A/N: Homework! Life! Argh!

Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01


Nine Tails of Retribution

Chapter 3

Times They Are A-Changin'

The truth is incontrovertible. Malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end, there it is. - Winston Churchill

-Minerva-

Tea, lifeblood of a true Scot, was singing in my arteries, and I was perfectly happy with that. I leaned back in the chair as I watched Severus hold out his hand, and my plucky vixen daughter bounded over beakers and trays, grabbed a jar between her teeth, and carried it over to him, multiple tails a waving. He would, in turn, add it, point out some obscure thing known only to him, her, and Potions masters thrice his age. Hermione would yip commentary, and he would scratch her behind the ears, causing her to fall over, leaning into his side with a bit of drool dripping down his robes. Then, they would be back at it. He'd have her return the jar and fetch another.

It was endearing, I had to admit, and as her mam I could only approve of the bond between them. Now that she was rather forcibly aged, she could no longer stay in the dormitories with the other students, and one of Dumbledore's last tasks before he allowed St. Mungo's to treat him for a rather scary list of ailments he'd been plagued with for some time. The stress of the last month had finally destroyed that layer of optimism that had kept it at bay.

We had all been fooled by Sirius Black, but it had laid on Albus' shoulders the most. His judgement had given us the push towards trusting him— even though he was a wanted criminal. In the end, Sirius had been even more dangerous than he was thought to be originally.

Thanks to the Kitsune Truth Geas, as Alastor had dubbed it, Sirius had fallen prey to himself. He and his fellows were now spouting the complete truth to anyone and everyone. Even more amusing (or disturbing as the case may be) was that people were starting to randomly spew truths in odd places like the Three Broomsticks or Diagon Alley. Kingsley and Moody had found this to be an excellent way to catch Death Eaters in disguise, and they were having the time of their lives arresting people who literally told them everything they wanted to know. And then some.

Oddly enough, the geas seemed to affect only those affiliated with You-Know-Who, so, despite many people wanting it otherwise, one couldn't just have an Auror shake hands with their child and get them to confess to setting the family cow on fire or filling all of the closets with Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans.

Alas. Hogwarts would be so much easier to get the truth out of some of the miscreants had this not been the case.

After Hermione had indulged in a rather enjoyable belly-rub, Severus and I realised that our classrooms had moved to surround a rather expansive courtyard, side by side, and our quarters had, if you will pardon the expression, magically ended up right next to each other. The dungeons had been replaced by a rather stunning underground garden, filled with phosphorescent fungi and plants, an underground stream, and tunnels looking out into the Black Lake.

The Slytherin Common Room moved up a floor, shifting Hogwarts up a little, allowing the underground gardens to take over. The Slytherin students, suddenly able to have windows and fresh air, seemed more than happy with the change. They, like the other houses, now had an outdoor section to their common room, and the years of being the outcasts condemned to the dungeons and having to make up reasons for why that made them special and not outcasts no longer lurked like the white elephant in the room.

Now that Hermione was Severus' apprentice in full, he was responsible for her education, officially, and he was making sure she was ready to sit her N.E.W.T.s as well as put her finishing polish on her mastery project. Both of which, she was more than ready for. Between Severus, myself, just about every professor at Hogwarts, and the DMLE, Hermione was prepared.

She had proven it— and then some.

Poppy seemed to think that her preferring to wander around as her Kitsune self was perfectly healthy. It was her way of dealing with the world as she needed to, and as long as she was getting the things she needed done, she didn't see any harm in it. She was, also, sickeningly adorable and seemed to reduce the stress level of all around her by simply being there.

As for her stress level, certain people seemed to do that for her. Severus was, of course, her go-to stress reliever. She did enjoy patrolling the halls with me, and most of the professors at Hogwarts enjoyed having her tag along. Now that she was a formally recognised apprentice, and looking significantly older, she could get away with being more obvious about her apprenticeship status. By the time the students returned, everything would be all set. Hermione would have a quarters linked off Severus' and mine (Thank you Hogwarts!) and we would both be close in case she had a crisis. Seeing how Dolores Umbridge was going to be joining us to teach DADA, there were a few of us hoping she'd be taken by the jinx on the position sooner rather than later.

Then, there was Sybill.

Hermione and Sybill hadn't gone along since Hermione's third year. While Hermione may not have had the "gift" for prophecy, Sybill was arguably far worse in many ways. Short of a few true prophecies, it was all a bunch of bollocks. Sybill knew it; I knew it, and Hermione definitely knew it. What really annoyed Severus, on the other hand, was that the woman refused to stop groping him, and she would do it in front of Merlin and everyone.

Well, at least, she had— until a certain annoyed Kitsune started exercising her inner mischief maker. First, all of the crystal balls had turned into crystal oblongs, causing Sybill to cry of misfortune and doom upon the school. Second, every time Sybill attempted to eat her spaghetti during the evening meal, it would rise up and try to slap her around. The agitated woman had attempted to switch to a different food, but the baked potatoes spat the butter pats at her, the jelly cubes lept down her shirt, the chicken wings somehow learned to do kung-fu and knock her glasses clear off her face, and salad rose up with a giant pod-like maw filled with fangs chanting, "Feed me, Sybill!" The breakfast bagels would sneeze their toppings off, the tea would pull back from her when she tried to sip, and during dinner river otters spontaneously manifested and ran off with her beef Wellington.

Severus, of course, would be wearing an utterly stoic expression the entire time, even as I desperately attempted to stifle giggles into my sleeve. Hermione, on the other hand, made a large show of eating her food slowly and methodically, her pointed fox ears sticking out of her hair as her tails slowly swished behind her. Sybill, ironically, couldn't see them at all.

Without the students around, there was no audience to these antics, but a part of me wondered if things would get worse. Much worse.

"Yip!"

I lifted my head.

Hermione had her jaws wrapped around a rather large and overly-stuffed gyro sandwich, and she was tearing into it on the nearby armchair. Severus had already finished marking his lessons for the day. Inventory had been done, supplies had been ordered, new furniture arranged, and general exploring had been accomplished. Something about having all your classrooms move up a floor and suddenly acquiring highly-desired outdoor access seemed to cause considerable scratching of heads.

Severus and I, of course, kept our smug smiles to ourselves. Now that our classrooms, offices, and chambers were side-to-side, the next year promised to be one of those interesting exercises in house animosity.

Argus, on the other hand, kept getting lost in the new hallways. Mrs Norris got side-tracked by shiny things and this perfectly round seed pods that would rattle and roll around. She'd go chasing after them, leading Argus on a merry chase. We could only hope that by the time the students arrived for the year that he remembered where our classrooms and offices were.

Filius "borrowed" Hermione for a day, and managed to do a little wishing on a furry Kitsune belly. His classroom, which had often doubled for the choir-practice was transformed into something highly reminiscent of the old Grecian theatres. His old, creaking blackboards had been replaced by wall-sized ones that covered the back wall from where he was lecturing. The back of the classrooms was flat, while the seating area was broken up into tiers. The padding seemed to please him, as he always seemed to have students ramming into them during charms practice. The blackboards, on the other hand, caused Filius to practically squeal with glee. Whenever you stepped up on the podium, whatever you said was automatically transcribed on the boards in concise notes— perfect for Filius when he wanted to keep an eye forward on his students instead of trying to write and watch at the same time.

"Severus! Severusssss!" a nasally voice cried from the door. "I need your help!"

I felt my eye twitch as I recognised the voice.

Severus swirled around, his dark robes swishing in the air with an audible rustle. "Professor Trelawney," he said through gritted teeth. "What brings you to my classroom?"

Hermione had frozen in place in the chair, her lips pulling back from her ivory fangs. Her tails twitched back and forth, reminding me of the writhing of angry snakes. I couldn't really blame her for that. There was something about Sybill that caused me to consider taking some rather drastic measures to avoid her— like making like a tabby cat and disappearing into the hidden depths of the castle.

