Al and Rose were eight when they discovered that their parents didn't know everything there was to know about the war.
Luna had been the one to tell them. Rose said everything Luna said should be regarded with a healthy dose of skepticism, but Al knew that she was just quoting Aunt Hermione and really, she loved Luna as much as he did.
Well, almost as much. After all, Luna was his godmother, not Rose's.
Anyway, everyone had been at Grimmauld Place for the annual Boxing Day party, and Dad had been talking quietly with Seamus Finnegan for ages, looking very serious. Al and Rose had wanted to know why, but most of the grown-ups had told them not to worry and shooed them away.
Uncle George, who was generally willing to tell them what no other adult would, had said that Dad wanted to sell James to Seamus because he had failed to inherit the Potter hair. (Al had it, and Lily had the mess, although not the color).
"They're discussing terms." He had whispered conspiratorially. "Your Dad thinks Seamus is getting the better end of the deal because James is off to Hogwarts next year and will be out of everyone's hair, but Seamus is arguing that anyone named after James Potter and Sirius Black is bound to cause more trouble than they're worth. Any bets on the outcome?"
Al had debated informing Uncle George that James generally failed to live up to his Marauderly name when removed from the influence of Fred, but Rose had spotted her mother and run off, and he had felt compelled to follow. He supposed it had been foolish to expect a genuine answer from Uncle George when he was wearing the potato-shaped fake ear – it was a sure sign that he was in his silliest mood.
Aunt Hermione was more discreet than Uncle George, and certainly more inclined to keep secrets, but she didn't believe that children should be lied to. When they asked her, however, she had just said that Seamus had written a serious book, and Dad was serious because they were talking about it. Neither Rose nor Al was particularly satisfied with this answer, although they were briefly tempted to abandon their quest in favor of the massive snowball fight developing in the back garden.
Luckily, the next person they asked was Luna. Thanks to Aunt Hermione, they knew what to ask.
"What's Seamus' book about?" She was staring vaguely out the window, but Al knew that whatever she was going to say would be spot on. With Luna, it always was. "It's a history of Dumbledore's Army." She replied absently. When she didn't continue right away, Rose frowned impatiently, but Al nudged her into silence. Luna wouldn't let them down.
"But that wasn't what you wanted to know, was it?" she asked gently. Al shook his head, and she nodded. "Your father knew that Seamus was writing this book, Albus. And he thought he knew what was going to be in it. He wasn't expecting any surprises – Harry isn't fond of surprises." Luna smiled affectionately in Dad's direction.
"But Uncle Harry knows all about Dumbledore's Army!" Rose burst out, scowling. "He was the leader of Dumbledore's Army!" Luna regarded them quietly.
"He was the leader, in his fifth year. And I suppose he does know everything about it from that year. But he wasn't there when Neville and Ginny brought it back under the Carrows, was he?" Rose was still scowling, but Al could see that she was at least considering Luna's words. Of course, it was too much to hope that Rose would completely think it through before arguing again.
"Wouldn't Aunt Ginny have told him later?" she demanded. But Al didn't need Luna to answer that one.
"Mum left before the end of the year. When your dad was seen and the whole family had to go into hiding. Did something that happened at the end of the year upset Dad when he read about it?" he asked Luna, pleased with his own cleverness. But Luna looked sad, so the pleasure quickly faded.
"Some things, I suppose." She hesitated, then continued. "But others – your parents didn't know everything that went on. I think – Harry knew about the important things. The ones that made a difference in the war. But when there's a war, a lot of people suffer, and sometimes it means nothing. Not every child lost is Cedric Diggory, not every child tortured is Hermione Granger, and not every child orphaned is Harry Potter. I think before your Dad read Seamus' book, he didn't understand that. He has always been so very important, you see." Al wasn't sure he completely understood, and from her very Ron-like expression, it was clear Rose didn't either. Luna seemed to see this.
"You're too young to understand," she said regretfully. Al gaped. He couldn't think of anything less likely to come out of Luna's mouth. He looked at Rose, who seemed to be torn between shock and irritation.
"For now, maybe you should think of it this way," Luna said gently, "Your parents know a lot about the war. But some things – some things they didn't know. And now I think maybe you need to go join the snowball fight, before James and Fred get bored and decide to get the nargles involved."
Al had thanked Luna and dragged Rose off before she could deny the existence of nargles, and they had put on their Christmas jumpers and gone outside to ambush Fred and James and almost forgotten about their parents and the things they didn't know.
Almost.
Al and Rose were ten when they found the first story.
