Later, after Hermione had bought everything she needed for school, the three of them went back to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place together. Then, after Harry let Bilius out of his cage so he could hunt, the three of them went to the kitchen to cook supper together.

"How are you holding up, Harry?" Ron asked. He'd been made to sit far away from the stove so he would stop trying to steal bites of chili that Hermione was making. Harry was setting bowls and spoons out. Ron had been relegated to slicing bread, which he did inordinately slowly.

"I'm fine," Harry said immediately. He wasn't sure what Ron was exactly asking: holding up after the war being over or Ginny dumping him? "What is there to hold up?" Harry asked.

"Well, I just meant, you know, with everything. With Ginny, and you know, everything else."

"Right, I'm fine," Harry said again without looking up. He poured glasses of water for them each and then wandered over to Hermione's side to wait for his next order.

"How are you holding up, Hermione?" Harry asked, meaning now that her parents had moved back to Australia. She looked up at him with a sharp look and shook her head slightly, eyes wide. "With your parents leaving, I mean."

"Oh," she said, and looked back down at the pot of chili. She stirred it, "Well, I've not talked much to them in years. And they deserve to be happy."

"Even if that means hurting you though?" Ron said, "That's bollocks."

"Well, I'll be fine," Hermione said. "They're leaving tomorrow. You could come with me to see them off."

"Okay," Harry and Ron said simultaneously. Harry glanced at Ron and realized that Hermione had probably only been talking to her boyfriend. Too late.

"If they're going back," Ron said as he sliced a fourth slice of bread, "how are you going to try using the Pensieve on them once it's finished?"

"Well, I'll visit them of course."

"All the way in Australia? During the school year?" Ron asked. Harry sat down at his place so he could stay out of their way. He knew them well enough to know when a row might start between them, which honestly seemed like it could always be at any moment.

"Yes. I owe it to them."

"You don't owe them anything. You saved their lives."

"—by taking their lives away from them, moving them half way around the world and making them forget their favorite thing about themselves. That's what my mum said. She was quite angry when I first explained everything. I don't think my dad even entirely still believes me. Ron, I need to do this."

"But…" Ron glanced at Harry, and then in an entirely different tone he said, "Fine. I'll help you. Any time you go, I'll come with you if you want me to, alright? Just say the word."

"Thank you, Ronald," Hermione said. She strode over to him and kissed his cheek. When she stepped back again, Harry wished he hadn't noticed that Ron was blushing.

Hermione turned the stove off and magically levitated the pot of chili to the hot pad on the table.

After dinner, Hermione Apparated to her parents' house to pack her things that were there. It'd been decided between them during dinner that she'd move in with Harry and Ron until she started school. It only made sense. After all, she really had no other family than them.

Harry had started banishing rubbish in Sirius's room when the door banged open and Ron rushed in. He looked out of breath. Disregarding his sense of de ja vu at seeing Ron in this doorway, Harry drew his wand and hurried forward.

"What's wrong," Harry asked, and pointed his wand down the hall, checking for trouble.

"Nothing," Ron said quickly, "I was just in the loo."

"You don't have to tell me about it," Harry said just as quickly and then turned back into the bedroom. Ron ignored him.

"I found this in there," Ron said. "It was just sitting on the bathroom sink. We hadn't really cleaned very thoroughly in there after the party. Someone must have left it there."

"Oh," Harry said, looking up. Ron had Neville and Luna's Wizard's Weed, which was now all rolled into neat little joints.

"Let's do some," Ron said, swinging the baggie of little blunts like a pendulum.

"I don't know..."

"Hermione never needs to know," Ron offered, "or Ginny or anyone for that matter."

"Have you been drinking at all?" Harry asked, looking back down to the floor. Harry had been curious to see if any of his other fates were similar to the one he'd seen. It was dumb, he knew, but that didn't keep him from the curiosity.

"No," Ron said, "I promise I'll never try to kiss you again."