"I can't find my classroom, Severus," Sybill wheezed.

Severus' eyebrow arched high into his hair. Many of the professors believed his eyebrow could cut glass with its sharpness. "Have you tried," he started to say, "looking where you parked it last?"

Sybill frowned, staring at him with puzzlement. "What?"

Severus didn't bother trying to explain. His lip curled with the customary disdain he usually saved for only the most imbecilic of dunderheaded fools. He scowled at her. "You shouldn't be here Professor Trelawney. "The students are not due back for another month, and last I checked, you have never brewed potions for Madam Pomfrey nor have you ever shown the slightest interest in renovating the school curriculum with the rest of us before the start of term.

"This is my home," Sybill said with a rather nasally voice. "Why shouldn't I live where my home is?" Then she proceeded to mutter a string of nonsense under her breath, moving her hands around like a squirrel with a nut.

"All staff members who are not doing previously approved tasks do not live in Hogwarts while school is not in session, Sybill," I said, sighing from my spot on the settee. Hermione had flopped on my lap to continue gnawing on her sandwich, seeking her reassurance as she could. Her eyes remained warily fixed upon Sybill.

"Minnerrrva," Sybill whinged. "You have an agent of death itself sitting upon your lap! It's an evil omen that reeks of doom! You should banish the foul creature before it sheds its disaster and ill luck upon you!"

My daughter? An agent of death? That was a new one. Sirius Black might think she was, if he was even in any condition to think coherently. Judging by what Alastor had told me, Mr Black would not be in any condition to wreak his brand of havoc upon anyone.

His sentence had been rather harsh. An emergency meeting of the Wizengamot had been held and it hadn't taken the members very long to determine his ultimate fate. If there had been any trace of pity left for the man who had been framed by his former best friend, it had been erased by a shockingly long list of murders, conspiracies, and framing of his entire family.

Number twelve Grimmauld Place and all of the remaining Black family assets had gone to Hermione as the only true heir, but her identity was sealed under Oath until the conclusion of the war. Sirius had gone through quite a bit of trouble to insure he had been the sole remaining member of his family, save for his cousin, Bellatrix. While Bellatrix had done all she could to scour her own side of the family, Sirius had done more than his share of dirty work as well.

Narcissa was currently being treated at St Mungo's for some rather extensive mental manipulation. Her sister, Andromeda, had apparently been spared due to her marriage to Edward Tonks, and Lucius and Draco were being treated as well for extensive subliminal suggestions that had been charmed into Lucius' walking cane and Draco's wand. All of these things had been put into motion long before both Bellatrix and Sirius had ended up in Azkaban, and many of the healers believed it could take months of treatment to erase the invasive level of conditioning they had been under.

Aurors had been sent to the Malfoy's estate to sweep for any more little "gifts" that might have been left behind by Bellatrix or Sirius, and every room had been combed over object by object. Over a hundred random objects had been cursed and otherwise manipulated, and many of them had been specifically designed to continuously feed a brainwashing programme into each of the Malfoys.

The message was quite simple.

Obey. Pure-blood must reign supreme. Support the Dark Lord in all things.

The biggest question that Alastor and Kingsley had, however, was how many other families were being tampered with just like the Malfoys?

Hermione wanted Severus, myself, Alastor, and Amelia as well as trusted senior Aurors like Savage and Proudfoot to come with her for the opening of the Black family vaults. Sometime, after all the curriculum had been beaten down, rooms stopped moving around due to random-not-so-random acts of Kitsune magic, and a hundred other things stop spinning around our heads, we would all go together. That might take some time…

Speaking of things spinning— Sybill was clinging to Severus, pleading for him to come help her "find her rooms."

"Unhand me, Professor Trelawney!" he snapped, yanking his sleeve away from her.

She captured his arm, petting it through the robes. "Severusssss, Severusssss!" she cooed. "If anyone can find my private rooms it would be you."

"Perhaps if you stopped nipping cheap sherry so often, your memory would not be so addled!" Severus hissed.

Really, that woman. Did she have even a shred of common decency left behind those thick glasses, gauzy robes, and shawls? She was hanging on Severus' arm, petting it like a prized golden sheep.

Hermione growl-ruffed, pawing at my hand, and I realised I had stopped rubbing her belly. I apologised for the distracted neglect on my part by resuming my duties. With that, her tails seemed to slither around my wrist, carefully keeping physical contact with me.

I sighed. I found myself wishing, however futilely, that Sybill would be outed for the shameless fraud that she was. Maybe if her face turned shamrock green every single time she started wailing about death, doom, and someone dying a horrific, twisted death, people would start taking her a bit less seriously. I sighed, pitying poor Severus suffering with his incense-ridden cling-on. I shook my head. "I just wish that horrible woman would get vivid mental images of Albus and Hagrid naked and dancing a jig whenever she thought of Severus. It would be worth it to be around just to watch the disgust and horror spread across her face. Even better, maybe she could have some rather embarrassing flatulence when she lied— the stench proportionate to her lie. That would prove to everyone what a charlatan she was."

Hermione growl-yipped happily as I continued to rub her exposed, fluffy belly. Whatever protocol there might have been between I and my daughter as a human, Kitsune Hermione was having no part of it. She wanted her belly rubbed, and she wanted it rubbed at once.

Zap!

Tendrils of green-tinted static seemed to arch between Hermione's tails.

KerZAP!

Did that arc over to—?

Suddenly, Sybill turned an unhealthy shade of green and fled out the classroom door, with her hand covering her mouth. I'd never seen the ridiculous woman move so fast before. Even more strangely, she didn't trip over anything. Unusual, that.

Severus and I exchanged glances as we heard the distinctive sound of someone projectile vomiting into the rosebushes.

"Minerva?" Severus' voice rumbled.

"Hrm?" I replied.

"Do I even want to know, or should I just make you some of your favourite rose-scented hand-creme?"

I stared down at Hermione who looked back at me with her crooked vulpine halo on.

"Hand-creme would be fabulous, Severus," I said with a wink, rubbing Hermione's ears and belly at the same time.

"Yip!" Hermione agreed, sinking happily into my lap.

"You, my bonnie daughter," I said with a smug smile, "you get an extra forfar bridie for dinner."

Hermione's tails swished back and forth in pure pleasure.

Somehow, I had to think that she had planned for that outcome, but whether that was true or not, she definitely deserved quite a reward for getting Sybill off of Severus and out of our hair for a while.

Thank Merlin for that.


-Hermione-

I was being stalked.

By a bird.

The phoenix warbled at me, landing nearby. I had heard about him— most of Hogwarts had— but to see him was an entirely different thing altogether. He was big, very big, and when you're a fox— well, a small multiple-tailed fox— then size starts to get pretty significant.

"Hello," said the phoenix.

Blink. Blink. There was this tingling in my head. I heard the voice, and the phoenix was staring at me intently.

"Just think the words into my head," the bird said, turning his head almost upside down to peer at me. His feathers poofed out around his head like a mane.

"Hello?" I attempted, feeling rather stupid.

"Don't feel stupid," he chuckled. "You're new."

"Very new," I replied, feeling like a child of five being confronted with a racing bicycle instead tricycle for the first time.

Fawkes warbled in my head— laughter. "Six tails. Impressive. Chose the benevolent path. Even more impressive. Sorry."

"Sorry?" I asked.

Fawkes sang a sad, sympathetic note. "Sorry you had to go through what you did."

"Oh," I replied. "It had its moments. At least he's gone now— locked away."

The phoenix preened his wings. "The dog was always unstable," he said after a moment. "His potential was great, but his fate was uncertain."

"Is fate ever certain?" I pondered back into his mind.

Fawkes chirruped and made a kekkekkekk-ing sound. "Not always. Some have clear fates. My human— he is fated to soar high, and then plummet like a roller pigeon."

