Do you guys know what 'pocket' time is? It's the moments in the day where you are unable to be productive but are otherwise unoccupied. Like waiting for a bus, or a train. Or standing in line for coffee. I wrote this entire chapter using my 'pocket time', believe it or not. Figured there was no reason not to submit it, even though I said it would be a lot longer.

Chapter XXVII

June 4, 1993 (two days after the Chamber of Secrets)

It had been a good night. Aberforth puffed on his pipe, luxuriating in the feel of the cheap tobacco in his lungs. 'Nothing beats a drink and a smoke after a long night behind the bar,' he thought, taking a long pull out of a whiskey bottle. He took a look around the bar area, wondering if he could get away with putting the cleaning off until morning. Well, later in the morning, at least.

His eyes fell on the back booth, and the memory from earlier that afternoon hit him like a sledgehammer. 'Did Harry ever come back?' He must have. Probably just went to his room, what with the rough and tumble crowd that were regulars in the evening at the Hogs Head.

Aberforth, pipe hanging from his lips, went back to counting the Knuts and Sickles from the night's take.

Sam woke up and stumbled towards his kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Tea tasted better, but nothing jumpstarted his day like a strong cup of coffee. He exited his bedroom and walked towards the kitchen, nearly jumping out of his skin at the two glowing green eyes staring blankly at the wall in dark apartment.

"Yeesh! Blimey, you almost gave me a heart attack. Couldn't sleep?"

"Nightmares."

Sam understood. "Been having a few of those myself, lately." He started the pot of coffee and came back to the living room, taking a seat next to the couch that had served as Harry's bed the prior evening. "Don't you think you had better turn off those nightlights before we start the day?"

"Huh?"

"Your eyes, Harry. They're glowing."

Harry took a deep breath, trying to tamp down on the strange animus to do something that had kept him from falling back asleep. His magic felt restless; rather than the normally placid wellspring he felt during his exercises, it was like a roiling typhoon inside him, eager to be unleashed.

"Better, I guess. Now you only look unnatural, rather than otherworldly. Why don't you hop in the shower while I make us a quick breakfast. We need to figure out our next move."

Harry did as Sam suggested, emerging freshly showered to a light breakfast of toast and fruit. While eating, Harry brought Sam up to speed on the impending custody issue with the Ministry.

"So for all we know, Abe has already alerted the authorities that you're missing. We'll have to move fast. I'm guessing that Britain isn't going to be the safest place for me from here on, is it?"

"You think we should leave the country?"

"Don't you?"

"The people that killed Norm and Diane are here."

Sam noted the glow was back in Harry's eyes. "Well, that's true. You really feel ready to go toe-to-toe with god knows how many adult wizards, though?"

Harry didn't hesitate. "Yes."

Sam was less confident. "Harry, you've had two years of magical schooling. Didn't you say that boy at Ilvermorny beat you handily? If you lost to him, how well do you think you'll do against trained killers?"

That was a fair point, but even considering running away from Britain made that restless feeling surge with even greater strength inside him. "I... I have to avenge them."

"We will, Harry, we will." Sam patted Harry's good shoulder. "First though, we need to make sure we have everything we need to leave."

"Wait, where are we going to go?"

Sam looked at him as though the answer were obvious. "America. You're going to Ilvermorny, and I'm going with you."

"You? They'll never let you into Ilvermorny."

"Right, sorry. I meant I'll come to MACUSA with you. I've been thinking, I bet there's all kinds of new and different magic the wizards here have never seen, something that will give you the edge you need."

"Hm." Harry was still fighting against that foreign feeling.

"If you have something better in mind, I'm open to suggestions, Harry."

"I thought I could walk into the Wizengamot and kill every member that voted for the PPP."

Sam laughed, though his amusement faltered as he took in the feral expression on Harry's face. "You were serious? I don't know that your plan would work so well, Harry. At the very least, it's pretty unlikely you'd survive the attempt."

Harry swallowed back his immediate response - that he didn't care - and tried to focus on Sam's plan. "Okay, there are a few things I'll have to take care of before we leave."

"Agreed." The two finished their breakfast, continuing to to discuss the best method to flee the country.

Azkaban's High Security Wing was a dreary place. With only a single daily patrol from the garrisoned aurors and near constant Dementor presence, it was an environment that could drive anyone mad in a matter of months.

Inside one of the cells, a black grim felt the ominous presence of the Dementors fade. Taking a cautious sniff, the large dog suddenly transformed into a gaunt, unkempt man. It was too early for their sole daily meal, and visitors were prohibited in the High Security Wing.

A man in a lime green bowler hat came walking down the center of the corridor, peering into each cell as he passed.

"Tol' ya, Minister, all here, right where they should be."

"Yes, well, after everything that happened, I just felt I needed to come check personally."

"Not to worry, no one's ever escaped Azkaban prison, much less the High Security Wing." Just as the auror said that, though, a bony hand shot out of the cell across from Sirius', the clawed fingers coming only inches short of the Minister's face.

Fudge sprang backwards, his back against the bars of Sirius' cell door. "Who's that there? Looks like Fudgey's come to visit us! Come 'ere, Fudge, let me welcome you to Azkaban!" The mocking, high pitched voice trailed off into hysterical laughter.

"That's Lestrange. Bitch was insane before she even got here. Pipe down in there, ya psycho!" Fudge tucked the newspaper he'd been carrying under his arm, removing his bowler cap and mopping up the sweat on his brow with a handkerchief. It took practically no effort at all for Sirius to slip the copy of the Prophet from under Fudge's arm into his cell, while the guard and Minister beat a hasty retreat from the High Security Wing.

