DISCLAIMER: ALL OF THE CHARACTERS AND SCENARIOS BELONG TO JKR AND/OR WARNER BROS.

A/N: I really hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it. If so, please review. Where do you think the plot is heading? What is going to happen? (I hope I can surprise you all!)

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It was early on Tuesday morning and Remus had brought both letters that had arrived at the kitchen window with him upstairs along with two mugs of steaming tea. Cecilia hadn't even noticed he'd got out of bed and shuffled to a sitting position as he "alohomora'd" the door open before putting down her letter on the wooden bedside table with a cup of black tea before sliding underneath the sheet and quilt next to her.

Following their disagreement the previous evening Remus had been much more attentive. They had agreed to deal with any possible law-breaking that he had committed whenever it was necessary. Cecilia had agreed to involve Remus more in the work that she had been doing, and they had spent a wonderful evening together pleasantly in each others' company pursuing pastimes other than work (Remus had unearthed a backgammon set that had belonged to his grandmother and had taught Cecilia how to play) and Cecilia had fought her curiosity to ask of him the details of telling herself that she should trust him to let her know if there was anything else to know.

She had even gone as far as to ask Remus whether it would be possible to visit a bookshop or a library in order to continue with her research and he had looked at her with an expression of horrified admiration before pointing out that it was too risky were she to be caught by a Death Eater, several of whom were on the loose, but promised to obtain some for her if she gave him a list. Cecilia had sighed with relief several times the previous evening, not least because their first argument had appeared to end very well indeed.

Breaking the seal of embossed two intertwined serpents Cecilia unfolded the parchment and glanced across the letter that Severus Snape had written to her, murmuring to Remus the author of the letter. He had written to her regarding further genetic traces of DNA and had clearly spent a long time over their analysis, asking her to confirm his conclusions of the bands that he had circled by return of post and Cecilia tried to work out which of her fourteen samples these traces had actually belonged to before turning to Remus. Her fiancé was carefully reading the letter that had arrived for him she handed him the traces that Snape had sent for her perusal.

"Hm," said Remus, putting down the letter he had received before scanning across the bands as if the were a barcode. "These are the things you got from your old work," he commented as a flash of inspiration hit him. "They are black and white stripes," he added, grinning at her.

"Yes, of course they are," replied Cecilia, pressing them towards him still. "Do you see anything important for the bands that Severus has circled here?" She pointed towards one on the first trace before pulling the second one over the top. "What can we say about them?"

"Hm," said Remus again, looking blank. "I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for." He looked at Cecilia for a clue to the mystery. Cecilia pointed at them again.

"You remember when I told you about genetics," said Cecilia patiently, stroking the back of his hand. "These bands represent different proteins that exist in the chromosomes of cells, the cells that make up humans…well, anything that's living, really," she added. "Ones that are similar at this end – " here she pointed to the circled bands, "indicate a genetic relationship between the two subjects.

"So the two people here are related to one another?" said Remus, looking back at the traces again. "Now, that really is interesting." Cecilia nodded and smiled.

"It means they are related to a certain extent; the bands here – " she pointed further along and to the right, "show that they are not siblings, nor parent-child or cousins. But they are related to one another somewhere along the line."

"Who do they belong to?" asked Remus, and Cecilia shook her head.

"I don't know, he's taken the labels off. A blind analysis," she added technically. "Anyway, who's your letter from?" She peered over towards Remus's bedside table trying to take a peek at the writing on the half-folded parchment.

"Dumbledore," said Remus, picking it up. "There's to be a meeting this afternoon at Grimmauld Place, an important one. For the Order", he added, smiling at Cecilia before proffering the letter. Cecilia shook her head.

"It's yours," she replied, holding up her hand. "I don't need to read it. A meeting?" Remus nodded. "Then perhaps you could give this back to Severus?" Jotting down a few notes on the back of the parchment, acknowledging his agreement over the continuum idea she scribbled a few more sentences describing her analytical diagnosis, that the similarities were on a different allele indicating a relationship between the donors of the samples, though not a close one. She also noted that one of the samples must be wizards as both "W" bands at the centre of the traces were present.

"So, what does Dumbledore have to say?" said Cecilia once she had finished her missive to her colleague before handing it over to Remus who had taken up his letter again. "What's so important that you're meeting in the afternoon?" She snuggled closer to him and Remus put his arm around her.

"I thought you weren't interested," he replied jokingly, hugging her close.

"I'm not," she replied, "just curious. Be to tender my resignation officially to Dumbledore," Cecilia added pressing a small envelope into her lover's hand as Remus kissed her on the forehead. "I take it you won't be back before then."

"No," admitted Remus, putting down the letter again before placing Cecilia's reply to Snape on top of it. "Dumbledore wanted the meeting early as the students arrive back at Hogwarts this evening. It's a good sign," he added, kissing the top of her head.

"What did he talk to the Order about the other night, then?" asked Cecilia, stroking his arm. "Last Friday?" Remus paused momentarily and hoped that she hadn't noticed.

"He wasn't there," Remus replied lightly. "Minerva chaired it."

"…wasn't there…?"

"He was at the Ministry, doing something important," Remus continued a little too quickly and continued to hold her close to his chest. "Something to do with the war. But if he had have been there I think he would have told us why he thinks Voldermort wasn't defeated in the great battle…"

Remus's voice trailed off in Cecilia's subconscious and her mind flicked to her conversation with Sirius a couple of mornings ago which she had given a great deal of thought to the same question. Why hadn't the potion worked as expected? Refusing to speculate, she looked up at Remus questioningly. "Did Minerva say?" He shook his head.

"But I have a feeling we'll know this afternoon." Remus moved her from his shoulder and rested her against her pillow. "So I'd better be off to get some work in before I'm needed there." Cecilia watched him get out of bed and dress, quickly before moving over to the door herself standing between it and Remus, holding onto both letters as he made to walk downstairs.

"When you give this to Severus can you let him know that the second trace seems to have a certain degree of chromosomal aberrations in the left hand side? It's something I just thought of." And why did that trace look so familiar?

"I'm not sure I really understand," Remus laughed, handing her the letter for Snape again. "I'll wait while you jot it down. I don't want to get it wrong and forget." He took it back from her once she had added a "PS", before pulling her close to him and kissing her on the lips.

"I'm sorry to have got so wound up yesterday," he whispered, his breath hot on her face.

You've said that three or four times in the last twelve or so hour, thought Cecilia. I know you're sorry you over reacted.

"I expect it's still Lunar Tension," she smiled, leaning towards him again and reaching up to rake her fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry I got so into the work."

"Perhaps tomorrow then?" said Cecilia, decisively.

"For what?"

"To get some books of course. Perhaps we could go to Diagonalley, to Flourish and Blotts?" gave her a sharp look. "You're not on duty tomorrow, are you?" Remus shook his head.

"I really don't think that's a good idea," he replied sharply before adding, as he caught her uncertain look, "you'd be better off here, it's safer, my love." He took her hand and Cecilia felt herself nodding in agreement.

"So, is Sirius coming back tonight?"

"Only if you like, sweetheart. I could stop by the fire tonight…" his voice trailed off and Cecilia nodded. Alone together, even in his wolf form would be far more desirable than Remus gallivanting across the countryside with his best friend. Kissing him goodbye for the third time that morning, Cecilia heard him pad down the stairs and leave the cottage through the kitchen door before walking with quickening pace in the direction of Lannock Fell.

And that was it: life returned to normal, or as normal as you can get for a muggle woman engaged to a werewolf in hiding from the Ministry of Magic and evil wizards. Within half an hour Cecilia was up and dressed herself, standing in the utility room holding the mysterious notes about werewolves.

"It's you today," she said to the inanimate pages. "You are going to help me to help him." And silently to herself she added, even if I can't be sure exactly what I'm doing.

For the next hour Cecilia allowed hope to be her guiding light as she trawled through the mysterious notes and, as the liquid in the round-bottomed flask began to take on a brownish hue she began to speculate on scientific explanations for the observations made by the anonymous author. Luck had led her to an adaptation in the potion itself before she allowed herself her wild speculation: a description of some of the herbs had called for ones grown in "rich soil", a herbology term which Cecilia knew meant high in nitrates. Silver nitrate was her only source and so, using an ionic sublimation technique to liberate the nitrate ion from its inorganic compound she had managed to transform the tiniest amount of wolfsbane into a small amount of bronze-coloured liquid. While it was refluxing Cecilia put her mind to her many theories surrounding the potion and its meaning in muggle terms.

