Chapter 20: Little Autumn Squash


"It… well, I don't know whether… but it's worth trying and I'm the only one who can…"
"I hate it when she does that," grumbled Ron as he and Harry got up from the table and made their own, slower way out of the Great Hall. "Would it kill her to tell us what she's up to for once? It'd take her about ten more seconds."
—Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, J.K. Rowling


"Someone remind me again why I'm here?" Lily huffed as she crossed her ankles and propped her feet up onto the bench in front of us. Her auburn waves rippled in the breeze as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked around accusingly.

"To support our team, of course!" answered Mary happily, tightening the bow of the long scarlet ribbon tying back her hair. "Come on, it's our last year. It would have been criminal to miss Gryffindor tryouts."

I sat in the Gryffindor section of the Quidditch stands with Lily, Mary, Alice, and for some strange reason, Delia. The afternoon was pleasantly warm. I closed my eyes and tilted my head upward, soaking in the sunlight. It had taken quite a while for Mary and Alice to convince me to join them. Though I appreciated their effort to include me, I think they knew that if I were to go, Lily wouldn't refuse either. I had to actively force myself to suppress the discomfort and distinct emptiness I felt as I watched the contenders stretch and take to the air to warm up. Though I had prepared myself for no flash of vibrant red, it was still odd to see jet black hair flying without Ron hovering near the goal hoops.

"I've managed to avoid it for six years," Lily grumbled under her breath.

Alice hushed her with a stern look. "We're here to support Marlene."

Lily frowned guiltily. "I know," she sighed. "I was just planning to start my Arithmancy essay this afternoon."

"We'll get to it tomorrow," said Remus as he plopped down onto the bench beside me, followed by Peter on his other side. "Hermione said she knows of a book that may help, so we can all meet in the library together."

Er, what book now?

Remus shot me a significant side-eye. I cottoned on quickly and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it delves deeper into Professor Vector's introduction to the Chaldean system," I added. "Don't worry, Lils. We've got plenty of time."

"Sure, sure," muttered Lily, nose wrinkled as she squinted down at the pitch, eyes following one player specifically. She groaned softly as James dismounted his broom and used the tail of his practice jersey to wipe sweat from his brow, briefly revealing his extremely toned abdomen.

Honestly, I couldn't blame her. That display was enough to make any warm-blooded female hot and bothered.

"You work too hard, Lily," Delia chimed in. "A break every now and again is good for your health."

"I didn't get to be Head Girl by taking breaks whenever I fancied them," Lily retorted bitingly.

Delia narrowed her eyes at Lily's tone. An awkward silence fell over our section of the stands.

"So—" Peter began with obvious effort. "Who do you think will replace Barton? Brilliant Seeker, he was. Did you hear he's been signed as a reserve for the Tornados?"

The silence dissolved as everyone began discussing last year's Seeker and his potential in the professional Quidditch league.

I looked over at Remus conspiratorially and decided to take the chance. "I take it you're also a supporter of Team Jily?" I whispered into his ear, careful to make sure Lily wouldn't hear.

He grinned before responding under his breath, "Going on five years now. We call it Operation Help-James-Grow-the-Fuck-Up. Operation Lames, for short."

I burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. Everyone around me turned to stare.

"Sorry," I gasped as I collected myself. "Blame Remus. He told a very amusing joke."

Remus snorted and skeptical looks made their way through the group, but before anyone could respond, James's voice echoed throughout the stadium.

"Oi, down here, you lot!" he boomed, wand pointed at his throat. He folded his arms over his chest as he waited for each person to touch ground. "Every position but mine is fair game. I don't care what you played last year, we're having a fair trial. Let's have everyone going out for Seeker here, Chasers over there—"

"I thought they had a practice last Saturday?" I asked no one in particular as I watched James conjure a clipboard and whistle from thin air. If there was one thing I'd learnt about Harry's father since my arrival in this decade, it was that he was damn talented at Transfiguration.

"James prefers to hold at least one practice before trials," explained Remus with a shrug. "He said it helps him get a read on the team's potential, but I think he was just too impatient to wait another week."

"And how many slots is he looking to fill?"

"Three," Peter answered, leaning across his friend. "There's four returning from last year. Hobbs as Keeper, James and Marlene for Chaser, and Sirius as Beater."

I hummed my understanding as I watched James send a group of first years off the pitch.

