killed this morning."

"What?" I exclaimed. "By whom? Why wasn't I informed of this?"

"I was the Auror present at the scene," Davies said. "I was going to report it back to you, but I noticed some strange things about it. You see her wound?" He pointed, his finger hovering over the photograph of the gruesome injury. "That wasn't inflicted by a wand. However, it was done by magic."

"How do you know?" inquired Ron.

"I used Priori Incantatem," Davies explained. "She used a shield charm right before she died."

"And no Muggle weapon can penetrate a shield charm," I mused.

Davies nodded. "She must've been killed by magic. Not only was her shield charm broken, but the killer did not touch her. She was murdered at a distance. Also, her body was thrown against the wall. And see the scorch marks?"

I put my hand to my temple; my head was starting to throb. "This doesn't make any sense." I looked up at Ron. "If she wasn't killed by a wand, or by a Muggle weapon, how was she killed?"

Ron bit his lip, and his eyes darted about the room as he thought. Finally, he said slowly, "Is it possible this is a new spell? Maybe some Dark Wizard invented it."

Harry pondered this suggestion for a few seconds, and then shook my head. "No, I don't think so. What would be the point? There's already Avada Kedavra and Sectumsempra."

"Could this be Sectumsempra?" Ron asked quickly.

"No," I said. "Sectumsempra cuts the victim and this wound is more... round, like a gunshot wound." Ignoring Ron's perplexed glance – no doubt he forgot what he had learned about Muggle weaponry – I added, "Plus, the scorch marks make no sense."

"Is it possible that a Dark Wizard invented a new spell," Davies asked, "so they wouldn't be detected? So they could easily hide themselves?"

I shook my head again. "No. If they killed using a new spell, it would actually be easier to track them down. If they used an already widely known spell, it would be harder to track, because then anyone could've cast it."

Ron glanced up at Davies. "Why was she killed? Was anything stole, or was it just random?"

Davies leaned forward and grabbed the file, flicking through the papers before pulling out another photograph. "Puggle collected rare, spiritual knives. One was missing from a spot labeled 'Athame.'"

Ron snorted. "What bloke was idiotic enough to steal from a labeled cabinet?"

"An athame?" I pondered, ignoring Ron and picking up the picture. I studied it closely.

"What is an athame?" asked Ron in confusion.

"Muggles have their own views on what magic is," I explained, my eyes not moving from the picture. "An athame is a ritualistic knife, according to their beliefs."

Ron snorted. "Their bogus beliefs."

I didn't reply right away. I ran my hand over the picture, my brow furrowed. A witch was murdered under bizarre circumstances and the killer stole a knife generally associated with a type of magic all wizards laughed off as preposterous. "Maybe not..." I contemplated.

Ron whipped his head down to stare at me. "What? You're not serious?"

"Think about it, Ron," I said. "Agatha was killed by magic, but we can't figure out how. Isn't it possible that there is another type of magic out there?"

Ron gaped at me. His eyes flickered at Davies, whose expression was unreadable. "Harry, if there was more magic out there, wouldn't we know about it?"

I shook my head, my heart racing at this sudden revelation. I knew I was on to something, I just knew it. "Not necessarily." I jumped and hurriedly put on my robe. "Come on. We're going to find someone who does."

Ron returned to his desk and grabbed his own robe and briefcase. However, he still looked skeptical. "If no one knows about it," he said, "then where are we going?"

"Just because most people don't know doesn't mean no one does." I placed the photographs back inside the folder. "You can go now, Davies. Thanks for the great work."

"What about the paperwork, Harry?" Ron questioned, following me out of the office.

"That's been put on hold," I said. "This is more important."

"Alright!"

We jogged out of their office and through the Auror department offices. Nearly half of the floor workers were still there; it was a very late night for many Ministry workers. I could only hope that the man I was looking for was still in. We entered the lifts along with five floating paper airplanes, and rode silently up to the top floor. Ron was bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently.

The lift opened and I rushed out, with Ron hot on my heels. We zipped through the hallway, down one corridor, until they reached a door labeled "Minister of Magic – Kingsley Shackelbolt." I raised my hand and knocked, loudly, three times on the pine wood door.

"Please be in," I muttered, my fingers crossed in the pocket of my robe.