Rose didn't like to use the word "found" – she said she made it sound like the story was some intriguing object found in the attic of Grimmauld place. Al liked it for precisely that reason. The story was just like something in an attic – tucked away and rarely thought of, but not lost. And they had come across it by accident, having almost forgotten their conversation with Luna two years before.
Rose had grudgingly acquiesced to Al's logic, as she usually did – Rose might have been the leader, but when Al decided to be stubborn about something, he won every time.
So, they found the story.
They had been stalking Oliver Wood around the party, something they did whenever he showed up. Rose hero-worshipped him, insisting that he was the best Quidditch player in the world. Al privately thought that she just liked him because he was a Keeper like Uncle Ron, but he was perfectly happy to wander quietly around the house following an adult instead of baiting Fred, which they generally ended up doing when Rose was bored.
Wood had brought his wife Natalie and their two little girls, Jenny and Holly. Jenny was three and old enough to play with Lucy Weasley and the Scamander boys, but Holly was a newborn, and Natalie was spending most of the party tending to her in the corner, surrounded by cooing women. Wood didn't seem to mind. He had spent a lot of time with Uncle George, Aunt Angelina, and Dad, and now he was standing by the fireplace watching Jenny and Lucy put stickers in Lorcan Scamander's hair.
Al had been about to suggest to Rose that they actually approach him, as he was unoccupied, when someone he had never seen before crossed the room and greeted him.
It wasn't exactly a surprise to see someone new – the Christmas party was known to be open to anyone who'd been involved with the war, and some people came more than others. Lavender Brown had only come once, and Cho Chang never, and Al supposed there were plenty of others who weren't interested in a yearly reunion.
But Al always liked to find out who people were when they came, so he made a snap decision that it was time for him and Rose to practice their Marauderly eavesdropping skills. He edged closer to Wood, keeping out of sight behind the bookcase and tugging Rose along behind him. As it turned out, they needn't have bothered – they probably could have eavesdropped from the next room. Wood wasn't known for being soft-spoken.
"Euan Abercrombie!" he boomed. "About time you came round! Are you back in the country for good?"
"Yes, I am," Abercrombie grinned cheerfully. His accent was very odd, Al noticed, definitely British but with a strange twang.
"He sounds a bit American," Rose whispered. Al was mildly impressed when Abercrombie confirmed her observation.
"Oh, well, I liked the States. The Americans were good to me when I arrived as a terrified fifteen-year-old refugee, and I loved Salem. My parents had never been all that comfortable with the magic, and the war didn't help at all – they were perfectly happy for me to stay abroad. But eighteen years is a long time to be away from home, and the British Ministry wanted someone who understood the American Ministry, so I decided it was time stop being a refugee."
"Well, I'm glad you came back." Wood clapped an affectionate hand on Abercrombie's back. "I've felt that my work was incomplete a bit, as long as some of you lot I helped were still abroad."
"Really?" Abercrombie asked, surprised. "Why? You got us away from Voldemort, wasn't that the goal?" Wood shrugged.
"Well, that was the primary goal. But we weren't just fighting the war so Muggleborns wouldn't be killed. We were fighting it so they could be valued and accepted members of the Wizarding World. If the survivors didn't want to come back to Britain after the war, then we failed, didn't we?"
"And people say you don't think about anything but Quidditch!" Abercrombie laughed. "Well, I don't know that I agree with you – speaking as someone you saved, I couldn't call what you did a failure, even though I didn't come back."
"If you say so." Wood said good-naturedly. "Here, come say hello to Natalie, she'll be delighted to see you." Al turned to Rose as Wood and Abercrombie left the fireplace and bravely entered the land of cooing females.
"What did Oliver Wood do during the war?" he asked. She shook her head.
"I was about to ask you." She frowned. "Let's ask Dad. He won't mind." Al agreed, and they sought out Uncle Ron. He and Uncle George were chatting with Dad, standing strategically close to the food table.
"What did Wood do? Well, he fought in the final battle, didn't he, Harry? But he was out of school when we started Dumbledore's Army."
Dad nodded in confirmation.
"I think he heard what was going on through Katie…that's not right, George?" Dad asked as Uncle George shook his head.
"He was helping with Potterwatch – finding us safe places to broadcast from. So he was with people from the Order a lot. If Kingsley and Dad and Lupin hadn't been scattered and frantically busy, I think one of them probably would have inducted him sometime that year. There are actually quite a few people who were practically members, but because we were so disorganized they never formally joined."
