His Greatest Wish, by AndromedaMarine

A/N: During the course of writing this chapter I came across some mistakes from previous chapters, which have been updated. One paragraph from the end of 39. Fenrir Greyback and one paragraph at the end of 42. Invisibility have been changed. It is minor, but if you want to go back and refresh it wouldn't hurt.

43. Christmas Present

Eileen, Lyall, Petunia, and Rose met them at the platform. Rose and Petunia took Sev and Lily back to Nurren, but Eileen and Lyall met Sirius, Regulus, and Remus to Side-Along Apparate them to the Manor. Eileen opened the wards and escorted the four men across, and then chanted something extra. "Boys, you're now keyed in. You can go as you wish, but to come back in you need Lyall, Hope, or myself escorting you. I don't recommend trying to enter without us, since I have no idea what would happen."

Remus, Sirius, and Regulus acknowledged her, and went ahead to the manse, exploring as they walked. Lyall slowed his pace to match his host's, silent in his constant worry.

"Mr. Lupin?" Eileen began.

"Please, call me Lyall."

"Lyall…what would you and Hope say to having a Christmas Eve party at the manor? Close friends only—just the ones part of the charm, of course."

Lupin looked at her in surprise. "Is that a good idea, with the Ministry on the hunt for us?"

"They're not on the hunt for you. They don't even know that you exist," Eileen corrected. "You and Hope need to be surrounded by good people, and Remus especially needs to feel comfortable."

Lyall made an indistinctive noise. "Remus trusts those friends of his far more than I ever trusted anyone."

Eileen stopped in her tracks. "What do you mean by that?"

Remus's father shrugged rather helplessly. "I always feared for my son's secret, Eileen. There were times in his childhood that made me question our collective ability to keep it locked away where no one could discover him. I went grey with constant worry that my boy would bite someone—would bite me, or Hope. But he didn't. And then Dumbledore shows up at our doorstep offering him a place in the most prestigious magical school in Europe, for no extra cost to keep his secret safe. Next thing I know, in less than a month your son figures it out—and almost immediately develops a potion to control the wolf. Forgive me if anyone's—everyone's—motives are a mystery to me."

Eileen understood. "You don't trust easily," she summed up, "and you still think that teenagers can't keep secrets."

"No, I don't. As evidenced by that bloody anonymous tip."

"That wasn't from any of his friends," Eileen rebuked sharply.

"Yes, but do you know for sure?" Lyall began walking again, in a path that led around the mansion.

"Do you honestly think any of those children would do something like that to a boy who has been their friend since he was eleven?"

"Stranger and sadder things have happened," Lyall answered stubbornly.

Eileen huffed. "You're putting quite a lot of effort into looking for a reason not to have a party."

Lyall backpedaled. "No—no, that wasn't my intention."

"Then what was?"

"I just wanted it to be clear to you why I'm so hesitant. These are more friends than we've had in our whole lives." Eileen struggled to stay silent, as she felt any response would sound patronizing. Lyall sighed and kicked at a clump of snow. "I suppose I should just get used to it, since Remus has, and it's doubtful we'll ever go back to how we lived before Hogwarts."

"No one should be used to loneliness, least of all a child," Eileen said respectfully.

"It wasn't loneliness, not to us. We had each other, and that was enough. I didn't want Remus to get hurt, and I'm still afraid that he will."

"That is the worry of every parent, including myself. My Sev is smarter and more mature than I can really believe, but I still worry that someday he'll do something stupid, or someone else will do something stupid that he'll react to. Sometimes I get the impression that he's older than me."

Lyall chuckled. "Old wisdom from young minds."

Eileen smiled, but knew that he didn't understand what she meant, and that it would be difficult trying to explain the feeling in exact detail. They were a quarter of the way around the house, and walked in silence for a while. The Prince matriarch watched the snow-covered fields and trees for sighs of movement, hoping to spot an ermine.

"I think a Christmas Eve party would be a splendid idea," Lyall finally admitted quietly.

"Excellent!" Eileen exclaimed, smiling widely.

Meanwhile, Severus and Lily rode in the back seat of Roses' car, Lily's head resting on Sev's shoulder as he had his arm around her. The drive took around four hours from London to Ottery St. Catchpole, and it was way past dark when Rose finally parked at the flat. Eileen, who had Apparated from the Manor shortly following her talk with Lyall, came out to help them get their trunks inside.

Severus hugged his mother and proceeded to fill her in on the usual things from Hogwarts that he left out of letters, including the current Quidditch standings (Gryffindor had just barely lost to Hufflepuff in their last match, but only needed to edge past Ravenclaw by twenty points to take back first place).

Petunia sat with Lily at the kitchen table, talking about their men until Rose told them to go to bed already, seeing as it was almost eleven. They left, giggling, to their shared room and took turns in the bathroom to change into their pajamas. Lily went to wish Severus good night.

She knocked lightly on his door and frowned when, after a moment, he didn't answer. "Sev?"

"Behind you," he whispered while simultaneously gripping her waist and pulling her against him. She squeaked, and he laughed. "Got you."

She smacked at his hands before turning around to draw him into a warm embrace. Sev kissed her hair and held tight, attempting to stop his mind from working in overdrive. "As much as I love the castle," she murmured, "being home is really nice."

"I concur," Sev replied. "We've got a few weeks to recharge and get a head start on that bloody tipster."

"You really think it's Greyback?"

Sev paused before replying, knowing he should have voiced it in the carriage even though it would have caused the whole of its occupants to storm angrily into a different one. "Not entirely."

Lily sighed. "I think it's Potter, too. It's the only thing that makes sense. We can't do anything about it while we're on break, though."

"I can send the Headmaster a letter to direct his line of inquiry. If he doesn't find anything I will be genuinely shocked. I'd bet one of my Gringotts vaults that Potter somehow got ahold of that infernal cloak again."

"That's just what we need. Someone as unstable as Potter with knowledge about Remus."

Severus hummed in agreement. "Just in case, let's leave Renly on Greyback's path. It might be useful later."

"That's a good idea."

"You know what else is a good idea?"

Lily smirked. "A kiss goodnight?"

"Precisely."

She obliged quite happily, and went to bed that night feeling all tingly and warm inside.