"Beaters first off!" James shouted, already sounding annoyed. "There's only eight of you, so we're going to keep this shit quick and dirty—"

"As any decent Beater should be," a voice drawled from the back of the crowd. Laughter echoed throughout the pitch, and I didn't need to look down to know who had spoken.

"Yes, thank you, Black," said James dryly, trying to maintain a professional tone, but I could hear the smile in his voice. "Alright, you two start us off." James motioned to two players, who promptly mounted their brooms and took to the air.

Sirius kept to the back chatting with Marlene, broomstick still propped lazily on his shoulder. They seemed to be getting on well. I could tell by the slightly strained look on Marlene's face that all was not forgotten, but she laughed along with Sirius just the same.

"Now I know why you were so keen to be here, Mary," said Lily smugly. Mary was leaning forward in her seat and watching intently as the first set of potential Beaters circled the pitch waiting for James to release the Bludgers. Lily appraised her friend, eyebrows raised. "Jones is looking fit, isn't he?"

"Damn right he is," replied Mary, eyes slightly dreamy but lips turning upward into a smirk.

I leaned over to Remus. "Which one is Jones?"

"Asher Jones. Black bloke in sixth year, broad as a house."

It was obvious which one he meant. Asher Jones was massive, dark muscles rippling as he swung his bat and made contact with a Bludger. The iron ball whizzed halfway across the pitch before changing direction and hurtling back.

"Looks like he'll give Sirius a run for his money," Alice added, watching as Jones sped off.

She was right. Nearly an hour later, James had narrowed it down to Jones and Sirius and had sent them both back into the air to test how well they worked together. He needn't have worried; the Bludgers travelled between them as if they had already coordinated plays. I couldn't help but admire Sirius's impressive Quidditch skills, as well as his rather attractive, er, physique. I mentally cursed our school robes for keeping all of that hidden. His muscular arms were on full display as he gripped his broom with only his thighs, his back elbow cocking upward as he swung the heavy bat with both arms.

God, it was like sex on a broomstick.

What can I say? I wasn't lying about my preference for really good Quidditch players.

James blew his whistle. "Merlin fuck, quit showing off and get your arses back down here!"

Wild cheering erupted from the stands behind me. I should have expected Sirius to have a dedicated fan club.

Sirius and Jones high fived in midair before speeding back to our end of the pitch. Right before reaching the Gryffindor section of the stands, Sirius slowed deliberately and threw a wink in our direction. Lily nudged me repeatedly in the ribs with her elbow.

"Christ, Lily," I grimaced, rubbing my side. Her elbows were surprisingly sharp. "What are you on about?"

"Oh, you know," said Lily, green eyes sparkling with undisguised delight. "Who do you think he meant that wink for?'

"I dunno," I replied blithely. "Remus is looking rather fetching today."

"Excuse me," interjected Remus, hand pressed to his chest in mock offense. "I always look fetching."

"Of course you do, Remus darling," said Lily through laughter.


"We keep bottled Butterbeer in the cold store beneath the bar. There's a few obscure brews down there too, mostly foreign. The rest of the beer is on tap, wine's over there, and liquor is on the back wall."

"What if someone just wants a water or pumpkin juice?"

Benjy laughed. "On the rare occasion we get that order, we've got these," he replied, pointing to a few nozzles that resembled Muggle soda fountain guns.

"And say someone fancies a mixed drink?" I asked, feeling a little out of my depth.

"Then you'll find me and I'll teach you, of course," Benjy answered. "Now get out there and take care of that lot." He gestured to a group of wizards settling themselves around a table near the back of the pub.

I nodded as I tied a dingy apron around my waist. As I turned to skirt around the edge of the bar, Benjy stopped me.

"Don't forget to smile." He then grimaced awkwardly. "And maybe drop a button or two," he added, motioning to my shirt.

I scowled. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he repeated without an ounce of humor. He leant forward and lowered his voice. "Sorry, but we need you to charm the pants off them, put them at ease."

"I know," I sighed. I grudgingly undid the top three buttons of my white oxford, revealing a hint of, in my opinion, quite unimpressive cleavage. Only the top edge of my circular golden scar peaked out. I slid the bobble out of my hair for good measure, shaking out my curls.

If someone had told me a year ago that I would willing comply with such an audacious request, I would have hexed them into a puddle.

But I was a very different witch than the Hermione of a year ago.

