Author's Note: Welcome to the first chapter of the new year. I wish you all a happy and healthy 2021! I want to thank TheMushroomGuild for another lovely review, you rock! Now, enjoy and don't forget to let me know your thoughts.

August 5, 1996
London

Morning came after a long sleepless night – and yet, far too soon. Despite her hasty flight from Draco's room, Sophie's mind had been unable to find rest and so, she had spent the remainder of the night staring up at the yellowed ceiling. It had been some hours before the overwhelming heartache had finally dulled and made room for more sensible thoughts, and when it did, she realised she had told Draco nothing at all. And so she'd spent the last few hours until dawn in a circular thought process, trying to imagine what Dumbledore could ask, what her response might be, and then coming to the conclusion that she had neither an idea of what the wizard would ask nor what she might say.

Around eight-thirty, she followed Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny downstairs for breakfast, feeling for all intents and purposes like a lamb being brought to slaughter. They passed the sleeping portrait of Mrs Black and stepped into the dining room.

'Professor Dumbledore!' Harry, at the front of their group, exclaimed, and came to a standstill.

From the back of the group, Sophie could only barely make out how an old man, dressed in traditional silver robes, with a long matching beard and bright, twinkling eyes, looked up from his conversation with Mrs Weasley, who was standing next to the table.

'Come along now kids,' she straightened herself, moving her hands in the direction of the door 'Harry, Ron, Ginny, you can take your breakfast in the kitchen this morning. Hermione, be a dear and fetch Mrs Malfoy and Draco, would you?'

The bushy brunette nodded, and was the first to leave the room. Then Harry, Ron, and Ginny – the former looking like he wanted anything but – filed out of the room, followed by Mrs Weasley. When she was about to close the door – and Sophie realised she would be all alone with professor Dumbledore – she called out, voice higher than usual 'Mrs Weasley? Might I have a glass of water?'

She nodded, looking a little more friendly than she had the day before, 'I'll levitate it right in for you, dear.'

Ah, might I get a cup of tea, Molly? I tried the French way of starting the morning with a cup of coffee, but I am afraid it did not sit well with me.'

'Of course, professor Dumbledore.' And with that, the door closed behind her.

After a moment of hesitation, Sophie slowly inched closer to the table, finally – after chancing a brief look up, only to find the old man examining with some interest the china in the dresser behind him – sitting down in her chair from the previous night. The silence in the room was heavy, almost stifling, even though professor Dumbledore was apparently hardly interested in her presence. Sophie swallowed, throat suddenly dry like parchment, and wrung her hands below the table as she strained her ears for any sign of Mrs Weasley.

At long last the door opened, but rather than Mrs Weasley, it was simply Draco and his mother, both looking guarded as they took their seat at the table. Before anything could be said, Mrs Weasley returned, levitating in a tray with a teapot, three cups, and a glass of water. Before Sophie had a chance to thank her – although she wasn't sure if her throat would have been capable of producing a sound even if she'd tried – the Weasley matriarch disappeared through the door.

'Good morning Narcissa, Draco,' professor Dumbledore nodded at each of them, 'Tea?'

Mrs Malfoy nodded stiffly, Draco with only a trace of disbelief. They watched the old man pour the drinks languidly, Sophie meanwhile taking a shaking sip from her glass. The drinks poured, he sat back in his chair, striking blue eyes moving over each of them without a word. Then he smiled. 'I must admit I was surprised when Molly told me you were here.'

-xxx-

The entire conversation couldn't have lasted longer than thirty minutes. The Malfoys – but mostly Draco – had explained how they'd fled after his gruelling initiation ceremony, not going into detail but the dead tone of his voice giving away enough for goose bumps to form on Sophie's arm and bile to rise in her throat. He'd explained how they had fled Lockeridge, had made their way to Bath, and from there to London. After the past had been cleared, Dumbledore had refilled his tea cup and, with a frankness that bordered on rudeness, requested what they planned to do now they were here.

The question had thrown Draco off, and it was in fact Mrs Malfoy who at last broke the silence, seeming as cool and collected as usual although there was a slight uncertainty to her voice, as she'd asked 'You will help us, won't you?'

Instead of giving her a simple yes or no, the old man took a sip from his cup, and levelled Mrs Malfoy and her son with a penetrating glance. 'I will be frank with you, Narcissa. Many will not willingly shelter you, let alone treat you with kindness. Hogwarts is not safe anymore for Draco, nor any of the places you may have frequented and people you trusted in the past.