True to his word, Severus quilled a letter to Albus strongly suggesting he seriously consider James Potter as the guilty party. He knew that the Headmaster would listen to him, and Severus felt so exhausted with chasing away the infernal nemesis that an expulsion would settle it quite nicely. It was doubtful, though, that Dumbledore would take that step, since Potter had been his golden boy for years before Hogwarts—Henry had made sure of it.

Artemis dutifully winged her way from Ottery St. Catchpole with the missive, understanding her master's veiled frustration. She flew swiftly, taking advantage of the updrafts and slipstreams to make it to Hogwarts Castle in northern Scotland by mid-afternoon. She flew straight to the Headmaster's window, greeted Fawkes with a friendly hoot, and landed on the desk.

Albus stroked her feathers and relieved her of the letter. Reading it quickly, he sighed, and belatedly realized he should have investigated James first off, even though the boy had once been like a grandson to him. He did not want to own up to his deeply flawed and clouded judgment. Nonetheless, Albus kindly requested for Artemis to stay in the office while he paid Henry Potter a visit.

He tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace, said "Potter Manor, Henry's study," and stuck his head into the flames. "Henry?" he asked when the spinning stopped and the study came into focus.

"Albus?" Eleanor must have heard him from the hallway and came in to investigate.

"Ah, Eleanor. Is your husband around? I have some matters to discuss with him."

"Why don't you just come through? He's in the library."

Albus took a moment to step through properly, and followed Mrs. Potter to the library, which was quite a distance from the study. "Thank you, my dear," he said and smiled warmly before knocking on the door.

"Come in," Henry called from his seat by the roaring fireplace. "Ah, Albus. What brings you by so early in the holidays? Jamie is out with some friends at the moment."

Albus swished his robes. "No, I've come to talk to you. James should be left out of it; in fact it would be best if he didn't know I was here."

Henry frowned, but closed his book to pay full attention to the old wizard.

"Might you recall taking James's invisibility cloak from him two years ago?"

"Of course I do. It was the hardest thing I've had to do to my boy—the nerve of him, failing classes. He's a smart boy, Albus."

"Smart, yes, but rather lacking in discipline, I think."

"Say no such thing!" Henry exclaimed angrily. "Just what are you insinuating?"

Albus folded his hands. "I would like to remind you that barely six months ago your son humiliated a classmate in front of several students, and when confronted about it, struck Lily Evans. His wand was confiscated following the incident, and yet I saw no evidence of change when he exited the train in September. Did you keep his wand throughout the summer, Henry?"

Now scowling, Henry stood and began to pace. "Of course not! Jamie needed to practice his wandwork, since he failed the Defense O.W.L. I couldn't deprive him of an education, and he needed to get up to snuff to make it in N.E.W.T level!"

"In which he has been allowed to participate on the condition of his good behavior. Nevertheless, events have transpired at Hogwarts this past term that I must inquire into the whereabouts of that invisibility cloak."

"You want to see it? Come on then." Henry strode from the library back down the way Eleanor had led Albus, to his study, where the Headmaster had emerged from the fireplace. He crouched behind his desk, incanting unlocking spells and antiwards, until the tiny lock clicked and he could pull the drawer open. He reached inside and withdrew the light, silky invisibility cloak from its depths, and shook it out, throwing it over one arm to demonstrate its authenticity. "See? Right where I locked it up two years ago, Albus. It hasn't been touched."

Albus stared at the cloak, honestly surprised and rather baffled. He bowed his head. "Thank you, Henry. My mind is eased knowing the cloak is in your possession still."

"Anything else you want to accuse Jamie of?"

"Accuse? No. He has paid his punishment for the incident in June. Please, though, remind him to stay in line. If he hurts anyone, intentionally or not, I will have no choice but to expel him."

Henry wore a hard expression, clearly displeased with Dumbledore's non-request. "As you say. Good day, Professor."

Dumbledore returned to his office, sat with a long sigh, and wrote his reply to Severus, informing him that Henry Potter still had the cloak under locked ward, and that he'd seen it himself. He waited until morning to give the reply to Artemis, so she could rest before flying all the way back down to the south of England.

Artemis delivered her letter early in the afternoon. Lily and Severus were outside in the town park, building snowmen and generally having a good time with Petunia and Cordon when Artemis found her master.

"Hullo," Sev said, scratching the top of her head when she land smoothly on his extended forearm. "Sent you back already? That was fast." He took the letter and Artemis hopped up to his shoulder.

"That from Dumbledore?" Lily asked quietly, knowing Cordon was blissfully unaware of the current unfolding drama with James Potter.

"Yeah," Sev confirmed as he pulled the parchment from its envelope. He read it, and then handed it to Lily. "I…read it for yourself." He wore a stunned expression, but shut it down so not to attract the attention of Petunia and Cordon, who had given up on their snowman and were busy pelting each other with snowballs.

Dear Severus,

I have just returned from speaking with Henry Potter, who when I requested, showed me the Cloak of Invisibility. It was secured under Henry's own lock and ward in his study, where James could not have accessed it without being caught. He assures me that he would know if the drawer had been opened by someone other than himself.

It my preliminary conclusion, therefore, that while your accusation is not unfounded when accounting for his past actions, James Potter is uninvolved with the werewolf situation, at least as far as the invisibility cloak is concerned.

If you believe he discovered the secret by some other method please share it, though how he could have stumbled upon you without raising suspicions of your own, without assistance from the cloak, I do not know.

I will continue my investigation throughout the holidays.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Lily stared at the flowing script, and stared some more. "Oh, he's got to be kidding," she finally said. "How could Potter senior possibly have the cloak?"

Sev shrugged helplessly. "Locked and warded, too, which means his sorry excuse for a son couldn't have gotten at it. And there's no way he got near enough to confirm Rem's furry little problem without the cloak."

The expression on Lily's face could only be described as pissed off. She huffed. "I don't get it then. If it's not Potter…if it's someone in Gryffindor—"

"We don't know for sure," Severus interrupted. "For all we know I could have been—weirdly—right about Greyback."

Lily glanced over to where Cordon had just tackled Petunia into a pile of snow. "Let's see what Renly finds, then."