Find out how the wolfsbane works on werewolves scientifically, Cecilia thought to herself as she watched the liquid begin to bubble, then work out how to make it permanent. On the next clean page at the back of her notebook she wrote down these two statements, drawing a box around them. These were the starting point of her aim to cure lycanthropy, where her scientific research was to begin and, as the solution began to boil, Cecilia listed as many points as she could glean from her mind and wrote them down as a list underneath the starting point box before turning down the heat on the gas burner. Once the final point had been added, it was only then that she allowed her dammed-up speculations to be released from the slowly filling reservoir of her cerebellum.

One of the strongest and, Cecilia felt more accurate of her assumptions was of lycanthropy being a cellular disease. Some of the symptoms described in the notes matched those she had seen in Remus herself and were also very similar to those borne of malaria. That disease consisted of parasites using red blood cells in humans (and other organisms) as a host, beautifully adapted to hitch a lift within the cell itself in order to feast on the glucose that the cells were transporting. Other similarities to that disease were manifest in the cycle of reproduction of the parasites in malaria-infected patients – attacks of illness were prompted when the parasite reproduced. Looking back at her notes periodically, Cecilia was delighted to see that she had written down "cyclical symptoms" before and smiled at the link coming in from another angle.

Why did the moon have such an effect on a person affected by a werewolf bite, causing themselves to be werewolves too? It was the origin of one of the strongest forces to be felt on earth moving entire oceans in their tidal patterns and, when at its fullest in full opposition to the sun, when its polarising effects were at the most extreme, the greatest tides of all are caused, sometimes known, Cecilia reminded herself, to devastate cities with magnificence. During the full moon werewolves were instinctively driven to attack: Cecilia's scant knowledge of parasitology drew her to the conclusion that the disease itself was, in was way or another, of such sentience that it drove its host (i.e. the werewolf) to attack in order for its own survival.

Exhaling, Cecilia annotated the notes carefully in pencil with these, her own thoughts on the subject, before looked around the utility room. Glancing at the ever-darkening blend that was carefully boiling up to the required temperature and then re-condensing on the inside of the apparatus she tried not to think how close her inferences were to the mark…

…and then there were changes in the body. Cecilia had established that they must occur through manipulation of the DNA, werewolves' DNA must undergo a temporary transformation during this period, which the wolfsbane potion in its current form alleviated, minimising the other symptoms too.

Looking up from her hasty thought-fuelled note-making Cecilia sighed: it was all down to energy again, that which caused the changes. That was the simple part. Now for the hard part; refining the wolfsbane potion and maybe…find a cure…

…a dark brown liquid began to gurgle in a round-bottomed flask over the gas burner which, had Cecilia Frobisher taken a different route that morning, was where another trial batch of option no. 30 should have been. Cecilia deduced that this would mean that its properties would be altered enough to adapt its chemistry. Which meant…that it should have more profound effects on the subject.

Relief and frustration flooded Cecilia in equal measure as she looked at the reflux condenser which, when the solution had cooled to around 30 degrees Centigrade she would reassemble and turn into a distillation format. She had actually been able to modify the wolfsbane herb, endowing it with an unspecific potency. Which, for Cecilia knew, could be a cure for lycanthropy or an effective toxin. What she needed was information and there was only one way to get it: she needed to send the letter to Hermione.

Making her way upstairs Cecilia felt in the pockets of the cardigan still hung on the back of the door, unfolding it and scanning the list that she had written to her extra-curricular student before taking it over to the bedside table, flopping onto the bed. There, she leaned over and opened the top drawer which contained a biro and she added the words "wolfsbane research" and "chemical makeup".

Folding the letter in half again, Cecilia got back to her feet and dropped it inside her cardigan pocket before making her way back downstairs, her thoughts clicking into place with respect to potion no. 30.

As she began to prepare elm bark, shredding it into finer pieces Cecilia's mind then drifted to the letter that she had asked Remus to pass on to Severus regarding the DNA traces he had sent to her for her perusal. It had been too hasty, she told herself crossly. Severus had clearly spent an inordinate amount of time crafting the information on the parchment and all she had done was scribble a reply on the back of it.

Once the latest variation in the potion ingredients of no. 30 were simmering away under reflux, Cecilia hunted around for some paper and a pen so that she could begin to write another reply to Snape. She had not got the traces any more, those had been returned with her original letter via Remus that morning, so she pulled up a chair at the kitchen table, the door of the utility room propped open so that she could keep an eye on the potion and on a sheet of paper torn from her notebook and a well-used Bic biro Cecilia began to write.

She began to describe in more detail what she had written this morning regarding the banding on the traces; that the parts he had indicated suggested the donors of the DNA samples were related though not closely and they were both wizards. Trying not to speculate on the wizards in question (although they must have been from the original fourteen samples that she had originally analysed) Cecilia pondered instead Snape's motivation for asking the question and wished with guilty longing that she could, even for just a few hours, be back in the potions classroom, sharing her understanding and forging new developments with him.

Folding the paper in half and leaving it on the kitchen table Cecilia proceeded back to the potion, removing the heat of the gas burner and allowing blend no. 30 to cool. It would need to be at room temperature when she added the wolfsbane to it (wolfsbane that part of Cecilia wished she could keep for her other research) and then it had to reflux again for a further hour or so. Excellent, she thought as she began to prepare the wolfsbane, using the flat edge of her knife to strip the leaves from the stem. And then I can ask Remus whether he could deliver this one to Severus, with this letter.

Returning to the table, Cecilia continued with her letter to Snape. He had claimed a genetic link between the subjects of the DNA traces and she had acceded to the claim before adding, "…unless we sample thousands of people, muggles and wizards, we won't know for sure..." But it did fit with her theory. Cecilia put down her pen, allowing her thoughts to organise themselves in her mind.

And then a thought struck her: what of those muggles, one of whom had been Petunia Dursley, had a kind of latent magic within them? Or perhaps they are squibs who have lost their magic or do not possess the function to metabolise energy in the way necessary to perform spells? There was nothing to say that being a wizard and being a muggle were not permanent states of affairs –

Cecilia got to her feet and began to pace Dumbledore-like around the kitchen – but there were things Snape was still fundamentally wrong about.

Her final paragraph to Snape conceded the crystalline examples of her "not fixed state of affairs" hypothesis before signing the letter. Before folding the letter she added a "PS" of regret that they couldn't be working together before fashioning an envelope from another piece of paper and writing on his name.

Not that it made any difference anyway, Cecilia thought to herself as she trawled through her notes of Harry's potion to find what to try next, she couldn't actually send it to him.

And if Cecilia hadn't put her mind to solving a minor crisis on the gas-burner front, she wouldn't have discovered how false her last conclusion actually was.

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Harry Potter made his way up towards Dumbledore's office. He had arrived back at Hogwarts not via the usual method of steam engine with his peers, but rather on a far more exciting prospect with an old friend in tow, an old friend who had almost caused a huge commotion with his arrival at Privet Drive that morning by landing a flying motorcycle on the back lawn of said place of residence. Harry had had to hide his mirth at Aunt Petunia's wizened face crinkling in horror at the invasion of her back garden, hands to her face in horror at the trail of destruction that the rider of this mysterious flying vehicle (Hagrid) who had managed to break the washing line at one end, catching it on the tail pipe and was slowly picking off huge sail-like shirts from the washing line.

His last memory as he gripped Hagrid around the middle and allowed his old friend to take him aloft was that of his aunt running around her garden in an attempt to recapture the shirts which, in their voluminous aerodynamicity appeared to have sprung to life in the wake of the vehicle.

As they soared overhead, travelling northward at speed Hagrid had shouted back to him that a member of the Order would be along shortly to collect his belongings and Hedwig which Harry had prepared carefully and had taken round to Arabella Figg's house the day before when the Dursleys had been returning his cousin to school. Harry had nodded into Hagrid's back as ice-cold wind had whistled past his head: the letter had arrived via ordinary muggle post, plastered in postage stamps with his name scrawled in a small corner of the front of the envelope. Fortunately for him his Aunt and Uncle were too wrapped up in his cousin Dudley's return to boarding school that they had piled the post together on the hall table without looking at it before departing without even a word to Harry as they piled 'Ickle Duddykins into the back seat with almost the entire contents of both of his bedrooms occupying the seats, boot and roof-rack.

On their return to Hogwarts Hagrid had insisted on accompanying Harry through the school, avoiding Harry's roundabout questions as to why he had to return like this and not on the Hogwarts express until he could avoid the young wizard's questions no longer. At the foot of the stairs by the stone bird that marked the entrance to the spiral staircase which led to Dumbledore's front office door Hagrid stooped until he was at Harry's eye level before whispering to him cautiously.