'I will offer you an option. One option.'

August 5, 1996
London

Throughout the entire first part of the conversation, Sophie had been seated on the very tip of her chair, certain that any minute now professor Dumbledore would turn his searching eyes on her and demand answers. Only he never did. And then they passed from their journey here to the road ahead, and Sophie sat, somewhat dumbfounded, not believing her luck.

Perhaps professor Dumbledore did not think it important. Or perhaps he had accepted her façade of a pureblood witch who was schooled on the continent, thinking there was a perfectly good reason for why she knew the secret location of the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. Or perhaps, in all the excitement of the story of the Malfoys' escape from Voldemort, he had simply forgotten.

All of a sudden the conversation was over. Sophie was not quite sure how it happened, or whether she had missed a completely obvious wrap-up of their talk, but all of a sudden professor Dumbledore nodded, and Narcissa and Draco rose beside her. She had made it, she realized, and a jolt of electricity coursed through her veins. As she made to follow them through the door, the old man held up a hand – the same one he had used to hold his tea cup, while the other, blackened one lay in his lap. 'Ah, Ms Cornwell, I wonder if I might have another minute of your time.'

She stood still for a second, watching as Draco cast a searching look at her over his shoulder, before disappearing in the hallway. When the door closed with an ominous click, she turned slowly, like a deer caught in a trap, and slowly sat back down.

'From the story Draco told me, they were quite lucky to have you on their side.'

The phrase hung in the air, more heavy than the innocent words should. 'I just did what any friend would do,' she said at last with a shrug of her shoulders.

His blue eyes bored into her. At last he smiled. 'Indeed.' Then he suddenly stood, replacing his cup on its saucer. 'Well, I should probably get going. I received an owl yesterday evening from Madam Malkin in which she kindly requested I come fit and pick up my robes, before they go out of style.'

'That was it?' She couldn't help but breathe out in disbelief, flabbergasted yet relieved, as she once again stood from her chair.

'It was… Unless of course there is something else you wanted to tell me, Ms Cornwell?'

This was it, she realised. He gave her a choice. If she said no, she would be allowed to walk right out, take the train home and forget any of this had ever happened. If she said no, she could continue her life as she had left it. As she had once promised herself that she would. And yet...

As he stood before her, she could no longer pretend to ignore the blackened hand that hung by his side. She knew how it happened. She could have prevented it. Sirius, Cedric, she had known. How many more were still to die? Sure, without her intervention, they would still win the war, but was her interference not worth it if it would spare even a single life? Was that not worth the sacrifice of at least a few hours of her own.

She took a deep breath, 'I'm afraid it is a long story, professor.'

'My robes can wait a little longer; I have never much cared for being fashionable.'

'But I can't,' she realised, 'I promised my parents to be home before noon – and with the awful public transport connection that will be pushing it as it is.'

'I'm sure we can find a faster alternative.'

It took her only a moment to understand his meaning. She nodded 'If you don't mind taking me on side-along Apparation.' Then she sighed deeply, dropping back on her chair. 'Where to begin… Well, given the time I suppose I shall be brief. I am not a witch – although I suspect you may have already figured that out. To be completely truthful I am not even from this universe. But to come back to what I said: I am not a witch… but I do know about the magical world. In fact, I know a lot. Given the events that have now been set into motion,' here she gestured at his blackened hand, 'There are several things you must know. It concerns Voldemort's Horcruxes.'

'Horcruxes?'

August 5, 1996
Bath

It was ten minutes to 12 when Sophie finally finished her account of the seven Horcruxes and raced up the stairs to collect her bag. When she returned to the ground floor, professor Dumbledore was waiting for her by the front door, none of the extreme disbelief and desperation that had up until a few minutes ago marked his face still visible. She hastily ran into the kitchen to thank Mrs Weasley for her hospitality, before allowing professor Dumbledore to take her on what she could say without a doubt was the most unpleasant experience of her life so far.

When they appeared in a quiet alley a few blocks from her house – she had asked the old man not to use magic too close to her home, just in case – she stood for a few seconds with her head pressed against the cool stone of one of the walls, urging the bile down and the world to stop spinning. When the number of professor Dumbledores had reduced to the safe number of 1, she picked her forgotten backpack from the ground.

Alright, I shall be going now, it's almost noon.'

