Remington nearly tripped as she stepped out of the fireplace. She'd never really been the most graceful when it came to Floo. In fact, any sort of magical travel at all wasn't really her forte.

After she'd gotten the ash and dust out of her eyes, she could see that she wasn't in the right house at all. She felt overwhelmed as she looked around the living room. The rooms and walls were empty, but it was undeniably her home in the US. It felt so familiar, but so incredibly foreign at the same time, devoid of anything to suggest prior inhabitance.

Why did she get sent to this house? No Alvers resided there anymore, and as far as she knew, the house had been sold. From the looks of it, though, regardless of whether it had new owners, it was still left empty.

She walked across the living room, feeling the carpet beneath her shoes, which left dusty footprints behind her. It was remarkably cold in the house. Clearly, the furnace was long-since turned off, and it was the middle of winter in the Midwest.

When she was about halfway across the room, she heard a noise from the kitchen. Without any hesitation, she had her wand drawn and looked through the archway that lead towards the sound. It seemed the house may not be empty, after all.

She started to walk through the kitchen, ready for an attack, but none came. When she reached the far side of the room, a small movement caught her eye.

When she was little, Remington's parents had put manual hook locks at the top of all of the doors following an episode of sleep walking. The little hook at the top of the basement door was swinging, letting her know that someone had just closed that door. She reached for the knob, then swung the door open, careful to catch it before it could slam into the wall, and held her wand out towards the steps, which were clear. But at the same time, a rush of warm air overcame her.

It was pretty obvious that someone was squatting in the basement of her old home.

If they were armed, she was sure to be vulnerable long before she'd be able to locate whoever it was. She felt a lot like that stupid character in horror movies who tries to ask who's there when there's a killer about to get them, but she said it anyway, "Who's down there?" There was, of course, no answer. "You're trespassing."

"Who's up there?" Finally came the sardonic response, followed by shushing.

Rem pursed her lips. There was most certainly someone squatting in the basement of her old home.

She let out a deep breath and started down the stairs slowly, and as quietly as she could. It was near silent as she descended. For a moment, she wondered if the perpetrators had Disaparated out of the basement, but there had been no tell-tale pop. Whoever they were, they were still down there, and at a perfect advantage to attack her. But no attack came.

She reached the bottom of the steps, her wand raised in defense, and turned to look towards the back of the basement. She could see the shadows of some figures, and a few wands pointed straight at her. As her eyes adjusted, she saw a family. Mother and father, a son that was younger, but taller than Rem, and a girl-

"Natalie?" She breathed in disbelief.

Suddenly something clicked in the girl's expression. "Remington?!" She demanded.

"I thought you were dead!" Rem interjected.

Nat gave a dry smile, "Good." She said, "That's what we wanted."

It finally occurred to Remington that not only was Nat's whole family all in the basement together, but the black tomcat was there too. "You went into hiding." She said in understanding.

"Yeah. Didn't tell anyone. Left no sign we were alive." She added, "Except for that letter."

Rem gave her a searching look for a moment. "It's a hoax." Natalie nodded. "You sent that to me. Why would you send that-?"

"I felt so bad, Rem! You were-" The blonde girl said, growing frustrated. She snatched Remington's hands. "You're my best friend, Rem. And things ended so bad that summer, I didn't want you to think-"

"You risked your safety to let me know?" She prompted.

"It really wasn't that much of a risk-"

"Hogwarts is run by Death Eaters now." Remington interrupted softly. "The headmaster is arguably You-Know-Who's most trusted follower. My godfather. He called me to his office just so he could question me about this strange letter that was addressed to me."

"But you didn't give anything away, did you?" Natalie asked.

"Of course not, I didn't even know what the hell the letter was." She answered, "I'm just so bloody happy you're alive."

Nat smiled, but her eyes finally came to rest on her scar. She'd noticed the girl's eyes flitting over it, but never really settling. "Rem," She began, "I have to ask; what happened to you?"

"I was a little too outspoken and a little too reckless." She answered. "The last things a blood traitor should be."

Natalie looked wistful as she managed a tight smile. Her expression grew a bit confused for a moment. "Jewelry?" She stated, and Remington realized she was squeezing the fingers on her left hand. "You never wore-" But Nat broke off when she looked down. "That's an engagement ring." She deadpanned.

Rem bit the inside of her cheek. "Yes…"

"Don't tell me it's that blonde brat-"

"Natalie."

Nat's eyes turned down, "You love him, really?" She inquired. "And he loves you?"

"Yes."

Nat exhaled deeply. "Despite his father being… you know?"

"Natalie," Rem began, "Draco's a Death Eater also."

The blonde's expression fell into a mask of abhorrence.

"But it's a complicated situation. He really had no choice, no matter what he would have chosen. And his family is quite aware that I'm a blood traitor." Rem interjected quickly. "He's changed a lot since you saw him. So've I."

Natalie nodded, "Me too. You know, everyone thinks we're dead. I had to break up with Joshua last year, and then we came here a while later-"

"Why did you come to my old house?" Rem asked, "Why would you think it was empty?"

"Your mother-" Nat began. The brunette gave her a dubious look. "She wrote a letter to my mom early last summer."

"You're joking." Rem said.

"She said, 'What's mine will always be so, and what's mine shall also be yours.'" Nat explained. "We assumed that she was hinting we should go into hiding. She sent it before the mail was being checked regularly-"

"Who would've thought my mother would be a damn poet." Rem muttered. "Or help out Muggles- not to be rude-"

"I know, your mom was always a little uptight." Natalie shrugged.

