Chapter XXVIII

August 1, 1993

"What an honor! It's not every day that the Supreme Mugwump summons me for a social call."

Albus gestured for the Mugwump from the MACUSA to take a seat in his office. "I appreciate you making the trip, Roger. I know international travel is discomfiting."

Roger Williams smiled and waved away the apology. "Nonsense, I'll take any opportunity I can to come and enjoy some of Florean's ice cream. Perhaps I'll even peruse Knockturn while I'm here, see if there's anything new for sale. Now, let's get down to business. You asked to see me?"

"Yes. I am concerned that an unaccompanied minor may have entered the MACUSA."

"'May have?' Is that to say you are unsure whether or not they did?"

Dumbledore peered over his spectacles at the much younger man. Why the Americans insisted on appointing this whelp as their ICW representative was beyond him. "There is a boy that is missing. We believe that he traveled to your nation."

"Why don't you simply check the receipts from your visa applications at your International Portkey Office?" Williams was thoroughly enjoying this.

"We have. It's possible that he may have elected to travel via muggle methods."

"Well, if that is indeed the case, we certainly would know nothing about that. You are, of course, aware that there exists a total separation between the Nomaj and our own society."

"Yes, I am familiar with the measures that your government chooses to employ. Nevertheless, it is imperative that this child be located."

Williams casually examined his well-manicured nails. "Perhaps if you tell me who it is you're looking for, I might better be able to assist you?"

Realization dawned on Albus' face. "You have him." Dumbledore may not be the most astute of politicians, but one did not need much acumen to recognize the smugness rolling off of the American in waves.

"I'm sure that I don't know who you are referring to. However, I'm afraid I've provided all of the assistance I'm able to." Williams stood from his seat and smoothed out his robes. "If there's nothing else..."

"Daphne? I'm hungry."

"I'll be right there, Tori." Daphne set down her quill and hurried to the room next to hers. "Hey, you look nice today."

Tori set down her brush, her wavy brown hair flowing past her shoulders. "Mum said that grandfather is strict about a lady looking proper and staying silent."

Choosing not to respond, Daphne pushed her sister's chair towards the stairs, pausing at the top and leaning down for Tori to wrap her arms around her neck.

Stefan Rosier was strict about everything, so far as Daphne could tell. Astoria and she had relatively little contact with him prior to their hasty move into the guest rooms of his home. Her mother had told her, years prior, in response to a query why he never visited Verdant Hills, that Stefan might have visited if he had a grandson. 'Doesn't seem like the old bastard has evolved since then,' she grumbled to herself.

The Rosier's ancestral home was not a manor, just a very large house in the small mixed-muggle/magical village of Bamptory, in a rural section of Oxfordshire. The home sat on a plot of land large enough to maintain a few goats and many chickens, the nearest neighbor just visible in the distance.

Stefan only owned a single house elf, who didn't respond to either of the Greengrass girls' requests. Since the guest rooms were on the second floor, that meant Daphne needed to carry Astoria up and down the stairs, place her in a seat, then retrieve her chair. Given Daphne's limited upper body strength, this amounted to a prison sentence for Astoria.

"I'm sorry, Daphne." The younger girl said quietly, feeling a trickle of sweat run down her sister's neck.

Daphne set her down in a sitting chair near the base of the stairs, then hustled back up and returned with her wheelchair. "You don't need to apologize, Astoria. It's not your fault." Their mother had warned them to limit the time they spent out of their rooms, so as not to disturb their grandfather.

"Why couldn't I stay in the room on the first floor?"

"It's your Uncle Karl's room, dear, father is keeping it just the way he left it for when he returns." Cecily strolled in from the parlor.

"Wasn't he sentenced to life in Azkaban for his crimes as a Death Eater?"

Her mother hissed, squeezing Daphne's arm with such strength the girl winced. "You know better than to bring up such subjects in this home, young lady!"

"She's sorry, Mum! Please let her go!" Astoria, still trying to come to terms with what she'd seen her father do, was suddenly much more attuned to Daphne's treatment.

A smile spread across Cecily's face, bereft of any affection. "Of course, dear. Daphne, you're all right, aren't you?"

"Yes, mother. Of course."

"Good. Now, what are you two doing out of your rooms?"

"I was going to make Astoria something to eat."

"By yourself?" Her tinkling laughter showed how preposterous Cecily considered that idea. "Donny!" The Rosier's wrinkled, cantankerous elf appeared next to her with a pop! "Be a dear and make an afternoon snack for my daughters, won't you?"

"Yes, mistress." The elf vanished.

