Chapter XXXIII

"This is all that remains?"

A rather unimpressive pile of ashes sat on a thick wooden table. Dumbledore and Croaker stood on opposite sides of the table, one casting detection charms, the other staring impassively.

"That's it. As you can see, the Fiendfyre was quite thorough in destroying the vessel."

"So I see. Were there any usual complications upon the destruction of the Horcrux?"

Croaker nodded. "A scream was heard, audible over the roar of the demonic flames. We took that as confirmation that the soul fragment was dislodged."

With a loud exhalation, Dumbledore gave a small smile. "Then I believe congratulations are in order, wouldn't you say? I believe we just ended a war that has yet to begin."

February 14, 1994

Susan looked around the Great Hall. With many of her yearmates now 14 years old (her own birthday being a month away), Valentine's Day had taken on a new significance. Megan Jones was sitting with Michael Corner at the Ravenclaw table, blushing over the flowers he'd presented her. Cho Chang was at the Hufflepuff table, giggling at the plethora of gifts that Cedric Diggory had provided her.

She looked wistfully at Blaise Zabini, remembering Hannah's long-standing crush on the Italian Slytherin. He was making faces at the garish bracelet that Draco Malfoy had given to Pansy Parkinson, chuckling along with Daphne and Tracey.

"Good morning, Susan," she shook herself out of her thoughts, looking up to see Justin Finch-Fletchley. He had been helping her catch up on her schoolwork since her return from St. Mungo's. Justin, having been petrified part of a term last year, understood the difficulty in being behind in lessons, the handsome muggleborn going out of his way to give Susan his notes from earlier in the year and help her practice her spells.

"Thanks, same to you, Justin," her gaze drifted down from his face to the heart-shaped box he held at his side. 'It's not like I need to be eating more, but that's so sweet of him,' she thought to herself, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. "Would you like to have breakfast with me?"

"Ah, well, um, I would, but-" he edged away from Susan, his eyes looking past her, "I actually needed to see Sophie."

Susan half-turned as he walked past her, following with her peripheral vision the squeal of excitement from her fellow Hufflepuff and the long hug that Sophie Roper gave Justin in response to his gift. She looked down at her breakfast, suddenly not feeling so hungry, tears of embarrassment and shame pricking at her eyes. Why had she thought he'd be interested in her? She was the Potions Princess (Pansy's name having unfortunately stuck), the Bones Balloon, the junkie. What boy would be interested in her, after how often she'd been the subject of jokes and mockery over the last few years?

Lost in her thoughts, it was a few moments before she realized someone had sat down across from her and slid an envelope towards her.

"Good morning, Susan!"

"Luna?" She looked up at the short blonde, then at the envelope in front of her. "You, uh, you got me a valentine?"

"Not a valentine, silly, but something for Valentine's Day."

Susan's light blue eyes crinkled in confusion, but she opened the envelope. Inside were five bay leaves. "What is this?"

"It's an old Divination ritual. Wet the leaves in rose water, and tonight place one at each corner of your pillow, and one in the center and you'll dream of your future love."

"Oh. I haven't heard of that before. Thank you."

"Can I eat here with you?"

"Sure, Luna, of course. Is Neville late to breakfast today?" She'd noticed that the Second Year Ravenclaw often spent breakfast at the Gryffindor table.

"No, he took Padma to the kitchens for a more private meal."

Susan coughed, almost choking on her tea. "Neville, and Padma? Padma Patil?"

Luna nodded primly. "He asked her almost a week ago, during the Hogsmeade visit last weekend."

"I see. Well, good for Neville. And Padma, too, she's a lucky witch to have a guy like him interested." Her Aunt had refused to sign her permission slip for Hogsmeade visits, given that there was an apothecary in the village. One more thing to set her apart from the other students.

"Would you like to have dinner with me in the kitchens tonight? It's nice and quiet, and the elves are always happy for company."

Susan met Luna's stare, taking in the silvery eyes and gentle smile. "I'd like that, Luna, thank you."

"Mr. Caruso, please explain your enchantment for the class."

The Third Year Pukwudgie stood up and walked to the front of the class, holding a piece of parchment. "This piece of parchment has layered charms that automatically correct for grammar and spelling. I tried to model my enchantment off of Dicta-Quills."

"And the result?"

Adam pursed his lips. "Mostly positive. It, uh, it struggles with magical vocabulary."

"Perhaps, then, you can market it to Nomaj. I'm sure it will be well-received."

There were a few chuckles here and there, but for the most part, the class remained silent. Each of them had been on the receiving end of Professor Reilly's mean-spirited comments. "I'll do better next time, Professor."

"I should hope so. Take an Acceptable for your efforts. Now, Mr. Potter. Let's see what atrocity you've come up with today. Is it too much to hope that your efforts today will be even semi-functional?"

Harry reluctantly stood and walked to the front of the room. "For my assignment, I worked an aguamenti charm into an alarm clock. This way, when the set time is reached, a spray of water will shoot out, ensuring that the user will wake up on-"

"Mr. Potter. Are you trying to tell me that you enchanted a piece of Nomaj machinery?"

