Title: The Bending Genealogical Tree

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter—JK Rowling does.

Notes: First off, I drop a TON of hints about the future in this chapter. I believe my beta is going to kill me for it, actually. There is an especially good one that is way obvious but you definitely have to pay attention to see: I am particularly proud of this one and am looking forward to the day when I can tell you all about it.

Secondly, I would like to thank my pre-beta (she suffers through hearing about my evil plot twists day after day), my dear cousin. She corrects my punctuation quite often and is responsible for the ends of many a sentence in this fair drama (and she doesn't say to my face that she's a way better writer than me).

THIRDLY... I hope not to sound redundant, so I wrote the following poem for my wonderful beta. (And, I would like to tell you that I was really sleepy and attempting to find a way to stick a bunch of leaves in Ginny's hair. The only sentence I could come up with was 'Harry began picking twigs out of her long, orange hair like a mother monkey does to her young.' I thought you'd get a quick giggle out of that.

Anyway...

Ode to my Beta

You give me inspiration

And check my punctuation

You say with jubilation,

"What a wonderful creation!"

You are le manchot du destin

-----------------------

Flashback: Ginny's sixth year at Hogwarts

Despite the slowly climbing temperatures of March, Ginny's teeth were chattering. She had been sitting outside in the same position for the last hour and a half. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that every member of the Weasley family was wondering where she was; but right then, she didn't much care. She leaned against the large birch tree and took a deep breath. Countless times over the past week she had wondered why this had happened to her family. Her mother could deny it all she wanted but it still came down to her relationship with Harry. Ginny had overheard a conversation between her parents upon her father and Percy's return. The Death Eaters had held the three Weasley men hostage in order to get Harry to leave the safety of Hogwarts. Luckily, the Aurors had found them before Harry was able to do anything stupid.

But then there was Bill; sweet, caring Bill. Bellatrix had used a portkey and they both had disappeared. Who knew where he was now. Would they keep him to torture for information? Ginny shuddered, he never deserved that kind of treatment... no one did.

She didn't want to blame Harry; he definitely hadn't asked to be born with a mortal enemy. It really wasn't his fault. And she loved him. Ginny wanted to scream in protest over the unfairness of her situation! She felt so trapped. She was in love with a man who was brave and noble and powerful... but if she stayed with him her whole family would be in danger. Life never seemed fair!

"Ginny?" called a soft voice from somewhere behind her.

Harry had found her; she'd known he would. He approached her cautiously, as if he was afraid she'd start to yell at him. He wove through the trees that were giant, ominous shadows in the moonless night. He saw that Ginny was shivering. Harry pulled his heavy cloak over his head and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Ginny smiled weakly. "I was wondering when someone would find me."

"Everyone was worried."

"I'm sorry," Ginny lied. She chanced a look at Harry's face. His almond-shaped eyes looked back at her with compassion.

"I–I suppose we need to..." Harry stumbled for the right words. Were there any right words?

She knew what he was thinking.

"Talk." There, he had said the words out loud. They weren't too painful, were they?

"I know."

"This was all my fault—I shouldn't have let the whole world know we were seeing each other—Rita Skeeter's article ruined everything—Bill's gone and I'm the one to blame." Harry said it all in one breath.

"Don't say that ever again!" Ginny burst out.

The wind stopped blowing for a quick second, as if it knew what was happening.

"You're famous because you were born The-Boy-Who-Lived... it isn't your fault," Ginny sighed. "And if Rita Skeeter hadn't written something, someone else would have. It was inevitable. We shouldn't have assumed we could go on like that for long."

"I'm sorry."

How many times were they going to say those words tonight?

Harry took a deep breath. "Maybe someday this will all work out. For now, I need to make sacrifices to keep the people I love safe."

"You're sacrificing your happiness for my family?" She laughed bitterly. "It's a bit ironic, isn't it? You're giving up a Weasley to keep the rest of the Weasleys."

Harry crouched down to her level, and put his hands on either side of her face. With his thumbs, he wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. "I'll never give you up, Ginerva."

"I love you... so much." She bit her lip to try and stop it from trembling, but it was too late. Ginny was crying freely now. She didn't care if he thought she was weak and she didn't give a damn if anyone else was watching from the shadows.

Harry gathered her into his arms and twisted her body around so that he was cradling her small form. Her long red hair was cold and dripping with tears as he tried to calm her. He patted the top of her head, awkwardly at first, then, began running his fingers through the ginger tangles. He tried to free a few stray leaves but gave up when they simply broke apart in his fingers.

"I love you too," he whispered into her ear. "After this war is over... if I'm still..." he gulped and tightened his grip.

"Hide, Harry." She desperately wanted them both to see the war through. If Voldemort killed Harry... she clung to him and sniffed into his shoulder.

"I can't."

She knew he wouldn't. Harry Potter didn't have the ability to run. Was she weak for asking him to?

"I have to face him."

"When?" Did she really want to know the answer to that question?

"Soon." Harry nuzzled his face into her hair and took a deep breath. "I'll wait for you. I couldn't..." he looked like he was on the verge of tears now. Ginny had never seen him cry. Harry had always been so strong. Even after he found out the contents of the prophesy, he hadn't shed a tear over his future. Not a single tear that Ginny had seen. Now, his cheeks were blotchy and felt cold against her own.

"Just promise me one thing," Ginny breathed.

