A/N: Well, here we go with another chapter:-) It should answer some questions but also give you some more – or at least I hope so.

AletaIIAnon: Sorry, Maggie's last isn't Smith, but you were right. Her first name is indeed a homage to the wonderful Maggie Smith who is a brilliant Minerva McGonagall (at least in my opinion).

Thanks for the reviews AletaIIAnon, XxcarbyxX and LinZE. You made my day.

Any more reviews are highly appreciated: for one because they truly make my day and then of course I'd still like to know what you guys think so far. I really need to know whether this is worth to be continued. And it doesn't take that much time to hit that little button down there, does it. ;-)

But now on to chapter three. I hope you'll enjoy!

Chapter Three

About ten minutes later Maggie and Harry had settled down in the kitchen, an awkward silence surrounding them as neither of them knew what to say. They were both busy trying to comprehend all of what had happened and they were both equally eager in their willingness to deny the brutal death of a father and a fatherly friend. Harry was positively confused and desperate. Why did it always have to happen to him? Why were people he loved and cared about always taken from him? What was his crime to deserve such punishment? Both his parents had died trying to protect him before he had had a chance to really get to know them and embed them in his memories himself. Everything he knew about his parents had been told to him and sometimes he lay awake in his bed at night trying to come up with a memory of his parents that was his and only his. But it was to no avail. No matter how hard he tried. Cedric Diggory – killed by Voldemort on that graveyard two years earlier. His death was also his, Harry's, fault, as it had been him who was insisting they'd both touch the cup at the same time – the cup that led Cedric to his tomb and enabled Voldemort to rise to power again. And then of course there was Sirius who had also died trying to protect him. There was one difference to his parents' deaths though. Sirius's death had been his, Harry's, fault. It was him who obliviously stepped into Voldemort's obvious trap and with it forced Sirius out of his hiding place to the Ministry where he met his fate. And now Dumbledore – killed by a man he had trusted. Harry wished he wouldn't have witnessed it. The sheer memory that he had been forced to watch the great wizard die, unable to do anything, bound by the last spell Dumbledore had cast. 'I am not worried, Harry. I am with you.' Dumbledore's words seemed to mock him now.

"Why?" The word had escaped his lips before Harry even knew it. Somewhat embarrassed by his slight outburst that had broken the uncomfortable silence he looked up at Maggie who at first didn't seem to react. Instead she got up from her seat and went to get some more tea and ginger newt for them both.

"I don't know," she answered his question quietly and sat down again. "I wish I knew the answer, but I'm afraid I don't."

Harry just stared at her. He wasn't quite sure whether she was simply trying to come up with an answer that in a way made sense or whether she really knew what he was thinking. "What answer?" he asked, eying her suspiciously. Had she been using Legilimency on him?

"Why all these people had to die." Maggie gave him a small smile and then continued to explain. "Don't worry. I can't read your mind, if that's what you're afraid of. But under the circumstances it's not too hard to guess what's going on in your mind, Harry." Harry just nodded. "Apart from that – how are you feeling Harry? Physically I mean?"

"I've been better," Harry admitted. "My head's killing me and those bandages make it kind of hard to breathe."

"I'll give you a potion that should help with your headache but I'm afraid I can't help you with your ribs. I guess you're lucky that none of them are broken." Maggie got up and went over to one of the kitchen cupboards. Opening it, she retrieved a bottle with a brownish shimmering fluid in it, uncorked it and handed it to Harry. "It's not a potion really. Just a tincture of herbs that'll make your headache go away. Oh and don't expect it to taste like pumpkin juice if you know what I mean."

"When will Professor McGonagall come back? I really need to talk to her. No offence, but I have to go back," Harry said before he took a sip from the bottle and winced at the disgusting taste of the remedy.

"Oh, none taken, Harry. Actually she's here right now, but she's asleep, I'm afraid or rather hope."

"I take it, the Minister gave her a hard time last night, didn't he," Harry mused and Maggie nodded in agreement.

"And there are other things on her hand now, too. Do you think you can wait until she's awake?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not if it was up to me, but yes you do. I do perfectly well understand your need to go back, even though I don't think it's wise to do so right now," Maggie said with a meaningful sigh. "Look, I've known you for a long enough time now to know about your need to get into things and to understand what's going on…" Maggie looked up and saw Harry starring at her skeptically. "What?"

"Have we met before?" Harry asked raising an eyebrow. "Because I can't remember seeing you before."

"Oh… um… well, no, we haven't. Of course not," Maggie stuttered somewhat helplessly. "But since I'm also a member of the Order I naturally do know a lot about you… so I guess it just feels as though I'd known you forever…" Maggie tried the feeble attempt of an explanation. However, the expression on Harry's face told her, that he didn't quite buy it.

"Then how come that I've never seen you at Headquarters? Do you even know where it is?" Harry could feel his temper rising. Something was wrong he could just feel it even though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Of course I know where it is. And we've never met because I … because I…"

"Yes?!"