"Well, I tried to. The enchantment didn't exactly take hold." Harry held out a warped mechanical clock.

"So not only did you enchant a Nomaj artifact, which by the way is against the law, you also enchanted an object to accomplish a function that a basic, elementary charm already exists to perform."

Harry cocked his head. "There's a spell that sets alarms?" A few titters from the class sounded in response to his question.

"Yes. A simple modification to the tempus charm. Really, Mr. Potter, what do they teach you in England?" Harry didn't respond to the professor's sarcasm. Enchanting, much like Charms, was not his strongest area. "So. You failed to enchant an object to serve a purpose that a simple Charm already accomplishes. Troll for you. Again."

Harry shrugged with one shoulder, taking his mangled clock back to his seat while Professor Reilly announced the assignment that was due for the next class. Honestly, Reilly didn't compare to Snape - the man had never once insulted his birth parents, after all. 'Not to mention, I turned down a Mastery at age 13. It's not as though I'm not academically inclined.'

The class ended, and Harry exited the classroom into the chaos of Ilvermorny's corridors. He stuck close to Adam, who remained the only Pukwudgie that he was familiar with.

"So, big plans for the holiday? You must have something going on tonight."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's Valentine's Day, Harry! C'mon, you must have a date."

"'Must', really?"

"You should spend more time with me, I'd have set you up. I know at least two girls in Pukwudgie that would have taken you out into the forest and proved the irrelevance of Warming Charms."

Harry looked at Adam in confusion, until the American boy continued, "I'm talking about making out, man! Jeez, are all you Brits so stuffy?"

"Oh. I, uh, appreciate the offer, but I have something I need to take care of."

Adam grabbed onto Harry's shoulder, holding him in place. "Wait - you're not meeting Melody later, are you?"

"Huh? Of course not. Why would you think that?"

Adam chuckled. "I figured she was lying. Marx has been claiming for months that you and her have some secret romance going. Don't worry, almost no one believes her."

"I don't suppose it matters either way. Listen, I need to go, I'll see you next class, okay?"

"Later, Harry!"

Hustling back to the Mastery quarters, Harry pulled out the reply from Sam regarding the issue of gathering information from the Traditionalists in England, looking over the relevant passage again.

With the success of your book release, and your frequent public appearances in your Second Year, your popularity was at its peak when we left for America. It wouldn't take much of a nudge to suggest to the public that the reason for your disappearance was to flee from the person that is targeting you. The Potters, your relatives, Norm and Diane; it's no secret that anyone you're close to dies.

What we need is an appropriate target to blame. If we put out the idea that you left out of fear that your next family would be murdered by a muggleborn out to get you, it would be plausible for you to willingly land with Selwyn and the other Traditionalists. You're lucky that Lockhart didn't explicitly endorse muggle rights.

We need to think hard about this, though. We've been gone for almost a year, we don't know what effects using this idea will have.

Harry weighed over Sam's words. 'Would the Traditionalists really buy a story like that?' It was true that he and Lockhart had never endorsed muggle rights when campaigning against the Potter Preservation Plan. He'd always publicly maintained a somewhat neutral stance on the entire issue of blood in magical society. 'All I need is an 'in', and I can handle the rest,' he assured himself.

Settling on his bunk, Harry pulled out a piece of parchment and began drafting a letter to Perrault, working out the language of the press release he'd have his publisher release, along with a request for all of the information the man could provide on the site where Madam Zabini met her end. Just a little more, and he'd be ready. He'd butcher every last one of Diane and Norm's murderers, fulfill his oath, and then…

Well, then he'd finally be free.

February 21, 1994

Bartemius Crouch, Senior, sat in his favorite armchair in the darkness of his home. Several empty bottles of wine surrounded him, Barty having foregone a glass hours ago in favor of more alcohol faster.

Things in Magical Britain were changing, and not for the better. A familiar darkness loomed on the horizon, like storm clouds in waiting. His eyes, glazed over from the wine, latched on to the unmoving portrait of his late wife, Doris, the woman he'd sacrificed all of his principles for.

"I'm sorry, dear. I tried, I really did."

It was at Doris' urging that he'd violated his ironclad ethics and smuggled his violently insane son out of Azkaban's High Security Wing. It had been the last act of his political career, garnered with the few remaining shreds of his once sterling reputation. He'd arranged for a visit with his terminally ill wife to their son, where they'd made the switch - his dying wife for their son, Barty Jr. The dreadful conditions at Azkaban had finished her in less than 48 hours, and he'd spent over a decade keeping his unrepentant murderer of a son under the Imperius Curse.

All of that was over now. With the rest of the Death Eaters being transferred out of the High Security Wing and into the general population of Azkaban Prison, the writing was on the wall. Whether it was Malfoy pulling Fudge's strings, or Nott and Selwyn manipulating the Wizengamot, Bartemius estimated that the Death Eaters would be free before the end of the year.

Despite being a formidable wizard in his own right, Crouch was aging. It was becoming harder and harder to override his son's hatred and rage with his own will. He had to recast the Curse far more often than he did even a year ago. And if he were ever to slip, even for a moment, he knew that Barty Jr. would go right back to committing unspeakable atrocities in the name of his psychopathic master.