"See? No need for you to stomach your sister's cooking, darling. Now, be sure to keep it down and stay out of trouble. I need to go get ready, Maribeth Parkinson is having me over for tea."

"Mother, if you'd just tell the elf to help us, so Astoria can get up and down the stai-"

"Daphne, your grandfather has many duties for Donny and he is rather old. Don't worry, we won't be staying here much longer."

Astoria and Daphne exchanged glances. "Where are we going?"

"Home, of course. Now, enjoy your meal, girls. Astoria, don't forget you have your appointment at St. Mungo's tomorrow morning. Daphne will see you there and back." The Lady Greengrass' glide up the stairs was reminiscent of a model on the runway.

Tori wheeled herself into the dining room, coming to a stop next to where Daphne sat. "What are we going to do? We can't go home, Daphne!"

"I don't know. You can't stay here, though. This is no way for you to live, Tori." She combed her fingers through her sister's loose hair. "It'll be okay, I'll manage."

"No! I don't care if I have to stay upstairs, Daphne! Dad-, our father can't get a hold of you again!"

Daphne leaned over and wrapped her arms around Tori. "We'll get through it together, okay, Sis?" She sniffed, wiping her eyes with one hand without pulling back. "It's just you and me, Tori. Forever."

"Now, Harry, you remember the rules of this match?" Wally asked, warily.

"Charms only, no transfiguration or conjuration."

"That's right. Remember, this is all about you trying to shore up any weaknesses in your ability; I'm not going to be rattling off Severing Charms right away or anything."

Harry nodded, rolling his left shoulder to try and loosen it up. 'Must be a storm heading this way,' he thought. Ever since Madam Pomfrey had healed his shoulder this most recent time, he could feel a stiffness anytime the pressure changed. "I'm ready."

Wally rapid-fired four Knockback Jinxes, in a pattern at and around Harry. The younger boy slid between two and hopped over a third.

'Confundo,' he thought, and a mud-colored wave expanded outwards around the courtyard, splashing against Wally's Shield Charm. Harry next called out, "Incendio!" Only a sputter of flame emerged from his hand, his unfamiliarity with the spell visibly on display.

"Incendio!" Wally, however, was quite familiar with that charm. A stream of fire expelled from his wand in a steady line, as though issued from a flamethrower.

Harry grit his teeth. It was now or never. "PROTEGO!"

A thin blue sphere popped up around him, Wally's flames splashing around the barrier, but only momentarily. The Shield Charm failed, and Harry dove away from the encroaching fire, his robes singed and smoking.

"Hold!" Harry slowly got to his feet as Wally jogged towards him, his wand lowered. "I don't think I've ever seen you use a shield charm before, Harry."

"That was my first successful cast. Conjuration is a lot more natural for me, and usually offers the potential for a counter-attack."

"Transfiguration or conjuration is more versatile, yes. Still, that's a Fifth Year spell! You should congratulate yourself!"

Harry chuckled, gesturing to his robes and replied, "Save your congratulations for when I'm not literally smoking."

"Aw, come on now." Wally waved his wand, mending and repairing the younger boy's clothing. "Want to keep working on your charms a little more?"

"Actually..." Harry hesitated, but pressed on. "I'd like you to fire off as many spells at me as you can, as quickly as you can."

"Why?"

"You said last year that my dodges were predictable. I'd like you to beat that habit out of me."

The Charms student laughed. "Okay. Reflex training it is." He jogged back over to his side of the courtyard. "Ready?"

"Ready."

August 28, 1993

Draco Malfoy slowly packed his belongings into his trunk, unaware of his mother's gaze from the doorway.

"You've been so quiet this summer, Draco." Narcissa took a seat on his bed. "What's been bothering my darling boy?"

Draco hesitated, the brand new acromantula silk robes he'd purchased two weeks before held halfway to his trunk. "I've just been thinking through the last year."

"Your father said that Severus' reports were glowing with praise. We're so proud of you, honey!"

"No, I meant, about the girls. The ones that died, Mother."

Narcissa reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Yes? What's wrong?"

'So much!' he wanted to scream. "Well, they were both purebloods. They're who we're trying to preserve our society for. They're the reason we fight against the mudbloods, isn't it?"

"Oh my wonderful son! You make your your mother so proud. Such sympathy! You needn't worry yourself about what happened, Draco."

He cocked his head at her effusive praise. "But they were in my year, and they were pureblood. What if it had been me? Why did the 'right kind' of witch have to die?"