Ron and I waited for about twenty seconds, although it felt like twenty minutes, until the door flew open and Kingsley's face appeared in the threshold. "Harry! Ron!" he said, smiling. "What brings you here so late in the evening?"

"Kingsley, we have something very important to talk to you about," I said seriously. Kingsley's smile flickered.

"Come on in." He stepped back so Ron and I could enter. His office was similar to ours; it was filled with high-end Dark Detectors and papers and letters strewn about his desk and floor. "Excuse the mess," he said apologetically. "The last few days have been fairly busy and I haven't had time to tidy up."

"S'okay," said Ron. He and I sat down in the two velvet armchairs in front of Kingley's desk as Kingsley sat down behind it.

Kingsley brushed some paper to the side of his desk and rested his hands on top of it. "What seems to be the problem?"

I removed the photograph of Agatha Puggle's body from the file and set it down, with more force that I had intended. "This witch was murdered this morning," I explained shortly. "I want you to tell me how."

Kingsley sent a confused look at me. "Isn't that your job?"

I met his stare. "Just tell me."

Sighing, Kingsley picked up the picture and held it up to study. The longer he looked at it, the deeper his frown and more creased his forehead became. His eyes narrowed as they darted across all parts of the picture.

"So?" I demanded.

Kingsley exhaled. "Harry, I -"

"There's more magic out there, isn't there?" I asked defiantly. "Someone magical killed Agatha Puggle, but they didn't use a wand, and they stole an athame. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" Kinglsey stood up and kneaded his forehead with his fingers. He looked very distressed and overwhelmed and I would have felt bad were I not so anxious for answers. "Kingsley, in order for me to able to find whoever murdered her, I need to know who did it and how. I know you know."

The Minister breathed in deeply through his nose. "You want to know? Okay. Yes, there is another type of magic out there, one very different from wand magic."

"Really!" yelped Ron. "Wicked! How do you use it?"

"You can't," said Kingsley. "Like our magic, theirs can't be learned, only inherited."

I frowned. "So Agatha was killed by... one of these other magic wizards?"

"It's a long story," Kingsley said tiredly, sitting back down in his armchair.

Sitting up straighter, I said, "You have to tell us. I can't protect the wizarding community if I don't know."

Kingsley laced his fingers together and rested his hands on top of the desk, leaning forward slightly. "Okay," he relented, "but first you must know that only a handful of people know about both magical worlds. All Ministers of Magic, previous and current, know, and they have people in their world called Elders. Fewer than thirty people in the entire world know about both. "

"And you're adding two more to the list," Ron said excitedly.

"Right now," Kinglsey said. "Although the fact that the worlds seem to be mixing right now, I think many, many more people will be finding out in due time."

"Care to explain?" I asked, somewhat impatiently. I was annoyed with Kingsley putting off elaborating for as long as possible.

Kingsley paused for a few seconds before beginning. "This other type of magic has been around just as long as ours, give or take a few hundred years. Both our types of magic have traditional aspects to them. Since we've grown up and lived with our type of magic for so long, we don't really see it. But waving wands and flying on broomsticks are very stereotypical when it comes to Muggle views on magic."

"What are the stereotypes of the... other type?" Ron asked.

"Well," Kingsley responded, "they say spells, except they don't just say a word or two and flick a wand. They say a spell by saying an incantation, complete with rhyming words. They light candles and use incense."

Ron snorted. "They say poems?"

Kingsley smiled slightly. "We wave around a stick of wood." Ron, taken aback, gaped at the Minister. He continued, "Their magic can only be inherited and not learned, like ours. But there are advantages and disadvantages to both types. They are born with a specific power – like telekinesis, for example – and that's the only type of magic they will be able to use for their whole lives. Their powers may grow and expand, but a telekinetic witch would not be able to, say, fly, without saying a spell. With us, we have the resources to perform all spells; it's just the ability to do them that sets us apart from each other. Their magic is also tied to things like planetary alignments and ritualistic ceremonies. Athames are laughed off by our wizarding community, but they're very much valuable for the other type of magic."

"Does this other type of magic have a name?" I asked. "Does our type of magic have a name?"

"Not formally," Kingsley said, "but they're normally referred to as wand and wandless magic by the Ministers."

