A/N: I know it's been a while since I've updated but I was guilt tripped into doing some serious studying. I almost abandoned the story but I couldn't make myself do it. Hope you guys like it. Read and review please!

Disclaimer: If you think I own Harry Potter, you might want to consider admitting yourself at the nearest insane asylum. I own nothing but the occasional character/spell/term that you've never heard before.

Harry grazed his fingers over the symbol on the wall. He had never seen anything like it before. What is this? The snake reminds me of the Slytherin symbol but I have no idea what the flames are for. Maybe Malfoy will know something.

Draco Malfoy sat at his desk at Auror headquarters, pouring over a report about a muggle attack somewhere in Devonshire. The report was giving him a headache. Deciding to take a break, he leaned back in his chair and looked around the room. It was a well-kept office; there were no parchments out of place, nor were there any pictures of family like the ones that were found in most of the Ministry offices. Overall, the room was rather bland and unexpressive. There was nothing about it that suggested anything about Malfoy's past. Nothing that told of his initiation as a Death Eater. Nothing that betrayed his attempt to kill Dumbledore. And nothing that spoke of his cowardice in doing so and his turn to the good side. Malfoy rubbed his aching temples for a minute before going back to the parchment in front of him.

After Dumbledore's death, Malfoy had soon realized that although he was considered quite evil by his fellow students at Hogwarts, he was far from being evil enough to kill innocent people. He had given up his loyalty to the Dark Lord and volunteered to work for the Order. He was met with hostility by most its members, Ron included. Harry, however, had not forgotten the night of Dumbledore's death and Malfoy's reluctance in killing the headmaster. He had accepted Malfoy as an ally, if a little warily, and the rest of the Order had followed suit. The heads of the Order had been able to provide him with protection against Voldemort's wrath. He had undergone Auror training with Harry and had been working for the Ministry ever since.

After he had finally finished reading the report, Malfoy quickly sent an Interdepartmental Memo to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office and started to pack up his things to go home. Looking around to see if he had forgotten anything, he promptly let out a loud yelp. Sitting in his fireplace was Harry's head.

"Potter," growled Malfoy, trying to bring his heart rate back down to normal.

"My apologies Malfoy, I didn't realize you scare so easily," said Harry's head, smirking.

"Are you going to tell me what you want Potter or am I going to have to stare at your ugly head all day?" Malfoy snapped.

The grin on Harry's face vanished quickly. "There's been a robbery at Borgin and Burkes. The robbers left something –er—strange. Could you come take a look at it?"

Malfoy groaned. "It's a bloody Saturday Potter. Can't you manage anything without me?"

Harry chose to ignore his last comment. "Just get down here as soon as possible."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Don't get your underpants all in a knot."

With that, Harry's head vanished from the fire. Grumbling to himself, Malfoy got his cloak from the hook behind his office door and proceeded to walk toward the lifts.

Malfoy arrived at Borgin and Burkes in time to see Harry drawing a replica of the symbol on a piece of parchment. "I'm afraid your artistic skills are rather lacking, Potter," spoke Malfoy. Harry and the officers, who had all been watching him draw, jumped at the sound of Malfoy's voice. Borgin glared at Malfoy coldly. It was no secret among former Death Eaters that he had abandoned the Dark Lord at his finest hour.

"Ah, Malfoy, I'm glad you're here. Come take a look at this, will you?" said Harry.

Malfoy pushed Harry aside and walked past him to look at the symbol etched on the wall. His eyebrows narrowed as he studied the snake in its flames. "The snake is—"

"like the Slytherin symbol, I know," said Harry, nodding and ignoring Malfoy's glare at his interruption. "It's the flames I can't figure out."

"The flames are a symbol of the Benders-of-Fire," Malfoy said, in a rather matter-of-fact manner. Seeing the blank look on Harry's face, however, he said, "I guess you wouldn't know. The term is fairly common in pureblood society." He proceeded to look very smug at this point. Ha! I know something Potter doesn't.

Harry, who was starting to get annoyed, said, "Well, would you like to share it with the class Malfoy?"

"I'm sorry but I don't seem to have brought enough for everyone," said Malfoy, smirking at his own joke. Seeing that Harry wasn't looking too amused, he continued, "Basically, Benders-of-Fire have extraordinary ability dealing with fire."

"A little more explanation would be nice Malfoy."

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders. "It's not a very common ability. It lets them control fire. They can produce flames wherever and whenever they want and—"

Harry interrupted, "So, what's the big deal? Anyone can do that. You just use the incendio spell."

"Well if you would stop interrupting, Potter, I'd be able to tell you. They can do it without a wand. Benders-of-Fire can control fire with just their minds."