"No, my mother had a bloody stick up her ass for the majority of my seventeen years on this earth."

Natalie rolled her eyes, then looked at Rem for a long moment. "Why are you here?"

"It was an accident. I was trying to go home." She elaborated. "But I didn't quite make it to the right home."

"Well, I suppose I shouldn't keep you. We'll have time to talk when things are better." Nat said with a small smile that was part hope and part defeat. Things seemed to only be growing bleaker. Remington could only imagine how the American wizards felt. They didn't have first-hand knowledge of Harry Potter. They heard rumors and stories, but who was to say they were true? Who was to say anything was true any longer? They hadn't seen the things Harry had pulled himself through. They'd never seen Harry at all.

"There's no way we'll lose this war, Nat." She said, squeezing her friend's hands. "We've got numbers and heart on our side."

"Be safe, Rems. I know it's awfully rough over there where you are." Natalie responded, throwing her arms around the shorter girl and giving her a rib-splintering hug.

She strode up to the front door turning the deadbolt, pushing it open and, inadvertently shoving the snow that blanketed the porch away from the doorway. It was chilly outside, but not much more so than it was inside. She stepped outside, folding her arms, wand in hand.

The neighborhood seemed abandoned. It was nearly silent, no lights shone in the windows of the sparse homes, and no cars drove by. Granted, it was roughly three or four in the morning, so it made sense that it seemed that way.

She decided in a fraction of a moment what she needed to do while she was there in her hometown. Gingerly stepping through the unplowed snow and closing the door behind her, she proceeded down the steps to the poorly shoveled sidewalk and began down the street. It was several blocks before she could see the large brick pillars and black metal gates that enclosed one of the two city cemeteries. She hadn't seen the place since her father's funeral. It had hurt so much then, to know he was in the ground there.

Remington had never asked her mother why they had buried him in America, rather than with the rest of the Alver family in England.

She marched through the nearly foot-deep snow to the stone she knew marked her father's resting place. She never thought she'd be able to visit without breaking into hysterics, but she seemed fine so far. She crouched before the tombstone, resting a hand against the top of it.

Timothy James Alvers
Beloved husband and father.

"Dad," She said to the rock, though she didn't really feel like he was there at all. It was just a garden full of engraved rocks, and it didn't remind her of her father in the least. Nonetheless, she continued. "Your hair would all be grey by now if you were still here. You always worried so much, and times now are so much worse than getting anxious over me being on the monkey bars or riding my broom without a helmet. I wonder what you think about the things I'm doing now. Dumbledore's Army, me being a Prefect, being engaged- That's the worst, Dad. I wish you could meet Draco and tell me how much a prick you think he is and say I deserve better." She laughed, feeling that tingling in her throat and behind her eyelids. "But you'd know that I'm really happy, and you'd give us your blessing anyway, giving Draco shit the whole way through." She wiped away tears with the sleeve of her sweater, before her eyelashes could freeze. "And you'd see me graduate from Hogwarts, like you and Mom did, and walk me down the aisle." And then came the waterworks.

After she'd collected herself and was far too cold to remain outside any longer, she straightened herself up, pulled her hand away from the headstone, and took a final look at the marker of her father's final resting place. The wreath that was placed next to the stone was a vast array of blues and yellows, something relatively multipurpose and therefore able to be left up year-long. It was charmed to always appear vivid and healthy, even in the bitter cold. However, it seemed utterly out of place in the Christmas season.

Rem gave an abbreviated flick of her wand, causing the wreath to change to a variety of evergreens, holly, poinsettias, and golden trim.

And with a pop she Disaparated.

This time, she landed in the right place. Her feet came in contact with the white-painted wooden porch in the front of her house. Her current house. She reached to pull open the front door, only to find it was locked. She deftly pointed her wand at the lock, "Alohomora,"

Nothing.

"Alohomora Duo,"

Nothing.

"Dammit, Mother. Liberare."

Yet, nothing.

Just as she was debating how much trouble she might get in for using Bombarda on the door, the lock clicked and the door flew open, nearly smacking right into Remington.

Before she could even get a good look at who opened the door (which would obviously be her mother), the woman had caught Rem up in a crushing hug.

"Remington Kallisto Alvers, don't you ever dare worry me like that again." Marissel said, sounding surprisingly choked up.

So that's why the door was locked so thoroughly. Marissel hadn't heard from her daughter, and was under the impression that she'd be home the night before, not in the early afternoon the next day.

"Mom," Rem began, the word still seeming a bit foreign to her. She had called Marissel nothing more intimate than Mother for the majority of her life. "I'm okay, don't worry. Don't you think I can take care of myself?"

Her mother finally backed off a bit, grasping Rem's arms and bringing her inside. "I'm not worried of what you might do, Rem." She said, closing the door. "I'm worried of what might happen to you."

It was easy to see that Marissel's guards had been slowly chipping away since they moved from America. She was able to keep a stone-cold façade while Remington was home with her over the first summer, but being alone in a house, without her husband or only child broke her down to show Rem how much she really did care over that Christmas. And now, with the war looming ever closer, Marissel was fearing for the last family she had left, and Remington was very possibly in the epicenter of it all.

"I see what has already happened to you, Rem." She added sadly, looking at the scar on the girl's face.

"You haven't said anything about it." Remington remarked.

"I don't want to know who did this to you," Her mother replied, "I'm not sure if I'd be able to keep myself from hunting down the retch. And that would have dire consequences for the both of us." Rem just looked into her mother's face. They were very nearly the same height. "Come, there's a letter for you."