Chapter Eighteen: And so it begins...

Harry and Ginny spent the following week wandering around Hogwarts and the nearby village, and apparating away to various locations that Harry would not disclose. Every day he took Ginny somewhere new, and would only grin and shake his head when anyone asked where they were going, or where they had been.

Ginny was even more close-mouthed. When asked, she would flush red and hurriedly leave the room.

It wasn't until Molly found out that the others had been questioning them about their honeymoon activities and put her foot down and told them all to leave the newlyweds alone that the good-natured teasing ended.

Hermione spent her nights and mornings at Potter Manor, continuing to write for The Sun, and meeting with Stephen Lewis, before flooing to her little cottage. She had discovered boxes full of personal belongings in the attic that, she assumed she had had no time to unpack. Her memories of the time between the death of her parents and the final battle continued to be hazy, and both Ron and Harry had advised her to not push it.

Ron confirmed for her that she had never properly unpacked, with the pressure of training directly out of Hogwarts, and then one thing and another, the boxed belongings from Hogwarts and her parents home, what there were left, had stayed that way. Ginny had put her clothes and the few things she had had out away with the other things in the attic the year after the battle.

A few days after the wedding, Ron apparated with her to the cottage to bring the boxes down for her. As the room came into focus around them, she smiled.

"What?"

"You still make me hold your hand when we do that."

"Do what?"

"Apparate."

"Well, you know..."

"I know, less likely to splinch myself, right?"

"Right," he muttered, busying himself with the door to the attic stairs.

"You know the boxes I want?" she called after him as he headed up.

"They're the only ones up here, Hermione. I don't think I can miss them, do you?"

Shaking her head, she went to prepare tea and biscuits, knowing that within minutes Ron would be grousing about having nothing to eat. One thing that had remained constant through the years was Ron's appetite. Strangely, he didn't show an extra ounce of flesh...

Hermione felt the heat in her face and quickly changed the topic of her thoughts from Ron's anatomy to getting the correct number of spoonfuls of sugar in the tea cups.

It took him three trips, but he did it in record time, and by the time the tea was ready, the six boxes stood in the middle of her lounge floor. Hermione brought the tea tray in, and set it on the little table for him to help himself while she opened the first box.

"Ugh, Mione...I like it sweet, but how much sugar did you put in here?"

Hermione flushed again, then shrugged. "Pour yourself a new cup if you don't like it."

With that, she began to empty the box. There were a few jackets and shoes, and some makeup bits and pieces. She pulled out a polished wooden box from the bottom and opened it. It was a jewellery case.

There were few items in it, a few pairs of cheap earrings that a teenager would find appealing, a few chains, and a plastic-banded watch with a neon face, the type that had been popular in the late eighties. She lifted the top compartment off, and sighed. Underneath were a few other pieces, but one jumped out at her. She lifted it from the velvet box lining, and held it to dangle in front of her, the golden chain ended in a blue and red mottled stone the size of a grape.

"I wanted you to have something that reminded you of me, I have so much that reminds me of you..."

Hermione heard the voice in her head, and smiled. Hearing a sound behind her, she turned, the smile still in place.

"You still have that."

"I can't believe I forgot I had it," she said. "It was my seventeenth birthday."

"I wanted you to have..."

"Something that reminded me of you. Yes. I wore it every day, you know."

"Really?"

"Under my uniform."

Ron nodded, apparently embarrassed, but for once, not blushing. "What else is in there?"

"A bunch of junk," she said.

"What's that in the bottom?" He pointed down into the box, where there was a smaller, flat box left.

"I don't know," she said, lifting it out. Opening it, she sighed, then felt the tears well up into her eyes. "Oh... Ron..."

"What is it, Mione?"

She lifted the item out of it's flat box and turned it so he could see. It was a picture frame, and in it, a photo of two middle aged people, a man and a woman. The photo was very obviously not posed, it looked to be on a beach somewhere, but the most striking thing about it were the woman's tawny hair and the fact that she was laughing joyfully up into the man's eyes.

It was Hermione. Well, not really, but the woman that Hermione had become had certainly changed from the girl he remembered, and this woman, with her shorter hair and knowing eyes, looked much like the woman sitting crosslegged on the floor in front of him.

It was Laura and David Granger.

"Mione, you okay?" He asked softly.

"I never realized..." she sighed, tears in her voice. "I had forgotten them for so long, that when I remembered, when Harry gave me back my memories, I forgot that I missed them. Does that make any sense?"

"You've had a lot to deal with in the last few months, Mione."

"But they were my parents, Ron!"

"But they've been gone for eighteen years, Mione. You did your grieving, then."

"Did I?"