"Hmm?"

"Allow yourself to have some fun while you're training to be an Auror. Don't mourn me–I'll still be here when you get back." Did that sound foolish? She didn't really care. As beautiful the thought of him saving himself for her was, she couldn't bear knowing he wasn't enjoying his time out of Hogwarts. "And write to me."

"The thought of fun makes my stomach churn. But I will write to you, I can promise that." He pulled her long red hair off her cheek and brushed his lips against her skin, still soggy with tears. "I will always love you."


Ginny slowly opened her eyes. Sunlight was streaming through her partially opened window, and a chilly November breeze was softly moving her curtains. She twisted her body out of the mess of covers and casually threw on her dressing robe. Opening her bedroom door, she quietly moved into the hallway and descended down the wooden steps toward the kitchen.

Harry was standing near the stove, his back to Ginny. He was dressed only in a pair of pajama bottoms. Obviously, he wasn't expecting anyone to be awake this early in the morning. She got a quick glimpse of the snitch tattoo on his back and shuddered. He hadn't been charming it lately, probably due to the fact that everyone had already seen it. Part of her couldn't help noticing that it made his back look sexy. Scolding herself, Ginny quickly made a left turn and silently continued into the sitting room.

Perhaps it had been naive to think he had waited for her all this time. It had been four years, for heavens sake! Harry Potter was an attractive, famous twenty-one-year-old Auror who just happened to be a big git. I mean REALLY, she thought to herself, he could have at least mentioned that he wasn't spending his days pining over me anymore! Or Ron could have said something. I am his sister!

So she had gone on a few dates over the past few years. Nothing serious! And Harry had written her continuously while he was in Auror training! He had signed every single letter 'with love from Harry.' Didn't that mean anything?! Of course not!

She silently cursed herself for being so ridiculous about the whole ordeal. Just because he had admitted to sleeping with someone didn't mean she had to get all worked up. Was it that big of a deal?

Of course it's a big deal, you sodding idiot! Sex is always a big deal!

Maybe he didn't think so.

Bullocks to you, Harry James Potter. Until he explained himself she wasn't going to let him off the hook. He knew she was irritated. Ginny had spent the past three weeks in a constant state of annoyance.

Sodding Harry Potter


Harry didn't get around to opening the large stacks of mail piled around his room for about three weeks. By that time, the piles were so large Hermione and Ron forced him to spend the better part of a Saturday picking through the vast array of cards, packages, and gifts from well-wishers.

"We're starting a new pile!" Ron announced suddenly. The three friends were lying sprawled out on the over-sized drawing room floor surrounded by crumpled envelopes and loose paper.

"New pile?" Hermione asked sarcastically, gesturing at the dozen or so piles which were already started.

Ron nodded. "This will henceforth be known as the marriage proposal pile!" he stated, tossing a pink note down next to him.

"Or we could just add it to the 'I'm a crazy lunatic' stack by the piano," Harry replied.

A voice from the double doors gave them all chills. "Going through your fan mail, Potter?" Snape sneered. The Order of the Phoenix had taken over the task of collecting case evidence for the accused Death Eaters. This meant that members of the Hogwarts staff were constantly seen at Grimmauld Place.

A million nasty retorts popped into Harry's head in that moment. How many times in the past ten years had he heard Snape's voice and wanted to reply with a rude or witty remark? Too many to count! But something stopped him. "Actually—yes, I am," Harry replied nonchalantly. He desperately tried to keep the edge out of his voice.

"Harry," Ron quickly cut in, "you aren't gay are you?"

"What!?"

"Oh, never mind then… some wizard in Zimbabwe wants to know."

Harry stared at him incredulously, before rolling his eyes. "Ron, I am not even going to dignify that with a response." He looked back at the doorframe to see Snape stalking away.

"Here's one that wants to know if Ron is married," Hermione quipped. "Can I add that to the stack?"

"No way, I'm keeping that one," Ron laughed, grabbing the letter from Hermione's clenched fist.

She scowled.

"Where is the pile for the witches claiming that I'm the father of their illegitimate children?" Harry asked, holding up a long piece of parchment with loopy blue lettering.

"Next to the fireplace," Hermione replied absentmindedly, reading a short blue note that smelled strongly of perfume.

"Why not IN the fireplace?" asked Harry, looking longingly at the giant orange flames. He crumpled the letter up and tossed it across the room where it came to rest next to the growing mess of papers.

"Ron couldn't throw it that far," Hermione said, tossing a smirk in said person's direction.

"Shut it, Hermione!" Ron yelped.

"Harry…" Hermione said calmly, choosing to ignore the dirty looks Ron was now shooting her.

"Hmm?"

"You don't have any illegitimate children… do you?"

"Hermione!" he barked. She wasn't usually so direct with her questions.

"Well… I mean you have—you know…" she stuttered. A pink tinge was settling on her cheeks.

"Hermione!" Ron snapped.

Harry felt his own cheeks turning red. "You know," he said, trying to sound good natured, "If you're doing it you should be able to say the words."

"Just leave it be." Ron attempted.

"Ronald! I'm trying to show interest in Harry's life!"

"No, you're trying to be nosy," Ron shot back.

Hermione made an odd sort of huffing noise, "well I don't understand why I don't already know."