Severus coaxed Artemis back onto his arm and instructed her to return home. She took off, and he and Lily watched her soar off…before a clump of snow collided with the back of Lily's neck, and then it was war between couples.

The library at Holmes Manor was positively massive. While nowhere near the sheer volume of Hogwarts' own collection, the Holmes family had been gathering books for generations, and Renly grew up on the stories and facts within their many, many pages. Unfortunately, none of the tomes lining those countless shelves could tell him exactly who had discovered Remus Lupin's furry secret.

Impossibility surrounded the idea of any actual feet-on-the-ground investigating, since most of their suspect pool consisted of Hogwarts students.

And then there was Sev's suggestion—Fenrir Greyback himself. It seemed highly unlikely to lesser minds, but to Renly it made a small modicum of sense. Lupin wasn't the only boy to be bitten by Greyback for a father's outspokenness, and he certainly wasn't the last. But he was, as far as they knew, the only boy to have kept the bite a complete secret from the world at large. Greyback would have heard about the Wolfsbane and shunned it, may possibly have connected some dots—he wasn't a complete bonehead, to have evaded capture for so long—he would have remembered a small five year old child whose father had insulted him, remembered the look of abject terror on the father's face when he realized that his little boy would become a monster like Greyback… That expression would taste of victory, would it not?

And so, since it had been his own brother who last faced Greyback in open combat, Renly left the library to seek out Siger Holmes, and do some digging. As it happened, Siger had been tracking Greyback himself since the attack on Nymphadora Tonks. His notes were few and incomplete, but more than anyone else—including the Auror Department—had managed to accrue in the same stretch of time. Siger didn't trust the Aurors with it, and rightly so, as he was a Holmes, even though the Aurors had tracked Greyback through the forest alongside Siger.

Renly's visit with his brother didn't last as long as he would have liked, nor did it provide the answers he'd hoped to uncover. As it turned out, werewolves were incredibly difficult to accurately track, registered or not, especially if they were actively hiding their trails. Wounding Greyback had helped almost immeasurably, since he'd left a blood trail to his point of Disapparition, and would have needed a Healer's attention within a few hours or suffer irreversible damage. But because he'd Disapparated, that ended his trail. Siger did, however, pull strings with his numerous contacts across Britain to get details about sightings, and had mapped a possible route Greyback may have taken which started near Aberdeen and twisted its way back south, giving the Holmes estate in Ravenwood a wide berth in the process.

Siger's last map pinpoint placed a maybe-glimpse of Greyback at Stonehenge midway through October, and nothing new had been relayed despite pressure from the Holmes seat. While this wasn't completely unexpected, it still put a damper on Renly's plans concerning his little independent investigation.

"Ren, just take what you need. I've spent too much of my time trying to track him down for Ted, and neglecting my other work," Siger finally said as he sat in the wide chair behind his desk, in which Mycroft liked to play when otherwise bored.

"Gemino?" Renly inquired, knowing his brother liked keeping physical records.

Siger shook his head. "I have it all stored, you keep it and see if you can work out something new from the pattern. All my notes are in the folder there."

Renly gathered the documentation strewn across Siger's usually pristine and organized desk, and slid them into the indicated folder. "Thanks," he said, a little disappointed with the overall result. "I wish there was more, though."

"As do I, though I'm uncertain if this information will help determine if Greyback is indeed the person who alerted Miss Umbridge to your friend's unfortunate state. In the interest of complete honesty among our family, though, it is far more likely that another individual far closer to the situation is the one to blame."

"I have considered it, and have not reached my conclusion as of yet. For now, though, this avenue is the easiest to pursue until we return to school next month."

Siger smiled tiredly, proud of his little brother's vast intellect. "Keep me updated as you go," he said, and waved goodbye as Renly left his brother's wing of the mansion to settle back in the library for the remainder of the afternoon before going to visit Dora.

His mother had made arrangements with Hope Lupin to host the Black boys for a couple days, and they would be arriving with Eileen Prince the weekend before Christmas. Renly figured they would spend a fair bit of time on the grounds enchanting snowballs to hit each other at high speeds, and take Dora sledding, though not necessarily at different times. Dora had grown big enough to throw her own poorly-packed snowballs, and Andromeda assured them that no one was safe, and to not feel too bad, if Dora took hits herself.

Renly kept himself decently busy with his research until Eileen Prince popped into existence at the front doors with Sirius and Regulus clinging to her arms.

"Fantastic timing," Renly applauded as he opened the doors before anyone even knocked. "I was just about to go over to see Dora."

Regulus, for all his calm façades, looked rather green.

"Ah…first side-along?"

Regulus shook his head. "No, but they're usually not this bad."

Eileen plucked a phial from her pocket and handed it to her nauseous charge. "Anti-nausea," she said plainly.

"Thanks," Reg managed, and gulped it down.

"Now then…Renly, are your parents at home? I'd like to speak with them for a moment…"

Renly shook his head. "They're actually on a weekend trip to Bath, but my brother is here if you want to talk to him instead."

Eileen looked uncertain.

"My brother is about fifteen years older than me, and is really more of a parent than a brother, especially since he's got two children."

"Then yes, I would like to speak with him."

Renly ushered them all inside, asked Sirius and Regulus to wait by the door, and escorted Eileen to his brother's study, where Siger was trying to work but kept getting interrupted by Mycroft.

"No, Myc," Siger said in a voice that sounded like he'd tried saying this a thousand times, "you cannot run for Prime Minister of Britain. You are seven, and a wizard. Wizards hold magical office, not Muggle office."

Renly chuckled from the doorway, and Mycroft scowled. Siger, however, wore an expression of relief and shooed his older son to go play elsewhere, or just start reading the whole library for the second time. Renly ruffled Mycroft's hair as he edged past his uncle, and Eileen smiled.

"What do you need, Ren?"

"Actually, it's what she needs. Siger, Eileen Prince, Sev's mum; Eileen, Siger Holmes, my brother."

Eileen walked forward and shook Siger's hand. "It's nice to meet you. I had hoped to speak with your parents, but Renly tells me they're in Bath and that you're essentially a parent to him yourself."

Renly backed out of the room, sensing that whatever the Prince matriarch wanted to discuss should probably remain private. He returned to the foyer and rejoined his friends, heading outside to go visit Dora Tonks and her parents.