"So, why are the wandless magic folks attacking us now?" I questioned, frowning. "Whoever killed Agatha knew she was a witch. He broke through her shield charm and stole her athame, which he must've known she owned."

Kingsley leaned against his desk, his arms folded across his chest. "Just like with wand magic, there is evil in the wandless magic community as well. There are witches, who fight evil and protect innocent Muggles, and then there are demons and warlocks, who, like dark wizards, want to rule the world and kill good witches and Muggles. Due to the scorch marks, I believe a demon killed Agatha."

"Demons?" Ron said skeptically. "You're not joking?"

I hissed at Ron to be quiet. "Can we capture demons and put them in Azkaban or something?"

Kingsley shook his head. "Since our magic is different, all protection spells on Azkaban, the Ministry, and Hogwarts are immune to demons and warlocks. They don't apparate; they have their own means of transportation."

"So, we're not safe," Ron said nervously.

"I don't think the demons are really after us, as a community," Kingsley mused. "There has been no indication of it. And I don't know how much they know about us. But they're up to something. We shouldn't worry about Hogwarts or the Ministry being attacked, not yet."

"Is there any way for us to ward off these... demons?" Ron inquired. "Like, curse them or something?"

"Demons aren't human," Kingsley explained, "so the only way to stop them is to kill them. Well, 'vanquish' is the term used more often by wandless witches."

Ron and I blinked. "Kill?"

"They're not human," Kingsley repeated.

"How do we, erm, vanquish these demons?" I asked.

Kingsley sighed. "I don't know."

Ron and I glanced at each other, frowning. We had found out what killed Agatha, but we were no closer to figuring out how to prevent any future murders.

Kingsley began speaking again, "Demons have different levels of power. There are lower-level demons, upper-level demons, and everything in between. Most witches can defeat lower-level demons, and, from what I know about demons, I believe most wizards and witches here could at least restrain a lower-level demon. But until we figure out a way for wand magic to vanquish demons, we really won't be able to protect ourselves."

I sighed and put my hand on my forehead. Ron voiced my greatest concern, "What about upper-level demons?"

"Only very few magical beings can fight off an upper-level demon. Dumbledore, for one, could have, although he never had to go up against one. You two may be able to, as well as some other powerful wizards, but you won't be able to do more than match his power. You can't kill it – not without performing an Unforgiveable Curse."

"So what are we going to do?" Ron asked, gripping the arms of his chair.

Kingsley stood up again and leaned against the side of his desk. "There are three wandless magic witches called The Charmed Ones. Together they are the three most powerful witches in the world, and they have vanquished numerous upper-level demons and some of the greatest evils that could rival that of Lord Voldemort's. Their children are incredibly powerful witches as well. If anyone can help us... it's them."

"The Charmed Ones?" Ron said slowly. "That term sounds familiar."

I turned and stared at Ron. "You've heard of them?"

Ron shrugged, frowning. "I dunno. I think I've just heard the name before."

"The Charmed Ones are famous in their own magical world and, to those of us who know who they are, we appreciate all the good they've done in the world. And not just their world, but for the whole world," Kingsley said. "They've been mentioned in a couple of books before, mostly for Potions they've created. It's always just in passing, though. It'll say something like, 'The potion to lure an evil spirit, invented by The Charmed Ones.' It's never elaborated upon."

Ron nodded. "That's probably where I've heard it. Hermione has so many bloody books lying around the house. After twenty years, I'm bound to pick up a couple."

"Should we get in touch with The Charmed Ones?" I asked instantly. "Who are they? Where do they live?"

"They're in America," Kingsley informed them. "San Francisco, to be exact. Their names are Piper, Phoebe, and Paige Halliwell. I plan on sending them an owl in the morning." He checked the clock on his wall, and concluded, "Well boys, it's nearly two in the morning. I'm sure your wives will be wanting you home."

Ron and I nodded and stood up. We shook hands with Kingsley and thanked him for all the information he provided, before stepping out of the office and slowly walking toward the lift.

"My head is spinning," Ron admitted. "I just can't believe…" He trailed off.