"I can't believe it," he mumbled, looking at the photo beneath the headline. "He's been there all along..."

The paper slipped out of his suddenly numb fingers, while his breath came out in sudden mist. The Dementors had returned. Sirius shifted back into the large dog, his canine eyes still locked on the pilfered paper.

The headline read, Despairing Family Wins Galleon Draw!, accompanied by a photo of six grim-faced Weasleys and one overweight rat.

Harry stepped up to the teller, handing over his key. "I need to visit my vault."

The goblin accepted the key and held it for a moment, before shouting in a guttural language. A different goblin stepped up and motioned for Harry and Sam to follow him to the carts.

After loading more than two thousand Galleons into a beaten up, used trunk that they'd purchased before coming to Gringotts, they returned to the lobby where Harry informed a different teller that under no circumstances were they to allow Hogwarts to withdraw any money from his trust vault.

"I'd also like to open a new vault, and transfer all but 200 Galleons from my trust vault to it, in the name of Astoria Greengrass."

"Very well. Understand that the transfer will not be be completed until this Greengrass comes to Gringotts and provides ink and blood to open her vault."

"Okay. I have one more request."

"Spit it out, human, gold doesn't earn itself."

"I need to buy a wand."

"Ollivander's is down the street."

Harry pulled a Galleon out of his pocket, setting it on the teller's desk. "I need a wand from a less... official source."

The goblin snapped up the Galleon in a flash. "What you're asking is a crime, human. Regardless, Gringotts is a bank, not a shop."

Sam watched the interaction with interest, as Harry produced another Galleon, spinning it along his knuckles. "I see. Well, thank you for the information."

The goblin looked longingly at the Galleon, then took a quick glance around the lobby. It was almost deserted in the early morning hour. Seeing no eyes upon them, he reached out for the Galleon, which vanished from Harry's hand before he could take it. "The information, goblin. Then you'll get your gold."

"Borgin and Burke's, in Knockturn Alley. They can find most things, for a price." Harry produced the Galleon and flipped it to the teller, then raised his hood and walked with Sam out of the bank.

"What do you need a wand for?" Sam asked.

"Nothing. But you need it, if you're going to be researching in MACUSA spaces."

"Um, but I'm not magical."

Harry gave him a cross look as they turned the corner where Moody had confronted him two years before. "I know that. But remember in Boston? While that auror commander didn't recognize you were a muggle until he used legilimency, he could detect right away neither of us carried a wand."

"I see, it's camouflage."

"Yup. Just make sure you don't end up in a situation where someone expects you to cast a spell."

Borgin and Burke's looked like a dilapidated haunted house. Standing at the door, Harry turned to Sam. "I think you better do the talking. He'll recognize me, so I"ll keep my hood up. Don't pay more than GG25."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. I'm a kid, and famous. He's not going to sell me an illegal wand."

"Right." Sam gulped, but walked through the door Harry held open.

"Greetings, friend. Come in, and be welcome."

"Thank you. I, uh, I find myself in need of a wand."

Borgin nodded, examining the two hooded figures. "I'm sure you know that Ollivander is considered one of the finest wandcrafters in the wizarding world."

"I need a less... regulated focus."

"I see." Borgin looked closely at Sam. "If we're going to do business, I must insist on you lowering your hood." At Sam's hesitation, he continued. "You needn't worry, all of my customers are provided full confidentiality. But I need to ensure you're not under any glamours or Polyjuice."

Sam lowered his hood, and allowed Borgin to cast a finite, to no effect. "Satisfied?"

"Almost. Just drink this, it is a Flushing Draught. Allows me to test for Polyjuice Potion."

Sam glanced in Harry's direction, picking up on the almost imperceptible shake of his head. "I'm not drinking some potion that I didn't see made. Are we doing business or not?"

Borgin gave a deep throated laugh. "Right this way." The two followed him through a curtain to the rear of the shop, where a tap of Borgin's wand opened a compartment in a wall. "As you can see, I have a wide selection of wands, with various woods and cores. Do you know which you have affinities for?"

Harry hadn't prepared him for this, so Sam had to improvise. "Oak. And, and unicorn, um, horn?"

Borgin's eyebrows raised. "That's a very unusual core."

"Family heirloom, you see."

"Say no more. Well, I have an oak and unicorn hair wand, 11 inches. Give it a whirl."

Sam took the proffered wand, and hesitantly waved it to the side. To his absolute shock, a trail of sparks followed the wand's downward motion.

"Perfect! It's rare to get a match on the first try. That wand must have been waiting just for you."

Sam, still stunned into silence, dumbly nodded his head at the shopkeeper's words.

"Now, as I'm sure you know, purchasing wands from unlicensed crafters does not come cheap. I'll need 38 Galleons for it."

"That's uh, that's outrageous!" Sam tried to muster up some heat into his words. "You're trying to rip me off!"

"'Rip you... off?' I'm afraid I must insist."

"I'll give you GG15."

Borgin chuckled. "Absolutely not. How about GG33?"

"GG25, or we're walking out right now."

"Sold! Now, the gold, if you please...?"

"What is this?" Harry's voice cut across their transaction. He was staring into a glass display case at two plain silver chains with an onyx bead in the center.

"Twinned portkeys. Honestly, they're rather common, just a pain to craft."

"How do they function?"

"The silver is enchanted as a multi-use portkey, while the onyx block has runes that lock the destination on its twin. You activate one and it will take you to the other, provided there aren't any wards blocking travel."

"We'll take them."

"Excellent! Now, as I said, they're rather labor-intensive to create-"

"How much?"