"'s not safe," Hagrid hissed, holding onto his shoulders. "You, returnin' on the Hogwarts Express?" He shook his head in mild exasperation as if Harry had uttered an innocent-but-naïve question of a child. Placing both hands firmly on Harry's shoulders he continued. "You been safe at yer aunt's. An' now yer needed to come to school – " breaking off Hagrid looked around furtively at the deserted corridor before leaning in further and Harry, trying not to inhale the stench of dead something leaned in too conspiratorially. " – not all the Death Eaters were captured, y'see. No-one knows where – " another cautious dart, " – "You-Know-Who is or what e's been plottin'. Dumbledore's usual line of communication was cut orf when 'e took the potion that Mrs Frobisher made – " a look of realisation crossed Harry's face before Hagrid quickly added, " – an' he's spent 'is last few months trying to regain it – "

Suddenly Hagrid cut off again, as if distracted by something that Harry couldn't hear and the school's gamekeeper looked around again before glancing up towards the underside of the marble staircase. "You'd better go," he concluded, getting back to his feet and placing an encouraging hand in the small of Harry's back. "Dumbledore asked me to bring you 'ere pers'n'lly though I ain't got no doubt in my thinking that yer can make yer own way from 'ere…"

Harry had no time to reply. As soon as a his mind had had a chance to recover enough to call after him Hagrid was making his way towards the Great Hall steps and was far too far away. For answers then, thought Harry level-headedly as he looked towards his destination exhaling slowly, I must put my faith in Dumbledore.

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Cecilia knew that there was a door around the side of the cottage somewhere, which led to a cellar, which led to a box that contained spare methane cylinders. She knew this because Remus had taken her there to look at the property of the late Grandmother Lupin when she was equipping the utility room with suitable kit for her analyses. That had been some time ago in early March and now she wondered where it could be and whether she would be able to open it.

Although the Lupin cottage had been occupied for a good number of years by Remus's grandmother the cottage itself had belonged to her husband's family and as such its structural features were modelled to suit wizard life. Its interior had been clearly chosen by a muggle and the whole place seemed to have adapted to suit the lives of both its occupants. It was the structure of the building that was concerning Cecilia now and it was a problem that she had encountered to a lesser extent at Hogwarts.

Wizard doors.

On the outside they looked just the same as any other door, hinged in two places and with a handle in the middle in order for the used to press on it and pull, or otherwise push the door to gain access. That was where their similarity to muggle doors ceased. Yes the doors, especially the older ones, did have locks and latches similar to those in muggle households the later ones, such as those in the Lupin cottage, had dispensed with such fanciful decoration. And yes, they did technically unlock when the correct function for opening them was used.

But herein lay the problem: the function for unlocking wizard doors was the use of magic. With magic, Cecilia knew, doors would open with a heartbeat if, that was, they had been locked using magic, or to put it a different way, energy metabolised within the conjurer willed the particles of the wood, stone or metal to either remain steadfast or to yield. And no amount of tugging (as Cecilia knew when she had tried the one on Hogwarts' Great Hall) would open a door that had been locked by magic.

Treading carefully upon the ground underfoot upon stones that lay half buried as if a sea of rafts in a green ocean Cecilia made her way down the slope to the bottom west corner of the cottage. The whole structure itself had been built on the side of a hill and, where the kitchen door led straight onto a path that was horizontal with the contours of the incline. From halfway out the underside of the cottage, where the large windows of the living room and the utility room sat the ground suddenly ran from under it. The cottage's foundations had been built up for support and in the gap between the floorboards of the cottage and the ground beneath the space had been utilised as a store cupboard which, Cecilia had gratefully acknowledged, had contained a gas burner just the right size to heat the solutions of the potions she was making.

That had been two months ago and, two minutes ago Cecilia saw the last of the gas sputter out under a now ruined batch of potion 30 which she would now have to repeat in full when she had got her heat source fully restored. If she couldn't get in, or she could find no fuel Cecilia would just have to wait for another eight hours or so until Remus returned from the Order meeting.

Holding onto the side of the cottage for support Cecilia got herself to where she had been standing when Remus had opened the door for her. Then she had been in awe at the appearance of the doorway, as if the stones around it has seemingly melted away and now she wondered whether it had been a spell or if the doorway was just well-concealed.

It turned out that the latter was true: Cecilia could see the outline of the door in the stone foundations of the cottage and she touched the door in its centre as Remus had done, hoping that it hadn't sealed or locked itself and it would again swing open. It did.

Blinking in the darkness Cecilia wafted a few errant cobwebs out of her line of sight before pulling out the cigarette lighter that she used to light her burner (and that she had purchased on her last trip to Ambleside) and she waited for her eyes to adjust to the light before retracing her own footsteps to the far corner of the cellar. Holding the lighter aloft Cecilia located the top drawer in an old desk that stood there like a spindly skeleton almost quaking at the unannounced attention it had drawn.

No gas canisters. Cecilia moved aside some of the old copies of "The Daily Prophet", the pictures on the ancient leaves moving jerkily as if the decay of time had affected the animation of the images, searching more thoroughly in order to locate them. And if she couldn't then her research would be frustratingly delayed. Cecilia waved the air in front of her as she blinked in the dim light again as if a slight improvement in her vision would allow her to see the gas canisters that weren't there a moment ago.

No, nothing in there. Holding the handle she pushed shut the top drawer before pulling open the one underneath. That too was crammed full of old "Daily Prophets" which Cecilia extracted carefully, placing it on the top of the desk as her search for the gas fuel continued which continued for a full ten minutes until reluctantly Cecilia Frobisher came to the conclusion that they weren't there. Which meant…

…that either they had been moved to somewhere else or she had been looking in the wrong place. With a heavy sigh of the dust-laden air Cecilia brought her arm around in the gloom of the cellar to look for alternative places in which the gas canisters might be…

Cecilia made her way to the far end of the cellar, which would be located just underneath the eastern window end of the living room and opened a trunk that was placed there, ignoring the ominous (and compulsory) eerie squeak of the hinges and held the lighter above her, trying not to let the metal button burn her finger. As she bent lower, another squeaking made her look up and Cecilia noticed a lantern, whose oil she lit with the lighter in her hand, pocketing the still-warm lighter before turning her attention back to the trunk.

More "Daily Prophets". Remus's parents and grandparents must have saved every copy there was. She looked upon the front page of the paper atop the pile and read the headline as she glanced at the picture of a wizard shaking hands with a round-faced lady looking uncharacteristically bewildered and confused. The headline "Muggle Prime Minister informed of defeat of You-Know-Who" flashed in monochrome vividity in time with what must have been the then Minister for Magic's hearty shaking of Margaret Thatcher above a sub-heading, "Diversion Planned: Madam Prime Minister to Defend Falkland Islands."

Putting aside the historical artefact that that copy of the "Daily Prophet" undoubtedly was, Cecilia continued to rummage in the trunk, unearthing a miniature broomstick complete with dressable Quidditch player and an innocuous-looking manicure set and resignation began to set in as to finding the gas canisters. It wasn't as if she couldn't find more fuel, Cecilia mused as she began to stack the contents back inside, more than the waste of an hour where, had the replacements been where they had been the last time would have taken no more than ten minutes.

And then…

….the whole business of her search for gas canisters was thrown aside…

In Cecilia's hands she held a medium-sized metal container with the word "SALT" stencilled into the lid, the white writing of the word against the black-painted tin boldly proclaiming its contents inside. That was the ordinary bit. What was inside was…

…well, it certainly wasn't table salt. Were you to sprinkle the green ashy contents over your fish and chips Cecilia doubted that you would feel post-prandial good health. The shade of the powder reminded Cecilia of copper carbonate powder (a wonderful chemical whose fresh pale green appearance had an encouraging effect on stroppy year 9 girls who "hated science") but the texture of burned paper. Cecilia had seen this powder before. It was floo powder.

What was a container of floo powder doing in an old salt tin in Remus's cellar? It wasn't as if the stuff was precious: wizards used the floo network as if it were a telephone system (a rather intrusive one, she added to herself.) The stuff was purchased for next to nothing from wizardly suppliers around the country.

Closing the lid, Cecilia was about to return it to the trunk before pulling it back out and opening it up again. She thought she'd seen something: paper folded into a square and wedged into the lid. Ordinarily Cecilia probably wouldn't have given it a second glance had there not been two words to prompt her: "For Muggles".

What was for Muggles? Cecilia wondered and she pulled the parchment from the lid. She was just about to unfold it when the old "Daily Prophets" that caught Cecilia's attention again. More importantly, it was the dates of the papers and she put the "SALT" tin and parchment to one side. These copies were from the mid-fifties and were in such a state of decay that their monochrome images had ceased dynamism completely, the action of their subjects frozen in odd and unusual poses. February, March, April, May…Cecilia put them to one side…June 1956. The Goblin Riots.