"Better?" I asked, batting my eyelashes and giving him the most convincing smile I could muster. I tried to make my smile somewhat coy and flirtatious, but I don't think I quite hit the mark.

"Much," he replied with a reassuring smile.

I took a steadying breath before heading off to wait on the table of wizards. My job on this Sunday evening was not only to help Aberforth out around the pub, but also to assist Benjy in being the eyes and ears of the Order.

If I had to tart myself up to do it, so be it.


"Nothing necessarily out of the ordinary," I said in response to Aberforth's question. It was a little after two in the morning, and Aberforth, Benjy, and I sat together at a table near the bar of the closed pub. The shades of each window were drawn and only a few candles were lit. I'd cast Muffliato and an Imperturbable charm on the door, just to be safe. "Goyle met up with a group of wizards I didn't recognize and a particularly rancorous goblin, but that's about it."

"Goyle," Aberforth repeated, setting down his glass of Firewhiskey with a clink. "What'd they talk about?"

I hummed, thinking. "A potion. Sounded illegal, but I didn't catch a name. I was a little distracted by the blonde bloke trying to grab my arse again."

"Merlin fuck," Benjy swore under his breath. "I bloody knew it."

I look a sip of my drink as Aberforth shot Benjy a look. "Am I missing something?" I asked, eyes darting from one to the other.

Aberforth gave a small nod as if granting Benjy permission.

"Recently there's been a rash of murders traced back to a few specific potion ingredients," replied Benjy carefully. "First one was a month ago. Our informant close to the investigation tells us that the Aurors haven't been able to identify the poison, but they're certain the murders weren't caused by the Killing Curse."

"And you think Goyle's involved?" I asked skeptically, swirling my glass of amber liquid. "Because as I recall, that whole family has never been proficient at anything more than elementary Dark Magic. I doubt Goyle could brew a decent Hiccuping Solution, much less a lethal poison."

"We don't think he's doing the brewing," Aberforth replied with a grim chuckle. "Nah, Goyle's just the middleman."

"And that's the problem, innit?" Benjy added. "You-Know-Who always sends out the stupidest of his lot for the dirtiest work. Makes it harder for us to find the source."

I frowned, looking to Aberforth. "You-Know-Who is already a thing?"

"'Course it is, girlie. Fear of the name, as my brother says."

I rolled my eyes. Benjy looked at both of us in confusion.

"Oh, sorry," I added, covering quickly. "I've been in the States, you know."

"Right," said Benjy, looking mollified but his eyebrows never unfurrowed.


"Is it weird?" asked Benjy as he escorted me back to the gates of Hogwarts. I raised my eyebrows in question. "Being a member of—" he glanced around the deserted lane and lowered his voice. "The Organization while still a student?"

"Not really," I replied. "I haven't done much yet, have I? But the people I hang around with at school are more than willing to join up. I imagine they'll be first in line once they finish school."

"Black, you mean?"

"Him and his friends," I answered with a shrug. "You'll never meet a more dedicated bunch."

He released a hum that sounded a bit unconvinced.

"I'm serious," I said as I pushed open one of the heavy iron gates leading to the grounds. "Sirius and his friends—well, I guess you could say they're my friends now, too. They're the sort of people we need."

"If you say so," Benjy replied. He gave me a brief hug. "You were brilliant tonight. Be careful getting back to your dormitory, okay? See you soon."


The next week was surprisingly uneventful. Sirius or Remus had evidently made an effort to convince James of my innocence because there was a noticeable decrease in the amount of dirty looks thrown in my direction. James still seemed a bit wary of me, though. More than once I caught him studying me across the common room, his expression unreadable.

Late Tuesday evening, the night of the new moon, I met Severus in a rarely used dungeon to brew the first phase of Veritaserum. It was a shockingly dull event. Despite my many attempts at small talk, Severus spoke very little unless it pertained to the task at hand. As I decanted our product into an opaque glass bottle, he complimented my brewing abilities before sweeping out of the room, leaving me alone to clear up our supplies.

I muttered darkly to myself as I stowed the potion-filled bottle in the Potion Master's storage cupboard. What had I done to warrant such cool indifference from Severus? I thought we had been getting on just fine. Well, even if he decided to continue this cold shoulder treatment in class, I refused to tolerate it when we met on the night of the full moon for the second phase of our potion.

The full moon.

A potion on the full moon—

An absolutely brilliant idea struck me like a bolt of lightning.