"Winky." His loyal, dependable servant popped into the room. "How is my son?"

"Barty Junior be staring at the wall, just as master ordered him to. Would master be wanting dinner?"

Winky had been a good elf. She'd loved Doris with an affection he'd rarely encountered in house elves. Though he'd never been especially sympathetic towards elves, she'd deserved better than the life he'd provided her since his wife's death.

"No, Winky. Come closer, please," Bartemius removed his handkerchief from his front pocket, and handed it to the elf. "You're released from your service. You've been a fine elf, and deserve a better family than the one you've served. I hope your next master is an honorable man."

The elf's bulbous eyes filled with tears, and a loud wailing sob sounded before she disappeared with a pop! That loose end tied up, Crouch Sr. stood on unsteady feet, stumbling towards his son's room. He looked at his boy, at the face he'd once been so proud of, and felt nothing but disgust. He'd raised a monster. Bartemius had been the Head of the DMLE; he'd personally pinned Frank Longbottom's auror badge to his robes at his academy graduation.

"Would that you could have been more like the man you ruined," he said to his unresponsive son. "I should have done this years ago."

Barty Jr. didn't respond, just continued staring at the wall, his face blank and his body motionless. Crouch Sr. was tempted to release him from the Imperius, if only for his son to recognize what was about to happen. But there was no need to tempt fate. He had to make certain there was no escape.

"Ignis infernum."

The Fiendfyre roared out of his wand, surrounding and immolating his son in seconds. Bartemius Crouch, upon ensuring that even the bleached bones of Barty Crouch Jr. were reduced to ash, released control of the demonic flames and died with a smile on his face.

March 2, 1994

"I can't say I didn't see this coming, though it's all the more bitter given the reasons it occurred." Amelia poured herself a cup of tea, knowing better than to offer any to her guest. "Still, it grates on my sense of decency that Malfoy was awarded a seat on the Wizengamot following Crouch's death."

"Aye," agreed Moody, "always knew he'd weasel his way onto the 'Mot someday, but to have him take over old Barty's seat doesn't seem right, given that the man spent his life fighting against the exact type of scum that Malfoy represents." The heavily scarred man took a swig from his hip flask.

"It's troubling, given the way that Malfoy manipulates Fudge, and the splintering of the Conservative faction after Dumbledore's fall from grace, that the Traditionalists essentially have control of both the Ministry and the Wizengamot."

Moody held his flask in both hands, staring hard at the tabletop in the Bones parlor. "Do you think the war will begin again? You know as well as I do that Malfoy is a true believer in blood purity."

"I think it's unlikely. We'll beat them back, just like we did the last time. They don't have You-Know-Who as an outside pressure; they're limited to what they can accomplish within government, which we both know is far from the most efficient avenue of change."

"I'll take a wand in my hand and a spell on my tongue over the Wizengamot any day of the week, personally."

Amelia laughed at the grizzled retired auror. "Of course you would, Mad-Eye. I'm just grateful that Susan's generation won't have to endure the same dark times that we did."

"I can toast to that."

May 6, 1994

"All right class, split up into pairs and begin your practical exercises." Professor Kelly Grayson watched as the Intro to Medicine class broke into twos and began to mutter the incantations to various healing spells at the transfigured animals on their desks. She slowly meandered through the classroom, occasionally offering tips and suggestions, but mostly simply observing the progress that her students had made throughout the year.

Returning to her desk, her eyes locked on to the pair standing over the table in the front row - Melody Marx, a capable if somewhat flighty Thunderbird, and Harry Potter, the inexplicably powerful and mysterious British immigrant. Melody seemed to have a knack for Healing, and would almost certainly receive an O in the class. Her essays were thoughtful and creative, and her spellwork careful and precise.

Harry, though; the young man's spells vacillated between out of control and well beyond his age bracket. Currently, he appeared to be casting the Knitting spell, which was a combination Healing spell using Transfiguration and Charms to repair torn ligaments and tendons. It took a great deal of finesse and control, and it appeared from the transfigured goat that Harry was casting on that he had wildly overpowered the spell. The look on his face, though, showed anything but disappointment.

Kelly took a chance and, the next time Harry glanced up, squeezed her wand and whispered "Legilimens." Always a light touch with the Mind Arts, she quickly pulled up the thoughts surrounding his recent spellcasting. He'd watched the overpowered spell repair the tendons on the transfigured animal, and then continue, locking the joints up in a manner that mimicked an intense inflammation. Such an effect would cause incredible pain, something that Harry had focused on and been immensely pleased by.

She recoiled, breaking the connection, but not before his narrowed eyes locked onto her own.

"I, I think that's enough for today. Class dismissed."

She noticed that Harry slowly gathered his things, almost as though he were providing her the opportunity to hold him back after class. Kelly had no intention of doing so. The rest of day crawled by at a snail's pace, until finally she completed her final lessons. Once classes were complete, she made her way to the Runic Wing, and towards Jean Batisseur's office.