Harry tried for a minute to put himself in her position… out of the loop. Would he feel dejected if he didn't know the nature of Ron and her relationship? Probably, but that doesn't mean I should tell her. "Hermione… it's just—really personal," he said softly, trying to get her to follow Ron's lead and drop the matter.

She still seemed rather miffed. "I guess I just feel…" she stopped and sighed. "I didn't even know you were seeing anyone exclusively."

"I…" He didn't really know what to say.

Luckily Ron did. "Hermione, you don't need to see someone exclusively to…"

"Finish that sentence and you'll be sleeping with Harry!" she interrupted.

He evidently thought better of finishing his thought.

"What time is Al apparating here?" asked Hermione after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

"Erm—he said 12:27."

"12:27?" Ron snorted.

"He said he likes to change it up once and awhile," Harry replied.

"And which potion are you supposed to be brewing?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brow.

"It's a warming draft for tonight's stakeout." Harry and Al (and perhaps Ginny) had been assigned to monitor the actions of people at the Malfoy mansion. Kingsley had a hunch that Narcissa would try to leave and visit the hideout of the wanted Death Eaters. So the Aurors were watching the house twenty-four hours a day. It was a good plan, but the dropping temperature outside was beginning to weigh on their spirits.

"Couldn't you just keep drinking butterbeer?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh honestly," Hermione announced abruptly. She glared at Ron over a rainbow colored post. "Didn't you pay attention at all in Potions 6th year?"

"You already know the answer to that question," he retorted, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

Harry chuckled at his two friends. Some things would probably never change. Ron and Hermione hadn't stopped arguing since the day they met on the Hogwarts Express.

"Is Al—good at brewing…?" Hermione asked, interrupting Harry's thoughts. She banished the nearest pile of letters to the fireplace where it was all quickly devoured by the hot flames.

"I hope so for both our sakes."

"Harry, this was underneath the 'I'm your biological sibling' pile… I think it's a letter from the Montrose Magpies."

Hermione watched as Harry opened the letter. He scanned it over and handed it to her. "Their Seeker is retiring after this season. It's inviting me to try out next year," he explained.

"I didn't know you wanted to play professionally," Hermione said as she perused the letter.

"Of course he wants to play professionally—Harry's bloody brilliant!" Ron said loyally. This made Harry grin. He looked over the letter again, feeling quite proud that anyone would even think of asking him to play Seeker in the first place.

Oh… here's another one for you." Hermione pulled a manila envelope out from under Ron's left leg. "It looks like a letter from Gringotts," she said as she waved the envelope underneath Harry's nose.

Harry took it and turned it over once in his hand. Sure enough, it had the Gringott's golden seal. Slitting it open with his thumb, he began to read the fine cursive.

Dear Mr. Harry James Potter

The final draft of your parent's, Mr. and Mrs. James Harrington Potter, last will and testament named you as their sole heir. Therefore, upon your twenty-first birthday, you have inherited the remainder of the Potter estate. This entitles you to Godric's Hollow, and all it encompasses. Directions and Apparating coordinates are included in this letter.

It has also come to our attention that you received a portion of the Black estate upon the death of Sirius A. Black (1960-1996). The will clearly states that if you wish to rearrange any assets, you may do so after you reach the age of twenty-one.

If you have any questions concerning the information provided in this letter, you may contact Garwin C. Garbledook (Chief Goblin).

Thank you for banking with us,

Gringotts Wizarding Bank (established 1284)

As Harry read, Hermione and Ron watched his eyes grow larger and larger. They looked on curiously as he donned a confused look and hurried from the room into the adjoining kitchen.

"REMUS!" Harry shouted before even exiting the drawing room. The kitchen was cluttered with books, files, folders, loose paper, and dozens of quills. Molly and Charlie Weasley were hunched over the table staring intently at case files. Without taking time to explain himself, Harry continued shouting for Remus. Mrs. Weasley barely looked up as she waved a hand toward the sitting room. Hermione and Ron followed close behind, with curious expressions on their faces.

In the hallway, Harry almost ran headfirst into Ginny, who was carrying a stack of books taller then she was. The topmost volume, entitled A (not so) Brief Encyclopedia of Wizarding Trials throughout the Century slid off and hit Harry in the forehead. He bent down quickly and tossed it hurriedly back on her stack.

Ginny scowled and shot him a dirty look as he passed.

"REMUS!" Harry shouted again, not paying attention

A muffled shout was heard somewhere ahead. Harry cursed the Black family for building such a large house. When he finally reached Lupin, he found him sitting amongst a stack of maps and spell books, quill in hand, Tonks alongside him.

"Need something, Harry?" Remus asked, raising his eyebrows at the younger man.

"Why didn't you tell me my Grandparents' house was still standing?" he demanded as he shoved the Gringott's letter under Remus's nose.

Remus looked startled for a moment before comprehension seemed to dawn on his face. "I guess I never really thought about it… even if I had, we wouldn't have been able to find it. The mansion is probably just as well hidden as this place," he said, gesturing vaguely with an arm. He took the letter from Harry and quickly read through it. "Well—they gave you coordinates here…; perhaps we can go see what's left of it, yeah? I haven't been there in ages… not since James' mum and dad died."

"I didn't even know it existed!" Harry pressed on. He couldn't decide whether or not he was supposed to feel angry at Remus for never mentioning it to him. "Besides, I thought Godric's Hollow was—well–blown up the night my parents died."