I had so many questions, but part of my mind was pondering if Fawkes was so aware of what was going on around him, why didn't he talk to more people?

"You're not a person," Fawkes replied, his head crest rising. "Not anymore."

I chewed on that awhile. I felt like a person. Okay, I was a Kitsune feeling quite like a person. What the hell was I, really?

"You," Fawkes replied, reaching over to preen my ears.

I flopped over, my head full of mush. Oh, that felt good. My tails started vibrating.

Zap!

The courtyard was now filled with fruit trees of all kinds, generously providing fruit and shade to anyone who found their way there.

As the twins would say: wicked!

"Thank you," Fawkes said. "My chicks would thank you as well, if they were here too."

"Chicks?"

His feather crest rose in amusement. "When a male phoenix and a female phoenix love each other very much—"

"Smart arse," I said.

"Smart bird," he replied, kekking.

Fair enough.

Fawkes warbled. "I had to fly quite a distance to bring food to my mate and chicks. This will allow me to stay close to protect them and not have to go far to provide them with food."

My tails waggled. I liked the idea of a family of phoenixes being around.

Fawkes was busying himself by making a pint of cherries disappear down his gullet. "Mate can't leave the nest. Chicks are too young. So, I must carry enough food to feed them all in one go, at least, up until now."

The cherry tree shimmered, shook itself, and more cherries reappeared.

Testing a hypothesis, I snapped at a few, eating them. Sure enough, after I had de-fruited an entire branch, the cherries reappeared. Magic—you could make all sorts of rules, such as food not being able to be conjured out of thin air, but it kept surprising you.

Fawkes plucked a tail feather from his rather extensive collection. He extended it and pressed it behind my ear. I felt a tingling warmth spread throughout my body. Fawkes pulled away, but the feather remained fused to my head. "Thank you," he warbled. "A token of my appreciation."

"Yip!" I agreed out loud. I was never one for flashy fashion accessories, but this one seemed just right. I yawned toothily, my tails wriggling.

"Want to do something fun?" Fawkes asked, his head crest rising.

Oddly, I felt a sort of tingle over my head, like the hair was rising on my arm, only on my head instead. I saw, out of the corner of my eyes, that I had a sort of feathered frill around my head, like a mane. Well then, that was a bit different. Curiosity made obvious, I realised I wanted to do something fun. Yes, please.

Fawkes warbled. "Relax and enjoy the ride."

His talons closed around my scruff, and whoop, I was aloft.

Wheee!

I may not have been much of a broom fan, but phoenix flight was amazing! I opened my mouth just to feel the wind blowing through it. My ears were swiveling. My tails were swaying in the wind! Life was glorious!

Plunk.

I landed on all fours on a balcony outside what appeared to be Dumbledore's office. A mottled brown phoenix raised her head from the nest she was tending in the middle of a flower box, and Fawkes transferred some of his fruity loot to her. She, in turn, fed the most adorable collection of tiny black-eyed lint-balls I'd ever seen. Each of them had different colours, but all of them had dark and light spots making it look like they were dappled by the sun.

Peep. PeepeepPEEP!

The chicks tumbled over each other to shove each other around. Each wanted food, and they wanted it right now!

They were so adorable!

The female phoenix warbled. "They stop being adorable when they try to fling themselves off the nesting box."

Oh, well. I suppose that would be an issue.

"Hello," I greeted.

"Hi," she replied. "I am Calida."

"I'm Hermione," I replied, giving a small bow of my head, which she returned.

She nudged her checks out, giving them a swift peck to keep them in line. "The orange one is Titus, the red is Nuri, the orange one is Hotaru, and the purple one is Aalish."

"I call them Trouble, Nuisance, Tangerine, and Eggplant," Fawkes noted with amusement, earning himself a reprimanding peck from his mate.

Four multi-coloured lint-ball chicks jumped off the side of the flower box nest and immediately pounced on me, scrambling to get to the highest spot.

Eggplant— er Aalish— broke into a joyous song from between my ears, proclaiming herself queen of the Kitsune mountain. I tried to move my eyes to get a better look at her, but she was just out of my sight range. The rest seemed to be playing a rather enjoyable game of grab-a-tail-and-cling-with-your-beak. Good thing I had more more than enough to go around.

"Ready to have some fun?" Fawkes asked, a low kookaburra-like laugh erupting from his beak.

I perked, and so did Trouble, Nuisance, Tangerine, and Eggplant.

Fawkes and Calida took off from the balcony and flew over to another balcony on a different tower.

The chicks peeped excitedly, perched over my head and tails.

"Let's go!"

"Go now!"

"Go?"

"Gogogo!"

Well that was all fine and well, but how was I supposed to get over—EAAGHHHHHGH!

I was flat on my back, head down, tails over my face, smack in the middle of the balcony I had been thinking about.

The chicks peeped triumphantly, hopping off of my rather disgruntled body.

"Thanks!"

"Yay!"

"Again?"

"You're cool!"

Fawkes peered at me, seemingly upside down. "Sorry, I thought you knew about that skill."

Calida pecked her mate upside the head. "She's new at this. Who would have taught her?"

Fawkes looked rather sheepish. "Sorry. Kitsune travel as foxfire. They travel really really fast, and sometimes, they just will themselves where they want to be. We phoenixes, we can fly and carry impossibly heavy things. We can predict possible futures. We inspire as we can— we heal those we find that are forced to combat the Darkness as innocents. No matter where we are born, this is our path.

"Kitsune have two paths: the benevolent trickster and messengers of Inari Ōkami and the malevolent beast whose desires are selfish and whose very presence is said to encourage the evils of the world. The young look as normal foxes do, but as the deeds of Dark or light imprint on the soul, their fur changes into the white of the Inari— or the dark of those who chose the path of chaos, strife, and murder."

Calida continued for her mate. "Zenko are the Kitsune that are aligned to goodness of life. Yako, or the nogitsune, are those who chose the malicious path. Each faction has their own traits— a kinship to the will of the god Inari or a love of the Dark and chaotic. One thing remains true to both: the foxfire and the tails."

I peered at my multi-tailed rump. They were definitely a mystery. They had me. I was curious, and I didn't really give a flying fig that I was learning about Kitsune from a pair of phoenixes. For all I knew, the phoenixes were better versed in Kitsune than any human.

They probably were.

"Her!"

"Mio!"

"Ni!"

"Play!"

"Yes! Play!"

"Plaaaaay!"

I was being lured into play by four very excited phoenix chicks.

I peeked into the nearby door that had been left wide open. Who expects people to come breaking into their tower balcony? Not Sybill Trelawney, that was for sure. An extensive collection of crystal balls and assorted divination mish-mash were scattered about. Four little chicks peered around the door while perching one on top of each other and balancing on my head.

"Play?" Trouble peeped the question.

"Shiny!" tweeted Nuisance.

"Food?" questioned Tangerine.

"Oooo, books!" Eggplant peeped.

Bird after my own heart— I so wanted to keep her. Think Fawkes or Calida would mind?

"Nope," Fawkes replied promptly, earning himself another peck from his mate.

"Insert food into hungry, open beak," Calida recommended. "Sit on at night to keep them warm. Try not to murder them when they wake you up before dawn."

Eggplant and her compatriots gave chastened peeps from atop my head. Busted.

I pondered if I should offer chick-sitting for a night or two, just to give poor Calida and Fawkes some relaxation time. Even my parents had been able to have that. Minerva always had a little time off when I was with Alastor and Amelia. Severus was always there too. It wasn't like there were phoenixes coming out of the walls to offer their kind assistance.

You know what this room needed? Feng-shui.

"Hey," I said to the chicks.

Four sets of black eyes stared at me.

"Want to help me… redecorate?"

Exciting peeping pointed towards a highly positive response.

Trelawney did seem to have a rather unnatural attraction to my poor, beleaguered master. Perhaps, we could help her with that, hrm?

