"Once we have used the floo to wish Neville a Happy Birthday we can depart for Wales," Harry announced the following day. "Apparently there are further technological-magical artefacts in a small village a couple of miles south of Porthmadog. Somethings called "Rover"?"

James Bond and Emma Peel exchanged glances. "It wouldn't be described as a large white bouncing ball alongside three smaller ones, would it?" the latter asked.

"If so, that gives us more reason to stick around," Bond agreed. He turned to Joe, Modesty and Willie. "You all know John Drake?"

"The Village?" Modesty asked in horror.

Joe turned to the others. "John Drake is a senior secret agent. He once tried to resign, but he ended up being abducted and taken to The Village, a facility on the North Wales coast. There he was treated to a whole host of psychological tortures in an attempt to extract his reasons for resigning. The Rovers were sort of guard dogs, only in the form Auntie Emma described. Eventually, John Drake escaped and The Village was abandoned. I didn't know there was any magic involved in creating the Rovers."

"Well, it has a magical signature, apparently," Hermione pointed out. "Maybe a wizard was working with British Intelligence? If it wasn't obvious they were involved in espionage or counter-espionage, we might not have dug too deeply. When was this anyway?"

"The late 1960s," Emma informed her.

"Ah, the calm before the storm of Voldemort's first rise! The Ministry would have had no interest in the Cold War and a few witch or wizard spies may have gone unnoticed, particularly if there was no evidence of overt magic use on or around muggles."

"Well, what do we do about Rover?" Ron asked. Should we take that robot with us? Metal Mickey?"

"I wouldn't," Zee muttered. "From what my father told me, Mickey would activate Rover by mistake. Being chased around the Welsh coastline by a giant sentient white beach ball isn't my idea of fun."

They arrived in The Village via portkeys and quickly found the Rovers. As Joe had described, it was a giant white ball, alongside three smaller ones. The Village itself was a collection of strangely Italianate gaudily painted houses, shops, squares and gardens.

"Pretty!" sighed Lily. "I could live here, Auntie Wednesday!"

Lily Luna Potter was devoted to both her godmothers, Luna Scamander nee Lovegood and Wednesday Friday Addams. They both adored her in turn, of course, as did most people who met her. If Albus, with his messy black hair, wiry build and green eyes, was clearly his father's son, the petite redhead with brown eyes was a miniature of her mother. She also had Ginny's vivacious manner, sparkling sense of humour and, when called for, fiery temper.

She was, however, at a disadvantage when it came to examining the town's skyline. Millicent, seeing her difficulty, picked her up and carried her for a couple of minutes before gently placing her back down. Lily hugged Millicent's legs tightly. "Thank you, Auntie Millicent!"

Millicent, surprised, knelt down and returned the embrace. "Anytime, littl'un!"

"So," Harry announced with a grin, "you are an adopted Potter-Weasley now, Millicent! One of many we seem to have acquired over the years."

"My friends and family call me Millie, Harry!"

"Auntie Millie!" shouted a gleeful Lily. Millicent picked her up and pecked her cheek. She knew that, whilst Tracy was protected (as the long-term girlfriend of Daphne Greengrass, once she was accepted by the Greengrass patriarch and his son-in-law the Malfoy heir, she was untouchable), chances are that she and Pansy would be disowned from their families as "tainted goods". Sure, she was bullied, rather than sexually assaulted or worse, but the stigma would be there. No "respectable pureblood" would want anything to do with her. Well, Harry and Ginny Potter were worth considerably more than that creep Nott! Daphne would ensure that the Greengrasses would provide jobs and a place of safety if needed, too.

Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione were putting the finishing touches to reapplying the security spells. "I wonder how they work?" Ron mused.

"I wouldn't recommend finding out!" Bond commented drily.

"Indeed, James!" A tall man in a dark grey suit emerged from one of the buildings. "I still keep my headquarters in Number Six. No-one will be catalogued, indexed or numbered here ever again. They never got their information, by hook or by crook! I AM NOT A NUMBER; I AM A FREE MAN!"

"Good to see you, John!" Bond said, shaking his hand. "What they did to you… At least, David Callan chose to set himself up with a new identity when he retired. Robert McCall, wasn't it?"