Remus furrowed his brow and reread the letter. "Your parents were staying in a cabin nearby, I believe."

Harry thought this over for a second. He didn't really understand why he had never thought to ask where his grandparents had lived. That side of the family had always been an unsolvable mystery. Excitement flooded through his veins. He was going to see where his dad grew up!

"Godric's Hollow is a village, Harry," Hermione explained helpfully.

"Did you read that in a book?" Ron asked her, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Hermione turned to him with a pointed expression on her face. "Actually yes. It's in The Rise and Fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I read it first year."

Remus had apparently been reading the expression on Harry's face. "You should—probably prepare yourself. I'm sure the house elves have all died by now…"

Hermione made a loud sniffing noise.

Ron rolled his eyes.

Remus continued, "It's probably in extreme disarray."

"And what is this rubbish about settling Sirius's estate? I thought we did that ages ago."

"After he died we only divided everything up. You see, Harry, the Black's were an upstanding Wizarding family. They donated large sums of money every year to different organizations…" Remus explained.

"Like the Death Eater Primary School?" Ron asked.

Harry snorted and added, "Teaching your children to betray their friends and murder Muggle borns year after year."

Despite herself, even Hermione laughed along with them.

"Something like that," Remus acknowledged. "Anyway, I'm sure if we went over the numbers we would find our bank accounts still funding a vast array of illegal charities."

"That's reassuring," Harry spat.

"I'll get the paperwork from Gringotts and we can go over it together, if you'd like."

Harry nodded.

"Now then, Hermione, would you mind giving us a hand with this map?" Remus asked.

Tonks, who had been silent up until now, piped up, "It's the area north of Bristol I've been telling you about."

"Isn't that where the last of the Voldemort supporters were supposedly sighted?" Ron asked.

"Yes—we think they're underground somewhere," Tonks answered. "We have a list of charms for you," she said to Hermione, who was gazing at the unfinished map with interest. A small section was covered in tiny roadways and labels but the rest was still unmarked.

"We're having trouble with the magnifying charm," Lupin explained, pointing at a small part of the map with his wand. It immediately enlarged the area but the overall effect was fuzzy and difficult to read.

Hermione furrowed her brow and picked up the nearest volume of Charming Charms for Hopeless Humans and flipped quickly through the pages. Harry decided he would leave her to it and hurried out of the room before someone asked for his help also.

o-o-o-o

Over the next few hours, No. 12 Grimmauld Place was alive with activity. The fireplace was constantly backed up with people flooing in and out and more then once, Harry found himself cleaning ashes off the stacks of files in the drawing room. He gave up after a while and retired to the kitchen to set up his potion ingredients.

Snape, who was currently working in the kitchen with Molly, Charlie, and Ginny Weasley, glowered at Harry from the other end of the table. He looked as though he was using every muscle he possessed to keep himself from making a snide remark (or two or three). Harry, however, found the situation to be profoundly amusing and made a show of writing the ingredients down incorrectly and rearranging them every five seconds. After he had finished crossing out 'brine of salamander' for the fourth consecutive time, Snape wasn't able to keep quiet any longer.

"Potter," he leered shrewdly, "If you're attempting to brew a Warming Draft, you need to use salamander brain, not brine."

"How observant of you, Professor Snape," Harry said quickly, offering (what he hoped looked like) a genuine smile.

Snape rolled his eyes and made a loud huffing noise.

Ginny, despite being somewhat exasperated with Harry at the moment, was sitting behind her mother attempting to stifle her sniggers. Snape pushed a strand of greasy black hair out of his eyes and continued flipping through the book he had been looking at, once again trying extremely hard to completely ignore Harry.

o-o-o-o

Hermione flipped through the individual file folders on their missing Death Eaters with extreme distaste. She had spent about two hours with Lupin, Tonks, and an Auror named Gina attempting to recreate a more advanced version of the Marauder's Map. The idea itself was a good one but the area they were trying to map out was so large it would probably take a few months to complete. Who knows if the group will even stay put in Bristol for that amount of time, she thought to herself. She hated to be the pessimist but if they finished and couldn't find the hideout the whole thing would have been a colossal waste of time.

Lupin had said Hermione could take the map to work with her on Monday to begin charming it. Unfortunately, this meant she would have to enlist the help of Gilbert Whimple. He was a very nice man; extremely intelligent and always quick to help. Sadly, though, he had a fairly large pair of horns growing out of his head and Hermione found it increasingly difficult to take him seriously (mostly due to the fact she was constantly being stabbed in the side of the head whenever they would work closely together).

"Is this better?" Tonks asked Hermione. She waved her wand over a small portion of the map in the upper right hand corner. After a few seconds the area Tonks had made a circle around glowed bright blue and enlarged.

Hermione nodded. It was much easier to read the tiny street signs this way.

"When will we be able to add the name bubbles?" Tonks queried.

"After the whole project is finished. It would be rather pointless to have their names with no location," Hermione answered, smiling at the older woman. Hermione had a deep respect for Tonks. She was a brilliant Auror despite being a bit clumsy and she always knew how to make Hermione laugh.

"Well, are the two of you hungry? It's past lunchtime," Remus said, eyeing the clock sitting atop the fireplace. It was 1:30.