My tails were vibrating as Eggplant used her tiny feet to massage my ears. Oh, yeah. I was definitely keeping her.

Zap!

A giant obsidian sculpture of Severus stood in the middle of the classroom, complete with glowing crystal balls set at the statue's feet like an offering to the ancient gods. Amusingly, a certain vulpine stowaway was peeking curiously out of his robe pocket.

The chicks tore around the room, chasing crystal balls, raiding her fruit baskets, moving around her jars of classroom supplies. Eggplant was haphazardly reorganizing her books. Nuisance was stacking all of the crystal balls at the statue's feet. Trouble was happily swinging back and forth from the curtain cords. Tangerine was cleaning out the desk drawers and kicking everything she found into the fireplace.

Oh dear. What would Harry think of me now— enabling the next generation of phoenix youth to run rampant, joyfully destroying Trelawney's classroom and office? I really hoped that Harry— hell, DUMBLEDORE— couldn't understand phoenix-speak.

"Nope," Fawkes answered me, his head crest rising high in amusement.

Nice to know my thoughts were so easily read like I hadn't studied Occlumency for a single day of my life.

I could hear Fawkes chuckling in my head.

Fawkes and Calida preened my ears together, and my eyes went crossed.

Zap!

Oh boy. Professor Trelawney was going to have a coronary.

Her entire classroom looked like an Arboretum. The ceiling was charmed to show the stars and planets. Heavily-laden grapevines were covering all the walls. Roman pillars had formed, making the entire room look like a Grecian temple. A crystal clear scrying pool surrounded the statue of Severus.

I suddenly had this vivid mental image of Professor Sinistra getting into a duel with Trelawney over the classroom while Lockhart chanted "Ode to Me" from a podium, only to be zapped off it by Alasdair Fraser who wanted time to demonstrate the finer arts of fiddle playing.

What the hell was going on in my head?

Just as I thought the room couldn't possibly be more messed up, hundreds of little floating foxfire will-o-the-wisps materialised over the scrying pool, accompanied by delicate wind chiming as they flew.

All of the little lintballs huddled around me and peeped imperiously to get me to lower myself enough so they could clamber back onto my back. Eggplant rushed forward to cling to the top of my head, peeping the Hogwarts' song melodiously.

I heard the jingle of keys in the lock, and I scrambled back out the balcony door, thinking really, really, really hard about being back at the phoenix nest.

Eeaguuhhh!

I was draped over the flower box nest, looking like a displaced fox fur rug. The chicks hopped down into the nest.

"That was fun!"

"Let's do it again!"

"I'm sleepy!"

"I'm hungry."

"I want to stay with you!"

Eggplant, clinging to my ears, refused to hop back down into the nest.

"MY ROOOOOOOM! MY BEAUTIFUL ROOM! WHAT THE HE—" the scream ended with the sound of Trelawney hurling her guts out off the side of her own balcony.

"Professor Trelawney, I heard you— MY WORD!"

"I didn't do it, I swear!" Trelawney cried.

"I'm quite sure you didn't," Dumbledore's bemused voice replied dryly. "Rooms every so often simply rearrange themselves with no provocation whatsoever."

"Well, this one did!"

"Mmhhmm," the Headmaster's disbelieving voice tutted.

"Oh my— Headmaster, get out," Trelawney screamed. "I can't look at you right now! I just— URK!"

"I think you really should see Madam Pomfrey about that, my dear Sybill."

"I do not need to— URK!"

"I'm afraid I must insist," Dumbledore said firmly, brokering no refusal.

Trelawney clasped her hands over her mouth and ran out the door so loudly that I could clearly hear her tripping headlong down the stairs in desperate haste all the way from the opposite tower.

"Best pranks ever!" Nuisance crowed.

"Next time we prank Hagrid!" Trouble agreed.

Tangerine was already asleep.

Eggplant had surgically glued herself to my ears.

Fawkes and his mate returned, and they both settled on the nest.

"You get to keep that one," Calida said. "She's already bonded herself to you."

"Wha?" I replied.

"Congratulations," Fawkes said, warbling his approval.

Oh, Merlin. What had I gotten myself into now?


"Mr. Potter," Minister Fudge announced from his podium. "Due to the discovery of the official Potter family will while removing Dark artifacts and traps from number twelve Grimmauld Place, you are to be given a couple of different options. Since you were previously living with your blood family, you can choose to live with the guardian of your choice: you can remain with the Muggle Dursley family or you can go into the custody of Mr Remus Lupin, who was clearly voiced as Mr and Mrs James and Lily Potter's first choice for guardianship of yourself."

"Minister, this is hardly wise," Albus protested. "He is safe while living—"

"I'll stay with Remus!" Harry blurted. "Please, Merlin, right now! Today!"

The Wizengamot raised many a brow, rapping their knuckles on the desks to voice their clear agreement.

"Mr Dumbledore," Minister Fudge said. "We are not here to discuss whatever reason you think a magically-inclined young wizard should be living with Muggles who have made it more than clear that Mr Potter is not a welcome guest in their home. We are here to carry out the will of his parents, the details of which have been clearly noted on this parchment. Due to the rather peculiar circumstance of this will having been lost until now, he was not handed over to his parents' chosen guardian from the beginning— something which we will be looking into soon enough."

"Now, Mr Potter," Cornelius continued. "Due to the manipulations of one Mr Sirius Black, Mr Lupin was forced into the situation of holding no permanent residence. Ms Black, however, has arranged for both Mr Lupin and you to live at number twelve Grimmauld for as long as you wish. In exchange, she asked only that you maintain general upkeep or make any improvements that would normally be done to a residence during the course of living there."

Harry's eyes went wide and he exchanged an excited look with Remus, who gave him a warm smile and a thumbs up from the seating area.

"Aurors have cleared the house as liveable," Cornelius said. "You are now permitted to move in whenever you are ready, Mr Potter."

"Mr Minister," Albus voiced, "number twelve Grimmauld Place as given to my keeping—"

"By Sirius Black, Mr Dumbledore," Cornelius reminded him. "But as Black was not the true heir, he had no right to do so. I would think, however, with the rising of the true heir, you would happy that there is one less place you need to take care of outside of your extensive duties as Headmaster of Hogwarts. I am sure, however, if there was some pressing need, such as having to make arrangements for a tenant you might have allowed to live on the premises, that you will be able to discuss such issues with Ms Black. However, any mention of the status and identity of Ms Black outside the confines of the Wizengamot, Aurors, and direct family will be in direction violation of the Oath of Confidentiality Need I say more, Mr Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore looked like he very much wanted to say something, but he seemed to think better of it and remained quiet instead.

"Chiiiirrrrr," Eggplant yawn-chirped from my head, preening my ears. "Boring," she said into my mind.

I didn't blame her. Wizengamot meetings were boring even if you weren't a phoenix.

"Mi!Mi!Mi!Mi!" Eggplant chirped, plainly trying to get my attention.

I cupped the chick in my hands, shushing her. Prepared for this by Fawkes and Calida, I stuffed her open beak with a gooseberry and, ironically, a slice of eggplant as well. She made mumbling and munching noises, now successfully distracted.

I untangled her foot band from my shirt, shaking my head. It was her version of an identification card. No one would think I'd stolen her or other such nonsense— no one was going to pry her off me without getting their eyes pecked out. She'd already given her trust to Minerva, Severus, Amelia, and even Alastor and the senior Auror crew, but heaven help you if you weren't on the "pre-authorised and approved" list in her little fruit-saturated head.

Phoenix beaks were bloody sharp!

Eggplant had nailed one of the scribes at the Familiar Registration Office and sliced his hand open with her can-opener beak, just because he'd tried to put the identification band on her leg without asking permission from me first. Poor guy. Thankfully, I kept a small tin of healing balm on me at all times.

Phoenix chicks were tiny fluffballs of pain and woe when they wanted to be.