"Six-, Seventy. Seventy-two Galleons." Sam's jaw dropped, and then nearly hit the floor when Harry accepted without argument.

"Wonderful! That brings your total to GG99. Will you be paying with a Gringotts draft?"

Sam sighed, and gestured to Harry who was already counting out the coins.

"Hermione, were you listening?"

The bushy-haired 13-year old set down her sandwich and glanced up from her plate. "Sorry, Mum, what was that?"

"I was asking if your grades will be affected since your term ended early."

"Oh. I'm sure I did fine."

Emma and Dan exchanged a glance. Hermione's lack of concern about her academic performance might as well have been a flashing red light and accompanying siren that something was very wrong. "Are you feeling all right, sweetie?"

"Yes. Just a little out of sorts from school closing so suddenly."

"And this... magical creature that had been causing so many problems all year has been dealt with?" Hermione had told her parents that a magical creature had slipped into Hogwarts and that the Ministry had closed the school early in order to safely remove it. 'A version of the truth... from a certain point of view,' she thought.

"Yes." She gathered her dishes and her glass. "Can I be excused?"

"Not just yet, Hermione. Your father and I had something we wanted to talk about with you." Emma stood up and walked over to her briefcase, removing a folder and bringing it back to the table. "The two of us were wondering if you knew anything about this."

She removed several newspaper clippings and set them on the table. Hermione's heart jumped into her throat, terrified her parents had found the Prophet articles, but a quick glance showed that her mother's clippings were from The Daily Mail and The Telegraph.

"Were you aware that Harry's family had been murdered?"

"I... I-"

"The news says that they were killed in some cultist ritual."

Hermione quickly read that for herself. The news had latched onto the salacious story of occultists butchering normal families in Surrey. Her stomach turned at even the minimal details the news provided.

"Hermione, you told us that someone tried to kill your friend when he was in primary school. We need you to be honest. Were Norman and Diane killed because they adopted Harry?"

All of Hermione's plans to wait for Harry to provide information had fallen apart. She loved being a witch, loved learning about magic, but she loved her parents more.

"It wasn't because of that." Dan and Emma's eyebrows raised, ready to object, but Hermione continued before they could speak. "It's so much worse than you realize."

Hermione was crying by the time she finished telling the elder Grangers about her Second Year. The attacks on muggleborns at Hogwarts, the Potter Preservation Plan, Harry and Lockhart's public relations campaign, and Hannah and Ginny's deaths.

"This, this is a lot to take in." Emma allowed Dan to comfort their daughter; she'd always been a 'daddy's girl'. "What happens if we pull you out of Hogwarts?"

"I don't know. I'm afraid they'd just take me away from you if you tried."

Dan put his arm around his daughter, allowing her to lean into his comforting embrace. The whole family turned to the window at a tapping sound, seeing a snowy white owl insistently seeking entrance.

"It's Harry's owl!" Hermione rushed to the window, allowing Hedwig to fly inside where she removed the letter attached to the owl's leg.

Hermione,

You asked me for more details about what happened this year. There are things I can't bring myself to say, even in a letter. You asked me to tell you because you were afraid for your family.

You should be. They could die just as easily as my parents did. Britain isn't safe. I hope you are able to succeed where I failed, and protect your parents.

Please take care of Hedwig for me. I've asked her to stay with you.

Harry

Hedwig looked at Hermione, her amber eyes wide and unblinking. She carefully folded the letter and sat heavily back into her chair, trying to make sense of what she'd just read.

"Hermione, when we were in France last summer, you mentioned there was a magical school there, didn't you?"

Sam and Harry hustled down the street back towards Diagon Alley, Sam still staring in wonder at the wand in his hand.

"Don't get too excited, I was the one that created the sparks in there." Harry grinned, catching sight of his companion looking at the wand in amazement.

"Oh. That makes more sense. Where are we going now?"

"Two stops left. I need to meet with my publisher – don't ask – and then we have to go the Ministry, for an international portkey. I'll need you to do most of the talking there."

"At your Ministry? I don't know that I'm ready for that, Harry."

"It's not like we have much of an option. I don't think that they'll take too kindly to a minor without legal guardians looking to cross the Atlantic. Here we are." The two came to a stop outside of Perrault Publishing, where Harry quickly led Sam up the steps and in the door.

"Thad?"

"Harry, glad you could make it! Here, take a seat, take a seat." The man quickly cleared off two chairs that were weighed down with manuscripts and various other documents with a few waves of his wand.

"You said at Hogwarts we had business."

"Indeed we do. Take a look at this." He handed over a slim paperback book.

"Harrowing Tales from Hogwarts? McGonagall's not going to like that title." Perrault chuckled and did not disagree.

"You wrote a book?" Sam asked, having caught Harry's name on the byline.

"In a way, yes, he did. I don't believe we've been introduced, Mr..."

"Don't concern yourself with him. Is this why you needed to meet with me?"

"Partly. I'd like you to do some press appearance. Book signings, interviews, author readings. All the typical engagements."

Harry drummed his fingers along the book's spine, looking intently at Thaddeus. "What exactly is the state of our business relationship now that my apprenticeship with Lockhart is concluded?"

"Well, you signed a ten year exclusivity agreement with this firm for any book publications. Beyond that, essentially nothing."

"So all of that in McGonagall's office about being my representative?"

Thad smiled genially. "A bit of a half-truth. I'd mailed McGonagall several weeks prior, arranging permission for my ghost writer to meet with you. I may have heavily implied that I was your agent, and a good thing I did, given the way that interview was going for you."

Harry nodded, seeming to come to a decision. "Mr. Perrault, how would you like to formally become my representative?"