"The time went by so fast!" Hermione said. "I should probably find Ron." She gathered up the pictures of the missing Death Eaters to give back to Kingsley and their practice map (a finished outline of Grimmauld Place complete with name bubbles) and stood up. She stretched her arms and yawned; they had been sitting in the same position for quite some time, and her muscles had grown very stiff.

"I'll start making sandwiches!" Tonks exclaimed. Hermione followed her and Remus out of the small sitting room. Three feet later, Tonks tripped over an umbrella stand in the hallway and unsuccessfully tried to steady herself by grabbing hold of the steel coat rack. Remus managed to catch Tonks before she hit the floor, but was unable to stop both objects from making a loud clatter when they hit the tile.

Hermione covered her ears and waited for the portrait of Mrs. Black to begin screaming obscenities. The curtains covering the picture did fly open but the only sound that could be heard from the old woman was high pitched muffled wails. Hermione looked at Remus for an explanation.

"That was Ginny's idea," he explained, "She bought a paint set and drew tape over Mrs. Black's mouth. We still haven't figured out a way to get her off the wall, but at least she won't scream at us every time someone makes noise in the hallway."

Hermione climbed a few stairs to get a closer look at the portrait. Sure enough, painted right over the woman's mouth were thick gray lines resembling Muggle duct tape. "Brilliant," she said, feeling extremely proud of Ginny. "I'd never have thought of that."

"Me neither," Remus stated with a hint of pride in his voice also.

Hermione yanked the curtains closed over Mrs. Black's portrait once more, tucked the photos of the Death Eaters and the map under her arm, and advanced up the stairs to find Ron.

A few minutes later, she found him lying on his back on their queen size bed with the new Chudley Cannons schedule hovering above him. Every few seconds he would sigh loudly and cross something out with a large red quill. Hermione snuck quietly into the room and leapt unconcernedly onto his stomach, snatching the floating paper out of the air with one swift swipe.

Ron let out a loud 'umph' as she landed on top of him but smiled nonetheless.

"Ready for lunch?" she asked.

He grabbed her arms and pulled her down for a long kiss. Hermione melted into him and laced her hands around his neck and into his hair.

"Maybe in a minute," he whispered into her mouth. Ron massaged the back of Hermione's neck and softly pulled her lips closer. She shuddered as he trailed light kisses down her neck. Tugging at the material of her shirt, he pulled it down slightly to reveal a bare shoulder. Hermione felt herself grow very warm as she watched him rub her skin with his thumb. Feeling a new sort of urge, she grabbed a clump of hair at the back of his head and pulled his mouth more firmly against her own.

After a few minutes, Hermione took a deep breath and pulled back. "We should probably stop—there are loads of people downstairs."

"There are always loads of people here," Ron moaned, letting his head fall back against his pillow, obviously feeling slightly disappointed.

"Well, I don't fancy someone waltzing in here catching us in a precarious position when no one save Harry and Ginny even know we're… oh for heaven's sake, Ron! Don't pout," Hermione snapped. Ron was looking up at her with a pair of sad eyes. She hated it when he gave her the puppy dog face… it was so cute.

"I swear I'm planning on telling my family." Ron saw the skeptical expression that Hermione was giving him. "No really! I just… there hasn't been a right time to bring it up."

"There will never be a perfect time to bring it up! Honestly, my parents have known for ages!" Hermione argued. There was a hint of resentment in her voice that refused to be masked. It was true though; there would never be a good time to discuss their relationship with the Weasleys. She knew Ron wanted to avoid all the questions and the 'why didn't you tell me sooner?' or 'I would have liked to have known before now!' exclamations from Mrs. Weasley.

"I'm just afraid mum will start crying or screaming or both, really. She'll be a right mess—bring up Bill and how she'll never get any grandchildren from him…" he paused for a second. Then, he quietly added, "We'll tell them soon, yeah?"

Hermione nodded. This was probably all she would get for now; promises that would go unfulfilled for some time. "Well, I should probably get downstairs and make sure Tonks hasn't broken anything yet."

They descended down the stairs to find more than a dozen people crowding the kitchen. Hermione had barely made it to the bottom step when another Tonks-related collision happened. Ginny was carrying a vase of large white flowers toward the extended kitchen table when Tonks tripped over a footstool and knocked into her. The bouquet flew out of the crystal vase and Hermione only had to move forward a few steps to catch it.

"Right good catch, Hermione!" shouted an impressed looking George Weasley.

"When we play drop-in Quidditch over the holidays you're welcome to play keeper!" Fred added, beaming at her as if it were an offer she wouldn't be able to pass up.

Hermione smiled curtly and turned her attention toward the opposite end of the table, where Harry and Al were brewing their potion for the evening's activity. They both looked like they were doing everything in their power to suppress a bout of laughter. Harry was turning an amusing shade of red. She cocked an eyebrow at them but quickly decided not to ask. Mrs. Weasley was setting plates and water glasses down on the table and George and Fred were juggling silverware (after a stern look from their mother, they stopped). Professor Snape was shooting daggers at Harry from the other side of the room. Hermione took a seat near the edge of the table and after a few minutes everyone else followed suit (save Harry and Al who were diligently working on their warming draft).

"Alright..." she heard Harry say in an unnaturally loud voice, "Al, will you hand me the salamander brain?"