Holding the paper closer to the lighter Cecilia looked at the headline: "Gringotts Goblins in All-Out Strike". Underneath in smaller print: "Ministry evades talks with goblin leaders. 'No concession', the Minister expected to announce."

The goblin riots. Holding the paper directly underneath the oil lantern Cecilia looked carefully at the article there, thinking back to the work she had done regarding Raymond Lully. Hadn't he been there, on one or two occasions? And Oswald Avery, presumably.

Cecilia scanned the picture, its jerky image reflecting the age of the document, looking at the crowd of wizards who had gathered in the square outside Gringott's bank. She saw the faces, many happy, smiling faces of the wizards, looking as if they were just out for a bit of good fun, not realising that in a few short days there would be rioting from the goblins themselves. And then, in the crowd…

…Cecilia's mind skipped back to a time when she was sitting next to an open fire with a large bloodhound near her feet, listening to a large giant telling her of his bunking off from school in order to see what was happening in Diagonalley. Never had she seen Hagrid's face so full of terror as when Hagrid was telling her the story of how he was inches away from being Avada Kedavra'd to death when the person standing next to him had been mistaken for Raymond Lully.

She looked at the photo again. Raymond Lully had been such an integral role in their research, from his involvement in the Reciprocation movement that had begun almost two hundred years ago, through his assistance with many of the world's most eminent scientists to his death, presumably at the hands of an assassin on the day of the goblin riots. But she had no idea what he looked like. Was he there, standing with the crowd? Cecilia scanned the image wondering if he was indeed there before opening the paper up carefully onto the second page. Her heart stopped.

On the second page, the name "Lupin" jumped out at her, clear as day (had she not been in a cellar). Breathing quickly, Cecilia's eyes darted around the page trying to find where the article began (this being the Daily Prophet, the articles did not run in boring old regular columns as they did in Muggle newspapers, indeed: this one appeared to begin on the top left-hand side and zigzag down to the bottom right hand corner.

Cecilia blinked in the lamplight as she read the article through, which she read through again once she had finished to make sure she hadn't dreamed it before closing her eyes momentarily as the information sank in before returning her gaze to a small picture of the subject of the article which was (inexplicably) close to the bottom left-hand corner.

The article went something like this: the hunt was on for a child by the name of Caelius Lupin (aged 3), who had disappeared from the home of John and Sylvia Lupin in Suffolk. She stared at the paper again, looking at the inanimate pictures of Mr and Mrs Lupin (their picture printed at an angle in the mid-right section of the page). John Lupin was almost the image of Remus and Cecilia had to look from the paper again to prevent her mind running way from her. Caelius, the article had said, was last seen by his father at seven in the evening, shortly after he had read him a bedtime story. The book, Mysterious Mythology, was also missing…

Cecilia shook her head: Remus had told her everything of his family, how they had moved in with his father's mother, Remus's grandmother, to this cottage. He hadn't mentioned his brother…a brother who would have been older than himself…

…in the dimness Cecilia sank to the floor, letting the information settle into her mind…Remus had a brother who was abducted…he hadn't told her…

Mysterious Mythology…why did everything, sooner or later, come back to that book? She knew that the copy Remus had given to her complete with Reciprocation notes carefully woven into the tales was not made until August of that year, which meant that the one that was missing with the child was probably not on and the same…nevertheless, Cecilia thought, why had Remus not told her…?

Leaning over to the trunk once more Cecilia pulled out another copy. This one was from October 1956 and the cover story again was the report of another goblin riot, this one (according to the reporter Ed Edison) coming unexpectedly for the Ministry had acceded to the requests made from the spokesgoblin, Valdort. At the bottom of the page a small circular article declared that the body of a boy believed to be Caelius Lupin had been found and the goblin Tregal was implicated in his death. Next to the article there he were jerky, sporadic movements from the images where Tregal was clearly protesting his innocence. Her heart sank as she relived the Lupins' grief. A young boy – their eldest son – murdered in all of this. With the exception of Lully himself, possibly the first casualty of Voldermort. And then…their second son inflicted with a debilitating condition…lycanthropy…

Leaning over the trunk once more Cecilia continued to look through more Prophets, her search for more information on both goblin-related matters replacing that of her gas cylinders of twenty minutes ago but, after a thorough search there was nothing more about riots or Caelius Lupin…

She was about to close the lid again, her mind racing over the new information and a sheaf of papers caught her eye. She pulled them out too, laying them out on the cold, concrete floor. Amongst them were some pages, seemingly pulled out of a text book, noting the symptoms of lycanthropy and the precautions that should be taken. Behind that were what looked like a handful of knitting patterns, presumably belonging to Grandmother Lupin, whose instructions had been modified in places and also some recipes, the kind that you get in old ladies' houses, detailing the correct manufacture of Shepherd's pie, apple crumble and cheese soufflé. And then, at the back of all these papers…Cecilia's hand couldn't stop shaking as she scanned the page. Names, like spawning salmon leaping upstream, which she had long considered over these past few months jumped out at her from the page of the letter from Remus's father to Remus's grandmother.

"Dear Mother," (the letter began), and it continued in what Cecilia thought to be quite a reverential tone; John Lupin seemed to be expressing a certain amount of regret and woe of the fate of their younger son. He explained how, because he didn't want the same fate to befall Remus as it had Caelius he wished to know that, were trouble to arise again in the future that he could arrange to move his family in with his parents for the safety of their new son. He went on to regret that someone like Oswald Avery might have been behind Caelius's disappearance because of his work with Raymond Lully and, even though he was happy to continue the work his father had done (so, Remus's grandfather was a Reciprocator too…?) he couldn't now commit himself wholly to the cause because there would always be too much of a worry happy that his family was safe. However, he has accommodated Lully before his death and would do so again for the cause of Reciprocation.

Cecilia read the letter again, a pang of sympathy resonating for John Lupin again. The letter, dated October 1959, was six months after Remus's birthday. Of course, of course he was worried, what father wouldn't be that another child would be at risk of abduction and death at the hands of the enemy? And to have a back-up plan, that was sensible. But…Remus had told her that he had moved after his bite, and that had been when he was seven or eight…clearly John Lupin's work with Lully had reached the ear of the enemy quite late after he had done it, as had what Mysterious Mythology had contained, so the man would have been less guarded about his son when Greyback's attack had come…

Collecting the papers back together, she put them back into the trunk where they had come from before lifting the "SALT" container up, cursing to herself as Cecilia realised she hadn't secured the catch. Brushing the green dust from her clothes, she got to her feet and, in the gloom that the oil lamp threw around it, Cecilia looked to the door and was about to blow out the flame when the small piece of parchment that had originally been in the box with the floo powder caught her eye again. She stooped to retrieve it before holding it up to the last-minute-reprieved flame, looking at the words on it: For Muggles. Well, she was a muggle, Cecilia thought as she unfolded the parchment, and the petulant voice of her inner child added, "and if they didn't mean me they should have been more specific".

The words were written in a hand which looked as if a spider had crawled across the page. The letters were spindly and thin yet their meaning was never clearer. Whoever had written this parchment seemed to be instructing muggles in the method of wizard chimney-to-chimney communication. The parchment was a letter, which read:

My dearest Bessie,

I will be away for some time. Pomfrey has a notion that he can get what he needs from Oswald Avery. Avery is a loyal ally and I am accompanying Pomfrey in my capacity as an Auror.

(They trusted Avery, then, thought Cecilia grimly as the words sank in. That was before Avery was implicated in the death of their son…the same Avery whose own son she had seen murdered by Voldermort all those months ago for the inability to retrieve Avery senior's counterintelligence in order for it to be applied to "Mysterious Mythology"…had Cecilia been religious of the Old Testament variety, an eye for an eye…)

If you are reading this then I will not be contactable by Owl, neither by Fellytone or Muggle post. Your father, whose assistance I am always indebted with regards his links in the muggle government will be able to assist you in contacting my by providing a useable chimney, one that is connected to the Floo network. The floo powder contained within will allow you, as a non-wizard, to contact me. Throw the powder into the fire and the spell cast upon any ordinary powder will do its work. It can be renewed by adding more powder to this box, the spell will endow further powder with the qualities for non-wizard flooing. This is one of his trial spells that I am happy to say works well and I am happy to let you my dear Bessie, benefit from its use; he has even devised a way so that it is untraceable by the Floo engineers. What a genius Avery is!

I am sorry to leave you my dearest darling, and remember, I will be back as soon as the work is completed and as fast as the winds can blow my broom back to our mountains.