"Me either," I mused at the unfinished thought, although I was perhaps less stunned than Ron was. Since I did not grow up knowing I was a wizard, the possibility of there being more magic out there that I didn't know about was less implausible as it was to Ron. I grew up learning about new aspects to the magical community every time I turned around, so realizing that there is even more isn't too shocking. For Ron, though, who knew about everything since he was born, this must be quite a surprise.

Ron and I reached the lift and got inside. The Ministry was nearly empty now; there were no paper airplanes floating inside the lift. The two of us were silent the entire way down to the Atrium, until we reached the fireplaces for Flooing.

"D'you think Hermione would know anything about The Charmed Ones?" I asked Ron.

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. She reads a hell of a lot, so she might. Why?"

Grinning sheepishly, I asked, "Would she be pissed if I wanted to ask her about them right now?"

"Eh, probably," Ron said nonchalantly. "But hey, she's always pissed at something." He grabbed some Floo powder. "Let's go."

He threw the powder into the fire; it glowed green, he stepped inside, and said, "Weasley Manor!" As soon as he vanished, I threw some in and followed suit.

When I popped up in Ron and Hermione's living room, it was pitch black. Ron was dusting himself off as I stepped out of the fireplace. "Good trip?" he said in a low voice.

"Oh, it always is," I said sardonically, brushing soot off my robes.

A light in the hallway turned on and Hermione bustled into the room. "Ron! It is two in the morning. What're you -" She stopped short at the sight of me. "Oh. Harry. What are you doing here?"

"Sorry to just burst in like this so early the morning," I said, while Ron turned the light on in the living room, "but I have a question for you."

"Don't worry, Harry, you're family!" Hermione smiled, and then did a complete one-eighty, rounding on Ron and glaring at him. "You, on the other hand, have to answer to the kids tomorrow. I told them they could stay up until you got home, but they fell asleep on the couch at 12:30 while waiting! When they wake up, there will be hell to pay, and I will not take the blame!" Though she was so heated, she managed to keep her voice at a whisper.

"Sure thing, Hermione," Ron said, putting his arm around his wife and leading her to the couch.

I sat down in an armchair and wasted no time. "Do you know who The Charmed Ones are?"

"Kind of," Hermione said, her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"What do you know about them?"

She shrugged. "Not much. There was a story about them in one of Rose and Hugo's children's books. It basically said something about three witches who practiced wandless magic being prophesied about and saving the world. I don't know if they're real or not, but people that go by the name of The Charmed Ones have invented a ton of potions, although most of them aren't allowed in Hogwarts."

"Why not?" Ron asked, linking eyes with me.

"Well, they're pretty gruesome, some of them," she explained. "There's one to stop the heart. Most of them, though, are about killing, which is forbidden, of course."

"Killing? Like demons?" I asked.

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Demons? What?"

I jumped up again and took out my wand. "Hermione, can you owl Ginny?"

"Why?" Hermione eyed the wand in my hand. "What are you doing, Harry?"

While adjusting my robes, I responded, "I'm gonna go visit The Charmed Ones."

Ron and Hermione were on their feet within seconds, in one swift motion. "You're what!" Ron gaped, and Hermione dove right into one of her ever so familiar lectures that have not changed since Hogwarts. "Harry, it's just a fairytale -"

"No, it isn't," I said. "I'm sorry Hermione, we'll explain it to you later, but Kingsley told us that they're real."

"But – you can't!" she continued to protest. "How are you going to find them? And what are you going to say?"

"I know that they live in San Francisco, and what their names are," I explained patiently. "I'll find them. And I'll just explain to them the situation."

"You mean, 'one of your kind killed one of my kind?'" Ron said with mild sarcasm.

"What are you talking about!" cried Hermione.

"There's no time to explain, Hermione, I've got to go," I said.

She glared. "Harry, this is an awful idea!" She spun around to face her husband. "What do you think, Ron?"

I rolled my eyes. Hermione had started using this tactic ever since she and Ron got together. Whenever she was in a fight with someone, she would pull Ron into the middle of it and demand that he give an opinion.

"Um..." Ron looked shiftily back and forth between me and Hermione. "Harry, Kingsley did say that he was gonna owl them in the morning."

"That's not soon enough," I said shortly. "Ron, you don't have to come with me, but I'm going now."

Ron faced Hermione. She raised her eyebrows, as if challenging him, and folded her arms across her chest. He stared at her for about half a minute, and then exhaled. "I have to go with him."