Siger waited until he could no longer hear his brother's footsteps. "Well then, how can I help you?"

"I was hoping to get your parents' permission to invite Renly to a Christmas Eve party at my ancestral estate," she said.

"Ah, of course. He has my permission and our parents will not mind, as long as he is home before midnight."

"Excellent. Sirius and Regulus are probably asking him right now…as it happens, there are some wards, etcetera, that will make it necessary for myself to escort him to the manor, so Floo is out of the question. I can Side-Apparate him that morning. Has Renly Side-Apparated before?"

Siger thought for a moment. "No, I don't believe that he has, though I could be mistaken. If not, this is an excellent time to start."

Eileen nodded once. "Right then, that's all I wanted to ask. Thank you."

"I will walk you out," Siger said as he rose from his chair. "The corridors to the front doors can be confusing for a first-time guest."

"Thank you. That little boy who wants to be the Muggle Prime Minister, is that your son?"

Siger laughed. "Yes, my eldest. Pretentious, outspoken, and incredibly intelligent. I have no doubt Mycroft will go far in life."

"And your other…son?"

"Son, yes. Born a couple days following the attack on the Tonks family, actually. His name is William, but nobody calls him that. Everyone calls him Sherlock."

"Those are both very interesting names," Eileen commented.

"We Holmes are an interesting family," Siger replied with a smirk that Mycroft had recently begun imitating.

"You certainly are."

They had reached the front doors.

"I will collect Regulus and Sirius on Monday at noon."

Siger shook her hand and quickly turned back inside as Mycroft had caught the cat and begun lecturing it on why it shouldn't shed on Grandmama's afghan.

Reluctantly, oh so reluctantly, Umbridge presented herself to the courtroom at her scheduled hearing time. Determined not to appear intimidated despite her DMLE escort, she walked in with her head held high, only to falter when she saw just how many people had come to watch. Corruption trials were not full Wizengamot proceedings; only one-half were required to attend and pass judgment—however, with the Prophet running daily articles on it, nearly all the court representatives showed up, much to Umbridge's horror. She'd been only a few years from securing a seat in the Wizengamot, but now that chance had shattered like the rest of her professional plans.

She saw colleagues and people who she'd bullied into doing her dirty-work, reporters for the Daily Prophet with their quills out, Healers on the Wolfsbane team, high level Ministry officials including the Head of the Auror Department and the British Liaison for the International Confederation of Wizards, and finally the Minister of Magic himself, who, according to tradition, would be presiding in tandem with the elected Wizengamot representative.

Her accuser, Albus Dumbledore, sat on the plaintiff's side of the high courtroom, with a smartly-robed barrister, Mr. and Mrs. Striker, and Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom, who had been granted foster duties for both Black boys, whose mother had kicked them out following her husband's imprisonment. They were considered legal guardians, despite Sirius and Regulus regularly spending holidays with other families, chiefly the Lupins. Dumbledore's gaze was a mystery, unreadable but for the cold fury in his blue eyes.

Dolores all but scampered to the defendant's seat, thankfully not wrapped with chains or at the center of the room. She ignored her escorts and wondered where in the hell her barrister was, since his seat sat empty. He bustled in five minutes later, and made a beeline for his client, muttering apologies for nearly being late. Umbridge laced her voice with venom as she quietly berated him, waiting in concealed terror for the preliminary hearing to begin. It was the first of three, she knew, since corruption charges were of a different caliber than criminal charges, and were thus broken into a preliminary hearing, which consisted of reading the charges, both sides' opening remarks, and evidence from the prosecution. The second hearing, called the intermediate hearing, consisted of evidence from the defense, and the final hearing was the reading of the judgement, which could take anywhere from a few minutes to over an hour, depending on how long the Wizengamot deliberated on it.

It was a terrible system, considering some criminal trials only took a few hours when the whole of the Wizengamot were assembled, but instances of corruption didn't often surface and some Chief Warlock ages ago had instituted the three-hearing system particularly for corruption charges, since presumably the accused was friends with many people in the Ministry. It made Umbridge angry, but she had no choice in the matter.

Minister Telford banged his gavel on his podium and the voices died down. "Now begins court proceedings in the preliminary hearing for Albus Dumbledore versus Dolores Jane Umbridge in the matter of corruption within our government, abuse of power, and threatening to force Veritaserum on two schoolchildren, among others charges." He banged the gavel again and put it aside. "As this is the first hearing, opening statements and a detailed list of the charges will be heard, followed by evidence from the prosecution. Evidence from the defense will follow on the 27th of this month, and judgement will be decided on the 5th of January, 1977.

"Mr. Appleton, if you please."

The lawyer seated beside Dumbledore stood, and turned to address the court. He described the events of Umbridge's most recent visit to Hogwarts School, emphasizing the memory-evidence provided by Regulus and the vocal testimony of Peggy, though neither child was in attendance.

Umbridge watched, feeling sick, as the Prophet reporters hung on Appleton's every word, jotting their notes so quickly they practically sprayed ink. So eager they were for a scandal, that surely they must have already judged her. Dolores had much practice in keeping her features clear and neutral, but the infuriating excitement emanating from the seats filled with journalists placed an uglier expression than usual on her square, toad-like face. The illusion of pink innocence could not help her here.

Appleton moved from listing the charges (more extensive than Umbridge recalled from the official summons) right into his opening statement, at which point he began using her law, her pride and glory, the Werewolf Registry, against her, painting it as an unethical, immoral piece of legislation that helped no one and alienated an unfortunately significant percentage of the magical populous of Britain.

Finally, finally, Appleton concluded, and it was time for her barrister's opening statement.

"Mr. Winch, if you please," Telford said, inviting the defense barrister to the floor. "Opening statement only." It was meant merely as a reminder, as oftentimes defense barristers used their opening statement allotment as a step-up in getting their defense heard early, and that made no one happy.

Winch got to his feet, exchanging a glance with his client, and said his piece. By comparison, Appleton's remarks had been better thought out and executed. Umbridge restrained herself, as the urge to throttle Malcolm Winch would not win her any sympathy if she followed through on it.

Winch sat down, his brow covered in sweat. Umbridge leveled a glare at him.