How had I not thought of it sooner?

I cast a Disillusionment charm on myself and departed the dungeons in such a rush that the tell-tale icy sensation was still trickling down my spine when I reached the stairs.

I needed to consult my old notes, definitely track down the empirical study published by Damocles Belby in The Practical Potioneer, and maybe even verify a few key concepts in Phyllida Spore's comprehensive review of aconite for good measure. I knew Belby wouldn't finish perfecting the final version until sometime in late 1978, but hopefully my previous research would be sufficient enough to compensate. I had never attempted to brew such a dangerous and complex potion before, but maybe with enough time and practice—

For Remus—

But there was also the issue of ingredients. Many were terribly expensive, and at present I only had a handful of Galleons to my name. Maybe Uncle Albus could help? But he would surely want to know why I needed access to such a toxic plant. I doubt he would approve—

For Remus—

I stopped abruptly, blinking rapidly as I took in my surroundings. I was staring at a blank stretch of stone wall on the seventh floor.

The Room of Requirement.

Everyone knows that food is the first of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration… but did that include other consumables such as potion ingredients?

There was only one way to find out.

For Remus—

I stared straight ahead determinedly as I began to pace, turning sharply on my heel at the edge of the window and then back again once I reached the massive vase.

I need somewhere to brew the Wolfsbane Potion… A proper potions laboratory… I need access to all of the necessary supplies and ingredients to brew the Wolfsbane Potion…


I sent Evie off with letters addressed to Molly and Fabian on Wednesday. Though I felt a bit awkward and unsure of how they would be received, I couldn't help myself. Molly had said to keep in touch, and despite Gideon's reassurances, I just needed to know how Fabian was holding up for myself.

Two days later, I received owls from them both. Molly's contained a precious photo of Bill, Charlie, and Percy helping her in the garden. Percy was sitting in the center of a large patchwork quilt, thumb in his mouth, with Bill and Charlie on either side of him, faces smeared with dirt and grinning up at the camera. A tiny gnome darted across the background of the scene. Fabian whinged about how much he loathed desk duty for the majority of his letter, but I smiled at the photo he included of his crup puppy named Isla snuggled up beside a tiny kitten that I suspected was half-Kneazle, just like Crookshanks.

I found myself spending a surprising amount of time with the Marauders. It had been quite a shock the first time I looked up from my Charms textbook during morning break to find myself sandwiched between Remus and Sirius on the courtyard bench, but I soon came to expect the company of all four wizards during breaks and meals in the Great Hall. Lily often joined me, almost always sitting next to or across from James. I actually began to grow concerned that I could be negatively altering the timeline. How had James and Lily's relationship developed on the First Strand of Time? How was my presence influencing them?

It was a troubling thought that I wouldn't allow myself to dwell on.

I met Remus in the library almost nightly to revise, occasionally joined by a various combination of my dorm mates and the Marauders. My time spent with Remus was nearly as refreshing as an Invigoration Draught. I was thrilled to find that our conversations weren't limited to schoolwork. I felt comfortable with him, which resulted in many hastily censored stories of my previous life spilling out without a second thought. Remus responded in kind, and Madam Pince nearly booted us from the library as I rolled with laughter over a particularly hilarious prank involving Dumbledore's hat.

It wasn't until Saturday evening that something exciting happened. I was curled in my favorite armchair in front of the common room fire, surrounded by the Marauders and Alice, my ancient copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard open in my lap. I wasn't really reading it; I was content just running my fingers along each yellowed page.

Remus was sitting on the sofa across from me, nose buried in a Muggle novel. I enjoyed watching his dark green eyes soak up each word, his scarred face more relaxed than I'd ever seen it in my future. Peter was sharing a large bar of Honeydukes chocolate with Alice as she happily answered questions about Frank's first year at the Auror Academy. James had just returned from meeting Delia and had joined Sirius on the common room floor. They were both sprawled on their backs, side by side in front of the fire, eyes closed. They looked so much like brothers in that moment that it was a bit disconcerting.

"Whatcha reading, Hermione?" James asked, cracking open one eye to look up at me.

"Just a book of old runes," I replied evasively. "A gift from a friend."

Sirius's forehead wrinkled, but he didn't open his eyes.

"So you're translating them?" James continued.

"Oh no, I finished that ages ago—"

I was saved from having to explain by a weedy looking boy that couldn't be more than a third year.