The Wizengamot session was finally letting out, and Harry wasted no time in coming up and hugging Remus like nobody's business. I couldn't help but smile. Seeing him so happy— somehow made everything worth it.

I stood, and Amelia approached from her seat. "Hermione, how are you?" she said with a warm smile.

"These seats are overrated," I quipped. "I think I shall design a properly comfortable cushion for any future visits."

Amelia laughed. "I would hardly complain about that."

"Nor I," said Elphias Doge as he slowly shuffled by.

"Ms Black," Augusta Longbottom greeted, the distinctive vulture on her hat always made me want to whip out my wand and yell "Riddikulus!"

"Mrs Longbottom," I said, nodding my head fractionally.

"Good to see the seat of the Black family occupied once more," she said with a nod in return.

"Never thought I would ever be here," I confessed.

"We've heard very good things about you," Doge informed me with a smile. "Amelia speaks quite highly of you."

I flushed, accepting the praise while attempting not to make an idiot of myself in front of the Wizengamot. Seat or not, this was the single last place I wanted to perform a social misstep. I could only thank the gods above and below that unless I felt especially strongly about something, I should not need to make a public presentation on anything.

"You were in class with my grandson, Neville, yes?" Augusta asked. "Please, is his magic getting any stronger?"

Poor Neville. I had the feeling that his apparent lack of magical strength wasn't doing him any favours. That, coupled with his tendency to botch things the moment Severus so much as glanced in his direction made for rather poor school marks, at least in potions.

"He is doing better," I replied honestly. Hrm, I wonder if giving Augusta a subtle nudge could possibly help Neville? "His success seems directly linked to the level of support he is given. He did much better when I tutored him a little here and there. Once he gains enough confidence, his spells seem to become much stronger."

"Hrm, makes sense, Augusta," Doge said with a swift nod of agreement. "Some children just need that extra leg up."

Augusta sighed. "I suppose. It's just that I remember so much what Frank was like as a child. I feel like he should already be there by now."

I smiled a little. "I think we'd all admit that while we try to make our parents proud, sometimes we have no idea how to be ourselves while trying to get there."

Augusta snorted a laugh. "I like you, Ms Black. I think— I will heed your advice." She extended her hand to me, which I took, grasping it. "I find myself wishing Frank and Alice were well again— not for me as much as I would enjoy it— but for Neville. He needs a father and someone who can truly understand him. He needs a mother who can remember his name. I preach so often about what he isn't, but he's never seen him as I once did—"

She trailed off and then looked at me. It wasn't an unkind look. "I shall offer you some advice, my dear, if you are willing to take it. There are a great many here in the Wizengamot, and most tend only to their own wants. Rare is the one who stands up for the cause of another. Find one that you can and do so, and you will soon find yourself among allies instead of being faced with general indifference. One day, when you have a cause you greatly value, you may find someone does the same for you when you need it most."

I couldn't help but smile at Augusta. She truly was a well-meaning sort, wishing the best for me and even that of her grandchild. I could see she was strained, not just by the raising of her son's child at her age, but because both Frank and Alice had become trapped in a cruel sort of un-life. Her taste in hats, however, was utterly atrocious.

"Thank you, Mrs Longbottom," I said grasping her hand firmly and clasping it with my other. "I will heed your advice. I hope things become less stressful for you." A rush of warm came over my hands.

Augusta frowned suddenly, staring.

"Did I say—?"

Augusta shook her head. "Sorry, dear. I— I must need sleep. I could have sworn I saw a pair of pointed ears on your head."

I arched a curious brow at her.

She laughed. "So sorry. I— I think I need get home and have a nice respectable cup of tea."

"Tea sounds excellent no matter the occasion," I mused.

Augusta smiled. "Have a good day, Ms Black. I look forward to when I can call you such outside of these halls."

Both she, Amelia, and Doge shuffed out, and the rest of the seats had emptied quickly.

"Mi, Mi!" Eggplant peeped.

"Hrm?" I replied. "What did you need, love?"

"Mi!"

"Uh huh," I replied, moving her to my shoulder where she promptly buried herself in my hair.

Her verbal vocabulary was harshly abbreviated. Mi was myself. Mam was Minerva. "Mmmm, mmmmm" was Severus, which I could only imagine was supposed to be "master." Alastor was "Al". Amelia had become "Bones." The headmaster was "Drop! Llll'drop!" Mrs Norris was dubbed "Norse," and Argus became "Arg". Remus was "Riiiii!" and "Mus, Mus, Mus." Harry became known as "Mmmmmop."

Much to delight of the Aurors, they taught her much as they had taught me, and Eggplant swiftly became adept at weaving in profanity and a few random words. Her best, so far, was, "mmmm, mmmmm God Save the Bones. Bloody Mmmmop get your hands off my Riiiiii! Drop! Drop! Llll'drop. Arg, fuck Miiii! I did'na do it, mmmm, mmmm, Mus, Mus, Mus. Bloody git! Pretty bird. Gimmie all 'ur froot! Miii!"

Her mind-voice was much clearer, thankfully. It was also far less embarrassing. It was odd how clearly she could mind speak and yet remain absolute rubbish at verbal communication.

Now that the session was over, I pulled off my hat, letting my ears wriggle free. Strange that Augusta had seen them. Most people didn't notice the ears or the tails. The ones who did were of the type to trust, which made me think that there was something about Augusta that was worth paying attention to.

"Miiiiiiii," Eggplant chirped in my ear, seemingly satisfied.

Remus was crossing the chamber floor, rushing up to meet me. He smiled at me with a genuine warmth. Even before the debt between us, he'd always been a soft-spoken and kindly sort. A part of me had always wondered if he had truly cared as much as he said he did, why then did he not attempt to contact Harry before?

All of that had been answered with the extensive confession of Sirius Black, and while he and Harry were still having some difficulty believing it all, the truth was right there in front of them. I had no doubt whatsoever that had the truth geas not transferred to him via the touch of three Aurors, both my reputation and Remus' would currently be in utter shambles. Harry would either have been just as brainwashed as the Malfoys had been, or he would be dead just like his parents.

"It's really kind of you to do this for us," Remus said as gave a long, weary sigh.

I nodded. "Have you ever met the Dursleys?" I scoffed. "This is a true necessity."

Remus smiled. Some of the weight on his shoulders had finally been lifted away, but he was still going through a great deal thanks to the revelation of his best mate's dark motives. Even now, he and Harry had moments when they still couldn't believe it all. Harry would get frustrated and start yelling that it wasn't, that it couldn't be true. Remus would get all withdrawn and depressed. Yet, they did have each other— and I intended to support them through it all. Harry deserved to live away from those horrible people. Remus deserved to have a life outside of being a werewolf— something he hadn't been free off since he had been a very young child.

Now that my ancestral home was no longer booby-trapped and filled with screams of abuse, there was plenty of room to share. Remus was more than willing to do anything and everything to renovate the house that Sirius had utterly trashed in exchange for a decent place to live. Kreacher was deliriously happy to have people to serve again— people who didn't kick him around. The house-elf seemed greatly relieved that the house was finally at peace again. Taking care of it, from his perspective, was just the icing on the cake.

On the other hand, I was still dealing with the baggage of my attempted rape. Stepping into Grimmauld Place was… difficult, even now that Kreacher was free to be himself and the portraits were no longer cursed and prevented from being themselves. Kreacher would often visit wherever I was, taking it upon himself to tidy my "home", which was really everywhere I was. Severus, Minerva, and I found find spaces dusted and tidy even more than the usual Hogwart house-elves did. I figured it was Kreacher's way of saying his own thanks for getting out of a terrible situation. Severus seemed to think they were having cleaning wars. Whichever house-elf cleaned the best, won.

What exactly they won, however, remained a mystery.

"Riiii!" Eggplant chirped.

Harry shuffled up, seemed to debate on something, and then gave me a tackle hug that practically squeezed the air out of my lungs. "Thanks, Hermione. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I'm having such a hard time believing it all. I really am."