"Yes."

"I can't remember." she sighed. "Ron, I remember more about Adam and Melissa Kennedy than I do about these people, and they weren't even real."

"They were real to you, Maura. That's real enough."

"Is it?" she asked absently. "Sometimes I can't... I find myself remembering something, and then I have to think, now, was that as Hermione, or was that a false memory as Maura?"

"It's all you," he said quietly. "All those memories make you you, so none of them are invalid, Mione."

With a smile, she gazed at the picture in her hands, then turned her face up to look at him, "I suppose you're right. I'm still me, and I wouldn't be this me if I hadn't had the experience of being Maura Kennedy. Thank you, Ron, for pointing that out to me."

Ron stood there, not sure of how to respond. Instead, he pulled another box over to her, and slit it open. "Let's get this stuff cleared away, huh? Then I'll treat you to a meal in Diagon Alley."

"Whoohoo, big spender," she teased.

"Hey, if you promise me a smile, I might even spring for a pre-dinner drink," he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Laughing, she dived into the second box, knowing that, despite everything going on around them, the war gearing up, the lives being lost, that everything would be okay. She was back in the world she belonged in, she had Ron, and Harry and Ginny, and the rest of the Weasley clan. She had a family around her, and everything was going to be just fine.


The staff of Hogwarts was working double time. The new program for muggles had more applicants than it could handle, and the search was constant for qualified instructors. The first four week program began in the middle of july. Forty people between the ages of fourteen and thirty-eight spent four weeks learning basic Potions and Defense, and took British military tactical and basic training.

After four weeks, twenty-six of the forty were offered a further four weeks to study Transfiguration, Charms and advanced Defense. Twenty-two of these accepted.

The decision had been made to process these 'monthers' as they were being referred to, through Dumbledore House. Housed in the largest tower with more, if slightly smaller, dormatories, it was well suited to a changing population. In addition, it had two common rooms, which would accommodate more people.

Working at full capacity, one hundred monthers could be accommodated at any given time. The program would overlap groups, as well, so that those who had been there a while could assist the newcomers.

Granger House was to be, at it's core, an inspiration to those working their way through the basic program. Those who completed the basic four weeks and then the further four week extension, and who scored well on all there assessments and showed higher ability would be offered a place here. Instead of "years", they would have seven "levels" of study, reflecting the traditional seven years program, but based largely on self-study. The decision to organize the newcomers in this way had been made at an Order meeting.

That particular meeting of the Order was called in late June, days before Minerva said she must have the letters out to students. They had agreed to meet to make the final plans for the eight week training sessions.

"Well, do we have enough students to do this, then, Minerva?" Harry asked as they sat down in the War Room. Every member of the Order was there, and Colin Creavey and Lieutenant Howell, as well.

"Enough students?" Minerva asked, "Harry, we have enough applications for students aged eleven through seventeen to open another school, much less two new houses. And that doesn't even begin to take into consideration the number of adults we've had applications from."

The people in the room sat, stunned. Ginny and Hermione, Janey and Amelia were the only ones not employed by the school to know the extent of the response. They had been the ones who sorted through the letters.

"Min?" Harry sounded unsure, "You're kidding, right?"

"Harry, we need to discuss the ramifications of this. We require not two new houses, but at least four. Unless we begin turning applicants away..."

"How many?" Harry turned to Hermione.

"At least four hundred, at last count."

"Four hundred?" Arthur Weasley gasped.

"So, rather a better response than we had figured on." Harry smiled.

"Yes, rather." Minerva said dryly. "I just don't know how to accommodate them all."

"We have two new houses... accommodations for that many are not a problem?" Harry asked.

"Dumbledore and Granger houses are easily accommodated. We have the two unused towers that we have renovated to make do, but we were thinking in terms of the traditional ten new students per house per year...which comes out to roughly seventy students per house. We could possibly stretch that to one hundred, but..."

"Are there any more areas of the castle that could be used to accommodate more houses?"

"Harry, it's not just the living space," Snape said. "We need to have classrooms to accommodate these new students, as well..."

"Four hundred additional students is quite a number..."

"And we're getting more applications every day," Janie said. "It's going to be even more than that when all is said and done."

Harry thought for a moment. "Okay, obviously not all of these students are going to be of a level to take a complete Hogwarts education..."

"No, I would doubt if one of every five of them will be, but..." Minerva started.

"So, we have the four week training, invite those who perform well to stay on for the additional four weeks, just as we were planning for the adults. Amalgamate the programs. A select few may be asked to stay on for a complete education, but we retain one house for that purpose, and feed the students into it according to their ability. The others go away happy with the basic ability to defend themselves and their families, and we get some decent wizards and witches at the end of the day.