"You what!" she sputtered, her eyes widening in shock. "Ron, this is ridiculous, you can't -"

"He's gonna go anyway, Hermione," Ron tried to explain, placing his hands on her shoulders, "so I might as well go with him. To keep him out of trouble, right?" He grinned expectantly.

Hermione frowned in defeat, saying silent for a few seconds. "Fine." She bit her lip and shot a look at me. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Thanks, Hermione." I smiled gratefully at my long-time friend.

"I still think it's a bad idea," Hermione warned. "But you're Head of the Auror department, so there's really nothing I can do to stop you." She smiled lightly. "I can't threaten you with house points or detention anymore." She yawned and checked the clock on the wall. "I'll Floo over to Ginny's quickly and let her know what's going on." Kissing Ron on the cheek, she said, "Try not to be home too late. And maybe tomorrow you can stay home since you've been working for, oh, twenty hours?"

"Twenty hours already?" Ron said grumpily. "Wow, I wasn't even feeling the least bit drowsy."

"Come on, Ron, let's go." I checked my watch, the same one Molly had given me for my seventeenth birthday. "It should be around 6:30 in the afternoon there."

Hermione stood back for them to Apparate. "Bye. Be careful!"

I smiled. "Don't worry. We always are."

-Piper-

The Halliwell Manor has never been a quiet house. Even before my sisters and I received our powers, three little girls running around the house never called for a quiet home. Then we were rebellious teenagers, and once we grew up, we fought all the time. The fighting ceased and the demon attacks started. The demon attacks ended and we all had kids. It was a never-ending cycle, and the walls of the poor house would never be without constant noise.

This particular Monday night was no exception. Even though Phoebe and Paige no longer lived at the Manor, they came over for dinner often. Three married couples and nine children running around was enough for the house to nearly collapse into its foundation.

"For the last freakin' time!" I shouted out of the door to the kitchen. "If you kids cannot be quiet, I will freeze you!"

"You can't freeze good witches!" a chorus of cries floated in from the conservatory.

I groaned in frustration. "Why did we have to teach them all the rules of witchcraft?" I complained to my two sisters. "Would it have been so wrong as to let them believe that I could freeze them or blow them up or something? At least it wouldn't be an empty threat."

"Piper," Phoebe said in slight surprise, laughing.

"What? My patience is running THIS thin." I held up my index finger and thumb; they were nearly touching. The oven began to beep loudly and I gasped. "The roast!"

Leo laughed. "Piper, relax."

Coop and Henry Mitchell turned to their respective wives. "What's wrong with her?" Coop murmured.

Before Phoebe could answer, I exclaimed, "I'm sorry, but I can't relax. I've had this feeling for the last few days that something bad is gonna happen and I just can't get it out of my head."

"What do you mean?" Paige asked.

"I don't know," I sighed. "I just have a bad feeling, like... a demon is gonna attack or something."

"Piper," said Phoebe soothingly, placing her hands over mine. "We haven't had to fight any demons in nearly fifteen years. They're not gonna start up again now."

"I know, I know," I said, frowning. "But still. I don't feel right."

Their talk was interrupted by my two sons, Wyatt and Chris, striding into the kitchen. Wyatt was chewing on a handful of peanuts and Chris's eyes immediately scanned the counters. "Is dinner ready yet?" Chris asked hopefully.

"Not yet, sweetie. Another half hour," I said.

"Hey Wyatt, Chris, whatcha guys doing?" Paige's son, Henry Jr., asked, striding into the kitchen. Henry was eleven, very smart for his age, and completely enamored with his older cousins.

"Nothing, just checking on dinner." Wyatt and Chris exchanged glances. The two boys, though twenty-one months apart, were best friends. Like all brothers, they tended to fight, but most of the time they got along great. And one of their agreements was that, even though they loved their cousin, he followed them so loyally that it often reached a peak of annoyance.

"Did someone say DINNER!" a shriek came from the conservatory.

"Oh, no..." Paige groaned.

A stampede of feet pounded through the house as six little girls raced to the kitchen.

"Where's the food!" cried Melinda, my youngest child.

"Dinner is not ready yet," I said slowly and loudly. I began to feel very claustrophobic. My kitchen is a good size, but it was not built to accommodate fifteen people. "Everyone, out."