"With the charges and opening statements on the record, we shall now hear the evidence from the plaintiff in all matters," the Wizengamot representative announced from her place beside the minister.

Appleton stood again and called on Albus Dumbledore as his first witness. The Headmaster related what had occurred (from his point of view) and then produced two phials with swirling, silvery memories inside. Now, usually to view memories, one had to dunk his head into a Pensieve. But for court purposes a projection Pensieve had been built, and once filled with a memory, would show it to all present.

When Umbridge saw those phials, it was all she could do to sit still and not flee, or faint. Winch frowned.

The courtroom plunged into the distinctive fluidity of Regulus Black's memory, silent as they saw the raw fear on Peggy Striker's face as they entered Umbridge's temporary office. Dolores tried to appear unmoved by the memory, tried to ignore it when the courtroom gasped as her counterpart disarmed two underage schoolchildren and all but threatened them—and at last, mercifully, it ended, only to be replaced by the contents of the second phial, which happened to be Dumbledore's memory from the visit she'd had the previous school year, of Renly Holmes's defiance in the Great Hall, the simple word of fact that the Werewolf Registry helped no one.

The woman on trial had had quite enough of this presentation of obviously flawed evidence, but Winch gave her a sharp glance and she quailed.

The clouds of the memory lifted, and the courtroom flooded with light. Appleton moved right along, calling on the Strikers and the Longbotttoms, and then on a man who had been sitting a few rows back, who Umbridge belatedly recognized as Siger Holmes, the Lord of the Holmes Estate & Holdings, the occupant of the Holmes Seat in the Wizengamot—wealthy patron of St. Mungo's Hospital, including the Wolfsbane Trials—the Holmes who had fought Fenrir Greyback and won.

The reporters burst into frenzied tittering at this surprise witness; while well known, the Holmes family oft used their power from behind the scenes, and frequently sent representatives in their place when most Wizengamot sessions were called.

"Please state your name, titles, and relationship to the case for the court."

"I am Lord Siger Holmes, eldest son of the Lord Salvador and the Lady Hannah Holmes. I hold my family's Seat in this court, am the Lord of Ravenwood and its surrounding lands, and am a frequent Ministry consultant for a vast number of things. Furthermore I am the one who responded to the cries for help from the Tonks family, whose daughter Nymphadora was bitten by the fugitive werewolf Fenrir Greyback.

"I have been requested by the prosecution to put forth evidence on behalf of my brother Renly, who was similarly intimidated by the defendant for having ties to the Tonks."

Umbridge felt despair seeping up her spine, and tried to make herself invisible. She had, of course, surrendered her wand before entering, and thus could not perform any spells of concealment, no matter how badly she wished for them.

Siger also had a memory phial in is possession, and its contents showed the court Umbridge's unsuccessful attempt to bully information from Renly Holmes, whose icy calm rebuffed every attempt. At least with Renly she hadn't locked him in, nor did she attempt to disarm him. Her words were enough, though, to cast her in a very bad light.

When Renly's memory ended, so did Appleton's presentation of evidence, and Minister Telford banged his gavel a final time to bring the court session to its end. The courtroom dismissed, the DMLE escorts returned to lead Umbridge back to the Atrium, where she could collect her wand with the reminder that leaving the British isle would put her in contempt of court.

On the 22nd of December, the anniversary of Lord Voldemort's destruction, the Ministry and all of Wizarding Britain observed it as a holiday, and many wild parties were thrown. Minister Telford issued a blanket warning that the Statute of Secrecy was not to be broken, and anyone caught doing so would be fined. Secretly he hoped the proclamation would generate all sorts of revenue, since the previous year immediately following the news of Voldemort's death there had been days and days of celebration—and not a single Knut was made from it.

Severus and Lily were permitted by their parents to attend the party being thrown by the Weasleys at the Burrow. Petunia had been invited as well, but decided to spend that time with Cordon instead, to privately exchange their Christmas gifts. Eileen Apparated her son and Lily to the Weasleys, briefly said hello to the hosts and their children, and returned home to wrap presents while the flat was empty.

Molly enveloped Lily in her arms while Arthur firmly shook Sev's hand. "Oh my dears," Molly expounded. "One year! One year of freedom from that madman's darkness! I never dared imagine it."

"A lot of people never could," Sev said right before Molly released Lily and reached for him. "Oof!"

"Now, now," Molly hushed. "You were more helpful than anyone will ever know."

Sev's cheeks flushed when he remembered quite clearly how the Weasleys had taken him and the Evans family in and cared for them following Mark's death, and how, later, Arthur had taken his suggestion to Dumbledore on how the Order might trap Voldemort. Molly's embrace lasted longer than Sev would have liked it to, so when he glimpsed Gideon and Fabian over Molly's shoulder he patted her on the back and made to pull away. "I've just spotted your brothers—I'd like to ask them something."

"Of course!" Molly said most warmly, and she released Sev from her motherly hold. "Arthur! Grab Charlie before he crawls outside!"

Sev grabbed Lily's hand as he smirked at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. "Gid, Fab! Have a moment?"

The twins looked up from their seats on the couch and got to their feet. "Prince!" said Gideon right as Fabian said "Evans!" They looked at each other and then simultaneously said, "A moment we have."

Lily grinned a small grin, and then forced herself to remember they were Potter's friends so she would stop grinning.

"I'm actually going to be quite blunt and just ask—"

"Why we're friends with James Potter?"

Sev and Lily stared at Amos Diggory who had just appeared practically out of nowhere beside the twins. "Yeah, that."

Amos shared an I told you so expression with Gideon and Fabian, and motioned for them all to sit down. "He just thinks we're his friends. It's easier to pretend because if we didn't he wouldn't tell us his weird nutso ideas that would get him expelled if he actually did any of them."

Sev thought about this and said, "What?"

Lily said, "You'd rather be implicated as an accomplice for knowing beforehand and not telling anyone?"

Gideon shook his head while Fabian answered. "No, it's so we can try to keep him from doing any of them."

"What kind of things?" Sev asked uneasily.

Amos focused on a scratch in the coffee table. "Let's just say it wouldn't have even been acceptable when Merlin was around."