Al picked it up with one hand and took a bite of a sandwich with the other. Just as Hermione was about to lecture him about how many microbes were probably in that brain, it slipped out of his fingers (probably due to the immense amount of goo) and landed with a 'SPLAT' on the floor, breaking completely in half.

"Errr..." Al said, making a face and staring at the mess.

Harry snorted and continued stirring. "I said hand it to me not drop it on the floor and get cerebral spinal fluid everywhere."

Hermione sighed loudly. Harry had always been abysmal at Potions. As much as he would have liked to attribute this to Professor Snape always being around when he brewed anything, she decided long ago it was his inability to pay attention long enough to read the ingredients thoroughly.

Al picked the two halves off the floor and held one in each hand. "Well... do you want--motor function or creative thinking?"

Harry burst out laughing.

Snape clenched his fists. "Potter, must you insist on reminding everyone how terrible you continue to be at the subject of potions?"

"Oh, Severus–leave them alone, they're just having a bit of fun," Mrs. Weasley said, waving her hand absently through the air.

"Err–actually they really need to get it right," Ginny said, looking over into the cauldron and grimacing at the putrid smell wafting out of the dark green liquid. "Here–let me fix it." She grabbed the ladle out of Harry's hand and added a few more ingredients. "I've been assigned to come with the both of you to the stakeout tonight... I really don't want to freeze my arse off because you fowled this up."

"Oh, yes Miss. Weasley, you're making it much better," Snape jeered.

"Well... it doesn't smell like rotting flesh anymore," Ginny snapped, narrowing her eyes at her old Potion's master. She violently grabbed both sides of the brain from Al and dropped them viciously into the cauldron.

"Geez, Potter–keep your woman under control!"

Silence filled the room, and Al knew he had just made a big mistake.

The sentence just had time to leave Al's lips when Ginny whipped her head in his direction, eyes flashing. "I. Am. Not. His. Woman." As fast as lightning, Ginny elbowed Al in the stomach, grabbed his hands and flipped him over her shoulder.

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley cried, covering her mouth with both hands. She was clearly appalled at her youngest's retaliation.

Al laid on the floor with his mouth hanging open.

Ginny stuck her chin in the air, pursed her lips, and stepped over him into the next room.

Harry shot a defeated look into his cauldron and then at Ginny's retreating form. "Well, mate... it's gonna be a cold night."

Next to Hermione, Ron gave a short snigger.

Snape gave one last eye roll and stood suddenly. Walking swiftly to Harry's end of the table, he pulled the bottle of 'mangled pixie limbs' off the small shelf. "Here, Potter, let me fix it... no one wants you to die of hypothermia."

All across the table, mouths dropped open.Hermione wasn't sure what made Snape do it; perhaps he just couldn't stand and watch an easy warming draft befouled. Either way, it was a gesture on Snape's part that was both kind and simple. Hermione felt shocked.

A little while later, Mrs. Weasley was clearing the dishes from the table. She mumbled something about wishing they had a house elf to help with the housework.

Hermione's head shot up. Something had just occurred to her, "Whatever happened to Kreacher?" she asked. It had been years since anyone had spoken of him. She couldn't recall seeing him in the months after Sirius's death.

Remus dropped the teacup he was holding and it shattered on the wooden floor. Looking at the faces around the table she noticed everyone was shifting uncomfortably and glancing around at everyone else.

Mad-Eye Moody cleared his throat. "He–err–was killed in a freak accident shortly after Sirius died."

This sounded extremely wooly to Hermione. She turned to Ron for some sort of explanation but he too was looking anywhere but at her. "What sort of freak accident?" She challenged.

"Well, dear... it's not really a lunch table conversation. Perhaps Ron can tell you later," Mrs. Weasley said, obviously trying to avoid further discussion on the subject.

Hermione was far from satisfied with this answer, but she vowed to get the details later. Rising from the table, she pulled the Grimmauld Place map out of her pile of papers and slid it across the table toward Harry. "Here–I thought we could hang this somewhere in the war room."

Harry picked it up and glanced at it. "This is really, really good, Hermione!"

Al, who was looking over Harry's shoulder, nodded in agreement. After a second his brow creased in confusion and he poked at a place on the map with his wand. "Hey, I think it's wrong, look at this na—"

Harry elbowed him hard in the ribs. Al stopped short and finished his sentence with an 'umph' sound.

"What are you on about? It can't be wrong, it's charmed to..." Hermione started to say. Everyone around the table was looking at them curiously.

"Nevermind, it's–err–nothing," Harry interrupted. He folded the map and stuck it in his pocket. "Thanks, Hermione, it's great." He shot her a significant look and Hermione finally understood. She was suddenly glad she hadn't shown that map to anyone else.


Harry glanced out his bedroom window at the setting sun. The sky was the color of strawberry pudding and it would only be a matter of time before darkness set in. He crossed the room to his chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of black trousers. This was going to be his first stakeout since the night he killed Voldemort. His skin was itching in anticipation. He couldn't deny that the thought of crouching in the bushes in the middle of the night had its drawbacks; but he and Al had always found ways to entertain themselves regardless.

On the top of his dresser sat the map Hermione had given him. Glancing at it, he saw Al was already waiting in the kitchen, accompanied by three members of the Weasley family.