"Mommy, when's dinner?" seven-year-old Penny Halliwell asked her mother.

Phoebe bent down to her youngest daughter's height and said, "Soon, honey. Why don't you and your sisters and cousins go back into the living room and play?"

"Yeah, let's go!" cried Melinda. She led the way out of the kitchen, her cousins following. Tamora and Kat, Paige's twin daughters, chatted away with each other, while Prue, Phoebe's oldest daughter, trailed behind Melinda loyally. Penny and Patty, Phoebe's middle daughter, brought up the rear.

I groaned a put my hand to my forehead. "My head is spinning. I don't know why I feel so bad."

"Maybe you should lie down," Henry suggested. "We can finish the dinner."

"No, no," I sighed. "I'm fine."

Three loud knocks from the front door echoed throughout the house. "Who could that be?" Phoebe mused. "Did you invite anyone else?"

I shook my head as Wyatt yelled, "I got it!"

"It's probably just some solicitor," I said. "They like to come late when everyone's drunk and willing to buy their stuff."

"It's only seven," Coop pointed out.

"People drink early in the city," Paige reminded him.

Just as I was opening the oven to take out the baked potatoes, Wyatt called out, "Uh... Mom? Can you come here?"

I furrowed my brow and glanced at the other people in the room. "Are you okay?" I yelled back.

"Yeah, just... come in here. Bring Aunt Phoebe and Aunt Paige."

"I'll take care of the food," Coop offered. Phoebe, Paige, and I exchanged bewildered looks as we filed out of the kitchen and into the dining room, approaching the front door. Wyatt stood in the doorway, and two men were on the front porch. As we neared, we immediately noticed that the men were wearing very long, navy colored robes – robes that were about four inches too long and grazed the floor. One had circular glasses and black hair and the other had very vibrant red hair. They both had bags under their eyes.

I tried to fight back a smile as I reached the door. "Are you guys selling something?"

"No," said the black-haired man in a thick British accent. "We just have a question for you."

"What?" Phoebe prodded.

"Are you The Charmed Ones?"

We were instantly taken aback. We shot each other perplexed looks. I touched my son's shoulder and exerted a slight amount of force on it. The boy slipped away and reentered the living room, where his siblings and all his cousins were likely standing against the wall to listen to the conversation.

"Look, guys, we don't know who you are or what you've been drinking, but –" I began, but I was cut off by the black-haired man again.

"We just need to know," he said, "if you're them. Because if you are, we have something very urgent to talk to you about."

Paige narrowed her eyes. "Like what?"

"So you are them, right?" the redhead spoke up. "Because if you weren't, you would kick us out."

We exchanged looks, communicating with our eyes. Finally, Phoebe turned back to the men and said, "We're kind of busy right now. We have a full house and we really don't have any time to talk at the moment."

"It's a matter of life or death," the black-haired man said.

I sighed deeply and Paige and Phoebe frowned. "I'll go tell the kids dinner won't be for a while," Paige said, turning and walking into the living room. She jumped at the sight of all the kids listening. "What are you doing!" she exclaimed.

Phoebe returned to the kitchen to tell our husbands of the change of plans and I led the two men into the dining room.

"Would I be right in assuming you know our names?" I asked.

"Erm..." The two men exchanged glances. "We know your names but... we don't know who's who."

"Well, I'm Piper. Piper Halliwell." I held out my hand to shake.

"I'm Harry Potter," said the black-haired man and the redhead introduced himself as Ron Weasley. As soon as they sat down, Phoebe exited the kitchen, followed by Henry, Coop, and Leo. More introductions were made, and finally Paige arrived.

"The kids are in the back," she explained. "Wyatt and Chris promised to look after them, but only if we told them what, uh, they have to say." She pointed to Harry and Ron, who introduced themselves a third time.

Once everyone was seated, I leaned forward, my eyes narrowed, and said, "So, what is this matter of life or death?"

"And what are you two wearing?" Paige asked, eyeing their robes.

"Paige!" Phoebe hissed through gritted teeth and Henry laughed.

"Sorry," murmured Paige, elbowing her husband.

"We didn't have time to change into Muggle clothes," Ron said apologetically. Harry kicked him under the table and Ron's ears turned red.

