A/N: Here's the next chapter! Thanks again to those who reviewed/added to alerts/favorited this story :)

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Sirius Flashback

~~~A Few Hours Later, Earth~~~

Percy Weasley woke from his sleep at eight. The sun shone merrily through the window, casting shadows over his wife Penelope's sleeping form. He was lucky he'd left a not for his secretary, letting the witch know he would be away on business for the day. Otherwise he'd have the entire ministry banging down his door right now.

Percy rose slowly, not wanting to wake Penelope. He tiptoed downstairs to his living room, where he left a note for his wife telling her where to find him. Percy grabbed Floo powder, threw it into the flames he started with his wand, and shouted, "The Leaky Cauldron."

Neville and Hannah Longbottom were already up and about their pub when Percy arrived. Hannah looked up from the table she was wiping down and smiled at him. "Good morning, Percy, the usual?"

Percy shook his head. "Actually, Hannah, I need to talk to you about –" he glanced at Neville. "Your previous employment with the Ministry."

Hannah frowned, not wanting her husband to discover that part of her life. She felt as if she'd left that far behind when she resigned. Percy had no right bringing that up. "What about it?" She grew frustrated when Percy glanced at Neville again. "You might as well tell him, too, and save me the trouble. It's not like he won't be able to put two and two together, anyways. He's not daft, you know." Percy raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

Neville himself was less than pleased with the Minister's body language, and the effect it was having on his wife. Since taking ownership of the pub, he learned that knowing body language helped him know what others were thinking and what they wanted to get out of their service. It was a muggle tactic, really, but it had been well worth the effort to learn. This conversation was no exception.

Percy's body language showed Neville that the Minister was on the offensive today. The ginger was standing with his legs spread apart, normally used to show dominance in a situation. His nose was held high, his hands on his hips. It appeared as if Percy was trying to make himself look as big and powerful as he could. That's what the body language said, anyways, and Neville could tell his wife didn't like it much.

Hannah had her arms crossed, a typical defensive pose. Her lips were as small as his Head of House's used to get when she got angry at them. Most worrying, though, was her eyes, which were darting around, as if searching for an escape.

Neville moved to stand next to his wife, clutching her around the waist to tell her that she had his support. He glared at Percy, his jaw clenched tightly. "What's going on?"

Hannah sighed, watching the two men in the room glare at each other. "You might as well tell him, Weasley, he's my husband and he's got a right to know."

"What is it?" Neville asked again, almost snarling. He didn't like that his wife was forced to keep secrets from him. Neville knew that Hannah had all the traditional Hufflepuff traits, so it must have been big if she was willing to keep quiet about something all this time.

"Alright, Longbottom, don't get your knickers in a twist." Percy teased shallowly, trying to dispel the tension in the room. "Your wife had a good reason for doing what she did."

"And what was that?" Neville asked again, tired of Percy's attempts to dance around the issue. "You politicians are all the same. Can't even answer a question directly."

Percy's eyes flashed. "Now see here, Longbottom –"

"Stop it! Both of you just stop it!" Hanna cried out. "That's enough. Percy, I'm telling him now, got it? No interruptions." She paused, then launched into her story.

"It was just after the war, and I was working as an Auror for the New Ministry. It wasn't that bad, really; we were mostly raiding old Death Eater houses, searching for Dark objects and such. Well, my unit was, anyways. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were leading the veteran team hunting down rogue Death Eaters.

"Minister Shacklebolt approached me about a month after the war ended. He said that there were witches and wizards all across the country who wanted out. They were too scared for their own lives to live peacefully in the post-war era. Most of them were muggleborns.

"There were others, too, who wanted protection. Family members of the Order and their allies who'd fought You- well, Voldemort in the First and Second War.

"The main Auror department was too ill-equipped to have guards all the time for these people, so they had to come up with some sort of solution. That was how the Magical Protection Program was formed.

"The MPP, as it was called, was designed to hide the identities of those within the program. Muggleborns were given a muggle history and sent to live in the muggle world. Those who lived in the Wizarding world all their lives got a new identity and changed their appearance. They were sent to other countries – the States, primarily – so it would be harder to track them down.

"Each protectee was assigned an MPP Auror. That Auror was responsible for the protectee, making sure the protectee was well-hidden, always on-call if something big came up."

Hannah looked at Neville. "I left the program when you proposed. We were sworn to absolute secrecy – the lives of both the MPP protectees and the MPP agents depended on it. They still do," she added pointedly.

Neville's face turned back to a normal color as his expression softened. "You'd told me before that you couldn't talk about your Auror duties. I understood that. Still do." He turned to Percy. "Now, Weasley, why are you bringing all this up again?"

Percy sighed. "I need to know the whereabouts of one of Hannah's old protectees. You probably won't like it, Neville, I'm warning you now."

"Who?" Hannah asked, though she had a feeling what the answer was going to be.

"Hermione Granger. I need to speak with Hermione Granger." Percy declared. "I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important." Hannah winced, not daring to look at Neville. She knew he wouldn't be happy with him about this.

Neville fought to control his emotions, after seeing Hannah tense in response to Percy's declaration. She needed his support right now, not his chastisement. "You knew where she was?" He asked her as calmly as he could manage.

"Y-yes. I still do, sort of." Hannah sighed. "You know I would have told you if-"