"Try not to worry about it," Fabian assured them. "We'll do our best to tell the right people if we think dear Jamie is going to finally stop listening to us."

Sev didn't say that he trusted James Potter less than he trusted Voldemort, and that nobody would be able to stop him in time if he did decide to go through with his archaic ideas, known or not. Wordlessly Lily gave his hand a squeeze to indicate they were on the same page. But at least the Prewetts and Diggorys weren't complete muttonheads, which had been, until now, a legitimate concern.

"Honestly I don't think it'll be much longer now," Amos admitted. "He's stuck on the notion that he can still win Lily."

Lily glared at no one in particular and felt more pressure from Sev's hand over hers.

Gideon sighed. "Yeah, I know. I thought he had something good going with Macdonald, but he ruined that faster than the Cannons bombing in the league. Shame."

"Predictable," Sev corrected, "given his seriously inappropriate fixation."

Lily gagged for show. "He's not even attractive," she pointed out. "I mean, maybe to some girls, like Mary, the physical aspect is far more important than having a brain…but Potter…his attitude and personality make him unbelievably hideous."

Amos, Gideon, and Fabian all shared a smirk. "Rather full of himself, I'd say," Fab commented. "But yeah, Evans, you're right on point with that insight. Poor 'lil Jamie won't ever realize it."

"Not unless someone beats it into him," Sev muttered half to himself.

"You offering?" Amos asked jokingly, to which Severus answered only with a small smile on his lips.

Lily had just thought of something. "Hang on, you three should be up to your eyeballs with N.E.W.T revisions. How are you keeping checks on Potter?"

Gideon shrugged. "He's the one quizzing us. Something about his Auror plans and whatnot. He's ahead of some curve by doing his normal sixth year work plus the N.E.W.T revisions with us. The bonus being it keeps him out of trouble for the most part."

"For the most part," Sev repeated quietly.

"Unfortunately we can't keep tabs on him all the time, and we'd be bonkers to try."

"That," Sev said as he put his arm around Lily's shoulders, "is what worries me."

Petunia suggested to Cordon that they meet at their usual place—the café—to exchange gifts. Cordon disagreed, and then told her it would be a surprise as he wanted it to be special, though when pressed he wouldn't tell her why. So they walked hand-in-hand through the snowy streets, wandering their way to the chapel, beside which lay the graveyard where her father was buried. Noticing this, Petunia stopped walking.

"Why are we going there, Cor?" she asked, pointing at the wooden gate in the distance.

"We're not. I know what that place means to you, but there's something else nearby that bring up those bad feelings." He kissed her forehead. "I promise."

Reluctantly she followed him past the cemetery and the chapel, and down a snowy path that angled into the woods bordering Ottery St. Catchpole. At the edge off the line of trees stood a pure white gazebo, nearly invisible with all the snowpack around it. When they were near enough to touch it, Petunia gasped. "Oh, Cor—it's so pretty!" Cordon smiled and brought her right into it, and stood back to watch her examine the structure. She took her glove off and ran her hand across the wood, marveling at its smoothness. "It looks brand new!"

Cordon chuckled. "It's actually six hundred and fifty nine years old, and it looks new because it's been magically preserved for that long. Near as anyone knows, it used to be in the middle of the forest, and when the Muggles cleared trees they stopped before going past it, but they never really knew why."

"Is…is it supposed to be invisible to me?"

"Sort of," Cordon said. "It's got a really old perception field around it, kind of like the Leaky Cauldron, where you have to be with someone magical in order to actually see it."

Petunia smiled. "Why did the, well, they stop clearing the trees, then, if they couldn't see this?"

Cordon came close to her and whispered, "The woods beyond are filled with dark horrors—which is what they told each other. It's just because the forest is really part of a unicorn sanctuary, and the architects didn't want anyone passing into it without having a magical core. So even though you can see and enter the gazebo, the line of trees would still block you out."

Petunia had stopped listening halfway into his explanation. "Did you say unicorns? As in the national animal of Scotland, unicorns?"

Cordon nodded yes.

"How on earth did you know unicorns are in there?"

"It's in a history book on the wizarding communities of Great Britain."

Petunia stared out at the woods, imagining a pure white unicorn calmly walking up to her, its horn gleaming—

Cordon rested a hand on her shoulder. "I have something for you," he said, his other hand fumbling in his pocket. Petunia faced him right as he extracted a box. She eyed it, and after a brief instant her jaw dropped.

"Cordon Diggory, is that an engagement ring?"

Cordon's face caught between a frown and a grin. "Well—no. It's a promise ring. But I'm hoping you might stick around so I can ask you properly someday, when we're both sure of ourselves and how our individual futures are going.

"I may not be all that terrific at school, but I know relationships, and I know people can grow apart even when they have the best intentions. So…that's what this is. A symbol of my intention to ask you for your hand, but not until we're older and both at least somewhat ready." He opened the box.

Petunia stared at the little silver band, entranced by the equally tiny ruby at its center. "Are you serious?" she asked faintly, wishing that there were an instruction guide on how to react to such things.

"Yes," Cordon replied, his brow furrowing in blooming worry. "Are y—"

He lost his words because Petunia threw her arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as possible. "I accept it," she murmured into his ear, "though I think my present for you will be rather lacking for originality now."

Cordon laughed a deep, full bodied laugh, and picked Petunia up, swinging her around.

Christmas was filled with family and friends and laughter, but following the presentation of the defense on December the 27th, blood flowed and chaos reigned on the streets just outside the Ministry entrance. The news came from Arthur Weasley. After stopping by the Burrow to reassure Molly and his boys, he Apparated directly to the front doorstep of the Prince/Evans flat, and knocked sharply, frantically, prompting Petunia to pull open the door looking rather bewildered.

"Arthur?"

"Could I come in?"

"Of course—" she stood aside. "Sev and Lily are on a date and our mothers are at work—I'm the only one here."

Arthur shook his head. "Doesn't matter—you'll need to hear this from me before the Prophet runs with it." He sucked in a breath. "Greyback was sighted in London—and that's not all. The Minister is dead. The woman on trial for corruption, the one who reformed the werewolf registry? She and others were wounded during the attack and may have been affected by the lycanthropy curse."

Petunia sat hard on the sofa in shock. "What does this mean for your—our world? We should find Sev and Lily."