Your loving husband,

Aloysius Lupin

Cecilia felt something in her chest begin to melt, as if a ball of wax had begun to liquefy and her feelings towards Remus, about him not sharing with her the existence of his brother, began to melt away. He had told her much about his family and if he had known about this, about how involved his family were in muggle-wizard relations. He would have told her about this, Cecilia was sure, and the feeling of prying into a family secret that she had felt when she had read the letter from his father to his grandmother, and reading the "Daily Prophets" had been replaced with a new closeness.

An image formed in her mind of Remus's grandmother, of the inanimate picture that stood in a frame over the mantelpiece, a smiley, round-faced woman with dark curly hair wearing the same brooch on the lapel of her dress that Remus had given to her at Christmas as she read the letter again and her concerns about contacting wizards began to fall away. If, as Aloysius Lupin said, the use of the powder meant she could use the floo network without discovery then her fears of communication in the wizard world would finally be abated.

Folding back up the letter, Cecilia stooped to retrieve the "SALT" container, folding the letter back up inside and closing the lid before extinguishing the oil light and reaching into her pocket for the lighter again. Taking the tin with her with all thought of the gas cylinders gone completely from her mind Cecilia made her way back up the steep slope next to the cottage and back inside..

Floo powder for muggles, made possible by an experimental charm concocted by the traitor Avery. After forty odd years would it still work? Cecilia stepped back through the kitchen door and made her way hurriedly into the living room, eyeing the fireplace with unalloyed excitement. There was only one way to find out…

888888888

"So you see Harry, much as my affection for you as an individual has sought to shade from you the nature of the enemy, it is indeed right, I am sure you will agree, that I make you fully aware of the truth of the matter."

Before Dumbledore's desk Harry was sitting, as immobile as he had been the moment the headmaster had begun to speak. During that time he had listened dumbstruck to every word, ignoring a voice at the back of his mind insisting his ears question what they were hearing. To Dumbledore's expectant expression Harry managed to nod as he struggled for speech, swallowing intermittently before replying.

"Yes," he replied, filling in the gap that was left in the conversation. "Yes, Professor," he added, nodding slowly as his mind replayed the conversation in its entirety across his cerebellum.

Dumbledore had told him about…a prophecy that was made by Professor Trelawney about either him or another boy, and how Voldermort had chosen to interpret the child as being Harry. How he had made plans to lure Harry to the Ministry in order to retrieve it and in doing so and how with the exception of the enemy and Trelawney only two other wizards knew about it, Professor Snape and Professor McGongall…

"Sir, the prophecy – " began Harry, his mind attempting to frantically assimilate the information that Dumbledore had told him but the headmaster at Hogwarts held up a hand.

"Harry, do you think that I would not have brought you here, ahead of the others and upsetting the household of your aunt if I did not believe it was vital for you to be informed?" He got to his feet and began to pace around his desk, before leaning on it nonchalantly. "It is not up to me to decide what you do with this information. Were you to sell it to the enemy – "

" – but I would never – " Dumbledore held up a hand towards Harry's vociferous protestations,

" – then that is a risk I have taken through sharing this information with you. Many disagree that I should allow you this intelligence but, considering your bravery on the night of Voldermort's disastrous return back in February, I cannot ask for a greater show of loyalty, Harry. In return I offer you a stake in the future. Your own."

"So the prophecy – " continued Harry eventually, a little confused now as to what Dumbledore was telling him.

" – is in the ministry," finished Dumbledore, rising back to his feet again before beginning to pace over towards the fireplace. "All you need to know is that in its current location it is safe here though I beg of you not to press me for more details Harry for I will not be able to give them to you. Alas another life, one that is very significant in the outcome of these events is at stake."

For a moment, Harry said nothing as he scanned his memory banks in order to narrow down the

life to which Dumbledore was alluding before looking back sharply at him.

"Mrs Frobisher," confirmed Dumbledore, nodding his head in confirmation. Harry said nothing: that wasn't the life about which he was thinking. "Ah, dear Mrs Frobisher," the headmaster mused, glancing round at the carpet from which, despite his reassurances, Dumbledore had not been able to remove the blood stains. "Oh how Dobby will miss her presence at the castle."

"Mrs Frobisher is not returning to Hogwarts?" Harry was as surprised as Dumbledore at his own shocked tone and the headmaster of the school began to pace back towards him before clicking his fingers and, magicking a chair in front of Harry, he sat on it daintily.

"No indeed, she is not. She had her own part to play in this, which is to ensure your potion is correct. If this prophecy is to be fulfilled and Voldermort is to be defeated then it must be ready. As before, Harry, the decision is yours." Dumbledore watched Harry Potter get to his feet, looking less uncomfortable with the idea of wizardly combat than he had done the first time.

"What must I do?"

"Do?" Dumbledore savoured the word as if it were a sherbet lemon, looking Harry in the eye. "Do? Nothing. There is nothing for you to do."

"Why are you telling me this then?" At the indignance in his features Dumbledore sighed, wondering how this conversation could have gone better. He looked Harry in the eye again and when he spoke his tone was softer and his face was still.

"For there may come a time soon that I will not be able to Harry, and your not knowing would be worse than anything Voldermort could perpetrate…for when it comes to the fight you will need your strength…" Dumbledore got back to his feet, gliding back around to the other side of his desk before removing his half-moon spectacles.

"Our best chance is for you to take the potion, when it is refined and both Professor Snape and Mrs Frobisher are happy with it at Ministry for Magic. However, although the Order have determined this to be the best option of all there is no compulsion for you to co-operate. Indeed; you will be only a year away from being Of Age very soon. We cannot make you do something that you don't want to."

There was a pause. Harry and Dumbledore stared at each other momentarily before Harry looked away from the headmaster and down at the floor.

"Now, as the Hogwarts Express is not due for another eight hours I suggest that you take your time to unpack and rest before your friends arrive. No doubt you will have plenty of studying to do with your OWLs being soon upon you."

Oh yes, thought Harry, the OWLs.

"I think perhaps I should submit my recent successes against Dark wizards as proof that I have already met the exam criteria for Defence and save myself the time," he replied dolefully. "That and muggle studies."

"An excellent idea, Harry," replied Dumbledore as Harry rose before retreating towards the door that he had entered almost half an hour before. As the young wizard descended the stairs before making his way across the Great Hall's front corridor towards the common rooms Dumbledore got to his feet again and began to watch the sudden rainstorm pelt his window with water against the backdrop of the courtyard.

"I will ensure that I make a note of that to mention to your new teacher."

88888888

When Sirius Black put his head close to the hearth in his father's study the last person he had expected to see, glowing ethereally green was the very person that he had wished to covertly espy. At first, he had been taken aback, dropping the floo powder into the hearth and spilling the green ashes onto the Persian carpet that sat before the fireplace. Recovering quickly, he backed out of the hearth as Cecilia Frobisher blinked dreamily around her.

"Cecilia!" he exclaimed, smiling in her direction as he sat cross-legged on the maroon carpet, watching as she continued to look round in a daze. "How did you manage to do that?"

"Sirius!" Cecilia's head flickered in the flames as she peered out into Sirius's study, viewing it from a six-inches high through a film of green as she tried to gain her bearings. Looking at the occupant of the study, grinning at her, she smiled too.

"I had some help," admitted Cecilia, hoping that the blush that she could feel flood her face was not visible to him through the emerald glow as she recalled the letter from Aloysius Lupin to Bessie. "It's very strange the first time you try it, though." Sirius nodded, shuffling forward on the carpet, frowning in her direction.

"But the security – "

"Apparently, because I'm a muggle, I can't be traced," she added quickly, a tinge of pride in her voice. "An experimental spell," she added, trying to stem the flow of questions from her floo-ee.

"Oh," mused Sirius, smiling at her again. "I was under the impression you'd done something clever with science," he continued, watching her squirm a little. "But if you've used magic – "

"It's a risk," Cecilia conceded. "But it means I can communicate again without having to wait for Remus to deliver letters for me." Including the two that whizzed up the chimney before I put my head under the mantelpiece, Cecilia said to herself. "I've been thinking about what you told me on Saturday, Sirius," she continued. "Not that I understand very much of it, I'm planning to go to the nearest library and do some research – "

" – no!" Sirius returned quickly. "Cecilia, you mustn't leave the cottage, not now. Wait until someone can accompany you." Cecilia paused in her rebuttal, swallowing quickly and nodded.

"That felt weird," she smiled, shaking her head now. "Like pins and needles."

"Tonks wanted to know if you're well," continued Sirius as he considered the reversal of situation. Now that was weird.

"Tonks?" asked Cecilia, blinking at him questioningly. "She knows I am, did you tell her? How is she?"

"Loving every minute of being alive, apparently," muttered Sirius absently. "Her mum's getting a bit cheesed off by her not being home, she's been asking me to cover for her with Andromeda which I have done, but she'll have to tell her eventually. So," Sirius looked back at Cecilia's head, smiling at her again. She was remarkably clever to be able to tap into the floo network on her own. "What is it you wanted?"