"Well, I have a business to run, Harry-"

"A business that just lost its biggest and most high-profile client. You helped to make Lockhart into a star, you obviously know how to manage public opinion."

"What exactly would you be hiring me to do?"

"First, I want a new contract between us-" Perrault made to object, but Harry cut him off. "-unrelated to the book deal. Before I tell you anything, I want to be sure I'm not going to be reading about this conversation in the Prophet tomorrow."

"Okay, that I can do." It took roughly fifteen minutes, but the two ironed out a quick contract that provided Perrault ten percent of Harry's annual revenue, in exchange for binding confidentiality and management of Harry's business and public affairs.

After they had each signed, Perrault removed his wand. "Would you like my oath now?"

"Oath? What do you mean?"

"The confidentiality clause. I will have to provide an oath to not speak of your private affairs per the binding clause of our contract."

Harry still didn't get it. "Isn't that why we both signed in blood?"

Perrault laughed. "No, blood signatures are nothing more than an ironclad guarantee of the identity of the signatories. Magical oaths are how the actions are regulated."

"I'm not familiar with oaths, magical or otherwise."

"Essentially, you will announce the terms of our agreement that I am to abide by, and I for you, and we swear upon our magic to abide by the agreement."

"What happens if one of us breaks it?"

"Thad grinned. "We'd be stripped of our magic. A rather large incentive to act scrupulously, wouldn't you agree?"

"Fine." Perrault walked Harry through the oath, and Sam watched as the two conducted what looked like an extended handshake, before a blinding flash of light lit the office on the vow's completion.

"Now, why did you decide you needed to hire me?"

"I'm leaving the country today, for the MACUSA. I need you to manage my affairs here, and preferably find a way to keep the gold flowing."

Perrault had read the newspaper; that, combined with the debriefing he'd witnessed, didn't take much to see through the lines. "This is about your muggle family and that impending custody situation?"

"It is."

"Very well, can't say I'd act all that differently were I in your shoes. Okay, how are you getting to America?"

"I was planning to purchase an international portkey."

"From the Ministry? And you actually think they'd provide you with one?"

"Well, I was going to have him," Harry gestured to Sam, "do the paperwork for me."

"Not a bad idea, young man, but no, that won't work. International magical travel is heavily regulated. The best outcome of that plan is that they refuse your friend; more likely you'd be found out and your attempt would be in tomorrow's newspaper."

"So what do you suggest? I took a lot of heat the last time I entered the MACUSA through muggle means."

"Go to France and do the paperwork – legally, in your own name – from there. The Prophet has no foreign correspondents, so even if the French magical media reports it, you'll be long gone by the time the story breaks in Britain."

"Seems like a good plan, Harry." Sam was relieved he wasn't expected to hoodwink a magical government official any longer.

"Okay. I also need you to send an owl to the named addressee on this letter in... say, one week." Harry passed over an envelope. "Where were you planning to deposit my earnings from Lockhart and this book?"

"Er, well, Lockhart exercised full discretion in disbursing any of your share of the proceeds he gained from your apprenticeship..."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Out with it, Perrault. What was my share?"

"Zero."

"That son of a bitch." Harry took a deep breath, the last vestiges of his guilt for abandoning Lockhart in the Chamber vanishing. "Fine. Where is my cut of the book sales going?"

"To your vault at Gringotts, of course."

"Will I be able to access that in America?"

"Yes, though there is only a single Gringotts branch in the MACUSA, in New York City."

Harry accepted this, moving on to the next topic. "How does international mail work in the wizarding world? I can't imagine owls flying across the Atlantic Ocean."

"There are birds that specialize in long-distance flight, but you're correct. Most international mail is delivered via portkey, sorted on arrival, and then mailed domestically. Owl Express essentially operates a monopoly in this area."

"Can I be tracked through my mail?"

"From Great Britain? No. Tracking charms would never function at that distance."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Keep me up to date about any marketable adventures you find yourself in. I have a feeling things will continue to be very interesting no matter where you go, Harry."

"Fine, if you keep me in the loop about anything I need to know over here."

"Safe travels, Harry." Thad stood and shook his newest client's hand.

Less than an hour later, the two were on board a train heading for the Chunnel, and France beyond.

"I'm sorry, Severus. But you know that Minerva has disapproved of your teaching style for many years. At least you still have your job."

"It is an outrage, Albus! Probation is bad enough, but to allow that neophyte Sinistra to assume the Head of Slytherin House... can you not speak with her? Emphasize the delicacy of my position?"

Dumbledore removed a lemondrop from his mouth , taking a small sip of tea, then popped the sour treat back into his mouth. "I would be in a much more favorable position to do so had you not been so forthright in your attempts to make life miserable for Harry Potter last term."

"I admit I occasionally overstepped my professional bounds." Snape grudgingly admitted.

"What changed?"

"He did." Dumbledore's eyebrows climbed halfway up his forehead. "It's the truth. When he started Hogwarts, he was so... pathetic. Widely ridiculed, woefully incompetent. But this last term-"

"So the less pitiful that Harry became, the more you sought to keep him that way."

Snape ground his teeth. "You didn't see the way he looked down his nose at his peers. That ponce Lockhart made him nearly as arrogant as his bastard of a father-" Snape bit off his rant at the sight of Dumbledore shaking his head in disappointment.

"Harry knows almost nothing of his birth parents. Until a few days ago, it would seem he'd found a loving home in the muggle world. The rivalry you've imagined to have carried over from his father does not exist to him, Severus."

The Potions Professor scoffed. "Please. I know it was Potter who went crying to McGonagall."