The swarthy Runes professor greeted her with a raised eyebrow, but rose from his desk to embrace her. "Did I forget that we had plans, or is this just a surprise visit?"

"Neither, unfortunately. I'll lower my Occlumency shields, take a look at what happened today."

Jean did so, quickly reliving the memories of her Third Year class. "What possessed you to initiate an active Legilimency probe? You must have known he'd realize what was happening."

"Curiosity got the better of me. He just looked so pleased with himself when the spell had obviously been miscast. Is that really what your takeaway is? He's been learning Healing in order to torture people! It's a violation of every principle of my profession!"

"I agree, it is troubling. Thoughts, though, no matter how disturbing they may be, are not a crime. And Harry's propensity for pushing boundaries of violent and destructive magics is well known at this point."

"I won't have him in my class any longer. I'm not going to teach him magic so that he can use it to, to-"

"To what? Injure, maim, kill?" Jean gave a droll look to his girlfriend. "A levitation spell could be used on someone's robes to float them off a cliff, shall we cease instruction in Charms? You know as well as I do that magic is all about intent."

"But for him to twist spells that are intended to heal and comfort in this manner; it's a violation of the spirit of my Healer's oath, if not the letter!"

"I said it was troubling, Kelly. But what solution do you propose? Kick him out now? He's leaving at the end of term. Toss him in prison for thinking unpleasant thoughts while practicing spells? You'd be lucky to still have your job if you admitted to using the Mind Arts on a minor, even on one not as famous as Harry Potter."

Kelly sat pensively, a cross look on her face. "He's only thirteen years old. There's got to be something we can do."

"I've had the same thought over the last few months. I don't know the full story of what happened to him, but he did tell me last year that he'd never spoken with a mind healer. How the authorities in Britain could have allowed that to slide is beyond me," he steepled his fingers, mulling over his next words. "I will speak with the Headmaster about sending Harry to Akwesasne, to meet with a Dreamwalker. Perhaps, with the shamans' assistance, the boy might yet be dissuaded from the path he treads."

Two days later, Harry sat in the Headmaster's office, facing Fontaine, Howe, and Batisseur.

"I don't understand what you expect out of this… field trip."

Fontaine sighed. "Of course, Mr. Potter, you are under no obligation to go with Professor Batisseur to the Tribal reservation."

"Nonetheless," Howe picked up where the Headmaster left off, "We're all in agreement that we feel you'd benefit from working with the Tribal shamans."

"Okay," Harry said slowly, "I can agree with that, it's the nature of the work that I'm a little unclear about."

"Professor Batisseur?" Fontaine motioned for the Native American Runes professor to take over.

"I've arranged for you to undergo a Dreamwalking ritual. To put it in very simple terms, shamans will mix a tobacco blend soaked in an ancestral potion mixture that you and your Dreamwalker will smoke. The fumes will induce a deep trance, where the shaman will join you in a dreamlike state. The two of you will then navigate your dreams, and explore your mindscape together in the process."

"For what purpose?"

The three of them looked at each other, and there was a brief moment of silence, as though each of the men were waiting for the other to answer. Fontaine, by virtue of the significance of his position, was the one to eventually respond.

"Harry, it's been almost a year since you arrived at Ilvermorny. We're all impressed and proud of the way you've risen to meet every challenge we've offered. You passed four OWLs two years ahead of your peers, routinely outduel students almost a decade older, perform magical feats that many professors are unable to, and have shouldered a workload that many Seventh Years would have crumbled beneath." He gave the young man a sad smile. "But I remember stepping out of the Floo to the Portkey Terminal last June, and greeting a boy whose parents had just been murdered. Who had no one left to sign his admission form as a guardian. Who had nowhere else to go. Let us help that boy, Harry."

Biting his lip, looking between the three that had played such a large role in the last year of his life, Harry gave a quick nod. "All right."

March 29, 1994

Akwesasne was the largest territorial holding of the Five Nations. Straddling the border between the United States and Canada, it was a mixed community of Tribal shamans and Nomaj. Harry had assumed, picking himself up from the portkey he'd arrived on with Batisseur, that his presence might draw more attention than the occasional passing glance, but to his surprise he went largely unnoticed.

"Are foreigners common in Tribal lands?"

"I wouldn't say common, but it is not unusual for those seeking to learn of our magical tradition to arrive in the fashion that we just did."

They walked along a paved road that would not have been out of place in a more rural section of England, passing automobiles and modern Nomaj homes. "And the shamans have no concern about teaching your magic to people not of your tribes? They don't hold anything back?"

Batisseur looked around the community as they walked. "It is a much-needed source of funds. My people are among the most impoverished in this country, magical or not. If an outsider can pay, then we are more than happy to offer our knowledge."

"What sort of magic do your people wield?"

"If you're that interested, you may speak with the Sachem of Akwesasne following your Dreamwalking ritual. I must warn you, though, that even such inconsequential knowledge as that will likely carry a price tag."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, but didn't say anything more. As they walked, the Nomaj architecture gradually gave way to more archaic looking wood longhouses, and here and there Native Americans could be seen in less standard garb; not wizarding robes, but also not the modern Nomaj clothing.