"In seven years," Snape commented. "When it might be all over."

Harry glanced at him, "No, Severus. We accellerate these students through based on their test scores. We give them the material, and allow them to progress at their own rate, with basic instruction from the volunteers, and those who perform well on the testing, move on. Those who do not take what they've learned, and leave. Make it so that entry into each successive level is by invitation, not assumed."

"The way education should be," Hermione commented. "Don't hold back those that are ready to move on based on their age and peer group, but allow them to progress and move on as they are ready for more advanced education."

The teachers present glanced at each other. Why hadn't it been thought of before?

"We could have seventh years that get through the program in weeks..." Severus said.

"That's why we don't call them 'years'," said Harry, thinking on his feet. "We call them 'levels' and then no one can question it. It will be performance-based, and when you're ready to move on you do, and not until. And we'll have some decently able people ready in months, not years."

"Excellent suggestion, Mr Potter," Minerva smiled. "We'll need to redesign the curriculum to reflect the importance of self-study, and the students will have to have the booklists for all seven levels..."

Harry nodded, "I would assume that some of the books will have to be different, as well. Not many of the texts that we learned with lend themselves well to independent study..."

"I can do that," Hermione found herself speaking. "I know most of the books..."

Harry grinned. "Who better? Hermione, if you wouldn't mind, I would be delighted if you could pull together a revised booklist for each year. Consult with the instructors, and I'll see you set up with an account at Flourish and Blotts so that you can get whatever you need to review."

"Done, Harry," she smiled. This was her first assignment beyond her link with the muggle world. She was thrilled, and nervous.

"So, Minerva," Harry turned back to the aging headmistress. "We'll restrict the letters to the new students, other than those traditionally accepted into Hogwarts, to an invitation to a four week program, with the explanation that those passing the final examinations may be invited to return for the expanded program?"

"That will allow me to get the letters out sooner rather than later, as well," she confirmed. "With no book lists to be concerned about, the letters can go out as soon as we get some scheduling worked out."

"I... Minerva, I was wondering if you might like me to help you with that?" Ginny asked, her cheeks pink. "Mom is taking care of things here, for now, and Janie and Amelia have Hermione's office covered..."

"I would be glad of the help, Ginny," Minerva said. "But it's rather soon for you to be worried about being out working, isn't it?"

"The war will be here before we know it," Ginny returned. "Honeymoons or otherwise, we all need to do what we can. And I can do this."

"Very well," Minerva stood. "Perhaps you could come and meet with me at the school tomorrow?"

Ginny agreed, and the meeting was formally brought to a close.


Harry was pleasantly surprised when he met the first group. Minerva had insisted that he be present to greet each group on their first day. As it was his name plastered all over the Muggle press, she had decided it was best to get the distraction of Harry Potter over with.

It would be his job to greet the new arrivals at Hogwarts. Minerva was certain there would be questions specific to the books, and wanted Harry to be the one to either confirm or deny the "facts" that the participants arrived believing.

The original group met early one July day in a private room at Kings Cross station. They were met there by three ministry aurors, and it was explained to them how they would be travelling to Hogwarts. Many scoffed. Touch a stone and be magically transported? More were excited. This was real. They had known it!

Eventually, all had touched the portkey and found themselves on board a train. It was old fashioned, but clean and bright, and moving at a considerable speed.

It was the Hogwarts Express.

When they arrived at the school, Harry Potter was late. He was supposed to be in the entry hall to greet them, but instead, when the great doors opened, he was only halfway down the great staircase, and moving quickly. Minerva awaited him at the bottom, standing in the summer sunshine that was invading the cool hall through the open doors.

Three Aurors, Kingsley, Tonks and a third that Harry couldn't place, entered, leading forty people who looked mildly stunned. As a group, they turned to look at the dark-haired man who was currently descending toward them.

"Good morning," Harry said.

"Dear God!" a woman in the front choked, "Are you...?"

Harry smiled, "Yes, I'm Harry Potter. Welcome to Hogwarts."

At that, the woman promptly fainted. After ensuring that she'd be fine, Harry grinned at the group.

"I can't say I've had that effect on women very often," he joked. Several chuckles were heard. "As I was saying, welcome to Hogwarts. You have the distinction of being the first non-magical people to attend this school. I thank you for your faith in us."

They were a motley crew. Harry spied several tattooed youths, the older members of the group looked a bit rag-tag, and the several teens huddled together, looking a little bewildered.

"It's my pleasure to welcome you here. Others will explain the program you've been accepted to, and what will be expected of you, but I am sure that you all have plenty of questions. I am generally around at some point each day or two, and I want you to know that you are always free to speak with me."