"I find that unlikely. Harry never complained about you. I don't think you've ever mattered enough to him that he ever considered it." The casual nonchalance in Dumbledore's voice was devastating. "I hope that your self control and your decisions improve next year, my boy."

Snape stiffly stood and bade the former Headmaster farewell, just as the fireplace in the parlor that Dumbledore was seated flared green.

"Al? You there?"

"Hello, Abe, how is Harry adjusting?"

Aberforth sheepishly rubbed his neck. "Well, you see what happened was..."

June 12, 1993

Alfred Abbot, Heir to Abbott Estates, carefully descended the steps from his room to the family dining room. He released a sigh at the now-familiar sight of his father slumped over in a chair, an empty firewhiskey bottle in front of him. Standing on the table next to the bottle was a familiar owl, rotating its head nearly 180 degrees to stare at Alfred.

"Father. Wake up, Father." The elder Abbott groaned, but did not open his eyes. "Benny!" A house elf appeared next to the two men, awaiting instruction. "Please retrieve a Hangover Draft and a Pain Relieving Potion from our stores."

Once the elf returned, Alfred tipped the vials at a measured pace into his father's mouth, then placing a glass of water that Benny handed to him on the table in front of Edward.

"There is a letter for you, Father."

Edward, his beard wild and untamed, removed the letter and used his wand to banish it into the fireplace.

"No! You know that was from Susan!"

"I don't want to hear anything she has to say."

"You've been ignoring her letters since Hannah died. How long will this go on?"

"If she hadn't been delivering a letter on Susan's behalf, your sister would still-"

"You're being ridiculous," Alfred said in a low voice. "You showed me the memory of Harry Potter's interrogation. It was only sheer dumb luck that the other students survived the basilisk's gaze. If you want to be angry, there are more deserving targets than a 13-year old girl!"

Edward seemed to visibly deflate. "You're right, of course. Nevertheless, your mother does not want to see Susan, and I happen to agree with her. So much of Hannah is wrapped up in the girl... it's too much, too soon."

Alfred sighed, feeling the weight of trying to keep the family business operating and his parents from spiraling too deeply in their grief. Susan would be fine, he told himself; he'd smooth it over once he got his family back on track.

Harry had thought he'd gained some familiarity traveling via portkey, but taking an international trip quickly dispelled that notion. He endured the spinning and whirling for just under five straight minutes, retching over and over once he collapsed onto solid ground.

"Sir, move along to customs. Sir! I'm going to have to ask you to get up and move along. We have additional portkeys arriving momentarily."

Stumbling to his feet and grabbing hold of his trunk, Harry followed the signs for 'Arrivals', waiting for the line to move forward until he was face to face with a bored customs agent.

"Visa, please." Harry handed over the form he'd received at the French Ministry.

"Purpose of your visit?"

"Um, educational."

"Edu- what?"

"I'm here to go to school." Harry passed over the year old scholarship offer.

"You're going to have to wait over there, kid." The customs agent walked towards a nearby fireplace that was under auror guard, grumbling all the while.

Harry sat on a bench, watching tourists and travelers arrive from all over the globe for about a half hour, until the familiar face of Agilbert Fontaine stepped out of the fireplace.

"Harry! What a delightful surprise! I must say, I'd assumed when I never received a reply to our offer that you weren't interested in attending Ilvermorny."

"Things change, sir."

"Is your family not with you?"

"They, they were killed, sir. A few weeks ago."

The Ilvermorny Headmaster looked genuinely sympathetic. "I'm sorry for your loss. I assume that is why the signature for 'guardian' is blank."

"Yes sir. I left Britain before I was assigned to another family."

"I see. That leaves me in a rather complicated position. You see, Ilvermorny's term just ended today. Our students will be heading home over the next two days, making what to do with you this summer a bit of a problem."

Harry's stomach dropped. 'Are they going to send me back to Britain?' He knew he wouldn't get a second chance at escaping. "Is there a way I can find a room in America while I wait for the next school year?"

Fontaine chuckled, patting Harry on the head. "I said 'a bit' of a problem, Harry. Come along."

The two took the Floo to the Headmaster's office, where Fontaine motioned for Harry to follow him. "Feeling all right? I know lengthy portkey trips tend to leave one feeling somewhat disoriented."

Struggling to match the Headmaster's stride with his still tender leg, Harry wished he had a free hand to conjure and use a walking stick. "I'm fine, sir."

"Excellent! Given your unusual circumstances, I think that I can relax the rules just this once and allow you to reside in the castle during the summer, until you can participate in the Receiving Ceremony."

"That is the name of your Sorting system?"

Fontaine looked pleased that Harry remembered. "Yes, it is named as such because you will receive offers from our various Houses."

"Okay." Harry was relieved he'd be allowed to stay. An empty castle didn't sound so bad, plus he'd be able to get accustomed to his new school.

"You don't need to worry about a lack of company, Harry. Students that are pursuing their Mastery remain at the castle year round, excluding the seasonal holidays." They turned the corner, where a familiar face was waiting for them. "In fact, here is one such student I believe you may remember. Mr. Jacobs, thank you for waiting for us."

Wally gave an easy grin and a lofty wave. "No sweat Headmaster. Heya, Harry!"

"Hi Wally."

The Headmaster cast a quick tempus charm. "Come along, gentlemen, dinner is starting in less than ten minutes. Wally, which House do you think will select Harry?"

"With his history of adventures? He's a Thunderbird if ever there was one, I'd say."

"I'm not so sure. Harry, you were in the House for the studious at Hogwarts, were you not?" When Harry nodded an affirmative, the Headmaster looked over to Wally. "See? A Horned Serpent in waiting."