His mother held her hand over her open mouth, covering a dramatic gasp. "Draco, we'll never let anything happen to you. One day, you'll be the leader that Britain needs, just focus on that for right now and leave the rest to your father. We can't save everyone, and if good families betray their blood, there's really nothing we can do, is there?"

It occurred to Draco, for the first time, that his mother wasn't very bright. Watching her rationalize the death of a child of the Sacred Twenty-Eight was like watching a puppet mouth the words of a ventriloquist. His mother spoke, but the words that emerged were his father's.

She gently stroked his blond hair. "Is anything else bothering you, dear?"

"No mother. I just want to get everything packed up for the Express."

"Nonsense! Why don't you go take a spin on your broom? Elf!" A house elf, covered in yellow and brown bruises with one ear heavily bandaged, popped into the room. "Pack my son's school things, and leave his trunk by the door."

Draco stood up and stiffly walked out of his room, leaving his mother to snap at the elf for not folding a shirt correctly. Everything was just so upside down. Maybe his godfather would have some advice once he got to Hogwarts.

Daphne took a deep breath and stepped into the green fire, emerging into the familiar parlor of her family home. Her mother and Astoria were waiting on the other side along with Lucas, who stood near the doorway on the other side of the room.

"Daphne." She flinched when he said her name but quickly composed herself. "May I speak with you privately?"

"No! She's not going anywhere with you, Father." The snarl accompanying her words looked so alien on Astoria's face that now Lucas was the one flinching, startled by the vitriol in his youngest daughter's voice.

"You three can catch up for a little while, but make it quick. Lydia is coming over for tea, and I will not be embarrassed in my own home, understood?" Cecily gave a hard look at the room's occupants, though by the time she got to Lucas it was more of a hateful glare. She then gracefully strolled out of the room.

'Of course,' Daphne thought. 'Tea with Mrs. Carrow.' She realized that was the cause of their sudden departure from the Rosier home. Lydia fawned over Cecily like a hanger-on with a celebrity, her mother fed on that like a lion on a gazelle.

"But-, Mum, wait..." Astoria was much more taken aback by her mother's actions, disbelief that Cecily would leave Daphne alone with Lucas evident on her face.

"Astoria," Lucas said, walking towards his youngest. "I missed you so much."

"Don't touch me." His face fell at her flinty rebuke.

"Very well. Daphne, I know that we'll never move past what I did to you. I want you both to know I've stopped drinking, and I will be staying at our commercial office until the two of you head to school."

Daphne nodded, still standing in front of the fireplace.

"There's, there are thing things you don't know about, things that I've done that I thought were in service of your future." He flopped into a nearby chair and fisted his hair with both hands. "I justified it by saying that I was being loyal to friends, or that the money was worth it. But I have been party to terrible things."

Neither girl responded, so he took a deep breath and continued. "I wanted to tell you that I'm going to change. I'm going to be a better man."

He stood up from his chair. "Daphne, I'm sorry. Astoria, I'd like to apologize to you, also. I love you both."

Before he left the room, Daphne finally found her voice. "What did you mean when you said our family has taken everything from Harry?"

Without turning to face her, Lucas replied, "That's not something I'm ready for you to know." He then continued out of the room.

"C'mon, Tori, let's get you settled back into your room."

"Sam, the whole section is heading to the Four Horsemen for some cocktails, you in?"

"Ah, thanks fellas, but I'm still unpacking. Perhaps next time?" His coworkers waved goodbye before hurrying out towards the T station. Sam closed his briefcase and made his way out of the lab. Hopping onto a bus, he walked up the stairs to his apartment, unlocking the door and dropping his work things just inside the entrance.

Sitting down at the table in the cramped kitchenette of his spartan one-bedroom apartment, he reached over and picked up a heavy tome on the history and structure of the Magical Congress. Continuing where he'd left off that morning before work, he jotted down some notes.

"The Magical Archives are located at... the National Archives. Okay, that makes sense." He finished writing his sentence, closing the book and setting it aside before reaching out for a quill and parchment. Sam pulled out an introductory chemistry textbook and flipped to the entry on chlorine. He began to take notes in his neat, flowing script, writing out instructions and recommendations to Harry.

Boston was nice, he decided. Nice and safe.

September 1, 1993

"It's the big day, Harry! You excited?"

"Yea, I am. Which House were you in again?"

Wally smiled and thumped his chest. "The best House. Thunderbird!"

Repressing a shiver at the memory of Melody Marx from the last day of the previous term, Harry nodded politely. "Anywhere will be fine, I guess."

"Which electives did you decide on?"

"Runes, Enchanting, and Introductory Medicine. Plus, Professor Howe told me I'd be attending Transfiguration with the Fifth Years."