"Huh," Uncle Ron said, bemusedly. "I never even thought about that."
"We'll have to tell Seamus to look into it, for his next book," Dad sighed, wearing the same serious and faintly guilty expression Al had seen and been disturbed by two years ago.
"Is he writing another one?" Uncle Ron asked in shock.
"Well, not yet. But the war histories we've got so far are all rubbish, and he did a good job writing about the DA. I trust him to do it right, and much as I don't like it, someone has to." Dad frowned, then looked at Al and Rose. "Shoo, you two. It's Christmas, let's not talk about the war. George, I want to hear about the new product."
Rose looked as if she wanted to hear about the new product as well, but Al dragged her off to an unoccupied alcove. She glared at him, but submitted to talking about what they'd heard willingly enough.
"That didn't make sense at all!" she complained. "They're not telling us something!"
"Or maybe," Al said quietly, "we asked them a question they didn't know the answer to."
"They did know the answer!" Rose protested.
"They knew part of the answer." Al corrected. "I think if we want the other part, we'll have to ask Wood." Rose considered this, and then agreed. And if Al thought her lack of argument was due to her desire to talk to Wood, he was wise enough not to say so.
They found Wood re-tying the bow on Jenny's plait, which Lorcan had apparently pulled off in retaliation for having a sticker put in his ear. Abercrombie and Natalie Wood were deep in conversation, so Al and Rose pounced on Wood as soon as he sent Jenny back to the other children.
"Mr. Wood!" Al said. "Can we ask you a question?"
"Al and Rose! Of course you can. And you know you can call me Oliver." He answered agreeably. Al ignored this, knowing that Aunt Hermione, at least, would not be pleased to hear them calling adults by their first names. He opened his mouth to tactfully lead up to their question, but Rose beat him to it.
"What did you do in the war?" She asked bluntly. "Besides fight in the Battle of Hogwarts and help with Potterwatch?" Al winced, but Wood was a Gryffindor, and he appeared to appreciate Rose's direct approach.
"Did you listen in on my chat with Euan?" he asked cheerfully. "No, don't answer that, I know who you're related to, of course you did. Well, mostly what I did was help Muggleborns get out of the country. Quidditch is an international sport, so I was very conveniently placed to help people escape. That's how I met Natalie – she was one of the first people I sent out, but she snuck back in to help other Muggleborns find me. There were quite a few people involved, but mostly Quidditch people, so I wouldn't expect your parents to know them." He paused, considering, then amended that. "Well, I suppose Ginny must know a lot of them, but only professionally."
Al and Rose digested that. They hadn't known anything about this, and apparently, neither did their parents.
"Will you tell us the story?" Rose asked boldly. Wood looked confused.
"The story?"
"The story," Al said "of the Quidditch Rescue Network."
"The Quidditch Underground?" Rose suggested. Al thought.
"No, The Quidditch Overground." he grinned. They turned to Wood expectantly.
"Well," he said hesitantly, "I suppose I can…it started with a Muggleborn from my year, one of my dorm mates…."
They got the first story from Oliver Wood, the story that began their collection. But they found another the next Christmas, by listening to Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot talk about Muggleborns hiding in churches. That had been a very long story – Goldstein and Boot were Ravenclaws, and when questioned they had talked for ages about the history of Muggle churches being used as sanctuaries.
The year after that, when they were twelve, Ernie Macmillan told them about the people at the post office, who were quite heroic in trying to make sure every letter got through the whole war, no matter who was sending it and what they were talking about it. "Quite astounding," Ernie had lectured pompously, "seeing as censorship of mail is usually extremely common, in wars."
When they were thirteen, Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet told them a truly awful story about the mistreatment of girls captured by the death eaters, and how they were helped.
By that time, it had become a tradition – a quest, almost. Every Boxing Day, when the veterans of the war gathered at Grimmauld place, Al and Rose would look for a story their parents hadn't told them – a story they didn't know.
Al supposed that someday, Seamus would write the definitive history of the war and their stories would be written down for everyone to read. But until then, they collected them. Al didn't now why they did it – he supposed part of it could be that Rose had some of Aunt Hermione's insatiable desire to know things. But for him, he thought it had more to do with something Goldstein had said when he gave them the second story.
"It's important to remember things. Even when they're terrible things. Especially when they're terrible things. And if it won't be in the history books, because it wasn't Harry Potter who did it – well, then, it might be even more important. We have to remember the things that we witnessed. We have to tell the stories."
Every Christmas, Al and Rose collected a story, because as long as they were listening, the stories were being told.