A hand shot up near the back of the group, "Umm... excuse me...?"

"Yes?" Harry looked at the man.

"I... I wanted to ask... um... did you really...?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed at the man's hesitation. "Yes, there was a dark wizard named Tom Riddle who referred to himself as Lord Voldemort. And yes, when I was eighteen, I defeated him. Beyond that, much of what is in the books is... loosely based on fact."

"And Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger?"

"My two best friends at school, and now. You'll meet them eventually," Harry confirmed with a smile. "Now... Professor McGonagall has several things she needs to show you. I will be around if you should need to speak to me. Please remember, you are very welcome here, and there is nothing here to be frightened of. Now, I shall leave you in the headmistresses capable hands."

Minerva shot a rather cool look at Harry, who grinned mischeiviously at her. She began organizing the new arrivals into groups for dormitory assignments and Harry escaped to her office where he used her floo to get back to Potter Manor, and Ginny's waiting arms.


Ginny was, in fact, waiting impatiently for him. She was sitting on a straight-backed chair at the kitchen table as he stumbled through the kitchen floo.

"Man, I hate taking the floo..." he muttered, righting himself and brushing off his sleeves.

"How did it go?" Ginny asked, standing.

"It went," he said. "Honestly, I'm glad it's over. I don't know why Minerva had to insist..."

"Because you're Harry Potter," Ginny moved into his arms, "and Min doesn't want to have to fight constant speculation on your existence while trying to teach them how to stay alive."

"Hmm," he agreed, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I suppose you're right."

"Distraction can be... counterproductive," Ginny said, placing a line of kisses along his jaw. He smiled. It constantly amazed him at how small she felt in his arms, when the reality of her filled his world.

"Yes..." he agreed. "It can..."

"Speaking of which," she pulled back. "Ron and Bill are waiting for you."

"Oh?" Harry sighed, disappointed. Ron and Bill's company was never quite as... rewarding... as Ginny's.

"In your office," she said, turning away.

With another sigh, and a longing look at his wife's very shapely backside, Harry took himself off down the hall.

"This had better be good," he grumbled as he entered to find the brothers leaning over the long work table to one side of his desk, looking at something they had spread out there.

"Well," Bill looked up at him. "I suppose that would depend entirely on your definition of 'good'."

Harry continued into the room and slouched down in the chair behind his desk, swivelling it to look at the two men.

"A good enough reason for me to leave my new wife and her very... tempting... talents and come in here to see you instead."

Ron merely smiled, which made Harry sit up straight and pay closer attention. Presented with so obvious an opportunity to mock him, the fact that Ron's response was a restrained smile and nothing more told him that something big must have happened.

"What is it?"

"There have been more attacks..." Ron began.

"Muggle or...?"

"Mostly wizarding families," Ron said quietly.

"When?"

"A little over an hour ago," Bill said. "Harry, you've got to see this."

Bill shuffled some papers as Harry stood and walked to the table. Spread there was a map, a very large map, of Europe. On the map were many, many red dots. Hundreds of them.

"These are the locations of the attacks..." Ron said.

"You have got to be kidding me..." Harry breathed.

They formed a shape. The same shape Harry had seen many times prior to the last war, the same shape that Maura Kennedy had innocently presented them a picture of months ago in this very room, the very same shape that Severus Snape still had tattooed into his arm, for there was no way to remove it. The Dark Mark.

The third war of the muggle world had started months ago. The third war of the magical world was beginning, today, in earnest.


Reviews, reviews, reviews, reviews... that's what makes the world go 'round... or the writer write, for that matter. Thanks again, to all of you who reviewed.

Katherine Rose: Warm fuzzies are good!

Larna Mandrea: You now hold the record for the most consecutive adjectives used in a single review.

Merlindamage: Is there such a thing as "bad fluff"? Does it qualify as "fluff" if it makes squirm with disbelief as you read it? Hmmm...

SaerrySnape: You fluff-lover you! I had no idea!

Shotgunn: Do I get to play den mother? Or Molly Weasley? SCOTT! Where HAVE you been? Do you know it's 3:35 in the MORNING? Nah, I wouldn't do that to you. Really. I have enough trouble keeping track of my own kids, and they're both underage and neither of them can drive. I think. And just for you, we're gearing up for war stuff... I promise.

Spicysuga: Thanks!

James Milamber: You LAUGHED at my touching H/G fluff? I am truly ashamed. "The business end of a three day old trout"? I think you need to get some rest, my boy. Even though I agree that it's precisely what Ron needs, your verbiage leaves me speechless. In a good way. Ah, well, Hermione will take care of it, I'm sure.

CQ