John Drake nodded and touched the larger Rover. "You deserved better masters, old friend. We both did!

"What are you after?"

"Just ensuring no witch or wizard decides to use Rover in one of their schemes!" Bond told him. "They are partly magical apparently."

Drake sighed. "They would try anything. Well, can't stop to chat!" He then shaped his left thumb and forefinger into a circle and raised that hand to his face in salute. "Be seeing you!" he called, before he ended the salute and walked away.

"Poor man," Willie noted. "This place has sent him doolally!"

"No, Willie-love," Modesty said softly, "that is what allowed him to keep his sanity. Let's leave this place. It gives me the creeps! Where next, Harry?"

"Glastonbury Abbey, Modesty. There is an offshoot of the Glastonbury thorn there. It has a magical trace."

Glastonbury Abbey had once been the seat of Saint Dunstan, the most powerful man in England in his day. By the time of the Dissolution of the Monasteries under Henry VIII, it was said that if the Abbot of Glastonbury could marry the Abbess of Shaftesbury Convent, they would be the richest couple in all England. Thomas Cromwell's men, however, had practically destroyed the place. Now even the great church was a ruin, although services were often held in the crypt.

"What would this place have been like at its peak?" Emma Swan wondered.

"A medieval monastery, full of monks and scholars," the Doctor said. "What priceless manuscripts were lost…? The church was a great glory of civilisation. What was Henry thinking?"

"Or what part of his anatomy was he thinking with?!" Hermione muttered.

"We came to see a thorn tree!" Regina reminded them.

"Oh yes," the Doctor nodded. "According to the legend, Joseph of Arimathea was a relative of Jesus, his uncle or great-uncle I believe. When Jesus was a boy, Joseph was said to have brought him here, in his capacity as a tin merchant. Later, Joseph returned with the Chalice used at the Last Supper, in which he had collected drops of his nephew's blood after taking him down from the cross. The grail was supposedly buried by Chalice Well and he set up a small church where we are now.

"Back then, Glastonbury was a series of islands in a marsh. On one of these, Wearyall Hill, Joseph grew tired and planted his staff. It took root and became a thorn tree, which would only bloom at Easter and Christmas. There were three trees on Wearyall Hill, of which the last was cut down by a zealous Puritan during the Protectorate. Some saplings, however, had been preserved elsewhere, most notably this one in the abbey grounds. A cutting is traditionally sent to the monarch on Christmas Day.

"These days, Glastonbury is associated with Arthuriana, Wicca and a so-called music festival. For the record, no Arthur was buried here. That was a 12th Century con job to get more money for rebuilding after a fire. There is no Glastonbury Zodiac save in the minds of the deluded. And whatever most of that racket is, it isn't music!"

Clark Kent smiled. "A certain mutual friend has gone home. He would approve!" With the end of a direct threat, Batman had gone back to Gotham. Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne were close friends and Superman was as close to Batman as anyone else, but even he found the vigilante's grumpiness got on his nerves sometimes.

"The main Arthur was taken to Avalon," Will chimed in, "where he lives still. There were other "Great Bears" among the "Head Dragons", one of whom was killed by Morgana, some sort of witch?"

"Depends which Morgana," said the Doctor. "That Morgana and Mordred were extra-dimensional beings, hence my involvement."

"So, Arthur and Pendragon were titles, too?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, Uther Pendragon was the Terrible Head Dragon and Vortigern the Great Ruler. In the same way, the Hooded Man title was passed to a succession of Anglo-Norman outlaws in the Late Middle Ages, one of whom was the Robin Hood I met. Hence all that confusion over whether Robin Hood, Robin of Locksley or Robert Earl of Huntingdon was his real name. There were three Robin Hoods, two other Robins from Locksley and a Robert Earl of Huntingdon. As well as several others not connected to either place nor even called Robert, Rob or Robin!"

"The holder of the Hooded Man title had to be chosen by, and adopted as a son of, Herne the Hunter," Will noted. "Pendragon was hereditary, or could be. Bran technically held the title for a time as the son of the Arthur and grandson of the Uther.

"The Wiccans are right to a degree. This is a crossroads between a number of ley lines. Stonehenge, Avebury and a number of churches built on earlier worship sites are reasonably close. The South and West are powerful places. Stubborn, rugged people come from there…"

"I wouldn't," Ron remarked, "describe Ginny as rugged!"