Seeing Harry's gaze linger, Batisseur quietly commented, "Many of the shamans of my people hold fast to the old ways, both in lifestyle and dress." They approached a hill, where a series of elaborate longhouses, much larger than the ones they'd passed, were bunched together. As they neared the entrance to the largest, an ancient looking man in fine red clothing stepped out to greet them.

"This is the boy?"

Batisseur bowed deeply from the waist. "He is. Harry Potter, this is Sachem Sakayengwaraton, the leader of the shamans of the Five Nations. He will take you to where your ritual will be performed, Harry. This is as far as I may go." With another bow to the Sachem, and an encouraging squeeze to Harry's shoulder, Batisseur turned and briskly walked back in the direction they'd come.

"This way, outsider."

Harry stepped into the longhouse, which from the outside appeared to be the size of a mid-range grocer's. It was not all that surprising, upon entering, to find that it was nearly triple the size on the inside, Expansion Charms clearly employed liberally throughout the building. There were actual classes taking place, with adults of European descent seated on the ground alongside Tribal teenagers.

"Sir-"

"Sachem is my title, outsider."

"Er, Sachem, I would be very interested in learning more of your people's magic."

"You were brought here for the Dreamwalking ritual, nothing more. We will send you back to where you came from upon its completion."

"I'm much more interested in magical training than I am in the ritual."

"I'm sure you are, but that is irrelevant at this time," he motioned for Harry to take a seat near where a potions cauldron was simmering over an open flame. "Your Dreamwalker will be along shortly."

"Sir-, I mean, Sachem, I was told that you offer instruction to outsiders if they can pay for it."

The man's weathered face settled as he took in Harry's expensive acromantula silk robes. "Handsome Lake, your professor, requested this ritual. As you can see, we've already prepared the potion, which requires ingredients that are both expensive and difficult to acquire."

"And if I were to compensate you for the ritual, and pay for the instruction in its place?"

"You don't have the time. The portkey he provided us for your return is set to take you back in three day's time. You would gain nothing by sitting in on classes that have been ongoing for months, for a mere three days."

Harry recognized a negotiation when one was presented. "You could make me another portkey."

"We could, but that does not alter the fact that you would begin your learning well into our instructional period. It would be a waste of your time and our shaman's." The Sachem's dark eyes bored into Harry's, his face open and expectant despite the negativity of his words.

"Then I think I would be best served by paying for personalized instruction, one-on-one with your best teacher."

The elderly man coughed lightly, "That would require quite a sum. This isn't pocket change that we're discussing, outsider. For personalized training such as you seek, my people would need significant compensation."

"How much?"

"A quarter million dollars."

"Okay."

"Per week. Plus ten thousand dollars for a new portkey."

Harry snorted. "A quarter million per week and you include apparition training."

The Sachem nodded. "That is acceptable. How long will you stay?"

"That will depend on how useful I find your training to be." It was almost refreshing, to deal with someone that was so honest and upfront about their motivations. "I am only interested in magic related to combat."

A sneer of disdain briefly crossed the Sachem's face. "Of course you are. It's the only thing your kind has ever expressed interest in - finding ways to butcher yourselves and others. Very well. A quarter million per week, twenty-five thousand for the potion you've wasted, and apparition training is included. I accept your terms; now, I'll ask that you demonstrate proof of payment."

Harry nodded, and looked around. "I presume that payment in Galleons is acceptable? I'll need a Gringotts' draft."

May 27, 1994

Susan and Luna tickled the painted pear, and the portrait slid to the side allowing entry into the Hogwarts kitchens. The two girls had been eating dinner together with the elves for the majority of the term, Susan eager to escape the taunts and jeers of her peers, and Luna simply happy to have a close friend.

"How do you feel about your exams? Have you caught up?"

Susan had been studying furiously, trying to make up for missing half of the school year. While she'd had access to her classwork at St. Mungo's, it was much different than learning from teachers. "I hope so. I don't think I'll be held back, anyway."

"I'm happy for you, though it would be rather pleasant to have a friend in class with me."

"Well, since I wasn't able to take any electives this year, we can still take some classes together next year. Which are you enrolling in?"

"Care, of course. And I think Arithmancy, in honor of my mother's profession."

Susan nodded, reaching across the table to squeeze the Ravenclaw's hand. "I think she'd be proud to hear that, Luna. Both of those sound neat, I think I'll sign up for the same."

Luna's smile was brilliant in its intensity, and the two girls began to eat their meal in a companionable silence. Once they'd polished off everything but the pudding, their conversation began again.

"Neville told me this morning that he and Padma broke up."

"Oh? That's too bad, they seemed like a nice match."

Luna 'hmm'-ed in response, carefully running her spoon through the pudding dish. "Padma isn't always very nice. Sometimes the wrackspurts get into her head, and she stops being so friendly."

"I see," Susan's tone was noticeably cooler, having spent several months listening to the Ravenclaws belittle Luna. "It's good that Neville can find someone better, then."

"You don't want any pudding?"