Harry pulled his long-sleeve t-shirt over his head and reached for his thigh-length camouflage cloak. He buckled his belt over it and clipped his wand holster on. He rarely used a holster–they were a bit annoying and made sitting difficult. But occasionally it was handy to have his wand right at his hip. Taking one last look around, he couldn't find anything else he needed. Closing his door behind him, he moved happily through the hallway and took the stairs two at a time.

In the downstairs hallway, Mrs. Weasley and Remus were in the middle of a hushed conversation. When he appeared around the corner, they stopped talking and smiled at him guiltily. He had the distinct impression that they had been talking about him but decided not to pursue the issue. A few years ago this situation would have upset him tremendously; it had taken him quite some time to realize that his friends and family only had his best interests at heart. He smiled at them and said goodnight before continuing into the kitchen.

Ron was hunched over the table surrounded by notebooks and Quidditch lineups. He was furiously scribbling things out with a red quill and scratching his head. Al and Ginny were filling their thermoses with hot tea and mixing the warming draft in. They were both dressed quite similarly to Harry. Ginny was wearing a feminine pair of knee-length black boots and tight black pants. Her cloak was draped half-hazardously over a nearby chair. Either Ginny had apologized for slapping Al earlier or he hadn't been offended because they seemed to be getting along fine. Hermione was sorting through the pile of Death Eater files and pulling the pictures out.

"Hey, you ready?" Al asked, seeing Harry standing in the doorframe.

Harry nodded. He sat down next to Ron and turned to face his partner.

Al pulled out his wand and touched the tip to Harry's faded lightning-bolt shaped scar. "Crypto," he said. A soft red beam issued from the end and he traced the faint imprint all the way up the center of his forehead.

Ron and Hermione looked on curiously.

"Corylus," he continued, tapping Harry's forehead.

Harry closed his eyes for a second before picking up a teaspoon that was lying on the table and glancing into it. His scar had completely disappeared and his green eyes were now a distinct hazel color. "Thanks," he said, grinning. Al had taken over the task of transfiguring Harry's distinguishing features a while back after Harry had accidently made his entire forehead disappear.

"You know, that doesn't exactly make you unrecognizable," Hermione said critically.

"I know, but it makes me less noticeable. I don't fancy being the target of every jinx and curse thrown at us just because I'm–well–me," he explained. He was sure he would look rather like Moody if he didn't bother hiding a few of his more 'famous' features. He was partial to his nose and both eyes.

Hermione nodded and stacked all the photos she had gathered together. "Here," she said, thrusting the stack toward Al. "These are the people you're looking for. I wrote their names on the back of each picture."

Al took the stack and started rifling through them.

Harry stood up and started helping Ginny pack the thermoses and the extra potion containers in the large overnight bag.

Remus entered the kitchen with his nose in Trials and Tribulations by Igor the Ignorant. He grabbed his briefcase which was leaning against a wall and looked up briefly, "Night," he mumbled. He turned about 180 degrees toward the kitchen door before doing a double take and gaping at Harry. "Merlin–what did you..." he trailed off.

Harry raised an eyebrow and scratched his head before realizing that Remus was referring to Al's spells.

"You look exactly like James," Remus breathed.

Harry grinned and shot a hand through his hair like he had seen his father do in Snape's memory.

Remus chuckled. "It's uncanny," he said.

"HEY!" Al shouted abruptly, shaking Harry out of the memory of seeing his 15-year-old father in Dumbledore's Pensieve. Al was waving a picture in the air frantically and pointing at it.

Ginny reached out and grabbed it from him before shrugging. "It's just a picture of one of the Death Eaters we're after," she said, handing it to Remus. He frowned and stared intently at it. Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw a black-haired woman gazing up at him. Her gray eyes bore into him with a knowing smile.

"No, that's the woman from Malfoy's mansion!" Al continued, pointing at the photo Remus was holding.

"What do you–," Ron started to say. He stood up to see the picture they were referring to. "From the day you Poly-juiced as Lucius and Draco?"

Al nodded. "She must be related to them somehow!"

Remus deepened his frown. "There's something oddly familiar about her..." he muttered.

Harry and Ron shared a look.

"Who is she?" Ginny asked.

"No one," Harry said shortly.

"I just asked," she said coldly.

"Just–forget it... she's nobody," Harry replied. Truthfully, he hadn't meant for his answer to sound rude. He just wasn't keen on reliving his time spent with the woman in question. Those three months of his life were better off forgotten.

"She's obviously somebody if we're spending valuable time looking for her," Ginny sneered, obviously not about to give up. "I think I deserve to know a bit about her if I'm going to risk my life trying to find her!"

"Ginny, just drop it," Ron said softly. "She was one of the people who held us hostage for three months."

"That was easy now, wasn't it?" she said haughtily, tossing a look at Harry.

Harry's temper was quickly rising to the surface. "You weren't there, you don't understand!"

Ginny froze. She squeezed her eyes shut and spun slowly to face him. Her fists were balled at her sides.

Harry knew the warning signs; he had struck a nerve. He gulped.

"I don't understand?" Ginny's brown eyes flashed ominously. "Maybe I WASN'T being held prisoner with the rest of you. But that DOESN'T mean I didn't suffer JUST AS MUCH!"

"Ginny..." Ron tried.

"Three of my brothers and nearly all of my FRIENDS were missing. I thought you were all dead. Mum and dad forced me to go into hiding HERE where I had to sit and do nothing to help find you. DO YOU HONESTLY THINK I DIDN'T SUFFER?! She spat venomously.