"That's a heavy course load."

Harry shook his head. "Not exactly. I dropped History, Herbology, and Astronomy. I tried to get out of Potions, but apparently it's a required OWL in the MACUSA."

Wally laughed at Harry's sullen tone. "You scoff now, but you'll be grateful someday that you can tell the difference between a Strengthening Solution and the Draught of Living Death!"

"Fair enough. Do you have to sit through the Receiving Ceremony, even though you've already graduated?"

"No, Mastery students are exempt from required events for the general students." Despite his words, Wally stepped into the Ceremonial Hall alongside Harry. "I'm just here to support you. Hey, Manny."

"Jacobs, Harry. Saved you guys a seat." Manny Jimenez, the Transfiguration Mastery student had three seats among a largely empty section far away from where the ceremony would occur. Manny motioned with his head towards three men leaning against the wall behind them. "Check it out, Jacobs."

Wally glanced over his shoulder, then quickly turned back around. "Is that...?" he whispered.

"Yep. Congressmen Thompson and Butler. And I heard from Sasha the other man with them is from the Ghost."

"The newspaper? Is that normal?"

The two Mastery students vehemently shook their heads. "Definitely not. Ilvermorny almost never makes the news; it's a big country, and the Ghost is the only national daily."

"Great. Well, guess I'd better go say hello." Harry stood up and prepared to walk over to the three men, before Wally grabbed onto his arm.

"What! Harry, you can't be serious! Congressman Butler is the General Butler. He led the 2nd Guards Battalion in clearing the Tribal shamans out of Alcatraz Island in the 60s. He's a hero!"

Harry grinned. "So am I, did you forget?"

He approached the three men, two of them dressed in ornate, stylized robes. "Hello, I'm Harry Potter."

The third man, dressed in unremarkable brown robes, immediately stepped up to shake his hand. "Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure. I've been reading all about you ever since I got this assignment. I'm Preston Hancock, it's an honor!"

Harry gave his best imitation of Lockhart's movie star smile. "Relax, Preston. I put my robes on one arm at a time, just like you. Congressmen? I'm flattered you'd take the time out of your busy schedules to come meet me."

"Settle down, Potter. We're just here for the photos once you receive your offer." The Congressman on the left was gruff, his tone short and irritated. "Not all of us can coast to an unopposed win for our seat every five years."

The Congressman on the right was much more approachable, giving an easy grin to his colleague and shaking Harry's proferred hand. "Don't mind Thompson here. He's not used to the altitude. I'm Irving Butler, Harry. Rumors say you killed a basilisk a few months back. There any truth to that?"

Harry considered telling him to buy a copy of the book like everyone else. Instead, he responded, "It's true. I lucked out and blinded it while it was focused on my defense professor. From there, it was just a matter of playing defense until an opening presented itself."

Butler had seen combat. He could tell the boy was holding things back. The tightness around his eyes, the way his smile became just a tiny bit brittle mirrored his own face every time he was asked about his 'heroics'. "Well, you know what they say – fortune favors the bold, but ladies love the lucky."

Harry hadn't heard that, and let out a genuine laugh, while the reporter furiously scribbled notes on the two conversing like old friends.

"Congressmen," Harry said, noting that the Hall was now full, and the incoming First Years were beginning to line up. "Which Houses were you in? I'd like to have some inspiration should I receive more than one offer."

Thompson, by now realizing that Harry was going to be more than a simple photo opportunity, instead likely a full column in the Ghost, smiled and replied, "I was a Horned Serpent, Harry. It was a good preparation for trying to keep up with the brilliant minds in the Magical Congress. You'd do well in my former House."

Butler, meanwhile, was looking out at the assembled children preparing to receive their offers. "It's hard to believe it's already been sixty years since I was in their shoes. I was a Pukwudgie, Mr. Potter. Compassion, especially in a life like yours, is a lesson well worth learning." He looked meaningfully at the boy before reaching out to shake Harry's hand once more. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

Harry walked back to his seat, weighing the Congressman's words in his mind. He ignored Wally and Manny's questions, halfheartedly focusing on the First Year's Receiving Ceremonies while replaying Butler's comment in his mind.

Each First Year was called forward, stepping onto an embossed seal on the floor that was shaped like the Ilvermorny crest. Four statues lined the walls in front of the seal, each in the shape of one of the four symbols of the Ilvermorny Houses. As soon as the students stood on the seal, one or more of the statues would light up, signifying an offer of placement in that House. When more than one statue was illuminated, the student was asked to enunciate which offer they accepted. Absent the need for conversation and legilimency, it was a much faster process than Hogwarts' sorting.