Seeing that Harry was not following their conversation, Wally took pity on the transfer student. "Ilvermorny's House system weighs the dominant spiritual traits of an applicant, not their personality attributes. Thunderbirds develop the adventurous soul, Horned Serpents the focused mind, Wampus the strength and power of the body, and Pukwudgie the compassionate heart. So which do you think suits you best?"

Harry considered the options. In retrospect, the Sorting Hat's warning had been accurate; though Ravenclaw was comfortable and familiar, he was never one to be studious for the sake of curiosity. Rather, he learned mostly out of necessity, because he kept having to fight for his life. "Which House is the one for warriors?"

"A Wampus! Well, we'll find out in a few month's time."

As they neared the ground level of the castle there were a few students that appeared, eyes locked on the group as they hurried past them. It felt like his First Year at Hogwarts for a moment, until he realized that most of the stares directed at the group focused on Wally, not himself. The Charms Mastery student was apparently quite popular, especially with the many blushing witches he left in his wake.

"Headmaster, you said each House has its own dining hall, right? Which will I be eating in?"

"You have an excellent memory, Harry. However, as it is the final day of classes, dinner tonight will be held in the Ceremonial Hall. After you." Though the doors opened on their own as the Headmaster approached, Fontaine made a show of putting an arm on the elaborately carved marble doors, waving them in before him.

It was apparent, as he stepped inside, why the students had been hurrying past them in the corridors. The entire student body of Ilvermorny was arrayed inside the cavernous Ceremonial Hall, eyes glued on Harry, Wally, and the Headmaster. He stood out like a sore thumb among their blue robes with red trim in his own silver robes.

Fontaine paused in their march towards the front of the hall. "Harry, these are the students who just completed their Second year, like you. You may sit with them for dinner."

The students stared as he awkwardly stood before them, one arm in a sling, the handle of his trunk grasped in the other. Wally pulled out his wand and shrank the trunk to the size of a chocolate frog, allowing Harry to place it in his pocket before taking a seat. "I'll see you after dinner, Harry!"

"Who're you?" A rather pretty Asian girl with an unfortunate case of acne asked.

"I'm Harry. I'll be transferring here for my Third Year."

A short, dark-skinned boy across from him asked, "You know it's June, right?"

"Yea, I arrived a little early." There were a few snorts of amusement, but the table fell silent as Headmaster Fontaine gave the term's closing address. Harry largely tuned him out, noting idly that it was far more mundane than Dumbledore's eccentric speeches. After a brief round of congratulatory applause for the graduating Seventh Years, the students tucked in to the meal laid out on the tables.

"Haven't seen a transfer student before." A girl with brown hair cut into a fashionable bob commented next to him. "I'm Melody Marx. You must be from Hogwarts."

"How do you know that?"

The dark-skinned boy across from him laughed. "Your accent, man."

The brunette gave the boy a sharp glance. "I like it. It sounds sophisticated."

"Thanks." Harry directed his attention to his plate as best he could, but started when Melody ran her hand over his forearm.

"Your robes are nice. Is that the Hogwarts uniform?"

"Um, no. Hogwarts robes are solid black, with the trim colored according to your House. How do you tell your House affiliations?" Harry decided it was safer to examine the boy's robes across from him, rather than encourage the girl next to him by staring at her.

"Our crest, right here." She pushed her chest out and tapped over her left breast. "As you can see, I'm in Thunderbird House."

"The House of the adventurous, right?"

The brunette looked at a tall girl with straight blonde hair across from her, and the two simultaneously burst into giggles. "Gods, Mel, you're such a skank!" The two girls laughed, though Harry wasn't sure what the joke was.

The boy across from him met Harry's eye over his drinking glass and rolled his own eyes, as if to say 'Girls'. "I'm Adam Caruso, Pukwudgie House. Why'd you decide to transfer?"

Harry took a bite and slowly chewed to give himself time to think. Somehow he'd never actually considered that he'd be interacting with other students at Ilvermorny, and thus lacked a ready excuse.

"I came to study with Professor Batisseur."

"Doesn't Hogwarts offer Ancient Runes classes?"

"They do."

"What happened to your arm, Harry?" The brunette, Melody, asked.

"There was an accident at the end of our term that caused the school to close early. I was nearby the accident, and injured my arm and my leg."

"Which House do you think you'll get an offer from?" That question came from the blonde sitting across from Melody.

Finally, a question he had an easy answer to. "Definitely Wampas."

"Oh?" Melody said in a teasing voice. "See yourself as a fighter, then, Harry?"

He shrugged. "Just seemed like a good fit from what I was told."

The Asian girl that spoke to him first suddenly interrupted. "Wait. Are you Harry Potter?"

He nodded. "No. Way!" Melody exclaimed, far too close to his ear. "And you're starting here next term? That's like, so cool!"

'Please,' he desperately prayed. 'Don't let me end up in Thunderbird with this girl.'

Susan gasped, jerking upright in bed, feeling the chill from her sweat-soaked sheets. She'd dreamt of that night in the Hospital Wing with Harry, only instead of the Owl Express letter arriving for Harry, it was a black envelope addressed to her – the customary alert that a Ministry employee had died in the line of duty.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she got out of bed and slipped out of her wet pajamas, tying a robe around herself. It looked to be just before dawn, based on the glow on the horizon. Susan left her room, quietly stepping down the hall towards the master bedroom. She wouldn't wake her aunt, she just needed to see her, needed to cast out the feelings and thoughts from her nightmare. Silently turning the knob, she poked her head in the door, finding only an empty bed. She must have already left for work.