He nodded, reaching into his grey robes and taking out a small sapphire velvet pouch. 'It contains Floo powder – I take it your family has a fireplace?' At her nod, he continued 'If you ever need us, just throw some of the powder into the fireplace and contact the headquarters. We'll get someone to pick you up.'

Sophie nodded again, not expecting to ever have to use the powder but pocketing it anyway, before making her way out of the alley. Somewhere in the distance, a church started to chime the hour – and she broke out running. She reached the front door just as the eighth chime sounded, and hastily forced her key into the keyhole. When she rushed into the tiny hallway, she found her mother already there, a look of reserved disapproval on her face.

'You said home at noon. I am on time.'

'I am glad to hear there is nothing wrong with your ears,' her mother said dryly. 'I made French toast. Care to finally explain what was going on with your friend?'

As Sophie followed her mother into the kitchen, she hastily considered her story. The past few hours – heck, the past day – had been so crazy that she had hardly considered the world outside of Grimmauld Place 12. And that it contained her parents, who she had left with a very meagre explanation and the promise of some clarification when she'd get back.

'The mother of a girl in my class, Mary-Alice, works at Witness Protection,' Sophie blurted, as her mother turned to her with searching eyes. That wasn't a total lie – and that was good, if she were to believe all the detective books she had read. 'She told me once about a very secret domestic violence safe house in London. Draco and his mother are not accustomed to using public transport, so I figured it was best I saw them to the safe house myself.'

Her mother hummed thoughtfully, turning to the stove to transfer the perfectly golden brown French toast to two plates. A moment later she joined Sophie at the table, but made no move to eat. In fact, she sat staring at the sugar bowl for half a minute before she spoke – and it was only when she did that Sophie recognised the expression on her face as one of guilt. 'So, Draco… He is the boy that you said lived in the woods?'

'He is,' she acknowledged, though she felt none of the satisfaction she had imagined she'd feel several years ago when she would prove herself right. Now, she only felt a strange sort of guilt herself because to the best of any Muggle's knowledge, nobody lived in those woods indeed. She swallowed, preparing herself for another lie – this time not for her own sake, but for her mother's. 'Draco told me that the location is quite secret. As I told you, Mr Malfoy is a high official in the national government. They wouldn't want just everyone to know where he lives – for security reasons, you see.'

Her mother was silent for a moment more, then she nodded, 'Well I do hope he will face justice soon. A man who abuses his own family so does not deserve to walk free, no matter how high up the government he is.'

August 5, 1996
Bath

'Hey babe,' Ryan greeted her as she slid into the booth of the somewhat dingy pub. She had called him earlier today – after the awkward lunch with her mother – to apologise for her sudden disappearance and had offered to buy him a drink to make it up to him. He had declined her offer to pay – fortunately, for all her money had been spent on the trip to London – but accepted the drink, and suggested they meet after his work at one of the few pubs in Bath that were open on Monday.

After a brief kiss they ordered their drinks and settled into silence. When she had called him before, Sophie had been so worn out by the excitement of the past few days that she had expected him to demand answers. Instead, and as she should have known he would, he asked nothing, requested nothing, and simply forgave her. Still, as they sat there in silence, she couldn't help but feel like he was waiting for something.

'I'm sorry again for standing you up on Saturday,' she started lamely.

He shrugged, accepting his Coke from the middle-aged waiter, before saying, 'Your Mum said it was an emergency.'

'Right… What else did she say, exactly?'

'That a childhood friend had shown up and was in some kind of trouble at home?'

Internally, Sophie sighed in relief. Ryan was easy-going, at times to the point where she was forced to wonder how much he really cared one way or another, but she hadn't enjoyed the prospect of having to explain how she had let a male friend stay in her room and had helped him and his mother get to London. Perhaps she was misjudging him entirely, but somehow she thought that that little fact would not go over well with her boyfriend. 'Yeah they – my friend and their mother, that is – just showed up at our doorstep, soaked to the bone and sporting multiple bruises. I remembered there being a safe house for this kind of thing in London, so I helped them get there and get settled. I spent the night there and returned this morning.'

Ryan nodded, reaching out for the hand that lay beside her glass and giving it a soft squeeze, 'You're the best person I know.'

The compliment drew one corner of her mouth up, but Sophie found she couldn't quite agree with him on that. Sure she had brought Draco and his mother to safety. She had even offered some valuable information to professor Dumbledore. But there was so much more that she knew, so much more that she could have helped with if she had stayed. 'I just wish I could have done more.'