He did have reason, at least. I would never have seen myself as a multi-tailed fox before all this had happened. Harry had been so desperate to find that family connection, and well— Dumbledore had sincerely believed Sirius to be a good person. I think Harry was still coming to terms with the fact that even Albus Dumbledore could be fallible, and that realization was troubling him deeply.

"Mmmmmop!" Eggplant said to Harry. "Mmmm,mmmm, mmmmop!"

Harry scratched his head. "Even the baby phoenix recognises my hair," he said sheepishly.

I eyed the baby phoenix. "You know Harry's proper name, you silly creature."

"Mmmmmop!" Eggplant affirmed.

Harry slumped. "I suppose there are worse things to be called by a baby phoenix."

"Tosser," Eggplant replied. "Git. Git. Pillock. Prat. Mmmmmop!"

Harry busted out laughing. "I'll stick with Mop, I think."

"Dunderheaded imbecile," Eggplant affirmed happily.

I just couldn't help it. I laughed out loud. The little bird had been spending way too much time around my key people, and my key people didn't bother to censor themselves around a baby bird. She was a baby bird. What possible harm could it do?

I eyed Eggplant. Harm enough, obviously.

"Bampot!" Eggplant chirped. "Bassa. Bassa. Bassa. Rocket."

I stuffed a piece of eggplant into her beak, hushing her. She mumbled as she chewed on it, trying to break it down into more manageable pieces.

Harry was snorting laughter, and Remus wasn't far behind. His ears were turning red with effort to contain his chortling.

"Be careful what you say around her," I said, sniffing slightly. "You may soon come to regret it."

Remus held out a piece of peach, distracting Eggplant. She tore into it hungrily, making it disappear quickly. "Yer bum's oot the windae," she said, fluffing her miniature head crest. "Riiiii! Mus, muss, muss."

"It is indeed," Remus laughed.

I gave her another slice of eggplant, making sure it was larger to give her a longer project to work on. Poor Minerva. She could only hope that Eggplant grew out of it before she started carrying on in front of the students.

Everyone in Severus' class would end up in detention with points being taken off.

"May I hold her?" Harry asked, his eyes bright with hope. Poor Hedwig— she was being outdone by a potty-mouthed fluffy lint-ball.

"Sure," I said, putting my hand over Eggplant's feet so she'd step up. She transferred to his hand and talon-walked up his arm and sat on his shoulder.

"Mmmop!" she said, digging back into her food, but not until she had tried to stuff part of it into Harry's ear.

"Dumbledore disappeared," Remus said. "Strange, I thought— well, I thought he would at least come over and speak with us after."

I frowned. I wasn't sure what Dumbledore's agenda was. He had been quite determined to keep Harry living with the Dursleys. Maybe it had at least something to do with safety, but I wasn't sure. One thing was for sure, after the incident at Grimmauld, "my" ancestral house was warded down as tightly as Hogwarts. Harry would be safe there, especially with Remus there to protect him.

Harry was totally enraptured by Eggplant, scratching her under the chin and across her back. She was soaking it all up like the little attention-sponge she was. I wondered what her siblings were doing back at the nest while she was rampaging around the world with me.

"Jealous," Eggplant said into my head. "They want their person too."

"What's stopping them?" I asked her. I mean, she'd obviously been young, and that didn't stop her in the slightest in picking me.

"I was lots quicker," she beamed into my head, proud of herself. "I wanted you first."

The idea that a nest of phoenix chicks were duking it out over bonding to me both amused and scared me. "Will they pick someone at the school?"

Eggplant gave a birdish shrug. "Maybe hop the nest and find you," she said, preening her wing. "Your tails are warm."

Hrm, so they liked me for my tails.

"Not just your tails," Eggplant scolded me from her perch on Harry's shoulder.

"Hedwig is going to be so jealous," I told Harry.

Harry grinned. "Do you mind if we put a bunch of perches around Grimmauld?" Remus says Hedwig will feel more at home if she has places that are hers to perch on.

"I have no problem with it," I replied. "Hedwig deserves to feel at home here too."

Harry smiled warmly, visibly relieved.

"Harry," I said after a while.

He looked up at me, startled.

"I want you to be happy," I said. "I want you to feel you that have a home there. It's not going to go away. I won't be changing my mind if we have a fight, alright?"

Harry nodded and let out a slow sigh. "That obvious, was I?"

"Carve out a room and make it yours, Harry," I said. "And if you want, we can cut out the walls and ceiling of Sirius' old room and put in new ones. That way you can decorate it the way you want it. Short of being practically wallpapered with posters of scantily-clad women, it is one of the better rooms in the house for size."

That idea seemed to appeal to him. I'd imagine having a hand in making a place completely your own would be something significant for Harry. Merlin knew the Dursleys never gave him a chance to take part in anything but stroking Dudley's ego. The stories Harry told us made me want to call the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children helpline number and get them into the boiling hot legal water they so desperately deserved. Then again, they had somehow managed to slip through the cracks of social services for so long, the chances of them being noticed now was pretty slim. It made me angry just thinking about it.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!" peeped Eggplant. "Piss off!"

I coughed a laugh, pinching the little potty mouth's beak closed. "Let's get out of here."


-Severus-

For the first time, I entered number twelve Grimmauld Place and didn't feel Black's disgusting presence befouling everything in the house. Kreacher smiled and greeted me as I materialised, stepping out of the Floo so Hermione didn't crash into me. I felt her glide against me as she stepped out as well. Her long, dark robes— a mark of her station as my formal apprentice— brushed against my body as she moved around me.

The little purple phoenix chick warbled sweetly, flapping her wings as she saw Hedwig perched in the dim part of the room.

"Hoot."

"Weeeeg!"

They chattered at each other in a strange blend of avianese, and then they seemingly ignored each other, having apparently said all they needed to say.

Hermione passed Hedwig an owl nut, and she stroked Hedwig's breast feathers tenderly. The owl nibbled on her fingers affectionately, making a soft hoot of approval.

"Mmmm. Mmmmm. Miii!" the purple lintball protested from her shoulder. "Kop dicht!"

Hrm, apparently the little fountain of profanity had been learning Dutch slang as well. It was quickly becoming obvious that she was an astounding mimic, but she had absolutely no idea what most of what she was spewing actually meant. Even the things she did know she liked to smoosh together in a mish-mash of strange and inventive profanity. Hermione said she was quite polite, if overwhelmingly hungry all the time, but the little bird was apparently far less offensive when communicating mind-to-mind. For whatever reason, she at least warbled a more subdued tune around me— if one considered a hyperactive purple lint-ball with a propensity to stuff herself silly on fruit and then spout random verbal profanity to be in any way subdued.

Our visit to Grimmauld Place was mostly business. Hermione was clearly edgy about being in the house again, with even the slightest of possibilities that she might be left alone there for more than a minute. Visions of Sirius would pop into her mind and poof, she'd become a Kitsune again. While she wasn't exactly low functioning as a multi-tailed fox, communication tended to get a bit challenging, and if she happened to be delivering something, it could end rather tragically for whatever she might be carrying. We had come to Grimmauld to deliver the medicine for Potter and Lupin, who had managed to come down with a nasty case of wizard flu. Both of them were having random bouts of accidental magic every time they sneezed, and the harsh coughing tended to provoke some rather explosive gastric side effects. Thankfully, there was more than one loo in the place. Later, they would be thankful there was also more than one bath.

Both Lupin and Potter had been working hard to make Grimmauld look more "lived in" and "comfortable" instead of looking like a herd of rampaging trolls had done their best to trample the place. Black…. well, Sirius Black, had done his best to completely trashed the place purely to spite his much-hated family. With his absence from the premises, the place had finally started to become more like a home again and all the negative energy seemed to be slowly fading away. Then, like a case of Murphy's Law, the pair promptly came down with the wizarding flu, making them quite useless to anyone.