Arthur sat across from her. "There'll be an emergency installation within a week, but the thing to worry about is why Greyback suddenly surfaced in London to kill the Minister. We don't even know if he was the intended target."

"I really should get Severus," Petunia whispered.

Arthur stopped talking rather abruptly, realizing that Petunia truly wasn't the one to receive this news.

"He knows better than me what all this information means, Arthur. Give me twenty minutes and I'll bring them back here."

The Weasley patriarch nodded his head after a moment, and stood when Petunia did. "I'll come with you. I can find them faster with a spell, anyways." He placed his wand on his palm, thought of the young Gryffindors, and said, "Point me." The wand spun in his hand until it slowed to a stop, and together he and Petunia left the flat to find Lily and Severus.

They found them five minutes later in the corner booth of a coffee house, animatedly discussing the Apparition lessons that would be starting come January.

"Tuney?" Lily said in surprise. "Arthur?"

"Can we join you?" Arthur asked, and when Severus agreed, he also put up a privacy ward. "I've got news that you'll want to hear from a friend. Greyback killed Minister Telford, and several bystanders—including Dolores Umbridge—were badly wounded, perhaps even bitten. They've been taken to St. Mungo's for observation and treatment."

Sev's jaw dropped.

"There's more," Arthur continued. "One of my contacts at the hospital told me that Umbridge was demanding Wolfsbane, even though she's too badly to walk on her own. She's convinced she's been turned—"

"Even though she won't know for sure until full moon," Severus said, easily repressing an inappropriate urge to smile. "Who's going to be emergency minister?"

"I'm not sure," Arthur replied, running a hand through is red hair. "I think Crouch is hoping for a nomination when the proper election is held in a month, but Millicent Bagnold is my guess for both emergency and the vote. She's a shoe in."

Severus wracked his memory until he recalled that Bagnold wasn't supposed to hold office until 1979, but this was just another in a long line of butterfly effects so he didn't pay it much mind.

"How many people were hurt?" Lily asked.

Arthur shrugged. "It was a pretty wild attack right outside of the Ministry entrance. I'm not sure, but the most badly injured have already been taken to St. Mungo's. Last owl I got said ten."

Petunia's eyes widened. "Were you there?"

"Oh—no, no I wasn't," Arthur hastily reassured them. "I was still in my office, but it caused quite the commotion and we were evacuated right after Greyback slipped away in case he made a move for someone still inside. I still can't believe the Minister's dead…"

"What's going to happen now?" Lily asked quietly, ruminating on Arthur's news.

"A Ministry closure, at least for a couple days, while the Auror's clear it. For all we know he escaped into the lower levels. None of the witnesses agree on which way he fled." He tugged at his ear. "Nonessential workers are on temporary leave."

Severus steepled his fingers beneath his chin as he thought. "Why would he attack the Ministry and kill our leader?"

Everyone looked at him.

"I mean, it's not exactly the smartest thing to do."

"Nobody said he's smart—"

"He'd have to be, though. He's not just a thug, he's a smart thug. I don't think it's a coincidence that Umbridge got injured during the attack."

"You don't?" Arthur asked, surprised.

"Wasn't one of her hearings today?"

Silence permeated their privacy bubble.

"Yes, it was," Arthur confirmed. "Evidence from the defense."

"Then can we assume Greyback heard about it and wanted to make sure he took someone out? It's been all over the papers since the start of the holidays."

Lily laid a hand on Sev's arm. "He killed the Minister, Sev, not Umbridge."

"True…but if he only intended to bite her, then she would be a victim of her own legislation. Just like Greyback. A werewolf."

"The ultimate punishment," Petunia whispered, slightly horrified.

Arthur started shaking his head. "But no one was bitten—"

"—As far as you know. The terror of waiting can drive some people mad."

"Just so."

The four continued their discussion for almost another hour, before Arthur had to return home. The next morning's Daily Prophet front page was filled with a huge picture of the late Beltran Telford, and not a single inch of it had a story about something other than the fatal attack.

The Creature-Induced injuries ward at St. Mungo's had been magically expanded and warded to accommodate the twelve casualties from Greyback's fatal attack on Minister Beltran Telford. Despite her continual protests and demands, Dolores Umbridge was not afforded special treatment, and when she wouldn't stop badgering the on-call Healers for a course of Wolfsbane, one of them had the balls to say, "Ma'am, you were not bitten. You are not a werewolf. You may display characteristics singular to wolves, but you are not a werewolf."

To which Umbridge snarled, "All it takes is one drop of filthy saliva in an open wound and yes, that would make me—and potentially everyone injured there—a bloody werewolf! Give me the Wolfsbane!"

Since the Healer on call was really only a trainee, she immediately left to find her superior and relate Umbridge's revelation.

"Yes, we know that," the Healer sighed wearily. "We have told her that until the week before full moon the potion wouldn't do anything, and they're all scheduled for a course of it when that week arrives. Just ignore her for now, and I'll deal with her…again…on my shift."

Even when in recovery for serious cuts and gashes to her face, neck, arms, and hands, Umbridge managed to be the worst patient the Creature-Induced injures ward had ever had, including all the full werewolves enrolled in the Wolfsbane trial.

The Wizengamot had not ruled in the case of corruption against Umbridge, and secretly she hoped to have it deferred for extenuating circumstances—mainly, the irony of being attacked by a werewolf immediately following the presentation of defensive evidence to determine if she was guilty of illegally attempting to gather information about a possible werewolf at Hogwarts (among other things). The situation made her angrier than she'd ever been in her entire life, and that included the time Gregory Watford humiliatingly rejected her in front of all of Slytherin House after she'd been teased into asking him out.

Oh, how she longed to bring them all down. And then, quite suddenly, she remembered a very short line in her bill, that passed, classifying everyone with displayed traits of werewolves following none-bite attacks…as werewolves, despite not undergoing a monthly transformation. She sat in her hospital bed, refusing to look at anyone, finally quiet, as she silently rocked back and forth in terror over the corner into which she'd unintentionally trapped herself.