Susan wandered downstairs, twisting her hands together anxiously. The manor was so silent. Susan was tired of the quiet.

"C'mon, Susie, cheer up you mopey duck," she said out loud. It's what Hannah would say, if she were here. She always knew how to get her mind off of whatever was bothering her. There was so little from this year that wasn't darkness and horror, though.

Some of her hair fell forward over her eyes, and she brushed it away from her cheek. That was a nice memory; when Harry had looked at her and said she was beautiful. Maybe she'd write to Harry? He'd been her rock, after Hannah had been killed.

She looked around the empty manor. 'Surely he needs someone now, after losing his parents – again,' she thought. It was settled - now it was her turn to be there for him.

Feeling better and more than a little determined now that she had a course of action, a purpose, Susan grabbed some parchment and a quill and wrote a quick note, including her Floo address and a request for Harry to visit. Her nightmares pushed out of her mind, a small smile on her face, Susan sealed the envelope and ran to where their family owl, Willow was perched.

"Hey girl," she gently stroked the owl's plume, tying the letter securely to her leg. "Take this to Harry Potter, please." The owl leapt off her perch and took flight, circling in the air above the manor for a moment before returning to her perch, holding her leg out for Susan to remove the letter.

Silence reigned in the Bones' ancestral home once more.

"C'mon, Harry! If you don't keep moving, your legs'll lock up and you'll be miserable the rest of the day!"

Wheezing for breath, Harry straightened up from his doubled-over posture and half-heartedly began to walk towards Wally, who was jogging backwards in front of him. "I huff think my legs huff would 'preciate the break."

"Okay, then you'll be miserable from all the Stinging Hexes I'll hit you with. Let's go!"

Harry doggedly picked up his pace to what could charitably be called a slow jog, and after another ten minutes they arrived back at the doors to the Entrance Hall at Ilvermorny. "Nice work, Harry. It hasn't even been a week and you're already circling the grounds with us." Wally gave Harry a wide grin, looking no worse for the wear beyond a light sheen of sweat on his brow.

Harry, who had sprawled onto his back in the soft grass, tilted his head upwards. "Maybe so, but I think it took me three times as long as the others. Thanks for hanging back and keeping me company."

The 'others' Harry referred to were the assorted Mastery students, who stayed in the castle year round. There were 60 of them, in total, in fields as far ranging as magizoology, runes, transfiguration, and enchanting. Harry had been given a room in their quarters temporarily, until he could go through the Receiving Ceremony in the fall.

"Come on, get up. Let's go grab an early lunch." Harry dragged himself off the ground and accompanied Wally inside. They quickly made their way to a small mess hall situated one room over from the kitchens, where most of the other students were already eating.

"Why do you all exercise so much?"

"You mean besides keeping trim for all the beautiful babes?" Wally replied, shooting a wink at an attractive arithmancy student, who blushed and looked down at her meal.

"Sure, besides that." Harry rolled his eyes at the older boy's antics. "I mean, you might need the exercise to keep the flab off, but every single Mastery student?"

"How much have you read about the MACUSA, Harry?"

The younger boy took a bite out of a tuna sandwich. "Probably not as much as I should've," he admitted.

"Well, who needs to read when we've got a walking, talking textbook right here? Hey, Sasha!" Wally called out, and a stunning dark-skinned girl with a crown of spiraling black curls leaned forward. "Our young protegee here wants to know why everyone joins in the physical training. Harry, this is Sasha Philips, she's pursuing her Mastery in History of Magic with Professor Jameson."

The girl in question had picked up her plate and walked over to sit on Harry's other side. "It makes our service year a lot more painless if we're already in good physical shape. Beyond that, I guess peer pressure and a general desire to stay in shape."

Before Harry could ask, Wally motioned for her to continue with a forkful of salad. "I meant explain to him the history of the service year."

"Well, it's been a longstanding policy since the late 1920s that every graduating student from Ilvermorny is conscripted into service for one year with the 7th Auror's Brigade – that's the unit that is responsible for dealing with violations to the Statute of Secrecy."

"'The Omniscient Obliviators'," Wally quipped with his mouth full.

"So everyone is required to join the aurors after they graduate?"

"Only for a year, and you can defer it if you are pursuing graduate studies. The policy was put into effect following a large-scale breach in New York City, where our defense forces were overwhelmed with the number of Nomaj that had witnessed a massive magical event. The Magical Congress sought volunteers to help manage the crisis, only to realize that most of the population lacked practical experience obliviating Nomaj."

"So now everyone spends a year training with the Memory Charm and dealing with breaches, to be ready in case there is ever another widescale exposure."

"I see. That sounds pretty tough, sorry."

Both Wally and Sasha looked mildly offended at his implied criticism of the conscription policy. "it's our duty, kid. If the Nomaj learned of our existence, they wouldn't rest until all of us were enslaved or dead."

"Easy, Sasha, he's not from here. You know things are different overseas."

"Right, sorry. It's just the thought of having to battle the Nomaj is a nightmare for every wizard and witch in the MACUSA."

Harry could tell it was a sensitive topic, but given the year he'd had he couldn't help but push back a little. "They don't have magic, though. What could a muggle do against a wizard?"

"There's hundreds of millions of them, first of all. They breed like rats in a grain barrel, you could kill them until you hit magical exhaustion and still not make a dent in their numbers. Plus, they're extremely aggressive and lack intelligence; show a Nomaj something they don't understand and they'll lash out in fear like a common beast." She paused to take a calming breath. "It would be total war. They'd never allow us our freedom."

Several nearby students voiced their agreement with Sasha, and Harry felt deeply uncomfortable. Ilvermorny, and the MACUSA in general, was a jarring adjustment. He hoped Sam was being safe.