"Hermione D-dumbledore?" he stuttered, staring at me with wide eyes.

"It's Hermione Granger," I said with a sigh. "Just Granger."

I may use my new surname to my advantage when necessary, but I just couldn't allow myself to give up Granger for good.

"Er, yes," said the boy. "I was told to give you this." He passed me a tightly furled scroll of parchment with shaking hands.

"Thank you!" I called after the boy as he turned and scarpered back out of the portrait hole.

"Who's that from?" James asked as I broke the wax seal and unrolled the parchment.


H,

Meet in my office at half eight. Tonight's the night to introduce you to the resistance.

Your partner,
G


Besides seeing him in Defense lessons, I hadn't heard from Gideon all week. We hadn't met for dueling practice as promised, but I'd decided not to question it. I was sure he had his reasons.

I checked my watch.

Twenty past eight.

"I've got to go," I muttered, ignoring James's question and shoving my book back into my bag. "I'll see you lot later."

I hurried out of the portrait hole without a second thought. Once in the corridor, I extracted my beaded handbag from the bottom of my school bag; I didn't need the inconvenience of lugging a massive bag of books around all evening. After stuffing my entire school bag into the smaller one, I lengthened the strap and slung it across my body. It hit my hip with a loud thump. Though the delicate-looking bag sounded quite heavy, it felt light as air.

I had cast my charms well.

I all but sprinted to Gideon's office, barreling through the door without knocking. He looked up as I stood breathlessly in front of his desk. He had been scribbling a few notes onto the top page of a sheaf of parchment. There was a splotch of blue ink staining the ginger hairs of his stubbled cheek.

"Merlin, I didn't mean for you to run," he said through laughter, returning an elegant eagle feather quill to the stand next to the inkwell on his desk.

I felt my face grow hot. "I'm just excited," I replied defensively.

"Why? Shouldn't this be old hat for you?"

I shuffled my feet guiltily. "Er—"

Gideon raised his eyebrows.

"Not exactly…"

"What do you mean?"

"I was only fifteen when the Order reformed, wasn't I? I was stuck on the periphery. Mrs. Weasley wouldn't allow us to stay for meetings. By the time I was of age, I had—" I broke off, biting my lip. "Well, I had more important matters to attend to."

"More important than the Order?"

"Far more important," I replied, voice void of emotion.

He cocked his head to the side in question, willing me to go on.

But I wasn't planning to.

"Don't we have somewhere to be?" I said with finality.

"Of course," he replied as he pushed back his chair, seeming to take the hint. He strode to the stone fireplace along the rear wall and retrieved a pot from the mantle that resembled my mum's old makeup jar. "You go first," he said, holding out the jar of Floo powder. "I'll be right behind you."

"Wait, why?" I asked as I joined him in front of the fireplace.

"It's polite," he answered simply. I reached out to take a pinch of glittering powder, but he pulled the jar away suddenly, eyes wide as if a realization had just hit him. "Wait, Mrs. Weasley, you said?"

"Molly, of course. We've already been through this, Gid. She was like a mum to me." I paused for a moment. "She was a mum to me," I added quietly.

His smiled, his blue eyes sparkling. "I bet she was incredible at it, wasn't she?"

I grinned back at him. "The absolute best. A bit over protective, though."

"Of course she was," he said, shaking his head knowingly.

"So are we going or not?"

"Oh, right," he replied. "Make sure you speak clearly. I don't exactly fancy having to track you down."

I rolled my eyes at his tease. "I know how to use the Floo Network, you prat. What's my destination?"

"The Boneyard."

"Excuse me?" I asked, thinking I'd misheard. "The what?"

"The Boneyard," he repeated, holding back a laugh. "You'll understand when we get there."

I huffed at him, but did as I was told. I took a pinch of Floo Powder from the jar in his hand and tossed it into the fire. It roared emerald green.

"The Boneyard!" I shouted before stepping into the flames and spinning away.

I stumbled out of the fireplace, coughing and dusting soot from my skirt before looking up. I had arrived in an ornate sitting room. From what I could tell, the room was rather spacious and absolutely packed with witches and wizards. Everyone there was facing the fireplace, looking at me expectantly. I gulped audibly.

"There you are, lassie," someone growled. Before I could say a word, Moody had thrown an arm over my shoulder and was leading me off to the side. "Nobody needs that many eyes on 'em," he said under his breath as we traveled through the crowd.