Part of me argued that both of them were pretty useless even before the wizarding flu, but I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind and headed for the stairs.

A flurry of sneezing came from upstairs, and the portraits all tilted to one side. The painted people clung to trees, the frames, fireplaces, and other painted objects.

"Ziek!" Eggplant warbled. "Strontziek. Ziek. Blijf uit de buurt! Ziek!"

Hedwig hooted from her perch in the shadows, sounding like she was attempting to mimic the mimic. Her attempt came out something like "Zkkkk!" and "Ssssstskkk!"

Close enough. Owls weren't exactly known for their flawless mimicry.

"Aubergine! Auber. Auber. Giiiiiiiiiiiii!" Eggplant chirp-warbled.

I raised an eyebrow. Somewhere, there was a Dutch-speaking Auror who was gifting the little phoenix with a fluent bilingual vocabulary. She certainly wasn't learning it from myself or Minerva.

Eggplant bobbed her head at me, looking in and out of Hermione's hair like she was hiding behind a curtain. "Hou! Hou! Hou van mij! Mooie vogel! Fruit. Fruit. Fruit. Alsjeblieft. Hou van jou." she chain-chirped.

I narrowed my eyes at the little lintball.

She peered back at me with what could only be hopefulness.

I gave her a dried apricot.

She grabbed it and dove back under Hermione's hair, muttering, "Mmmm, Mmmmm. Fruit. Dank je wel!. Mmm. Mmmmm."

"She says thanks for the fruit," Hermione said, looking up the stairs to where Potter and Lupin had banished themselves in their illness. "She speaks better verbal Dutch than English."

"Where did she learn Dutch?" I asked.

"Dutch Auror from the Netherlands came in speak with Scrimgeour about filling a few of the open positions in Azkaban with some of his people," Hermione replied. "He took a real shine to Eggplant. I think she liked his accent. His name was Paul van Steeg , I think. He said it so fast."

Hermione looked at me apologetically. "Sorry."

I shrugged. The intercooperation between various DMLEs from foreign countries was relatively new. There were a lot of different names being flung about. Scrimgeour had apparently been tasked with making sure Azkaban's safety concerns was the number one priority for both staff and any "guests."

"Steeeeeeeg!" Eggplant proclaimed. "Aardige vent! Geen eikel! Steeeeg!"

I eyed Eggplant. She warbled at me, sticking her foot out.

I held out my fingers, and she stepped up, shuffling up my arm to fuss with my hair and settle on my shoulder.

"Mmmm, mmmm," she warbled into my ear, preening my hair.

Babies. Sheesh.

"Do I even want to know what that last part was?" I asked.

"She thinks Auror Steeg is a nice guy and not a jerk," Hermione translated for me.

I snorted.

"Vertrouwen! Vertrouwen. Mmmm, Mmmm," the chick sang into my ear.

I stared at Hermione, eyebrow arched.

"She trusts you," Hermione chuckled.

"I'd hate to hear what she would've said if she disliked me," I confessed.

Hermione chortled. "Enough to make Alastor yell at everyone who was teaching her profanity."

I found that mental image amusing. You could yell at a person all day long, but yelling at a baby bird was not going to win you any battles, unless you wished to look the fool. In that case, by all means argue and yell at a baby lintball.

"Kweh! Kweh!" Eggplant warbled, proceeding to sing a merry up-tempo version of London Bridge is Falling Down.

"We should probably deliver the medicine before the portraits fall off the walls," I recommended, watching Kreacher attempting to right them all.

Another flurry of sneezes caused the portraits to scream and yell as they shook and tilted again. The walls shook with the force of it, and I righted the portrait nearest me as it careened to the right rather harshly. As much as I didn't want to say it—

"I'll take the potions up to Potter and Lupin," I said after a moment. "As much as I'd rather powerwash a naked Hagrid with Aguamenti, I have a feeling both examples of the male gender would far prefer it was me staring at them in their sickbed."

Hermione looked at me with confusion and then slapped the sides of her face with her palms. "My age! Oh! I— Yes, of course." She gave me a somewhat frustrated look.

She had always been very mature for her age. Hell, she'd been far more mature than most of the witches my age. She was definitely more mature and competent than Sybill Trelawney, not that it took all that much on that front.

"I'll go make them some soup," Hermione said. "Kreacher can keep watch on it and add other ingredients to it over the next few days. By then it'll be strong enough to beat the flu out of them." She grinned, her snow-white ears flicking back and pitching forward with a cheerful wiggle. Each of her tails was curled slightly on each end in a jaunty manner.

"Medicine and old-fashioned chicken soup?" I asked.

"Just like mum used to make," she answered, her eyes disappearing with her smile. "With a new Scottish bent, of course," she added. "Mam says leeks always make everything better."

"Hn," I replied. "Well, far be it from me to argue with Minerva McGonagall's tastes when it comes to a proper bowl of soup."

Hermione grinned and bounced off towards the kitchen, her tails swishing behind her.

Eggplant chirred as she left, beating the side of my face with her fluffy little wings. "Miiiii!"

"You're stuck with me for a little bit, Madam Lintball," I muttered.

"Mmmmm. Mmmmm."

As I climbed the stairs, Eggplant clung to my shoulder, digging her claws into my robes with a rather disturbing scraping noise. I could hear the sound of frantic chopping coming from the kitchen, which sounded so familiar after hearing her chop ingredients for potions for so many years.

I rapped my knuckles on the half-open door that looked as though it had seen better days.

A muffled groan of misery was my only answer.

"Mr Potter," I said, feeling my lip curl in an automatic response. "I have your medicine."

No response.

"I hope you are decent at least," I muttered, pushing open the door.

Decent was not how I would've described what I saw as I pushed open the door. Potter had somehow gotten tangled up in the curtains— no, not the bed curtains, the window curtains— looking like he'd been trussed up by an Acromantula. On the bright side, all of the scantily-clad posters of Muggle women and motorbikes were lying on the floor covered in copious amounts of— goo, and somehow the entire sodding mess had caught on fire.

"You've been spending way too much time with the likes of Messrs Finnigan and Longbottom," I observed, waving my wand to clean up that— whatever this was.

Eggplant made a rather disgusted cheep, cuddling closer to to my neck. She covered her beak with my hair as if she thought it would effectively shield her from the unmitigated horror of Potter's sickbed.

With a few well-placed Scourgify spells, a certain amount of levitation, and a good deal of vanishing, Potter was cleaned up, attired in fresh pajamas, and placed back in bed with clean linens, the curtains were back on the wall where they belonged, the slimy posters were gone, and the bedroom window was opened for probably the first time ever since the day Sirius Black had come squalling into the world.

Eggplant highly approved of the fresh breeze, and, hell, I did too. It made me very grateful for Hermione's latest mastery project in conjunction with Madam Pomfrey: vaccination.

Vaccinations were very much a Muggle thing. Most wizarding folk wouldn't know the difference between a cold and a virus if it came up and bit them squarely on the arse. Hermione, however, thanks to her Muggle upbringing with a pair of dentists, understood the theory of immunology well enough. She had worked with Poppy for innumerable weekends, taking blood samples from people who were sick with whatever rampant disease was currently making the rounds. If it was a virus, which the wizarding flu most definitely was, she cultured it and devised a vaccine for it. Poppy was more than happy to support her efforts, and the results were being published in the St Mungo's Journal of Medicine.

What did that mean for me? Immunity to every bloody virus she had created a vaccine for. I was her favourite test victim. I knew perfectly well what vaccines were, so I wasn't someone she had to sit down, explain the process, explain the benefits, and so on and so forth. I, Minerva, Poppy, and Hermione herself were all "up to date on our shots" as the Muggles put it. It didn't mean we wouldn't get sick, but at least we weren't going to get a case of Mr Abernathy's Exploding Pustule Pox. Thank Merlin for that.