"No, it's all yours. I'm full from dinner," Susan patted her stomach, as if to reinforce her words. She'd lost some of the extra weight by always walking Luna to and from Ravenclaw Tower, but the Hufflepuff had grown into her curves and would likely never be svelte. She waited patiently while Luna happily finished her dessert, before the two girls thanked the elves and left the kitchens to walk back to the younger girl's dormitory.

They'd just reached the staircase leading to the first floor when Anthony Goldstein and Kevin Entwhistle, two Third Year Ravenclaws, happened upon them.

"What's this, then? Were you in the Hufflepuff dorms, Loony? Maybe if we give her some potions, Bones'll take that barmy little bint off our hands."

Entwhistle looked Susan up and down appreciatively, the girl having foregone her robes now that classes were done for the day. "Maybe we can offer some potion for a different sort of favor. Those are some impressive baps, Suz."

"Don't call me that," she crossed her arms protectively. "Just leave us alone."

"C'mon now, what's with that attitude?" He walked towards her, crowding her personal space, lifting one hand towards the Hufflepuff. "Don't think we haven't noticed you never go to Hogsmeade. Give me a little feel, and I'll take you tomorrow-"

Quick as a whip, Susan slapped him across the face. "Don't you ever think you have the right to touch me!"

With a growl, Kevin grabbed both of her shoulders and pushed her backwards, the back of her head smacking into the stone wall of the corridor. "That hurt, you daft cow. You should be grateful I'm even giving you the time of day!"

"Stop it! Leave her alo- mmmpphh!" Luna's shout was quickly muffled by Anthony's hand, as he easily restrained the petite Second Year.

The fogginess from the blow to the head beginning to clear, fear suddenly gripped Susan. They were in an isolated corridor. She and Luna had eaten an early dinner, so most of the students and faculty were likely still in the Great Hall, one floor up. "Just let us go, and I won't tell anyone what you did."

"But I haven't done anything yet. Besides, you might even like it."

"HELP! Somebody!"

"There's no one coming, Bones. C'mon, you gave it up for Potter last year, what's the prob- urk!" A Knockback Jinx suddenly struck the back of Entwhistle's head, ramming it forward into the stone wall. Several Stinging Hexes hit Goldstein, prompting him to release Luna.

"You miserable little bastards! Who do you think you are?" Their savior came into view, wand outstretched and glowing. Daphne Greengrass stepped forward and kicked the fallen Ravenclaw several times in the groin. "Don't you ever think you can lay a hand on a witch again, or by Morgana I'll make sure your half-blooded line ends with you, got it?"

Goldstein helped his friend up, and the two boys ran off. Daphne looked over her shoulder, and called out, "It's over now, you can come out."

A small First Year girl in a wheelchair came from around the corner. "Wow, Sis, you were brilliant!"

"Thank you, Daphne. We're lucky you came by."

Daphne waved away their gratitude. "I wouldn't let anyone get away with what they were doing."

"Still, I owe you."

"We owe you," Luna affirmed Susan's sentiment.

"Well, it wouldn't be very Slytherin of me to turn away a favor, so I'll accept that," from behind, Tori giggled at her older sister. "Has this sort of thing happened before?"

"No. At least, never anything more than words."

"That's not right! It's not fair that anyone would treat you like that!" Astoria said indignantly.

Daphne looked contemplatively at the two girls, feeling a touch of shame. She'd been well aware of the rumors and name-calling that Susan had faced since she'd returned to Hogwarts, and of course the bullying Luna endured never stopped. It hadn't been her problem, though, so she'd chosen to ignore it and spend time with Tori and her own friends.

Drawing closer to Bones, Daphne asked in a quiet tone, "Have you been doing okay, I mean, since you came back?"

Susan nodded stiffly. "I'm all right. Funny, I think this is the first time we've spoken since Second Year. That's your sister?"

"It is. She's ranked third in her Year," Daphne said proudly.

"She seems sweet," Tori was giggling while Luna demonstrated how to make shadow puppets in the torchlight.

Daphne's face showed a genuine smile at her sister's joy. "She is. Listen, Bones, if you need some help with your spellwork-"

"Thanks, but I'm pretty sure I'll pass my exams."

"No," Daphne continued after the interruption, "I mean if you need help with your spells," at this, she looked meaningfully at the Hufflepuff, "I'd be willing to show you a few. Just in case next time we don't leave dinner early."

"Oh. I see. I, uh, I think I'd like that. Thanks, Daphne."

"You always have to be ready; there's no one that you can rely on to keep you safe except yourself," Daphne surreptitiously rubbed at a scar that split her well-manicured eyebrow. "Have you two been eating in the Hufflepuff dorms? I haven't noticed you at dinner in months."

"The kitchens are on this floor. We eat there, it's, uh… quieter." Daphne understood the hidden meaning in Susan's words.

"I see. Well, why don't we meet tomorrow afternoon, just after lunch? I'm only going to Hogsmeade to pick up some sweets for my sister, then coming right back. We can find somewhere to practice a few spells."

"I know a place!" Luna enthusiastically jumped into their conversation. "It's just inside the Forest!"

Though Daphne and Astoria seemed uncomfortable at the thought of going into the Forbidden Forest alone, they reluctantly nodded when Susan immediately agreed.