"To ask you about Saturday," clarified Cecilia. "How convinced are you about what you told me, because – "

"Look, Cecilia, it was just a theory," interrupted Sirius, drawing closer to the fire. "I just wanted to know if it was scientifically possible." Cecilia nodded ethereally.

"It is possible," she confirmed. "I can draft out an explanation if you'd like…" Her voice trailed off as Cecilia recalled her musings on the subject the day before. "I think – " But Sirius cut her off.

"It was just an idea. Far better for you to focus your efforts on Harry's potion…and your own idea for Lupin…" At the mention of the latter research, Cecilia shook her head, looking down at the ashes in the study hearth.

"I don't think I can, not now," she lied defensively. "It was just a supposition." She looked back at Sirius beseechingly. "If I were in a different position, or it was a different time, and the circumstances were not as they are…if I managed to get DNA traces for Remus – " Sirius nodded sympathetically.

"If you wanted my help, you only have to ask…

"…that would have been good," Cecilia admitted, hoping she sounded genuine. "He has shared his condition with me, and I know he's been reserved about many of the details." She looked at Sirius again. "It's dreadful to think how much pain he must be in, but I cannot get is hopes up only to disappoint him." She shook her head slowly. "It was mere supposition, Sirius. I want to help him, I just don't have the means. (Yet, she thought to herself). Please forget I ever mentioned anything. Especially with the way he feels about it at the moment." She paused. "Did you speak to Remus?" Sirius nodded.

"Not for long, he didn't go into details. But I got the gist." Cecilia smiled. "He said Dumbledore understands. I think he feels useless enough at everything else and now there's this."

"He's not useless," protested Cecilia in defence. "He's – "

"Hang on, I didn't say that, he thinks it himself…it's – "

" – his condition, I know," sighed Cecilia, unable to keep it to herself much longer. "Sirius, I need your help!" she blurted out. "If I can't do this for him…I'm on my own because…"

"But you just said…"

"Of course I want to find a cure for Remus," Cecilia said softly, her emotions showing in the flickering of the floo flames, "and I know how to do it."

"You need to analyse his hair." Sirius smiled again, his eyes twinkling and Cecilia felt a sinking in her stomach, as if he could read the image that had stirred in her hindbrain. She managed to nod.

"Two samples, one when he is a werewolf, one when he's…changed. They must only be twenty four hours between them, and…you have the opportunity to get some…" Her words hung between them, as their gaze locked for a moment.

"I don't think I can…"

"But you said – " Cecilia wore an expression of confusion.

"Ignore what I said. Concentrate on the potion." Sirius's own expression changed, to one of resolution.

"You don't believe I am considering Harry in this – " Her voice was low, her head bowed and she tried to stop it from quavering as she cursed herself for mentioning her other research. Sirius moved further towards the fireplace.

"No, Cecilia. Not after what you did in February. Ignore my foolish ramblings and focus on what's necessary…" Cecilia said nothing. She had heard that tone before…

"Concentrate on getting that potion done as quickly as possible," replied Sirius forthrightly. "I will get the hair samples and get Tonks to get Nick to analyse them. Now," he smiled at Cecilia's submissive expression, "I presume we'll be seeing you this evening? There's to be an Order meeting."

"Remus will be conveying my resignation," she replied, thinking about the letters she had given to him to deliver and wishing she had kept hold of them a while longer.

Later that afternoon, after Cecilia had said her goodbyes, echoing her surprise at the ease of her communication, Sirius made a second attempt to espy the soon-to-be Mrs Lupin's activities. Telling himself he should cure himself of such a bad habit as he gained a tantalisingly brief view of his subject, lying full-length before the fire with her books open and her hair cascading over her shoulders, Sirius was interrupted by the arrival of Mr Lupin.

Pulling his head out of the grate as he heard the familiar noises of the Order members assembling downstairs Sirius retreated back into his father's study picking up the Daily Prophet. Much as he liked most of the people in the Order, he didn't like the prologue to the meeting, the chatting and talking, the catching up, Molly Weasley fussing over the food-to-wizard ratio, the small talk. Far easier to slip in just before it started so as to focus on what was important.

Remus Lupin turned the handle of the study before pacing across several Persian carpets that Sirius had removed from various rooms in his house relocated to his father's study. He seated himself in the second wing-backed chair opposite a picture of the ministry representatives pouring into the antechamber of the ministry building below a headline "New Security Laws: latest." Sirius put down his newspaper and smiled at his friend.

"You're early," said Sirius, folding the Daily Prophet in half and with drawing his wand, he conjured a tray of tea onto the low coffee table between them. "Something wrong?" He took in his friend's dejected expression before leaning forward sympathetically.

"I misjudged the time," replied Remus slowly. "It's been years since I've travelled by broom."

And then to Sirius's surprise Remus described to his friend how his life was so restrictive because of the new werewolf regulations, how he was barred from apparitions. Then Remus then described what he had been thinking about the been thinking about for the last two days.

"She's getting restless there," Remus explained, his face a picture of misery. "Perhaps we should think about living in the muggle world."

"Has she said this?" asked Sirius in open astonishment.

"No," Remus conceded, leaning back in his chair and frowning. "But it would be better for her…she'd be more comfortable…it'd be better for both of us and – "

"Remus, you're babbling," chided Sirius gently. "Stop getting yourself so upset, I don't like to see you in that way…" He trailed off as Remus leaned forward again and he was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

"I only feel like that because of her…I have something that I don't want to lose…" Sirius leaned forward, and smiled at his friend.

"Why do you think that you'll lose her?" His words were soft, but firm.

"Because…" And then Remus told his best friend about the werewolf code, the words which had been mere silence when he had spoken to him two days ago. He told of the violations that he had committed, according to the Ministry, over a period of four years, and how he would have to face a hearing to justify the violations. As Sirius listened to him, patting his arm sympathetically he wondered how much of this he had shared with Cecilia. Not much, he speculated, if the charges were to do with the work he had undertaken for Dumbledore.

"Oh, mate," said Sirius when Remus had finished. "You know that I'm here for you…"

"Are you here for me when – " Remus broke off and got to his feet.

"Have you spoken to Cecilia about this?" Sirius cursed himself for asking the question, and tried to make it sound innocent.

"I tried, Sirius," Remus replied, pacing away before turning back suddenly. "I did, up to a point. But – " Sirius said nothing and waited for Remus to tell him.

"When I got back, Snape was there…they were chatting…" Remus began to return towards his friend and looked at him, a pained expression on his face.

"Snape, chatting?" Sirius replied. He looked incredulous and was about to say something else but stopped. "What about?"

"Work," replied Remus dolefully, looking at the intricate pattern of a turquoise carpet with interest.

"There you are, then," returned Sirius matter-of-factly, taking in that expression, the same one that he had seen on his friend's face when they found out James and Lily were going out. Remus'd smiled, Sirius recalled. But there was that same air of sadness that lingered now, tinged with betrayal.

"Look, Moony, she loves you and only you. I have no doubt about that." Remus looked up, right into his best friend's eyes before taking a few paces towards him.

"I love her so much, everything about her – " he began.

"And you are sure?" Sirius made the effort to sound firm. "Because you loved Lily once, then Tonks. And we don't know much about her…" He trailed off and watched his friend smile. He knew what Sirius was trying to do and told him so.

"If it didn't work on the night of the lunar eclipse, it won't now." Remus retook his seat and watched as Sirius poured the tea from the steaming teapot into two large cups. "I'm never going to change my mind about her Sirius, and I know she loves me."

And yet you won't trust her with this, thought Sirius treacherously as he handed a cup of black tea to Remus. You love her but won't share the worst with her.

"If I have one regret is that I didn't make it happen sooner," continued Remus, a little more relaxed than he had been a few moments ago. "If I could have been strong enough to talk to your cousin…if I'd not taken my eyes off Cecilia Jane Frobisher the first moment I saw her, if I'd spoken to her straight away, like – " Remus broke off and looked at Sirius.

" - me," finished Sirius, shaking his head before taking a sip of his tea. "A fine one I am for giving you relationship advice."

"I know her, Sirius," he continued, the worried frown returning, "…and I know she loves me…but something's not right, I can smell it…"

"Then give her some trust, old friend. Don't keep punishing yourself for feeling this happiness." Remus looked down, this time at a lilac and primrose-yellow carpet.

"It's difficult…especially when I come home and there's another man in the house."