"Good job you make up for it then!" his sister retorted.

After checking the security spells on the tree and the other major saplings, the group found a teashop to have a proper cream tea. Thick cheese scones were served, with thick strawberry jam and clotted cream and pots of Earl Grey, Darjeeling and English Breakfast. Once they had finished, it was off to the Giant's Ring at Ballynahatty, on the outskirts of Belfast.

"What is this place, Auntie Hermione?" Lily asked. "Whenever I ask Mummy and Daddy, they say the only thing from History of Magic they remember is the sleeping!"

"I don't think we covered muggle monuments, Lily" Hermione admitted, "although this feels early. It is Stone Age, yes?"

"Neolithic, or New Stone Age, yes," the Doctor confirmed. "About 49 centuries old, so very Ancient. It is a circular earthwork containing a small passage tomb.

"The earthwork has five "gaps", three of which appear to be intentional and may well be the original entrances and exits."

"Well, old Binns was wrong, if he thought this place was muggle!" Ron pointed out. "The capstone has a magical signature."

A few charms later and their work was done. "Now," Millicent said cheerfully, "there must be a pub nearby. I could murder a Guinness!"

"Or a Coke, for those not 18!" Hermione added hastily. "Or another drink for non-Guinness drinkers!"

Later that evening, Harry escorted Millicent Bulstrode to the Ministry of Magic's holding cells. "Pansy might like to see a friendly face."

Pansy Parkinson quickly hugged her friend when they entered her cell. "Millie, Millie, it was awful! They know that I was… They used the R word! I'm ruined!"

"It's alright, Pansy, the Greengrasses, Weasleys and Potters have all assured me they will support and protect us. If our families won't accept us because of any scandal, quite frankly they are NOT worthy to be our families!

"We didn't ask to be bullied. Neither you nor Tracy asked to be violated. If they wish to blame Crabbe, Goyle and Nott, let them. Otherwise, sod 'em!"

Pansy chuckled despite herself. "That's my friend Millie! Pugnacious, combative and with a heart as big as she is! Why you weren't sorted into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff is beyond me."

"I'm too big a personality – stop snickering, both of you! – for Hufflepuff. The hat did seriously think about Gryffindor, but someone who would let herself be bullied into doing bad things isn't brave."

"On the contrary," Harry said softly, "you were brave enough, once you saw what you were becoming, to change into what you are now becoming. If Nott, Zabini and the rest only saw you as an ugly desperate girl who could be easily bullied into doing their dirty work, sod 'em! They were the truly ugly ones!

"Now, Ms Parkinson, here is your witness statement from earlier. Sign it and we can get Goyle locked away. Nott's a confessed murderer, used the killing curse on a muggle. He won't be leaving Azkaban after his trial. Zabini is facing a few years there, too. You can be free to go. Some friends of mine run a place specialising in protecting abused females. Millie, Tracy and Daphne are all going there in a few days' time. You could spend a few weeks there with them."

"Thank you, Mr Potter," Pansy said. "To think I nearly handed you to Him… You are a good man."

She signed the papers. Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis came and collected a released Pansy. It was decided she was as much a victim of Crabbe, Nott and Goyle as anyone. Hermione Weasley was already proposing new laws to ensure nothing of the kind happened again. Horace Slughorn hadn't been keeping a sufficient eye on his charges during Severus Snape's headmastership and the Carrows had been the de facto heads of Slytherin. Nott and his cronies were encouraged to put the Slytherin girls in their proper places. Well, Hermione was on the warpath!

"Just two items to go and then we can have a proper holiday," Harry said once he was back home.

"We can do them tomorrow, before your joint birthday party with Neville in the evening," Hermione agreed. "Where are they?"

"Edinburgh Castle and the Tower of London," Harry told her.

Author's Note

The Giants Ring and the Glastonbury Thorn (and Abbey) are genuine. The legends described regarding Glastonbury are the traditional ones. I hasten to add that I have a higher opinion of Wicca practitioners than the Doctor. As with the Fairy Flag, I do not imply that the real thorn trees and capstone are magical or otherwise.