"Muggle clothes?" I repeated. "What, is that some type of clothing brand in England?"

The two men ignored my question. "This might be hard for you to comprehend," Harry said slowly, "but... we're wizards."

"Wizards?" Paige repeated. "Really? That's... not that hard to comprehend."

"The last time we dealt with a wizard," I said slowly, "it didn't go over so well."

Harry and Ron blinked, seemingly shocked. "Wait, you know?"

Phoebe, Paige, and I looked at each other and scoffed. "Of course we know," Phoebe laughed. "You didn't really do your research, did you? We've been at this for over twenty years."

The two men glanced at each other, looking very confused. "We were told you wouldn't know and that only a handful of people do."

"About wizards?" I asked. "Only a handful?" I glanced at Leo. "Are we talking about the same thing here?"

"I'm confused," Phoebe attributed.

"You know about wand magic?" Ron asked.

There was a small silence and then I began to laugh. "Wand magic?" I chuckled. "Are-are you serious?" My laughter died down as the men removed long, thin sticks of wood from their pockets.

"What the hell?" Paige exclaimed. "This is a joke, right?"

Harry waved his wand and gold sparks flew from it. I instinctively held up my hands and froze the sparks. Harry and Ron gaped at the frozen light, finally resting their gaze upon me.

"How'd you do that?"

"Okay, I am really confused now," Phoebe said loudly, as I unfroze the sparks. "Can we make sure we're all on the same page?" Pointing to the men, she said, "You guys do magic through... wands?" They nodded. "Not through your hands?" They shook their heads. "So you're not wizards that live in the Underworld and trick witches?"

"No," Harry said, offended.

"Okay, so then what are you?" Paige challenged.

"We're wizards that use wands," Harry said again.

"Yeah, we got that part," I said crankily. "Fast-forward."

Harry cleared his throat and I started to wonder just how dire the situation was. Anyone could just say "life or death" without it really meaning life or death. I must have forgotten that during my very long demon-fighting hiatus. "We are part of a whole other magical world. There are loads of us around the world and we all use wands for our magic. We make potions and say spells differently from yours. We're very different from your type of magic."

There was a small silence. "Wait," Phoebe said loudly, "there's a whole other magical community out there? And we didn't know!"

"Hardly anyone knows," Harry interjected quickly. "We were told only around thirty in the entire world. I think Kingsley – our Minister, that is – said that some people called Elders know."

I rounded on Leo. "You knew!" I cried. "You knew and you never told us!"

"No!" said Leo defensively. "I didn't know anything about this! I've never heard of another magical community, much less one that uses wands."

"But he said Elders knew," Phoebe pointed out. "You were an Elder."

"Not for long," Leo reminded them. "Whitelighters who had been Elders for decades know a bit more than Whitelighters who have been Elders for a year or two."

Coop cleared his throat at the end of the table. "I knew."

Phoebe turned and gaped at her husband. I leaned toward Leo and said out of the corner of my mouth, "For once it wasn't you withholding information."

"You knew!" Phoebe snapped, echoing my words. "And it just slipped your mind?"

"Cupids are not restricted to one type of people or magic," explained Coop patiently. "I have helped people find love all over the world and that includes in their magical community." He glanced at Ron. "How are you and Hermione?"

Ron jumped slightly, and he stared at Coop with marble shaped eyes. "What – how did you -?"

"You two were one of my favorite couples." Coop grinned.

Phoebe looked back and forth between Ron and Coop, speechless, while Paige, Henry, Leo, and I looked on with amusement.

"Does that mean... me and Ginny –" began Harry, but Coop shook his head.

"No, I wasn't assigned to you two. Which is a shame," he continued, "because you two got together much later that I would've liked."

Harry frowned. "Well, you're one to talk. It took Ron and Hermione seven years to get together." Ron glared at Harry.

"They needed to take it slow," Coop said. "Each relationship is different and you and Ginny were definitely ready to go out much earlier before you actually did. And then, of course, your cupid allowed you two to break up for about a year... trust me, that would not have happened if I was your cupid."

"Okay, can we stop the reminiscing?" Phoebe interrupted before Harry could reply. "What the hell is going on? Why is there all this magic we don't know about? And why do only a select number of people know about it, anyway?"