"Until tomorrow, then."

June 12, 1994

"So this is it, huh? I'm surprised there's not more of us here to wish you off."

Harry looked over the small group standing just outside the Ilvermorny gates. Professor Howe and Headmaster Fontaine, Manny, Wally and Sasha, and Adam Caruso were the only ones that had shown up for his departure. "This is plenty. Adam, thanks for coming. Wasn't sure if you'd already left or not."

The Pukwudgie smiled, hefting his trunk. "My portkey's actually set to go off in about three minutes. Kind of wish you'd have had a normal year, man, instead of just one class with me."

"Hey, it could've been worse. What if I'd been a Horned Serpent, we wouldn't have had any classes together at all."

"Good point. Well, if you ever find yourself in America again, look me up! Take it easy, Harry!" A flash of light signalled the portkey's activation, and Adam was gone.

"Ah, summer break. I miss those days."

"Shut it, Manny, you're done with your Mastery, you've got all the time in the world."

"No he doesn't," Harry interrupted, knowing from experience that left alone the two would bicker endlessly. "He has a job."

"What! Where?"

"None of your business, Jacobs. It's a surprise," Manny winked at Harry, "for a few more minutes, at least, until the kid leaves. Besides, are you really complaining about having to stay at the castle all summer with Sasha here to keep you company?"

"Good point. I could stay here forever, best scenery in the MACUSA."

"Uh, I'm not sure I appreciate the way you two are talking about me like I'm a decoration. Harry's the only gentleman among you. Maybe I should talk him into sticking around, to teach you a lesson on how to treat a lady." Sasha poked Wally in the ribs, before giving Harry a light embrace. "I know you're going to be busy, but I'd like to hear how you're doing now and again. Don't forget to live a little in between saving the world, okay?"

"Okay, Sasha. Thanks. Wally, Manny, I can't imagine where I'd be if you two hadn't spent so much time working with me."

"Don't sweat it, dude. Besides, after fighting you all year, I feel like I might enter a dueling tournament this summer!"

Manny scoffed good-naturedly. "Keep that attitude, and you'll still be working on your Mastery when you're 30."

"Hey!"

"Seriously, guys. I'm going to miss you."

Wally gave the teen a hug, "I'll miss you too, bud. Now don't forget everything I've taught you. I didn't get Sasha by studying day and night."

"Wally! I swear-"

"Gotta go, Harry. Don't go slacking off on your physical training, or else you'll never land a babe like Sasha-"

"WALLY!" The lovely girl dragged the blonde American away, furiously lecturing him on respecting women.

Manny and Harry exchanged a smile. "I'm not going to say goodbye, kid, just 'see you later,' all right?"

Harry cocked his head, but nodded and shook the hand that Manny offered. "Okay. See you later, then."

He turned to the two faculty members, noting the conspicuous absence of Professor Batisseur, who had not spoken to him since he 'renegotiated' the Dreamwalking ritual with the Five Nations' shamans. "Headmaster, Professor. I'm in your debt for your assistance this year."

Howe took Harry's extended hand in his strong grip and pumped it once. "It was a pleasure. If you ever do take that NEWT and decide you'd like to travel down a scholarly path, my door is always open. Take care."

Fontaine gave Harry a tight smile. "We're all proud of you, Harry. I think that offering you admission to Ilvermorny was one of the best choices I made since I took over at the school. You've set a new standard for what we all believed to be possible for a young man your age."

"That's very kind of you to say, sir. Thank you. I won't forget your generosity," Harry shook the Headmaster's hand, but Fontaine held on when he tried to pull away.

"I can only hope that once you return to Europe, that I can continue to feel pride in your actions." Harry met the older man's level stare with his own unflinching gaze, and gave a short nod.

"I need to go. Farewell, and thank you," he gripped his necklace, and vanished with a flash.

At the International Portkey Terminal in New York City, Sam Chambers sat pensively, reading through the letters that his contacts in the Ministry of Defence had mailed him over the last month. Getting into Iraq was going to be tricky business, that's for sure; the Americans and the British both maintained strict sanctions and travel bans, so they'd need to find a more covert method of entry to 'stay under the radar'. 'Wouldn't do to make it there, only to find myself in jail once we left,' he thought grimly.

"Would you mind if I took this seat?"

"All yours, mate, let me just move my- oh, how do you, Congressman," Sam made to set his folder of letters aside to stand, but Irving Butler motioned for him to remain seated, taking the seat next to Sam once the Englishman had moved his luggage.

"I'm well, thank you. For the record, you may want to invest in wizarding luggage if you're trying to cover the fact that you're a Nomaj."

"Uh, sir?"

"Relax, I'm not going to obliviate you."

"What makes you think I'm a Nomaj?"

"It's not all that difficult to realize once you've spent some time around you."

"Sir, not to be impolite, but you haven't spent time around me."

"The Chief Archivist did, though. Do you have any idea how many spells the average wizard casts in a day? Well over a hundred," Butler chuckled when Sam's jaw dropped. "Naturally, you had no idea, given that you spend your time around Harry Potter."