Hermione's biggest challenge at the moment, and she was working on it in conjunction with Madam Pomfrey and myself, was a delivery system that seemed "sufficiently magically normal" that ordinary wizarding folk would accept it. A person would drink a potion down without a second thought. Put them in front of a needle and they would be clinging to the ceiling screaming like you wanted to cut off their family jewels with a rusty handsaw.

I had recommended a good Stupefy and just injecting it into their arm while they were passed out cold, but Poppy seemed to frown at my rather questionable bedside manner. There was a reason I hadn't become healer.

It was fortunate for Potter and Lupin that Hermione had her pet projects. It was thanks to her work that Poppy was able to send along some potions to help the two recover without blowing up the house. I put the potion to Potter's lips.

"Drink up, Mr Potter, unless you wish to descend into the throes of projectile vomit and explosive diarrhea on top of everything else."

That worked. The boy hurriedly drank the potion down without a second thought. Good boy. He conked out soon after, apparently feeling improved enough to actually sleep instead of attempting to sneeze the house down.

I let myself out.

Lupin was, thankfully, was rather less of a chore to administer to. He woke up long enough to take the potion, and he promptly passed out again. Good thing the house wasn't actually on fire.

As if to reinforce my opinion, Eggplant burst into flames, but the flames didn't burn. Instead she just oscillated from one colour of fire to the next through the entire spectrum.

"I didn't know you could do that, Madam Lintball" I commented to the little chick.

"Miiii," she warbled, fluffing up proudly.

After opening up Lupin's window to bring in some fresh air, and Merlin knew they both needed it, I left, descending the staircase with all due haste. I wanted as little exposure as possible to whatever disease, vaccines or no, and after cleaning up Potter from his sickbed-related mess, I didn't want that for sure.

By the time I made it to the kitchen, Hermione was already done with her flurry of vegetable cutting. Kreacher was standing over a pot of what smelled like an utterly divine soup stock, and he was tossing in ingredients as Hermione finished setting out the rest. It seemed they had come to an agreement that Kreacher could do what he wanted the most, which was to help, as long as he didn't Hermione to sit on her laurels and not want to do somethings herself.

"Miii! Mii!" Eggplant called, fluttering her wings.

She fluttered over to the rim of the simmering pot of soup, perching on the side. With a moment's panic, I started to lunge for her to save her from the heat, and then rational thought kicked in: phoenixes were immune to fire— heat in general.

Eggplant peered into the stewpot and warbled out a chain of imperious notes.

"Yes, Mistress," Kreacher droned. "There are plenty of vegetables to your liking." He held out a large piece of orange bell pepper, and the little chick snatched it happily, promptly making it disappear.

"How were they?" Hermione asked throwing in more ingredients into the stewpot.

"Potter was tangled in his curtains," I replied. "Lupin was barely conscious."

Hermione stared at me a little. "That's some wicked flu."

"Miii!" Eggplant interjected, fluttering her wings.

Hermione plucked the chick off the stewpot rim and snuggled her with her face before putting her back on her shoulder.

"Miiii," the chick cooed, closing her eyes blissfully.

"They'll probably be out of commission for a good week, even with the potions," I said with a sigh. "I just hope Potter doesn't infect anyone else and cause the entire school to have classes postponed for a week. People do not like having their summer holidays threatened."

"Far be it they don't like having their schooling threatened," she replied dryly, and she arched her brow in a familiar expression I recognised all too well— two parts Minerva, one part Moody, and one hefty serving of me.

"Miii!" Eggplant agreed.

"Indeed."

"Hrm?" Hermione asked, pondering where my train of thought was going.

"Good thing we did all of our preparation for the start of the year already," I said. "I would hate to have to do that while sick."

Hermione waved her spoon at me. "We shall not be sick, master."

"Spending time with Trelawney, are you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at me, oozing the sort of disdain that only Trelawney could inspire. "I already inoculated us against that particular strain of nasty. I checked it first thing when they started showing symptoms."

I arched a brow. Efficient. I'm not sure why I was surprised.

The Black kitchen was set up to accommodate Hermione's desire to cook, and she had expanded it to include a cooking hearth that was separate from the Floo hearth. Her reasoning was, especially after Moody had shown up in the middle of a Dutch oven full of sweet potato pie, that cooking and Flooing really needed to be kept separate. She had crafted a rather ingenious cooktop on the island that was cool to the touch, but when you put a pot on it, it heated it to whatever temperature she desired depending on what rune she traced on the surface. Even more useful was that it only heated cookware. If you put you hand down on it, it remained perfectly cool to the touch.

"You really should market this," I said, tapping the cooking counter.

"Already done, my master," Hermione chided me. "The Witch's Kettle in Diagon Alley has been contracted to be my main supplier of, how did they put it— enchanting essentials for the modern home."

I snorted. "I suppose it doesn't matter what they call it as long as it sells, hrm?"

Hermione gave me a smug smile. "Potage's Cauldron Shop and Slug & Jiggers Apothecary would like to contract a version specifically for potions, but I told them that you would have to approve anything involving potion-safe brewing surfaces."

"Oh?"

"They are willing to construct you the brewing setup of your dreams for your time," she said, a twinkle in her eye.

She knew how to get my attention. "Hn?" I replied, trying not to sound like a giddy child on Christmas morning.

"Of course, I told them it was up to you," Hermione continued, "but they seem to think you will be happy with the partnership."

The corner of my mouth twitched. "And how would they know what I would like?"

"Oh," Hermione said with a shrug. "I may have given them a few pointers."

She gestured to a brown paper parcel on the counter.

I narrowed my eyes and tentatively tugged on the twine.

The bundle came undone easily, and out rolled a cobalt jar, tinted just enough to make identification of the contents impossible. I looked up Hermione with a suspicious look.

She gave me my own arched eyebrow in reply. I had no one to blame but myself for that one.

I picked the jar up and opened the latch, and the lip popped open. The scent of strong— was that? Holy mother of Merlin.

"Dragon saffron?" I whispered, as if my voice would make it disappear. There was at least two-hundred grams of it in the jar— their brilliant purple stigmas heavy with the rare magic the flowers absorbed from the areas they lived in: the domain of dragons. The flower was rare, impossible to culture unless you had dragons around, and equally hard to harvest because of said dragons. A gram of it was worth more than most people made in a year.

"Hrm," Hermione said. "I wonder how they would know you've been looking for that for the last decade. Maybe they hired a Diviner."

I slowly closed the jar, set it down, and closed my eyes. A swell of emotion rose within. I could barely stand it. There was enough saffron in this jar to last me lifetimes of potions.

"Yip!"

My arms were suddenly filled with Kitsune, and the little multi-tailed demon was snuggling into my chest and bumping her head against my chin. There was nothing more I could do. I wrapped my arms around her, burying my nose into her fur and closing my eyes. "You marvelous little creature," I whispered. "You still have to sit your N.E.W.T.s."

The little Kitsune gave me a lick under the chin and set her tails a-waving. Somehow, I don't think she was bothered at all.

"Miiiii," Eggplant cooed from rim of the cooking pot. She fluttered her wings and let out a string of happy notes, filling our hearts with joy.

I couldn't have said it better myself.


A/N: Eggplant is a lintball on a mission! She also swears like a sailor. She's so adorable. ROFL!


Translations for the Dutch-impaired (I don't judge! Dutchgirl01, however, well, might want to butter her up with some Jolly Ranchers):

Ziek: Sick

Strontziek : sick and tired is the actual translation. The literal meaning is akin to animal shite. Isn't language wonderful?

Blijf uit de buurt! : Keep away!

Aubergine: Eggplant

Hou van mij: love me

Mooie vogel: pretty bird

Fruit alsjeblieft : fruit please

Hou van jou: love you

Dank je wel: Thank you

Aardige vent: Nice guy!

Geen eikel: Not a jerk

Vertrouwen: Trust