"That's for sure," I said gratefully once we'd reached the side of the room.

"Aye, sooner rather than later, didn't I say?" said Moody with a smirk. "Your dad'll be here in a bit."

"Rough week?" I asked, nodding to a fresh gash stretching from the middle of his forehead to the angle of his right jaw.

Moody chuckled. "No worse than usual."

"Hermione?" Gideon shouted, sounding panicked.

"Over here, Gid!" I called back, standing on tiptoe and searching over the crowd for a hint of red.

"Sweet Merlin, I was sure I'd lost you in the Floo," he said after elbowing his way over to us. "You trying to give me heart failure, Moody?"

Moody laughed again.


I spent the next quarter of an hour being introduced to various members of the Order. Some I recognized, but many were new to me. Hestia Jones smiled warmly as she clung to the arm of her husband, who greeted me with the name Giles. He looked very much like Asher Jones, and when I inquired, he revealed that Asher was indeed his younger brother.

Benjy whisked me away quickly to introduce me to his two best friends from school—Pierce Whittle and Emmeline Vance. Despite the call me Emmy that followed her introduction, this young version of Emmeline was still similar to the stately witch I remembered—a witch I had spent quite a few hours with at the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place. A witch who had been kind enough to help me perfect my Patronus over the Christmas holiday with the promise of 'I won't tell if you won't'. A witch who had ultimately been murdered by Death Eaters. Her long chestnut colored plait swung over her shoulder as she shook my hand, her slightly protuberant eyes sparkling with the smile on her lips. Pierce Whittle was a bearded bloke with dark hair and kind brown eyes. I noticed the many looks he shot at Emmeline, but she seemed completely oblivious.

Fabian found us soon after. He hugged me tightly, even before greeting his brother. "My favorite witch," he said through a toothy grin. "How's Hogwarts treating you?"

"Surprisingly dull," I replied. "How's Isla?"

"Adorably destructive," he answered. "I'm down to my last pair of work boots. My friend is trying to convince me to send her to training school at the Magical Menagerie, but who has time for that sort of thing?"

"And how is Elise's kitten? Half kneazle, isn't it?" I inquired with a sly smile.

"Oh, Ari is fine—hang on." He stopped, forehead furrowed. "How'd you know it was her kitten? Have you even met Elise?"

"Lucky guess?" I replied, sharing a smirk with Gideon, who shook his head in a 'thanks for that, Hermione' sort of way. Fabian caught on quickly.

"Can't keep your bloody trap shut, can you?" Fabian said to his brother with a sigh.

"She was in the waiting room—" Gideon began.

"Oh, come off it," I cut in, rolling my eyes. "It's not like you can't trust me, right?" I raised my eyebrows significantly.

"Good point," Fabian concurred.

"So when do I get to meet her properly?" I asked.

"Tonight, I hope," replied Fabian, trying but failing to hide his smile.

"The McKinnons finally caved?" said Gideon, eyes wide with surprise.

"Reluctantly," said Fabian. "I think Dumbledore had a word with them. Only Ellie, though. Blair wasn't exactly willing, and the other two are still at Hogwarts."

"Excellent. We've been struggling without anyone in Elise's department since we lost Griffis. A few essential foreign contacts—"

As Gideon and Fabian continued their discussion, I took a moment to survey the room. Mundungus Fletcher skulked alone in a dark corner, sipping from a dented hip flask. I caught Hagrid's eye over the head of a man with thick straw-colored hair, who I could only assume to be Sturgis Podmore. Hagrid nearly knocked over a very expensive looking vase as he waved at me, and I grinned as I returned his greeting. Aberforth stood next to Arabella Figg on the outskirts of a large group, looking terribly bored and grunting whenever the conversation called for a response.

I decided to play my role properly. My father needed rescuing.

"I'll be back in a bit," I said over my shoulder as I squeezed my way through the crowd.

"Dad," I said, coming up behind him and slipping my arm into his. He started and looked down at me in surprise. I pulled him away before he could respond. "You looked bored stiff," I whispered once we were on our own. "Well, stiffer than usual."

"Stiff, you say?" he snorted as he swiped up two bottles of Butterbeer from a nearby table of drinks. He passed me one before popping both tops with a flick of his wand. "You wouldn't say that if you caught me after a few Firewhiskeys. How'd you think you got here, girlie?"