"Daphne! Daphne come here!"

The elder Greengrass daughter came flying into Astoria's room at a breakneck pace, only to find her in the exact same spot where Daphne had left her an hour ago.

"Tori? What's the matter? You just about frightened me to death, you know!"

"Sorry, but you need to read this. I can't believe it!"

Daphne took the piece of parchment that her sister offered, sitting against the windowsill while she read.

Dear Astoria,

I wish that I would have been able to tell you this at the train station, but circumstances being what they are, I didn't ride the Express this year. I'm sure Daphne explained what's been happening at Hogwarts; if not, all I'll say is that it's been a difficult time for everyone, myself included.

One of the most important lessons I've learned this year is that real freedom is the ability to live your life according to your own wishes and desires. I think that from now on, that's how I'm going to live, and I think you should give some thought to what kinds of decisions you think are best for you.

When you've figured that out, visit Gringotts and fill out the paperwork to open your new vault. I've arranged for enough Galleons for your first three years of tuition at Hogwarts, if you decide that going to school is the path you want to take.

Your life is your own to live, Astoria Greengrass. Don't forget that. Until we meet again, I remain:

Harry James Potter

Enclosed in the envelope was a transfer statement, signaling the GG2,200 waiting for Astoria to open a vault. Daphne looked at her sister, seeing the sparkle of happy tears in her warm brown eyes.

"Do you think that Mum and Daddy will let me attend Hogwarts if I pay for the tuition? They have to, right?"

Daphne stepped away from the windowsill and embraced her sister. She was ecstatic for Tori, who'd had so little to look forward to in her difficult life.

"Tori, would you like to come on a picnic with Harry and I? We could make him a nice lunch and sit outside in the sun, and just spend time together. How does that sound?"

"It sounds great! Should I write to him?"

"No, I'll take care of it. I have something I need to tell him, anyway. Let me speak to Father and get permission to take you out, and then I'll send him a letter straight away."

"Okay! Thanks Daphne!"

She practically skipped out of Astoria's room, feeling a strange heady feeling swelling in her chest at the thought of seeing Harry again. For the first time since the previous summer, she didn't feel any trepidation about speaking to him. After spending all of last term seeing him work political levers, moving seamlessly in and out of high society as a functioning actor and not as a tool to be used by others, Daphne acknowledged she had a crush on Harry. 'Maybe a little more than that,' she admitted to herself.

But it was his kindness to Astoria, the sort of selfless faithfulness that would make a Hufflepuff green with envy that made her realize she didn't want him to be a passing schoolyard fancy. She wanted to be with Harry Potter. Just thinking it made butterflies flutter in her stomach, and a wide smile stretch her face.

Proceeding down the hall from Astoria's room, she knocked on the door to her father's office. He'd been spending more and more time alone in there ever since she'd returned from Hogwarts. Her mother had given up trying to coax him out, merely telling Daphne that he'd had an embarrassing experience during an outing he'd gone on with Lucius Malfoy just before school had ended.

"Come in." Daphne took a breath, schooling her features and erasing her smile before she opened the door. Immediately she could smell the distinctive odor of scotch in the small, tidy room.

"Hello, Father. I was hoping to speak with you for a moment."

Lucas Greengrass looked awful. Pale skin and bloodshot eyes from too much drink, his formerly well-manicured mustache and goatee were now a full beard, and his hair lie unwashed and flat against his scalp.

"What is it?"

"I would like your permission to take Astoria on an outing."

"To where?"

"I made plans with Harry that I'd spend a day with him this summer, and Astoria would like to come along and thank him in person."

Lucas looked at her directly for the first time since she'd entered the room, his eyes narrowing. "Thank him? For what?"

Daphne couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. "He's provided her with tuition to attend Hogwarts if she desires."

Her father stood up, fists clenching and unclenching, slowly walking towards where Daphne stood in front of his desk. "He did what?"

"Harry opened a vault in her name and transferred gold for her first three years of schooling."

"How did Har- how did the Potter boy know that her attending Hogwarts was in question?"

"I had mentioned to him that Mother was considering home instruction."

"That's all it took?" Lucas came to a stop in front of his eldest daughter. Up close, the smell of drink was overpowering. "Just a whisper from you in his ear, and he wrote a draft for thousands of Galleons? Again?"

"It wasn't like tha-"

"I'd always hoped that you'd grow up to be my daughter. Merlin knows your mother never had much interest in raising you girls." Daphne was shocked to see her normally stoic and composed father trembling with emotion. "But I should have known better."

"Father, wha-" Daphne was interrupted by Lucas' heavy fist smashing into her face, her nose breaking from the force of the blow.

"Before I met your mother, the Greengrass name meant something more than duplicity. That boy has lost everything because of our family and you just! Keep! Taking!" Lucas was raining blows on his eldest daughter now. "You're just. Like. Your. Mother!"

"Daddy? Daphne?" Astoria sat in her wheelchair at the open door, taking in the sight of her father, breathing like he'd just run a marathon, kneeling over her sister who was trying to crawl towards the door.

Daphne, one eye swollen shut, the other closed from a steady flow of blood pouring from where a punch had split her brow, turned her damaged face towards the sound of Astoria's voice. She spit out several teeth and lifted her hand towards her sister. "G' bck t' err ume, 'ori."

"Astoria..." Lucas stood up, not noticing the blood dripping from his knuckles. "Sweetie, wait-"

His youngest daughter's bloodcurdling scream echoed through the manor.

A/N: Thanks for all the well wishes and the reviews! Stay safe everyone!