Sam didn't say anything in response, merely looking around the terminal. 'Now would be a good time for Harry to show up…'

"Harry, for some reason, never seems to use magic. Whether that is due to his medical condition, or his Nomaj upbringing, though, is unknown to me. But anyone that spends more than an hour or so in your presence would immediately wonder why you aren't using magic for normal, everyday tasks. It's a dead giveaway."

"So what happens now? I'm not trying to-, I mean, I'm not 'out to get' wizards or anything like that."

Butler laughed. Loudly. "Of course you aren't!" he paused, chuckling so hard that he even wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. "You're a Nomaj. Even if you somehow exposed the MACUSA to the non-magical United States, assuming we were unable to contain the breach, the Nomaj would never be able to pierce our repelling wards and unplottable settlements."

Sam was, twice in a matter of minutes, dumbfounded yet again. "But, the MACUSA is built around fear of non-magicals…"

"It is."

"But you're not afraid of us?"

"I am not."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't understand."

Butler looked around the Portkey Terminal, taking in the wizards hustling back and forth, the aurors on duty, the customs agents, and the tourists. "Did Harry ever talk to you about the structure of the MACUSA?"

"Not in any detail, no, although I've done some reading on my own."

"Then you know that all political power is centered around those who served in our version of the military. A set number of years of military service is required to vote, an even greater number is required to serve in any political office of significance."

"I was not aware of that, no."

"The MACUSA is, at its heart, a military state; being able to mobilize the public in fear of an 'other' is a very useful tool for the government to wield."

"Wait, so it's all a lie? You know that nonmagicals aren't a threat but you allow them to be treated so poorly anyway?"

Butler raised an eyebrow at Sam's outrage, but his expression did not otherwise change. "How, exactly, are they treated poorly? They aren't even aware we exist."

"You take their children away from them!"

"Only the magical ones, and with Memory Charms they are none the wiser."

"You're still stealing them from their parents."

"We are. But is that worse than treating newbloods like a permanent underclass, the way that the British do? Or kidnapping the newblood's parents and breeding them in captivity to produce more newbloods, the way that the Chinese do? The world is an unpleasant place, Mr. Chambers; I sleep just fine at night with my government's actions."

Sam remained silent, weighing the Congressman's words.

"Nonetheless, we've gone far astray and I don't have much time remaining. I imagine that Harry will be here momentarily. I came here to speak with you, not with him."

"About what?"

"Harry, in spite of his age, is a great wizard, the sort that seems to emerge once every generation. Right now, he's largely viewed as a fluke of magic, for surviving the Killing Curse as a child. I'm not sure how much knowledge the British Ministry has of his abilities, but I've had the Headmaster of Ilvermorny censor the reports that he submits to the Magical Congress. It's likely that his power remains largely unknown."

"Okay," Sam slowly said, "I suppose I should thank you for that. I'm still a little unclear why you would do such a thing, though."

"Powerful wizards like Harry threaten to upset the carefully constructed balance that the International Confederacy of Wizards maintains. There are not many wizards that are capable of shattering the Statute of Secrecy in a manner that would shatter it completely."

Sam sat back in his seat, listening carefully. "I assume that you have information, or at least believe Harry to be a wizard capable of such an act. What does the ICW do about other wizards that have Harry's strength?"

Butler looked seriously at Sam. "Usually, they kill them." He stood up, dispelling the Silencing Ward that Sam had not even been aware that was present. "I like the boy, which is why I've tried to protect him to this point, and that's why I'm here speaking with you right now. Do what you can to dissuade him from whatever he's planning to do. Once the eye of the Confederation falls upon him, it will not blink." He spun in a circle, disapparating with a crack! that drew the attention of everyone surrounding them.

Seconds later, Harry arrived on his portkey. "Let's go. Our portkey to France leaves in less than five minutes."

A/N: Holy cow, this was a HARD chapter to write. I'm going to miss the MACUSA. I honestly could probably have written an entire fic set in 'my' version of MACUSA. It's been great.

Next chapter will be solely about the British Bunch, and I'm going to try and do all of 4th year in a single chapter. Then we'll have a chapter that is solely Harry. Won't be too long now before we have a reunion.

Oh, Akwesasne is a real place. I did quite a bit of research on the Five Nations, including tracking down a Mohawk to English dictionary. Like almost everyone in my story, the Native Americans that appear are neither saintly nor villainous; I genuinely hope that nothing I wrote was offensive, though.

Speaking of being offended, RE:Britpicking - when I make a major error (the kind that NotAFanficWriter pointed out regarding the geography around Surrey and UCL which I appreciated VERY MUCH) let me know. If you've never heard of a piece of slang I use in this story, write to the Telegraph or the Guardian, which is where I source most of my colloquialisms, OR buy me a plane ticket and let me crash with you in the UK to soak up some local flavor. I keep getting these reviews/PMs from people saying they've never heard of this or that word, to which I reply... *shrug*.

Thanks everyone for the reviews. Passed 1k follows, closing in on 1k favs and a quarter million views. Hope that everyone still has all of their fingers and toes if you celebrated July 1st or 4th!