'Compassion?' he thought. 'After what I've had to endure?' Orphaned twice over. Taken two lives before he even reached his teenage years. Where was the compassion from the monsters that stole every ounce of happiness from his life? Harry felt his magic raging inside him, uncoiling as his mind's eye imagined the last moments of both of his families. 'Compassion? Never!'

His name was called. Harry stepped forward, walking as if in a trance. A hushed silence fell over the student body, as they took in the sight of the legendary 13-year old, his eyes alight with emerald flame, stepping onto the enchanted seal. Harry felt something foreign wash over him, a subtle probing similar to the sensation he felt when he did the meditative exercises Professor Batisseur showed him.

All four statues remained dark.

Neville exchanged a fond embrace with his grandmother before checking his pocket for his wand and for Trevor, grabbing his trunk and hopping on board the Express. He walked slowly through the corridor, feeling a little dazed and lost. No Hannah, no Harry, no Hermione. Guess it would just be him and Susan on this trip. 'I wonder if she'd be all right with Ron sitting with us?'

Neville saw Cho Chang in front of him, escorting three First Years up the corridor in the same direction he was walking. Summer had apparently treated her well, the Ravenclaw seeker looking even more stunning than she did last year. He caught the tail end of her comments to the new students as he approached.

"-why you'll want to stay away from her. Especially you, the muggleborn. Loony's... well, she's handicapped. Mentally, you know."

"Hey!"

Cho and the firsties turned around, seeing Neville squeezing his trunk handle with white knuckles. "Longbottom? What's your problem?"

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"Luna, you snobby bint. Where is she?"

Cho's face displayed her shock, the attractive girl clearly unused to being spoken to in such a manner, especially by a boy. One of the First Years spoke up, uncomfortable at being caught between the silent Ravenclaw and the furious Gryffindor.

"If you're talking about the strange blonde girl, she's in the second compartment from the entrance to this car."

Neville nodded at the young student. "Chang was right about one thing; you should stay from certain students, but Luna's not one of them."

He turned and hustled back in the direction he'd come, jerking open the compartment door to find Luna curled up, chin tucked on top of her knees, staring at a ripped up copy of The Quibbler on the floor of the compartment.

"Luna, hey," he said in a gentle tone. "Why don't you come with me and find Susan? I know she'll be excited to see you, too."

The blonde Ravenclaw, looking like she hadn't grown an inch over the summer, looked up at Neville with her wide, silvery eyes. "Hi, Neville. Have you seen Harry?"

"No, Luna, I haven't. Did you hear from him over the summer?"

"I didn't. Do friends normally write to each other? I'd hoped he would, but I never got a letter."

"I'm not sure why, but owls couldn't find Harry this summer. I know he would have written you if he could, Luna. Come on, I'll get your trunk and we'll go find Susan."

A ghost of a smile made its way onto her face. "Okay!"

The two continued up through the corridor, eventually catching sight of Susan's crimson hair spread out where she lay on the compartment seat.

"Susan? It's Neville and Luna." The Hufflepuff did not respond, light snores sounding from the girl. "Susan?"

Luna slipped past Neville into the compartment. "I think she's asleep."

"I think so, too," Neville whispered in reply. "Let's keep quiet and let her wake up on her own." The two sat down next to each other across from Susan. "Why don't you tell me about your summer, Luna?"

The tiny blonde's face lit up and she began to regale Neville about her trip to Greenland in search of ice sprites. The train ride went on, with Neville and Luna gradually increasing the volume of their conversation, but still eliciting no reaction from the sleeping girl.

"Well, we should probably change into our robes. Luna, why don't you wake up Susan to get changed while I pop into the loo?"

Neville closed the compartment door behind him, quickly finding a bathroom to change into his robes before returning and standing outside where Luna and Susan were getting changed. He'd only been there a few moments before the door cracked, and Luna peeked out.

"Neville, you should come in here."

He stepped back inside. "Luna, you really need to get changed."

"Susan won't wake up, Neville."

"Hey, Sue!" He called out in a voice well above his normal tone. "Susan, wake up!"

"I think something is wrong."

Neville nodded absentmindedly in agreement with Luna, kneeling down next to the Hufflepuff and shaking her shoulder. No response. He gently tapped her on the cheek. No response.

"Luna, go find a prefect."

"All right, Fontaine, you'd better have an explanation." Harry, the Headmaster, and the two Congressmen were back in the Headmaster's office after the debacle during the Receiving Ceremony. Fontaine had welcomed the First Years and announced the beginning of the feast before shepherding Harry and the two dignitaries out of the Hall.