"I dunno," Ron answered. "We weren't told why."

"But our magic is mixing right now," Harry added.

I frowned. "Mixing? What do you mean?"

"A witch was killed this morning in Surrey," Harry said, opening the file and extracting the photograph of Agatha. "We couldn't figure out how, but after we were told about your magic, we think a, er, demon killed her." He passed the picture across the table to me and I examined it.

"Oh, yeah, this was definitely a demon," I said immediately, passing the photo over to Phoebe and Paige, who glanced at it together.

"Probably a bounty hunter," Paige said. "What was stolen?"

Harry frowned. "How do you know something was stolen?" he asked suspiciously.

"Bounty hunters hunt," I snapped. I was already in a bad mood and this sudden revelation of a whole other magical world out there, combined with this guy's annoying apprehensiveness of me, did not help. "Usually they hunt for other magical beings, but I think you would have told us already if someone was kidnapped."

Ron took out the second photograph. "They stole an athame."

Paige rolled her eyes. "Why do they always steal the athame?"

Harry was watching us and our husbands with narrowed eyes. "You know, you lot are taking this news a whole easier than we did," he said.

"We're always finding something new about the world," Paige admitted. "I can't say we're too shocked."

"No, we're more like pissed off," I grumbled. "After all we did for those stupid Elders, they're still keeping stuff from us?"

"From what I was told," Coop interrupted, "these two magical worlds aren't supposed to be mixed. I was told specifically that a witch that used a wand and a witch that didn't could never fall in love."

"Why not?" Phoebe asked. "What's the big deal?"

Coop shrugged. "I don't ask questions."

"It could have something to do with all the power you guys have," suggested Leo. "Two very powerful types of magic mixing could mean an extremely powerful force of good – as well as a very powerful force of evil."

My sisters and I exchanged looks again. "Okay, but then what are they doing here?" Phoebe asked.

"We're here," Harry said, "because a demon in your world attacked us. They're starting to mix. And if evil is mixing –"

"— good has to follow," Leo finished.

I frowned. The bad feeling that I had been experiencing was resting deep in the pit of my stomach. I swallowed; all this talk made it sound like they were going to have to fight demons again, and I was just not willing to do that. "What are you saying? What do we have to do?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. But no one in our world knows that there is a higher type of magic that can protect us if demons start attacking all the time."

"Wait, protect you?" I repeated. "Are you saying you want us to go to England and protect your world!"

Harry and Ron were taken aback by my harsh tone. "Well, we dunno – we're just -"

"Piper, relax," Leo said again, but I had enough.

"No, I will not relax," I said through clenched teeth. "I gave up eight years of my life fighting evil and being a source for good, and now two wizards wearing dresses and waving around a stick of wood are telling me that I have to drop everything, my career and my family, because I have to protect them, since they can't protect themselves? Sorry, no, but I'm not doing it." I shot up, my chair tipping over backward and crashing to the floor.

"Piper!" Paige exclaimed, but I was already stomping up the stairs.

-Phoebe-

Glancing at each other and clearing their throats, Harry and Ron stood up. "We should leave," Harry said, patting down his robes.

"We're really sorry about that," I said earnestly. "We are. It's just... we sacrificed so much to protect the innocent, and after such a long break, we're not very keen on starting up again."

"We understand," Harry said. "We still don't know what course of action we're going to take against these attacks. Our Minister informed us that we would only be able to match the power of the demons, and not be able to – what was the word he used?"

"Vanquish," Ron supplied, looking slightly awed, as if the events of the whole night were just hitting him.

"Yes, vanquish. He said no wizard can vanquish them, which leaves us defenseless." Paige and I followed the two men to the front door to see them out. "Helping us doesn't necessarily mean moving across the world. I do hope, though, that you consider it. Because if your evil is attacking us, then that means that our evil may try to attack you."

Paige and I glanced at each other. "We'll think about it."

The two men held out their wands, Paige and I watching curiously to see what they were about to do, when Harry turned back and said, "Oh, and you should be getting an owl from our Minister tomorrow."

My sister and I blinked in confusion and furrowed our brows as Harry and Ron spun on our front porch and disappeared with a CRACK.

Paige looked at me and said, "Did he say we're getting an owl?"