"And I was in the house too, the other day…" Remus shot him a look, before nodding, defeated. "He's Snape, for heaven's sake," continued Sirius, incredulity creeping in. "He's – "

"But he's not a…you're not a…"

"No! Don't say it! She loves you for you, wolf and all. Like you love her muggle and all." Sirius was on his feet now, biting short his forthright words to stop him from giving away Cecilia's secret. Luckily Remus seemed not to notice. His friend smiled and nodded in agreement. Only Sirius, he thought, could put it that way.

"What's up?" said Sirius gently.

"We argued." Remus looked away again. At Sirius's unspoken expression of "Oh", he added, "we made up, though."

"Give her some flowers, do some Moony-like things..." Sirius took another sip from the cup before reaching for a biscuit.

"I still think it would be best to leave the wizard world…all I wish is for a peaceful life…" he looked at Sirius again, "…she talks in her sleep sometimes, as if she's fighting something inside…"

"Well, that's not surprising," said Sirius dismissively. "Considering what she's done in the last year it's not surprising things are playing on her mind."

A moment passed between them. Eventually Remus spoke as a picture appeared in his mind of Cecilia's happy, smiling face.

"I'll talk to her," he concluded, nodding decisively.

"I'm so happy for you, Moony, I really am." And then Remus asked something of Sirius that made his friend's heart melt, something to which he agreed wholeheartedly and secured their status as best of friends. Remus asked Sirius to be his best man when he and Cecilia eventually got married.

Getting to his feet as the noise from downstairs had grown to a moderate din, Sirius magicked away the tea tray before making his way across the becarpeted study.

"Come on, it'll be starting in a minute. Dumbledore'll do his nut if we're late."

Taking their seats near the rear of the group, which had again assembled in the living room (far more hospitable since Christmas; the cleaning spell that had de-infested the furniture, curtains and carpets had, despite all the odds, lasted). Remus had already handed Cecilia's letter to Minerva before he had sought Sirius and was actually quite relieved to be free of one burden.

As Dumbledore made to begin, sitting to the right of the two wizards who had almost been late to the meeting, another wizard dashed through the hall door, looking flustered as if her presence at Grimmauld Place she had only just remembered. Tonks's blue hair was covered in floo dust which fell to the floor like magical dandruff as she issued her profuse apologies to Dumbledore for her timekeeping.

Nodding his head slowly and gesturing in the direction of some empty chairs to his left Dumbledore completed his arc and stood before the Order members who he had addressed in the Great Hall at Hogwarts two and a half months ago. There were some absences. Indeed, the chatter that had prevailed just before he had called the group to order was dotted with reminiscences of members who had given their lives at the Great Battle.

Above the low chattering that was enduring amongst the wizards before him Dumbledore glanced around, waiting for the muttering to reduce to nothing. As the sound ebbed, the Head of the Order of the Phoenix began to speak.

"Witches and Wizards of the Order. A new beginning." He looked at the wizards again, at wrapt faces in awe of what he was about to say. Minerva had told him the details of their previous meeting and they knew that he was facing the Wizengamot and that through certain members rumours and gossip about the trial would have begun to permeate.

"As you know three days ago I stood before a contemporary of mine under charges of Reciprocation. Several edicts were issued by Bonaccord, one of which, that was hastily withdrawn, might have meant that each and every one of you sitting before me would now be in serious trouble." Murmuring…this piece of news was not unfamiliar to them. Continuing, Dumbledore smiled, raising his hands until his arms were raised in a "V".

"Under their own rules they cannot stop us!" His joyful voice rang out around No. 12's packed living room. "Cornelius Fudge would dearly like the Universal Link, do not get me wrong on this score, as I have said before. "It would seem he would do anything to get it including sending Dolores Umbridge and a Mysteriour to the school. I will come onto this shortly. First I must share the main points of the trial which, quite frankly, spoiled an otherwise lovely Saturday afternoon."

This time, no sound could be heard as Dumbledore continued. Every one of them was waiting with bated breath for the head of their Order to continue.

"The Wizengamot brought forth evidence demonstrating that muggles cannot be trusted with wizard secrets. My own evidence, of Cecilia Frobisher's work did not, alas, sway them. The Wizengamot came to the conclusion that while at the same time muggles were too clever and their knowledge of the wizard world too risky to us and as such were a threat on our very way of life they were also in danger of attack from wizards themselves. This has resulted in the heightening of security surrounding muggles entering wizard communities and to those laws where blind eyes have been turned they will be turned no longer. This includes the involvement of a muggle in their school."

All was silent again for a few moments until one of the Order spoke.

"Their school?" Elspet Banks raised a hand questioningly as she looked at Dumbledore in alarm. "Did my poor hearing cause me to misunderstand you, Albus?" Dumbledore shook his head.

"It was made clear to me during the trial Elspet, that as Ministry taxation pays for the existence of the school that makes Hogwarts ministry property. The Minister for Magic has appointed a school improvement witch whose job it will be to oversee the running of Hogwarts and report back to Fudge. In addition another Ministry employee has been appointed to complete the teaching of Muggle Studies." Dumbledore looked around the room again as a forest of hands responded to his last comments.

"Before I continue with further details of the Wizengamot – "

"Was he there?" Molly Weasley's voice rang out shrilly though her question was not directed at Dumbledore. Instead she was looking at her husband. "At the Wizengamot. Did you see Percy?"

A shadow of worry crossed the face of Arthur Weasley as he recalled the look of mortification that had crossed his son's face and he gave his wife a "we'll talk about this later," look.

"Moody?" Dumbledore looked across at the old Auror who had raised his walking stick to indicate he wished to contribute.

"So, these are anti-muggle laws, at last." It wasn't a question: Alastor Moody looked solemnly around the room at the other Order members. "The Ministry, in their wisdom think that muggles are the threat rather than Death Eaters and Voldermort?"

"And by the time they work it out it'll be too late!" Tonks's voice rang out shrilly, from her seat near the front. Many of the Order stared in her direction; her tone was one of alarm, which to many who knew her was alien to them. Minerva McGonagall got to her feet and stood next to Dumbledore, her expression drawn and her lips pursed.

"Voldermort was left powerless in the Great Battle; had it not been for you, Albus," Minerva ignored Dumbledore's dismissive wave of the hand, "following the debacle beforehand. Now he is looking for another chance to arise." Dumbledore turned to McGonagall, whose shade of green robes had toned down (as if by themselves) to match her grave demeanour and waited for her to be seated.

"The Ministry, in their wisdom, has decided to dispose of the information we so kindly sent to them in February. As many of you know the Order was supposed not to exist. I designed its termination to coincide with defeating of Voldermort. This, of course, did not happen and the consequences are that he has, though barely, survived and as this is the case will be seeking to regain full power."

"Therefore I am before you to call for the resurrection of the Order, in the same form as it was before, with the same aim of defeating Voldermort. Before I call for the vote, may I draw your attention to our newest members, who offered me their services during the Easter holidays." Dumbledore looked across to the third row, where the Weasley twins were sitting, grinning widely. They got to their feet.

"Friends – " began George,

"Romans, countrymen," added Fred, beaming at the Order. There was a hiss of disapproval from behind them which sounded like Molly Weasley telling her sons to stop being idiots.

"When we came to the conclusion that taking our NEWTs would in fact not benefit our future," continued Fred unabashed, "and we started up our own business – "

" – Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes – " chipped in George.

" – quite so," nodded Fred, "we approached Dumnbledore about applying. Naturally, with our good looks and skills he accepted us." There was one or two smothered giggles from the Order members though one or two were not laughing: Molly Weasley sat behind them, ashen faced; Minerva McGonagall at the front, impassive; Snape, standing to Dumbledore's right, immobile.

"We wish to continue with the good work that our family has done towards getting rid of Voldermort," continued George, an altogether more solemn tone, "and as upstanding citizens we will do what we can to make our family proud."

As George finished, nodding solemnly around the room with Fred, a round of applause burst forth, sealing the twins' accession into the Order.

"Hear hear!" cried someone as the atmosphere grew lighter and more celebratory. Mrs Weasley leaned forward as the twins sat down and hugged them both, a move that both Fred and George tried to shake off immediately.

"Now you have heard from our newest members," summarised Dumbledore, glancing around again, "I call upon you, Order witches and wizards, to vote upon our future. Are we to continue with the Order of the Phoenix, its aim the same as it was before?"

The verdict was unanimous. At Dumbledore's words every person before him had their hands raised in favour of the Order's continuation. One or two glanced around, beaming in delight; others such as Elphias Dode and Mundugus Fletcher more reserved in their gesture.

"In that case, may the Order of the Phoenix arise?"