"Shh, Sweet One," Neville silenced her. "I know." That was all he needed to say, and all she needed to hear. He wasn't mad at her; he knew how loyal she was, that if she was given a secret to hold she would keep it to her dying day. He couldn't – wouldn't – ask her to go against her nature. He turned back to Percy, who had been watching the exchange with a soft smile. "Weasley, what is all this about? Why are you looking for Hermione now?"

Percy sighed. "Harry asked for a favor. After what he's done for us, I'm willing to do pretty much anything he needs."

Neville nodded, understanding entirely. "How we help?"

Hannah rolled her eyes at her husband. Though the man's brilliance had shown itself since he graduated Hogwarts, he still had relapses into the boy she'd known during their school days. "Neville, he's already told us how we can help." She turned to Percy. "Hermione Granger is living as the British Diplomat Dr. Madeline Marshall. I've been following her alias' activities since I left MPP, just in case anything came up."

"Where can I get in touch with her?" Percy questioned.

Hannah shrugged. "Dr. Marshall's been assigned to the British Embassy in America. You could call there, talk to the American President, or contact her boss, the Muggle Prime Minister. Either way will end up getting you to her eventually."

Percy nodded once. "I'll best be going. Lots of work to do today. Thank you for your time, Hannah; Neville." With that, he transfigured his robes into muggle clothing and stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron and onto the busy street of muggle London.

Sirius sat silently, listening to the fantastic tale Gryffindor was telling him. Aliens existed? And witches and wizards are descended from a race that built interplanetary Apparation devices called Stargates? It was all too much for him. Sirius just wanted to go home. He wanted to find Harry, to hold his godson. He didn't want to save some alien planet he could care less about.

Godric stopped talking, searching Sirius's face. "You need to see the enemies you are to face." He held out his hand. "Come. I will show you first the Wraith, then the Achnids. The worst for last, you may say."

Sirius hesitated before taking Godric's hand. The bright light enveloped him again, and Sirius was no longer in the diner.

Instead, they were standing in a great, green field. A river, crystal blue and sparkling in the setting sun, lay ten feet away. A small boy with bright red hair sat on a bridge that stretched across the river. He was strong, physically fit. The lad looked like he was no more than twelve years old. His wand was clutched in a hand that dangled slightly over the edge of the bridge.

Godric walked towards the boy, beckoning for Sirius to follow. When they stood next to the boy, Godric explained, "This was me, a thousand years ago, in my youth. I lived here on Lorena for many years after this day, but I left with Merlin and his people when they moved to Earth. This was the last day of my childhood."

Before Sirius could ask what the Founder was talking about, a loud screeching noise echoed through the field. Sirius looked up, searching for the noise's source. There- headed towards them from the left was what looked like a muggle aircraft. It sped past them.

Yung Godric sprung up and dashed across the bridge. As Sirius and Old Godric followed him, the boy was running towards a cottage twenty feet away. His wand was clenched tightly in his firm little hand.

A flash of light from the aircraft and a figure approached before the door of the cottage before them. It opened the door, which closed behind it just as Young Godric reached the little building. The boy pulled the door open and sped inside, leaving the door to swing on its hinges.

Sirius could see the figure better, now that he was inside the cottage with both Godrics. It was tall, dressed in flowing black jackets. Its skin was grey; its hair a silvery white that put Lucius Malfoy to shame. Now that he thought about it, the figure looked like a cross between Malfoy and Snape – not a pleasant combination at all.

The being turned to face Young Godric, revealing two figures kneeling before him. Its face was horrid, with yellow eyes that twinklied with morbid delight.

"This is a Wraith." Old Godric said, the venom seeping from his voice. It was then that Sirius understood what he was watching – the two figures before the Wraith were Godric's parents.

The Wraith turned back to Godric's parents without a word to the boy. Young Godric watched in horror as the alien set his stirring father on his knees, ripping the man's clothing to expose his chest. "Your family, human, is quite intriguing. So young; so full of life. It will make for a hearty meal."

"Meal?" Sirius questioned. Older Godric's examination of the ground was enough to quell Sirius' inquisition.

The father just glared at the Wraith, who laughed. "I should have known you, Broderick Griffindor, would not satisfy me with last words. Your brother begged for his life." He shrugged, then pressed his hand against the man's chest. "This is much more satisfying."

Sirius looked on as Broderick's face grew wrinkles, as the man looked to his son. Broderick's last words, spoken in between screams of pain, were "run, Godric. Now is not your time for battle." The man was now a corpse, sucked dry like a raisin in the sun. He crumpled and fell. Young Godrick turned and ran from the cottage, not daring to look behind him.

A bright light later, and they were in front of the same cottage. Now, though, a blonde boy of fifteen sat next to the building reading a book.

"This is Marcus Ventrius. He will become the leader of Lorena in twelve years' time." Godric grinned sheepishly. "He is also a distant cousin of yours."

Sirius looked at Godric, but before he could say anything a loud crack echoed through the air. Sirius knew that sound – someone had just Apparated into the area.

Sirius finally noticed the new arrival swiftly crossing the bridge. The figure was tall, and like most wizards it wore a long black cloak. Instead of a wand, it carried a staff nearly as high as the figure itself. Fastened on top of the staff was a sapphire gem. His staff was jet black, just like his hair.

"That is an Achnid War Mage. He specializes in water magic, from his staff's gem." Godric commented.

Sure enough, the Mage stopped right beside the river. He started speaking in a strange tongue; his staff gem glowed. The river water behind him rose quickly, billowing forth from its bed. The waters surged onward – now it was a mere five feet from the cottage. The river water layered on top of itself until it was as high as Sirius's waist. The War Mage grinned evilly, thrusting his hand forward forcefully.