Harry had a sudden bout of realization. If it had been him that was the only person left behind he would have been beside himself with grief. Losing Ron and Hermione would have ripped his heart out. The aforementioned pair were looking on in horror, probably thinking they were about to witness a major row. Harry's expression softened as he regarded Ginny. "I'm sorry, I didn't think..."

"No, you didn't," she said shortly. After a second, she heaved a deep sigh. There were teardrops along the brims of her eyes. "It was just really difficult."

Harry forgot everyone else in the room for a minute and stepped forward to wrap his arms securely around Ginny's small frame. With one hand, he pushed a few strands of hair out of her face. "We'll talk about it later, yeah?"

She nodded solemnly and stepped back.

Al was the first to break the silence. "Let's head out. We have to relieve Atlas and Langland."

They gathered their things. Ginny threw on her cloak.

"Harry..." Hermione started to say. She had a fearful expression on her face like she thought he would lose his temper again. When he looked over at her, she continued. "Do you—do you think Malfoy would know where these people were hiding out? I mean–he's probably related to this Danika person, right?"

Harry furrowed his brow. Hermione had a point; Draco Malfoy most likely did know exactly where they were. "Dunno–but do you really think he would tell us if he did?"

"No... but there are ways to make him tell," she said, offering a small smile.

"Hermione, I don't want you anywhere near Malfoy!" Ron said quickly.

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Oh please!" she cried indignantly. "The little ferret is incarcerated in Azkaban! What could he possibly do to me?"

"Who knows!?" Ron said. He seemed to be thinking something over. "I'll go. If he knows anything—I'll find out."

"Alright," Harry replied, "But you'd better have a plan before you go in there. I doubt he'll be cooperative." He turned toward the door, ready to leave and saw that Remus was still standing there, gazing at the picture of Danika. "What is it?" he asked him.

The older man looked up. "I don't know–it's odd, don't you think? She's related to the Malfoys, but we've never heard of her. Wouldn't she have been on the Black family tree?"

Harry thought about this. It was true; he hadn't seen her name anywhere on the hanging tree when they had (finally) managed to pry it off the wall. "Maybe she was born after it was made?"

Remus shook his head, "Mrs. Black updated it continually... and Draco's on it. This woman looks older than him... maybe 23 or 24?" He turned the photo over in his hands. On the back, in Hermione's handwriting was written Danika Carden: Date of birth, unknown. "Carden..." Remus mumbled to himself. "It sounds really familiar... I think I went to school with someone who had that last name."

"It would probably be in the archives in the Hogwart's library," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Maybe we could go there and check... although, if she's around twenty-three, wouldn't she have gone there with us? I don't remember her."

"She would have been close to my year and I don't remember her either," Al agreed.

"Just how I want to spend my spare time," Ron snorted, "Returning to the library."

Remus seemed to consider it. He turned to Harry after a minute, "Maybe you could go with her. Didn't you inherit Dumbledore's pensieve after he died?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it's in McGonagall's office."

Remus expression lightened. "Can you borrow it from her? I think–," he paused, "I think I remember something... I haven't thought about it in years. I don't even know if revisiting it will be of any use. But... it'd be impossible... wouldn't it? We would have known..." he said the latter to himself as he opened the back door and retreated into the steadily growing darkness.

The remaining people in the kitchen watched him go curiously.

"Well that was irritating... not like we have any idea what he's on about," Ron piped up.


"Is that the Muggle newspaper?" Ginny asked Al quietly.

He shook his head and made some sort of incoherent grumbling noise. He, Ginny, and Harry were lying belly down on a few layers of blankets hidden behind a wall of thorny bushes.

Harry, who had been peering through his omnioculars, glanced over. "A strange man found wandering around Surrey is beginning to recover from long-suffering amnesia," he read over Al's shoulder. It was really difficult to read in the dark and they didn't want to attract attention by lighting their wands, but Harry was able to make out the gist of the article.

"I think this guy's a wizard," Al explained casually.

"Why do you think that?" Ginny asked, craning her neck to see the paper over Harry's form. Goose bumps rose on the back of his neck as her chin grazed his skin.

"Dunno, they mentioned something last week about how the only thing they found on him when he arrived at the hospital was a nicely carved wooden stick and a few funny tasting jellybeans. Sounds like a wand and Bertie-Botts Every Flavor Beans to me."

Harry frowned. It did sound strange. "Does it say anything else?" he asked.

Al scanned the page for a minute before answering. "He's beginning to remember names. Keeps repeating a few of them. I guess they're going to try contacting people to find out who he is."

"I wonder how long he's been wandering around for." Ginny murmured.

"It doesn't say... just that he's been in the Muggle hospital for quite some time," Al answered.

Harry turned his attention back to the dark, looming form of the Malfoy mansion. He had no doubt they would be hearing more of these stories over the next few years. Countless people had been hit with befuddlement spells and Memory charms or tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. Harry shuddered. That was one spell he hoped to never feel again.

What the Muggles deemed amnesia usually wasn't. Normally it was a person who had been hit with some sort of neural spell and couldn't remember anything. Over time, they would 'recover' when it began to wear off. Perhaps it was such with this man lying in the Surrey hospital. He had an inkling that this wizard had gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd or discovered something he hadn't meant to. Harry doubted this was the last time they would hear of him.