"I can tell you there's nothing wrong with the enchantments on the seal or the statues. He was judged, and no House made him an offer."

Thompson gave a derisive snort. "Then just declare him a part of whichever House the boy chooses so we can get on with this."

The Headmaster raised an eyebrow. "That goes against Ilvermorny's charter. Not to mention, without an offer, all of the magic that recognizes him as a student would be nonfunctional. I'm afraid it's not just a matter of filling out a blank line on a piece of parchment."

"Wonderful. So not only do we not get any useful press out of this, now I have to go explain to that idiot reporter why he can't publish anything about Potter. Can't have it come out that no House at Ilvermorny wants him; better to just not mention him at all." Thompson stormed out of the office without another word.

The Headmaster gestured for Harry and Congressman Butler to take a seat. "Harry, Professor Batisseur told me that you mentioned a medical condition as the reason you do not use a wand. Perhaps that is the root cause of this issue?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I was told that my magic never stabilized, but I don't know if that would affect this receiving process."

"Would you object to one of our healers checking you over?"

"Yes, that's fine." Fontaine moved to his fireplace to summon the appropriate staff.

"So, Harry, how do you feel?" Butler asked.

"Surprised, I guess. If this isn't sorted out, am I going to have to leave Ilvermorny?"

"No, Harry, you won't have to go." Fontaine returned from the fireplace with an elderly man in healer's robes. "I promised you a full year at Ilvermorny, and I'll stand by my word, regardless of this outcome. Whatever happens, you'll have a home at Ilvermorny this year if you desire."

Butler made an approving noise at Fontaine's speech, and a bit of Harry's tension eased. He stood from his chair to better facilitate the healer's work.

"I can confirm what Mr. Potter told you, Headmaster, but I am not seeing any reason why the enchantments should have failed in the manner they did."

Fontaine stroked his chin, giving Harry a thoughtful glance. "Harry, earlier in the Ceremonial Hall, your eyes were glowing. Was there something in particular that you were reacting to in that moment?"

Harry's mind jumped to the rage he'd felt at the thought of showing compassion to the people that had murdered his family, the people that he would take his vengeance upon...

"Here's something." The healer had been running diagnostic charms, looked over towards the Headmaster. "Mr. Potter, you do not have to answer this question if there is any risk to you in doing so, but are you under a magical oath?"

"Yes. I'm part of a business agreement with my publisher that was sealed with a vow. Did that interfere with the process somehow?"

"No," the healer said in confusion. "Such arrangements are generally the sole use of a magical oath. They're far too risky to be used outside of extremely specific situations – making an oath upon your magic in service of something vague and nebulous most often ends in disaster." The healer returned his wand to his sleeve. "I'm sorry I don't have a better answer for you, Headmaster."

"That's all right, thank you for coming so promptly." After the healer exited through the Floo, Fontaine briefly returned to his desk, grabbing some parchment. "Harry, Congressman, I need to confirm something, if you'll excuse me. I won't be gone but for a few minutes. Would you care for any refreshments while I'm gone?"

"I'll have a cup of coffee, if you don't mind. Two sugars."

"A cup of tea for me."

Fontaine threw some Floo powder into the fireplace and relayed instructions for beverages to be provided, then hurried out of the office. A few seconds later, a Pukwudgie emerged from the Floo holding a tray with steaming mugs of coffee and tea.

"Agilbert's an honorable man, isn't he?"

Harry blew on his drink to cool it before taking a sip. "He seems that way."

"You were worried he would send you back to England, weren't you?"

"No."

"No?" Butler stirred his coffee with the provided spoon. "I understand that there has been quite a bit of tragedy in your life since you rejoined British magical society."

Harry raised his eyebrows, as though questioning what the Congressman meant.

Butler chuckled, despite the gravity of their topic. "Come, Mr. Potter, did you really think that a child as well-known as yourself could show up, unaccompanied, with a tourist's visa on an international portkey and we wouldn't look more deeply into your background? I know enough to understand what drove you across the Atlantic."

"And?"

"I don't mean to pry. I only meant that it is understandable why you'd be afraid to go back to Great Britain."

"I think, Congressman, that they should be afraid of my return."

Whatever Butler planned to say in response to that, the chance was taken away as Headmaster Fontaine returned to the office with Professor Howe in tow. "Harry, I believe I may have come up with a solution for our little problem. Professor, if you'd explain."