~~~~~Earth, Present Time, London, England~~~~~

The muggle Prime Minister was having a perfectly normal day. He'd met with the Department of Transportation to request highway repairs already. He was just sitting down to his breakfast (a biscuit with boiled eggs) when his office door opened and a red-haired man walked towards him.

The Prime Minister inwardly groaned, for the ginger before him rarely met with him. In fact, Percy Weasley only met with him once a year, to discuss the happenings of his people.

Percy Weasley's people were a strange lot. They preferred to hide their existence from the normal British population, living separately in absolute secrecy.

There were certain things that the Prime Minister had learned about since taking office that he would never have believed possible before he took office. How Weasley's people lived the way they did – indeed, what his people were – was one of those things. Percy Weasley was the Minister of Magic: the leader of Britain's magical population.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your breakfast, sir." Percy said cheerily as he strode up to the Minister's desk. "I need to ask a favor."

"A favor, you say?" The Prime Minister questioned, shocked. Weasley's people hardly ever needed favors from him.

"Yes. I have told you about Harry Potter, have I not?" Percy asked.

The prime Minister remembered the name. Potter, along with his friends Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, defeated the Dark wizard known as Voldemort ten years ago. They effectively ended a civil war, saving the lives of wizards and non-magic folk alike. "Yes, you did. I assume the favor is for him, then? What can we do for the lad?"

"Potter's friend Hermione went 'missing' not too long after the war," Percy began. "Harry now wishes to find her."

"How may I help?" The Minister asked.

"Well, Hermione never really went missing. She went into hiding." Percy said. "We wanted to protect her from the rogue Death Eaters that killed my brother in an attack on their safe house in Yorkshire.

"The idea came from one of our Aurors, whose cousin lives in America. They apparently have a program there called Witness Protection."

The Minister nodded. "I've heard of it."

"That's what we did here, and with a few others."

The Minister frowned. "I still don't see how I can help."

"Well, we know that Hermione graduated from the Uni extremely early with two… er… doctorates, I believe you call them. She began working here as a diplomat." Percy explained.

The Minister understood, letting silence ring in that understanding. "You mean to say that Madeline Marsahll is really…"

Percy smiled sadly. "Yes. Madeline Marshall's true name is Hermione Granger."

The Minister paled. "I'm sorry. She just left for an important mission two weeks ago. There's no way to contact her."

Percy frowned. "Why not? Where is she?"

"I'm afraid – well, you see, it's classified." The Minister stumbled, not wanting to anger the Minister of Magic. "It's international, too, so it's out of my hands."

Percy's face fell. "Can we get a message to her, at the very least?"

The Minister thought. "You know, there might be a way. Would you be willing to meet with the leaders of the project?"

Percy hesitated. He knew how politicians could be, and how the muggle ones would entice him to get under their thumb. "Er…"

"If I promised that they would explain the project first," The Minister reasoned, "before you are asked to work on it? You'd have to agree not to disclose the information discussed, of course, but it could be very beneficial for all involved."

Percy nodded slowly. "That seems reasonable. Will they be able to meet tomorrow?"

The Minister grinned. "For something like this? I'm sure of it. I'll contact General O'Neill right away – from what I've read, the military may be better suited for this situation than the beurocrats who recruited us. O'Neill has proved his loyalty to those he calls friends time and time again, disobeying direct orders in the process. He may be more willing to keep your secret than others."

Percy smiled, glad someone understood his hesitation. "Thank you, Minister."

The Prime Minister shook his head. "No, my boy, call me Eric. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other from now on."

A/N: Done! See you all in two weeks!