It happened as Arthur predicted. Millicent Bagnold entered office as the emergency Minister of Magic, and immediately set about cleaning up the mess left behind by Greyback's attack. She worked efficiently, shutting down the Werewolf Registry on a temporary order, not mentioning to anyone that she intended to shut it down permanently—but would have to go through the Wizengamot for that, with a sponsorship. The second order of business on her agenda was to visit the British Prime Minister and brief him on the bleak situation, in addition to introducing herself.

The portrait permanently stuck to the wall of James Callaghan's office at 10 Downing Street unexpectedly spoke that morning. "Minister of Magic Millicent Bagnold for British Prime Minister James Callaghan. Urgent business regarding safety of all Britain."

Callaghan mopped at the tea he'd spilled all over the documents on his desk. "What happened to Telford?" he asked, still feeling stupid for talking to a portrait.

"Minister Bagnold will explain. Expect her momentarily."

"Yes, all right." He gave up on saving the papers (thankfully only copies) and shoved them hastily into a rubbish bin by his feet, just as the fireplace flared with green flames, and a woman emerged quite gracefully for having just spun like a top through the so-called fireplace network. Or was it floo?

She dusted herself off and walked purposefully over to the slightly damp desk. She stuck out her hand in greeting. "Millicent Bagnold, emergency Minister of Magic," she said brusquely, clearly indicating the need to get down to business. "Good to meet you, Minister."

"Likewise," Callaghan managed. "What happened to your last one—Telford?"

Millicent took a seat. "Beltran Telford was killed four days ago by our most wanted werewolf, who goes by the name Fenrir Greyback, though he may have used other aliases in his flight from justice." She withdrew her wand and conjured two tumblers of whiskey, floating one over to Callaghan, completely ignoring his discomfort with the blatant display of magic. "He also injured twelve members of our Ministry workforce, all of whom have been hospitalized and are under observation. None have been bitten as far as we can determine, but all suffered scratches and lacerations that may carry some effect of the lycanthropy curse."

"I'm sorry, did you say four days ago?"

Millicent sipped her whiskey and then nodded. "I did. He fled by the time Aurors arrived on the scene, which was only a matter of minutes. They were unable to track him through Muggle London."

"Isn't that their specialty?" he asked weakly, but then dismissed his question with a wave of the hand. "Four days ago Scotland Yard responded to a call in Amersham and discovered the horribly mutilated body of a young girl at the Tube station. It was front page news in The Daily Mail—don't you have people working both sides? The Yard is stumped. Could it have been your Greyback fellow?"

"It is quite possible," Millicent replied. "Have a drink. You need it." The tumbler of whiskey floated innocently at Callaghan's eye level. "Our Aurors are dedicated to hunting down and capturing Dark wizards, but it isn't often that they interface directly with the Yard. Our Department of Magical Law Enforcement bridges that gap with two detective inspectors on your end." She took another sip. "Didn't Telford mention any of that to you? It's standard procedure to bring the current PM in on how our ministries are integrated."

Callaghan finally grabbed at the whiskey. "No, no, he failed to mention that we have two DI's working with the—magical—community." He almost choked on the word. "I'm terribly sorry, Minister, but I have no idea what you expect me to do about your werewolf felon, besides run screaming in terror."

"I don't expect you to do anything about it," Millicent replied smartly. "My duty is to inform you that because of Monday's events, and his increasing threat to both my world and yours, our search for Greyback will spill into Muggle Britain, and teams of Obliviators will deal with any unintended witnesses. You should, however, release a statement warning your citizens to stay inside after dark to avoid encountering the large wild carnivores that have been recently sighted in the sparser areas of Greater London and ranging north, and northwest if the girl in Amersham is indeed a victim of his."

Callaghan abandoned all dignity and drained the whiskey in one go. "Wonderful. I'll get right on that. Who should I have them all call if they spot a giant, grizzled werewolf on the prowl?"

Millicent produced a business card out of thin air and handed it to him. "We staff a small Muggle Concerns hotline. Knowledgeable Muggleborn witches and wizards are on duty at all hours." She flicked her wand again and the empty tumblers disappeared, causing Callaghan's fist to close in on itself. "I hope I have not caused you any undue stress with this werewolf business. Our hospital has been testing a type of suppressant potion that controls the transformation effects, but it is not currently available to the general public, and Greyback has already refused it." She stood. "I really must be returning to my own Ministry. Things have been…let's say hectic, since those events."

Callaghan watched weakly as the tall woman in the dark grey robes and smart glasses produced a pinch of the fireplace (floo?) powder and made the green flames appear again. He blinked a few times and she was gone, leaving the office silent but for the rustle that occasionally came from the talking portrait. Thinking that whiskey perhaps wasn't the right remedy, he put the kettle on the now normal, orange flames, and waited for the whistle.

James Potter knew more about Wardsmithing than anyone could guess. Ever since his father had confiscated his precious invisibility cloak, he'd done careful research on how to undetectably break wards, reset them, and finish with no one ever knowing the difference. He determined, over the course of that first summer, the types of wards set over that drawer, and then learned how to break them. The invisibility cloak had been back in his possession by that Christmas, and he carefully replaced it at every school holiday in case his father wanted to talk to him about responsibility or some such nonsense. The night before the train back to school James slipped quietly into his father's study, broke the wards, and retrieved his cloak. He reset them, checked them twice, and then flung the cloak over himself to sneak back to his room without anyone, including the house elves, seeing him.

He tucked the cloak deep within his trunk, covering it with robes and socks and some books he picked from the library. It took James longer than usual to fall asleep—his mind kept sifting through things at a fast pace and he couldn't quite keep up. He'd also, in the back of his mind, been building up a plan—a plan unlikely to succeed, but a plan nonetheless—which might finally make Lily Evans see sense when it came to choosing a man.

James had never been told that the quietest, smallest, and most unconscious of ideas, the most secret ones even to oneself, were sometimes the most dangerous.

A/N2: You probably expected a section actually showing the Christmas Eve party or Christmas morning. I considered including them, but with the dynamic and direction of the chapter, they didn't fit in properly, and should be left up to your imaginations as readers.

A/N3: Chapter 44 will post sometime between 29 April 2015 and 3 May 2015, and IT WILL BE RATED M. Please take the time to read the author's note at the top of the following chapter and adequately judge whether proceeding will be in your best interest as a reader.