"Well, because I …"

"Because Mrs. Cole was entrusted with a special task that didn't allow her to attend the meetings of the Order. Thus the two of you cannot have met before, can you? But rest assured Mr. Potter, that her loyalties without a doubt lie with us and you." Minerva McGonagall's sudden presence in the doorway that led into the kitchen made them both turn with a start.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry mumbled. "I didn't mean to be…"

"Rude? Well in that case it's not me you should apologize to but Mrs. Cole here." Turning to Maggie she added. "Would you have a cup of tea for an old tired woman, dear?" Minerva sat down on a chair next to Maggie's who had gotten up to fetch another cup for her mother. "Well, I'm afraid that I have to leave for Hogwarts quite soon. As a matter of fact I think that I should be there right now." She gave him a weak smile and then continued. "Harry, I know that you must be confused and upset and you will not like what I am about to say. It's all for your own safety. The task you are about to set out to is nearly impossible to accomplish and yet I know and Dumbledore knew it as well that you're the only person who has the slightest chance to come out of it successfully." She paused to drink from her tea and then continued. "Right now your highest priority should be to rest and give yourself some time to mourn the ones you've lost – we've lost. I don't think that will happen at your relatives' home."

"What I don't understand is why Dumbledore has changed his mind. I mean, he was always so insisting about me going back to the Dursleys' for the summer, that I don't understand why he'd allow me now to spend my holidays somewhere else."

"Actually this isn't Dumbledore's doing," Minerva admitted to Harry's great surprise. "It's mine. I reckon that you're really safest here despite the extra protection the Dursleys' home provides. You see, I think there are times when other things need protection than the physical wellbeing."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Your heart and soul, Harry. Answer me this. Can you walk with a broken leg?"

"No, I think…"

"You can't, of course. What I'm trying to say here is, that the wounds that have been opened and reopened need to close at least a little before you can consider to set out to do, what you're meant to do."

"Defeat Voldemort," Harry concluded with a nod. "But why here? Why not … I don't know … at the Weasleys' perhaps?"

"It's safer here," McGonagall answered at length with the result, that Harry was quite sure, that she was hiding something from him. Minerva got up from her seat. "I'm afraid I have to go back. Since the Minister is already quite upset with me refusing to tell him about your whereabouts, I should probably be there for his renewed attempt to squeeze the information as well as many others out of me." Minerva turned towards Maggie who was standing leaning against the kitchen counter and hugged her briefly. Harry was under the impression that she had whispered something into the other woman's ear, but he couldn't be sure.

"Take care of yourself," Maggie said before she let go of her mother.

"I will. I shall see both of you tonight then," Minerva said and Disapparated.

The day passed awfully slow for Harry. Most of the time he spent in 'his' room thinking. Although the silence in the small room sometimes threatened to deafen him, he was glad that he didn't have to be a part of an insignificant conversation that someone forced upon him. Maggie had told him, that he should make himself at home and that he could do whatever he wanted to do. Maggie. Without realizing it, Harry had spent the better part of the day wondering about her. He couldn't really put a finger on it, but in a way she seemed so familiar, as though he had known her for a long time. She was easy to be around and she refused to ask him any questions that he wasn't really willing to answer. Actually she just left him to himself with the unspoken offer that she'd be there for him whenever he needed her.

Eventually day turned into night without another sign from Professor McGonagall. Harry went to bed early feeling emotionally drained and physically exhausted. But sleep wouldn't grant him its mercy and after staring at the alarm clock on the nightstand for hours he eventually got up and went downstairs. Everything in the small cottage was dark and as he was passing Maggie's bedroom he noticed that she had left her bedroom door open just a little. Quietly he made his way into the kitchen and left the cottage through the backdoor. The garden wasn't big but Harry walked past a couple of beds with all kinds of herbs. Eventually he sat down underneath a very old and very tall weeping willow. Leaning his back against its trunk he stared upon the moonlit surface of the small pond that stretched out underneath the long branches of the tree. Listening to the choir of the frogs croaking somewhere in their hiding places in the thick reeds and the crickets chirping in the high grass he closed his eyes and allowed his pain and grief to take hold of him. Memories old and recent ones washed over him and caused heavy tears to run freely down his cheeks. He so whished that there was someone to lean on to, someone who didn't ask any questions, someone who would simply join him in his silent lament. So deep in thought he never noticed the quiet whistle of wings breaking the night air until he felt something landing on his outstretched leg. With a start he opened his eyes and saw Hedwig sitting on his knee, her head tilted to the side, watching him closely. Harry stroked her feathers, which were glowing in an almost unreal shade of white underneath the moonlight. Hedwig spread her wings to fly the short distance onto Harry's shoulder where she landed and nibbled his ear affectionately. With the hint of a smile he turned his head and stared out upon the reflection of stars dancing on the dark water's surface once again. At least one wish had come true.

A/N: Remember, that little button down there can really make an old woman's day. ;-)