Professor Gordon Howe was a tall, middle-aged man around fifty years of age. He had immaculately styled brown hair and broad shoulders. "Harry, as you may have guessed from the number of times I've called you to my office since Manuel introduced us, I believe you have the makings of a true prodigy in the field of transfiguration."

"Thank you, Professor. That's rather flattering, coming from someone of your stature."

"Well, the Headmaster mentioned the problem that you're facing, and I have a proposition for you. I have to tell you up front – this won't be easy. I'll be asking you to do what I'd never expect any student your age to accomplish. But I believe you have the aptitude to do it."

"Just get on with it, Howe."

"My apologies, Congressman. Harry, I'm willing to take you on as a student, ostensibly in pursuit of your Mastery in Transfiguration."

Harry's jaw dropped. "But, I'm a Third Year!"

"Indeed you are. While the overwhelming majority of students that pursue their Mastery have a full complement of NEWTs, ICW educational standards only require a NEWT in your particular field of study."

"I don't even have any OWLs, much less a NEWT in Transfiguration."

"Yes, we're well aware of that, Harry." Fontaine interjected. "However, if you were to complete your OWLs during Yule Break, Professor Howe is confident that you will be able to properly prepare yourself for the theory portion of your Trasnfiguration NEWT before the school year ends."

Professor Howe grinned. "You already far outstrip the practical portions, as I've told you before."

Butler set down his coffee and spoke up. "That's a lot to ask of a 13-year old."

"It is," the Headmaster replied, "But as I said, no matter how it works out, Harry, you may remain at Ilvermorny until next summer."

"I'll do it. Thank you, Professor, for this opportunity, and you, Headmaster, for coming up with a solution for me. I won't forget what you've done for me."

"Think nothing of it, Harry. I'm confident that my own research will benefit from having someone as naturally gifted in my field as you." Indeed, Howe looked positively gleeful.

"Well, it might have took longer than we'd expected," Fontaine shot a relieved smile around the room. "But allow me to officially say it. Welcome to Ilvermorny, Harry Potter."

Susan opened her eyes, immediately realizing something was wrong. She was on a bed, first of all. When she'd got on the Express, she told herself she'd only take half of a vial of Dreamless Sleep; just enough to blur out Hannah's absence on the train ride.

"I'm glad you're finally awake."

Susan looked over to her left, wincing at the expression on her Aunt Amelia's face. "Auntie, what are you doing here?"

Amelia leaned forward, cupping her niece's cheek. "Susie, I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you."

Susan brushed her hand away, sitting up in bed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. When the prefects on the Express couldn't wake you, they sounded an alarm. The train stopped about an hour from Hogsmeade, so that Madam Pomfrey could apparate on board and bring you to the Hospital Wing."

The blood drained from Susan's face as the mortification set in. "Oh no, I'm going to be humiliated for this tomorrow." She said, miserably.

Amelia shook her head, the normally stern woman's face showing her anguish. "No, you won't, Susan. You're leaving Hogwarts tonight for St. Mungo's."

"What?! Why?"

Madam Pomfrey's voice spoke up from Susan's right. "How long have you been taking Dreamless Sleep Potion, Miss Bones?" Susan didn't respond, merely closing her eyes so that she didn't have to see her Aunt's disappointed face. "Miss Bones, do you know why Dreamless Sleep Potion carries so many warnings about its addictive properties?"

"I'm not addicted to it."

Amelia flicked her wand, and Susan's open school trunk floated over. A wooden box from an apothecary opened up, showing two dozen full vials in neat rows. "Mimsy opened the drawer on your nightstand when I asked. There was nearly fifty empty vials inside. Don't lie to me, Susan!"

Madam Pomfrey continued, her calm voice cutting through the Bones' argument. "Miss Bones, Dreamless Sleep Potion, especially among those who have endured traumatic experiences, tends to produce a euphoric sensation just before sleep, followed by a very melancholic withdrawal upon waking. If you're taking it in the quantity your aunt says, I'm guessing you can't go a full day without it, can you?"

Susan clutched at her hair, bunching the deep red strands between her fingers. "I'm not addicted to it, it just helps me with the nightmares. I've got it under control, and you had no right to-"

"Susan Victoria Bones." Amelia's low tone was a step above a growl. "If you don't stop lying to me this instant and tell us the tru-"

"Madam Bones, perhaps you should let me have a word with your niece alone." Amelia looked over at the mediwitch in surprise.

"Poppy-"

"Amelia." The steadfastness in Pomfrey's eyes was unrelenting. Amelia reached for Susan's hand and gave it a brief squeeze, then stood and walked out of the infirmary.