Once the clapping and cheering was over, with many wizards hugging each other and shaking hands, Dumbledore proceeded to describe to the Order the exact nature of the security laws which Fudge had alluded to during the Wizengamot trial. Slowly and reverentially, without allusion to blame Dumbledore described the change in security, how muggles would no longer be allowed to enter wizard settlements, how Umbridge would be undertaking a new role, that of an inspector to ensure the new curriculum is adhered to and delivered correctly with a worker from the Ministry teaching muggle studies. On describing their new colleagues Dumbledore looked at Snape and McGonagall.

"A letter arrived to inform us of the decision," continued Dumbledore, as steadily as he had begun. "This was followed up, after the end of the trial, by an audit carried out by the Dolores Umbridge and Tabitha Penwright yesterday, who went on to brief the staff on their failures to stick to the curriculum. As we know, school will recommence teaching on tomorrow, Wednesday. The Hogwarts Express we know left this morning and the students will be about halfway there by now. There seem to be fewer this term returning to school and this is something that I will be investigating in due course. Yes Molly?"

"What does the Ministry hope to gain from an inspector, Dumbledore?" Molly Weasley was wringing her hands and looking alarmed.

"A maintenance of quality and integrity amongst the teaching staff and consistency in what is taught. Now – "

"And the security measures? What of muggle-borns?" interrupted Molly, still looking concerned. Dumbledore smiled, before embracing the whole room with his eyes.

"…Sturgis can you enlighten us?" He smiled wider at Sturgis Podmore, whose job had been to draft the Security Act. As soon as Dumbledore had acknowledged his contribution the small, stocky wizard got to his feet (bowler hat still atop his head) and he wrinkled his upper lip thoughtfully.

"Muggles have been barred from entering any wizarding settlements unless they gain a permit and have sought prior permission in writing. This, indeed, caused trouble in Diagonalley yesterday – " he nodded his head towards Mrs Weasley, " – for muggle-born witches and wizards whose parents wanted to take them shopping before Hogwarts. In addition," continued Sturgis, looking over the heads of the wizard as if reading from a large script that hung invisibly above them, "all so-called half breeds have been called into line with their laws being made clear to them and any breaking of those laws are being investigated in an individual basis. The ministry has put out several dozen warrants for arrests of those wizards who have violated the new laws already. All muggles who are not in a legally binding relationship with a wizard as of Friday evening will be befuddled."

At Sturgis's last sentence uproar ascended from the seated wizards, outrage pouring from them like steam from an engine. Shouts of disbelief and indignation echoed around 12 Grimmauld Place's living room and the din was so loud it awoke Mrs Black in her picture frame at the top of the stairs. In amongst the cacophony one wizard sat quietly, bowing his head.

"But, they cannot stop our meetings!" declared Arthur Weasley triumphantly over the noise. At his words many of the wizards suspended their vocal discord. "I mean," he continued, getting to his feet and addressing the Order unannounced, "he was going to until Frances Wemm pointed out that it would include the minister's Gobstones club meetings!" At Mr Weasley's words a great cheer erupted before finally, without prompting by Dumbledore the Order members settled back down to listen. Dumbledore stepped forward again, ushering an immobile Sturgis to finish his sharing of ministry information.

"Oh, yes of course," continued Sirius, nodding slowly. "As a consequence of the Security Act three dozen more wizards and witches have been taken on in Kingsley's department and another fifty throughout the magical law-enforcement department." Once he had finished Sturgis gave Dumbledore a small bow before returning to his seat on the second row. "Yes, Arthur?" This time Mr Weasley had raised a hand, his eyes darting around before looking at Dumbledore.

"And Cecilia? Arthur says the decree was that you were to befuddle her, Albus."

"That is indeed correct, Molly," Dumbledore, exhaling slowly. "As far as the ministry is concerned this has been done. I took memories from other muggles in our employ many years ago. Cecilia Frobisher is safe from befuddlement; the ministry have the answer they were looking for and the memories contain what the ministry want to believe about the events rather than what actually went on." Dumbledore clasped his hands together in a gesture of gratitude, looking at the ministry employees amongst them. "And I thank the you who, at the Ministry, took every opportunity to lose vital information, disrupt its flow or otherwise mislead our government representatives, especially Kingsley – " Dumbledore looked across at the dark-skinned wizard, the most senior in the ministry, " – who incinerated a whole filing cabinet in the auror office and another stack in the law enforcement department." Every Order member looked across at Shacklebolt and the usually cool-tempered, austere Kingsley looked furtively round the room, before smiling at the Order, his face tinged with red.

"Now under judgment," began Kingsley, ignoring Dumbledore's acclaim to his misdemeanours, "the information has been destroyed and the ministry staff returned to their proper jobs."

"So they're ignoring it? Is that what you mean?" Doris Crockwood, an elderly witch bedraped in a vivid, multicoloured shawl called out to Kingsley from the front. Kingsley didn't answer, but turned to Dumbledore who was already resuming his position before them.

"It means, Doris, that we are back in business!" This time, the Order cheered.

"And Mrs Frobisher?" Tonks raised her hand from the back of the throng as the jubilation ebbed and died. "What of she?"

"Yes, what of she, Lupin? asked Fred, nudging George. The Weasley twins in the Order, thought Remus, sighing. What a picnic that's going to be.

"When are you two tying the knot?" asked George, winking. A snort of disapproval came from behind the twins, and Fred turned to their mother, whispering something to the effect that George was only asking.

"Not yet," confessed Remus, closing his eyes momentarily. "However there will be one, eventually."

"She'll look beautiful," said Mrs Weasley, frowning at her errant sons. "But, what's to become of her before then?" The question hung in the air as Dumbledore scanned the Order members again, before nodding slowly in their direction.

"Her work will continue as planned; she is well protected at the Lupin cottage and in collaboration with Severus she will continue to refine Harry's potion. I have discussed the implications with Harry, about the prophecy and our plan of action. He – "

" – Harry's still a child," interrupted Sirius. "I do not believe…" He trailed off as Dumbledore raised a hand.

"I have put the proposal to Harry, it is true," said Dumbledore quietly. "However the choice is still his."

"And the potion?" asked Moody, turning to look at Severus Snape. "Can you tell us more about that, Snape? Perhaps with less technical language?"

"We are still working on that," said Snape, stiffly. "We are in the process of refining what we had last time, in order for it to be more stable when Harry takes it again." From his position two seats away Remus pulled out a letter which he passed to Sirius to hand to Snape. Wordlessly, Snape stowed it away inside his robe, nodding briefly at Remus.

"What about the location of our planned attack," continued Sirius. "I know we discussed that it would be in the Ministry." Dumbledore nodded.

"It is the predetermined place; the Department of Mysteries is the where Voldermort – ", even now some of the Order flinched at the name, " – will make his attack. I have informed Harry of what is kept there."

"You say he has a choice," said Molly slowly, her voice quavering and soft again. "How did he take the news of the prophecy?"

"I explained to him that the choice was his." Nodding around the room the news appeared to have satisfied many, although one or two of the Order, notably Sirius and Molly Weasley appeared less comfortable.

"Do we have news of Voldermort, Dumbledore?" Bathsheba Braddle raised a slim hand.

"We have limited information now Severus is no longer a trusted spy, a situation I intend to rectify in due course. Severus's quest is to continue with the potion, and to teach, of course. It is sought by the ministry and, as the new Muggle Studies teacher is from the ministry, she is therefore seeking the Universal Link in order to furnish Fudge with the satisfaction that they have it, even if they do not understand it. The link is vital to our plan, so it is necessary for us to endeavour that they do not find out what it is – "

"Indeed," added Snape, getting to his feet. "Cecilia Frobisher has since refined her hypothesis." Around him a sea of blank faces looked back at him.

"We have refined our understanding of what the Universal Link is, " he reiterated slowly, as if talking to particularly dense fifteen year olds, "and how it connects muggles and wizards. It is not as straightforward as we thought."

"These things never are," nodded Minerva sagely.

"And you are going to share this, Severus?" asked Sirius. Slowly Snape turned his head to the master of the house.

"When thing become more apparent. More damage might be caused if we were lax in our conception of the link. And I am sure, with your concern about your Godson, you would prefer us to be working on a sound theory, Sirius."

"Indeed." Sirius nodded in agreement. Before he could continue Dumbledore stepped in, perhaps a subconscious act borne from the inevitable argument that used to be the result of a conversation between the two wizards.

"Witches and wizards of the Order, there is plenty that is not clear and this I beg you dear friends and colleagues, to be patient. It will come. The finer details are being secured but our plan is the same. Voldermort will enter the Ministry and, more specifically the Department of Mysteries. From there he will launch an attack for he is after something in addition to the prophecy.

The Order of the Phoenix has been reborn, and we are resurrected. It is up to us to ensure, as we have always done by whatever means we can, that he doesn't get it."

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A/N: The more reviews I get the quicker the next chapter will be!