"Thanks for that, but that's Wizard's Weed. If you've been drinking, it can make you act out the Fate you see. Or so I've heard..."

"Oh, well, no I haven't been drinking. Want to, then?"

"Yeah, alright."

"Wicked," Ron said. He walked to the bed and sat down as Harry pulled up an overturned chair and sat across from him. They lit the joint, and Harry surprised himself by not coughing. Ron coughed.

When Harry's vision came back to him through black stars, he found himself sitting at a desk. He was at Hogwarts sitting at a teacher's desk at the front of a classroom. The Defense Against the Dark Arts room.

Students starting filing in. Glancing over his shoulder at the window, Harry saw that it was snowing.

When all the students were seated and the bell rang, Harry stood. Most of the students-especially the girls-were smiling at him and were utterly attentive. A couple of Slytherin boys in the back weren't paying attention but they weren't doing anything to disturb the class either, so Harry did what he knew he always did: he ignored them.

"So today we're talking about Fiendfyre," Harry said. He flicked his wand at the chalkboard and an outline appeared there of talking points.

"Can anyone tell me—"

A girl with red curly hair raised her hand.

"Yes, Rose?" Harry asked.

"Fiendfyre," Rose began, sounding exactly like her mother, "is one of the few things that can destroy horcruxes. It's deadly lethal and destructive. It spreads rapidly and it requires advanced magic to control."

"Ten points to Gryffindor," Harry said, nodding.

Harry blacked out again and came back to reality.

"Wow," Ron said before Harry fully regained his eyesight.

"What'd you see?" Harry asked.

"I was an Auror. Working with you. We were the top two in the Ministry and you were the head of the department." But then Ron looked confused. "But I've already decided that I'm going to go work with George."

"There are twelve different possible Fates you can see," Harry explained, "Just because you saw that doesn't mean that it'll happen."

"Oh, well." Ron shrugged. "What did you see?"

"I was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts," Harry said, glad that he didn't have to lie. "And your daughter was in my class. Her name was Rose and she sounded just like Hermione when she talked."

"Really?" Ron leaned forward on his seat. "So Hermione and I get married and have a daughter named Rose?"

"Well," Harry said, "in that version of reality, yes. But I have no intention of becoming a professor..."

"Right," Ron said, nodding. "You know, I bet we could get Hermione to try this. There are... three more here. And we could always re-light this one, right?"

"I suppose. I'm not really sure if you would see the same Fate or a different one with the same cigarette."

"Kind of a let-down that you don't really get high," Ron said, "Not that I wanted to get high..."

"Do you think there are any other magical drugs?" Harry wondered aloud.

"You're joking right?" Ron laughed. "You didn't notice everyone getting high under the stands at the Quidditch pitch at school? Or in the bathrooms?"

"Oh I always wondered what that smell was," Harry said. "No, I was always a bit preoccupied in school, in case you forget."

"Well, Seamus offered me normal muggle spliff once but I didn't do it. I knew Hermione would have had my skin. I remember when Mum found out about Charlie's stash when he was in seventh year. Probably why he lives so far away now."

"Maybe," Harry said.

"Do you think these are Seamus's blunts? You think he's looking for them?" Ron asked as he followed Harry downstairs toward their bedrooms.

"No, I doubt it," Harry said, not meeting Ron's eyes.

"Yeah, you'd have to be pretty forgetful to leave these behind."

"Or maybe whoever left them wanted us to find them."

"You think so?" Ron was turning the little burnt-out blunt in his hand like a baton. "Come on then," he said finally. Harry hadn't realized that he'd been staring at the turning cigarette. "Let's light it and find out if we'll see a different Fate er what's-it-called."

Harry didn't even pretend to protest. He simply drew his wand from his pocket and, whispering the incantation for fire (not fiendfyre), he lit the joint once more as Ron inhaled, dragging from the blunt. Harry soon took it and did the same.