"Why don't you let me take a stab at what happened. You started having nightmares, but when you woke up, things didn't get better. You spent your days trying not to think about what you've lost, and your nights reliving that loss over and over. Am I on track so far?"

Susan didn't verbally react to Madam Pomfrey's words, but a single tear slid down her cheek. "You remembered the feeling of the potion I gave you after the incident in the Third Floor Corridor your First Year. It must have been such a relief, when you closed your eyes to fall asleep, and then open them hours later with nary a single wisp of a dream or nightmare in between. But the more that you used it at night, the more you couldn't escape your thoughts during the day. Dreamless Sleep requires inexpensive ingredients and is easily produced in great quantities. Did you buy it yourself, or did you send your elf?"

"Auntie had a stock at home, for when she goes out in the field. After that, I sent Mimsy with gold from my trust vault." Susan's voice was so quiet it was barely audible.

"You must have been desperate by the time you got on the Express. You went, what, seven, eight hours in your Aunt's company without a sip? No wonder you couldn't resist once you were alone on the train."

The Hufflepuff quietly began to cry, hunched over in the bed. "I only took a half-vial. I never wanted this to happen!"

"That's part of the addiction, Susan." Madam Pomfrey sat down on the bed next to the girl and put a comforting arm around her. "The deeper you fall into your dependency, the more the effects of Dreamless Sleep are magnified. A little longer, with the rate you've been taking the potion, and you wouldn't wake up at all. We're not angry with you, dear, we're afraid for you."

"So what happens now?"

"You'll go to St. Mungo's for a purification ritual, to flush the Dreamless Sleep Potion out of your system. Then, you'll spend some time with a mind healer." Susan made to object, but Pomfrey held up her hand to forestall her comment. "This isn't optional, Susan. Your aunt has already agreed. We're going to get you help."

"But, my classes! How long will I be gone?"

"The mind healer will determine how long your treatments last. I'm sure you'll be back before Yule. I know that some schoolwork will be provided for you at St. Mungo's, you won't be that far behind."

Susan buried her face in her hands. She felt so pathetic, so utterly ashamed, that she wished she could just disappear. "When will I leave?"

"I've alerted St. Mungo's. They're expecting you tomorrow morning. Tonight will be difficult for you, Susan, but after the purification ritual your physical withdrawals will lessen." The healer stood from the bed, smoothing out her uniform. "I'll go gather your aunt so that you and she can spend some time together."

A few minutes later, Amelia sat down next to her niece, while Madam Pomfrey retreated to her office to give the two some privacy.

"I just don't understand why you didn't tell me!"

"I'm sorry, Auntie."

"I know that I've been busy-"

"You're never home! You leave me in that house alone, every day!"

Amelia recoiled from Susan's anger. "You're right. I'm sorry. If you knew what was happening, the reasons that I've been away so much... I wouldn't be gone if it weren't important."

"It's fine." Susan crossed her arms and lay back in the bed. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm very worried about you, Susan! We're all the family each other has, I'm terrified of losing you!"

"Then you should act like it!"

The two sat in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes. "I'll leave you in peace. But I'm going to be a regular visitor at St. Mungo's. We're going to work this out, Susan, I promise."

"Just go."

"I love you." Amelia kissed the top of her niece's head, and left the Hospital Wing.

The hours passed, and Madam Pomfrey's words were prophetic. Susan's night was consumed with bouts of nausea, double-vision, blinding headaches, and tremors so violent they might have been seizures. When sunlight finally broke through the window blinds, Susan looked like she'd been through a train wreck.

It must be breakfast by now. All the other students were making their way to the Great Hall, preparing to receive their schedules. Gossiping about her, no doubt. A scratching at the nearby window drew her attention, the Prophet's tawny owl seeking entrance with a paper clutched in its talons.

Susan listlessly rose from the bed and opened the window, allowing the owl to release its burden and zip back outdoors. Seeking any distraction from her discomfort, Susan glanced at the headlines of the morning edition.

Where is Harry Potter?

A/N: Moving right along. You guys didn't really think I was going to write about Third Year classes in two different schools, did you? :P

Harry learned some things from Lockhart after all!

A few comments on the violence: there will be a lot of it in this story. Not all of it will be against people that deserve it. Not to worry, Third Year will should be relatively tame.

trala: thanks for the very flattering words!

bittatat: thanks for the ideas!

Ordinarily Prudent: you basically summed it up exactly!

And everyone should check out the wonderfully entertaining reviews from SmutleyDo-Wrong. They're great!

Thanks everyone for the reviews. Glad that (most of) you are enjoying the story!