He gave me a wink and jerked his head to the right. A dark-haired man who looked to be in his late thirties was approaching us. His vibrant turquoise robes set him apart from the crowd. Following Aberforth's lead, I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

"Blimey, Dad," I said, shaking my head. "There are just some things a girl doesn't need to know."

"Too right you are, little witch!" said the man grandly as he reached us. "Hermione Granger, I presume?" I nodded. "I've been absolutely dying to meet you! Edgar Bones." He gave a little bow before grasping my proffered hand and shaking it exaggeratedly. He held his arms out widely, gesturing to the room at large. "Welcome to my home. Mi casa es su casa, as they say."

"Oh," I breathed. "The Boneyard. I get it now."

"Told ya," said Gideon, appearing beside me with a smirk on his face.

"Gideon, my tasty little autumn squash! Where have you been hiding since last meeting?" Edgar cried as he gathered Gideon in a hug. Aberforth barely managed to turn his laugh into a hasty cough.

Gideon smiled indulgently as he clapped Edgar on the back. "Hogwarts, of course. The Headmaster keeps us busy."

"Tosh. You must come round for tea Sunday next. I know my sister would be absolutely thrilled if you joined us."

Gideon rolled his eyes. "I see Kirsten at least once a week at the office, Ed. No need for elaborate schemes to set us up."

Edgar tutted dismissively, but Gideon was saved by the magnified voice of Albus Dumbledore. "If you will all find a seat, the meeting will begin shortly."

"My my, is it that time already?" gasped Edgar before turning on his heel and rushing to help set up chairs in a semicircle facing the fireplace.

I followed Gideon and took a seat on the second row between him and Fabian. Fabian was smiling across the room, eyes fixed on a pretty blonde witch—Elise McKinnon. She was sitting next to an older couple that I assumed were her parents. She looked much more put together than the last time I saw her. She was dressed in a knee-length skirt and neat blouse, not a single curl out of place. She looked a bit nervous, but seemed to take comfort in the reassuring smile Fabian was still giving her.

"So, tasty little autumn squash?" I whispered into Gideon's ear, biting my lip to hold back a laugh.

"Fucking Edgar," he said, rolling his eyes but smiling fondly. "He gets more creative every time I see him. He may be the biggest poof this side of the Thames, but don't let that fool you. He could out-duel half the Auror department without breaking a sweat. He's one of the best wizards we've got."

"So is he hitting on you or does he want you to date his sister?" I asked, eyebrows raised.

Gideon laughed. "No, he just finds great pleasure in winding me up. Ed's been with Thatcher for years. They've just adopted a little girl, actually. Lila. Thatch should be around somewhere with her." He lowered his voice. "She's a Muggle-born that displayed magic too soon. Her mother didn't know what to make of her, so she gave her up. Religious sort of woman, thought she was possessed."

I frowned, understanding more than Gideon knew. When I was five years old, I'd made my Nan's ruby necklace fly right off her throat and into my hand, just after Nan had scolded me, saying her jewelry was far too precious for a child to wear. My parents were baffled, but Nan was convinced that I was being influenced by a demon. It was almost three years before she would allow me to visit again.

"The Ministry caught wind of it and his sister Amelia was able to help send the adoption through smoothly," Gideon continued.

"How many sisters does Edgar have?"

"Just the two. Amelia and Kirsten. Amelia is pretty high up in the DMLE and Kirsten runs an Apothecary in Diagon Alley. They're the exclusive potion provider for the Auror Department, so she's there twice a week, at least. I think he's got a brother too, but I don't know much about him."

Gideon fell silent as Dumbledore rose from his chair and stood in front of the fireplace, facing the crowd.

"Thank you for joining us tonight. We have all put ourselves at great risk by being here, but the Order of the Phoenix is grateful for your service."


(A/N): I don't have much to say about this chapter except to explain why Hermione's thoughts seem so disjointed after she remembers the Wolfsbane Potion. Throughout the series, there are moments where a realization strikes her and she rushes off with little more than a half-assed explanation. I usually don't explain the opening quote, but this one was a bit more ambiguous.

Thank you so much for sticking around and reading even though my updates can be a bit slow at times. Please take a moment to leave a review and let me know what you think!

:) liz


if you had not have fallen
then I would not have found you

angel flying too close to the ground
and I patched up your broken wing
and hung around a while

trying to keep your spirits up and your fever down
Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground – Willie Nelson