"Without a wand? Wow." Harry paused. "It's a common term in pureblood society, you said?" Malfoy nodded. "Why?"

"Because you have to be a pureblood to be a Bender-of-Fire. Something about the collection of magic in your blood being strong enough, blah blah blah," said Malfoy, shrugging again. "I don't really know the details."

"Hmm. So, these 'Benders-of Fire'; are they good or evil?"

Malfoy snorted. "The whole world isn't divided with a clear cut line into good and evil, Potter. You should know that. For example, you're a Parselmouth and so was the Dark Lord. You're good and he was evil. Fire bending's the same way. There are some Benders-of-Fire who are evil and some who are good. Obviously the ones who did this," said Malfoy, waving his hand across the store to indicate the robbery, "aren't good."

Harry turned his attention back towards the symbol on the wall. "Their symbol is just the flames? Not the snake?"

"Yeah, just the flames. The snake must be the creation of whoever made the imprint on the wall."

"And there's nowhere else you've seen this symbol?"

"No, only when associated with the Benders-of-Fire."

Harry nodded. "Well, I guess we'll go from there. Let me just finish sketching a copy of this."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You do realize there's an easier way, don't you? Duplicato!" he said, waving his wand at the symbol on the wall. Suddenly, an exact replica of the imprint appeared on the parchment in Harry's hand.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that spell," said Harry, grinning sheepishly.

"Honestly, Potter, sometimes you act like a complete muggle," said Malfoy, rolling his eyes again and taking the parchment from Harry.

Harry, quickly recovering from his embarrassment, turned to Borgin and said, "We will let you know as soon as we know who robbed your store Mr. Borgin. The officers here will tell you about your compensation from the Ministry."

"Thank-you, sir," said Borgin, bringing a forced smile to his lips. Compensation, indeed. I pay every month for that bloody compensation and it'll still only cover half the money I've lost. And I spent so much on that damn new shipment of concentrated veritaserum.

Harry placed a comforting hand on Borgin's shoulder and turned to Officer Bradley. "Please let me know if you find anything else, Bradley," he said.

"I shall floo you immediately, sir," said Bradley, firmly shaking the hand Harry offered to him.

As Harry and Malfoy walked out of the store, Malfoy made a face of utmost disgust. "I shall floo you immediately, sir," he.mocked in a high pitched voice. "Bloody hell, Potter, when will they stop treating you like a damn celebrity? Acting like bloody house elves," he grumbled.

"Beep, beep, beep!" Hermione groaned and tapped her wand, which had been emitting a high pitched beeping noise for the past three minutes. The sound stopped immediately. She glanced at the clock on her wall to check the time. Only 6:30? Great, I can sleep a couple more hours. Then she remembered it was Monday.

Hermione was not usually one to complain about having to wake up in the morning. Most days, she got up happily and got in a little light reading before the sun had even risen. Last night, however, Ron had held her hostage, and she hadn't gotten back to her bed at Hogwarts until three o'clock that morning.

As her wand started beeping for the second time that morning, Hermione sighed and forced herself to get out of bed. She proceeded to get into the shower for thirty minutes, fifteen of which were spent asleep with her head rested against the wall. She dried herself off and after quickly brewing up a hot cup of coffee, felt a little more awake. She then donned her teacher robes and hat, brushing her hair in the process. Fully dressed and ready, she checked her reflection in the mirror.

Hermione Granger had never been what you would call beautiful; not in the traditional sense anyway. She had small brown eyes that always seemed to be thinking, usually planning out the lesson for her next class. During her school years, her brown hair had always been a rather large mass of frizz. Now, however, she had gotten better at taming it with Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. Her teeth, which had formerly been rather large in the front, were now perfectly even and showed off beautifully when she smiled. There was a certain sophistication about her and she carried herself well.

Adjusting her hat, Hermione smiled at her reflection. It had taken her a long time to decide what she wanted to do with her life. She wasn't like Harry, who had been sure he either wanted to be an Auror or a professional quidditch player. In a way, she had been thankful that they had horcruxes to look for and the final battle to fight. It had let her avoid thinking about her future for a while, at least. She had felt like everyone knew what they wanted to do except for her. Then again, Ron probably had had less of a clue about what he wanted to do than she had. Ron. Hermione touched her engagement ring on her hand lovingly. When Hogwarts had reopened, Hermione had come to visit newly appointed Headmistress McGonagall and decided then and there that she wanted to stay. She loved Hogwarts and teaching there was a position that fit her perfectly.

Taking one last look at the mirror and deciding she was satisfied with her appearance, Hermione picked up her bag and made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast. As she entered the Great Hall, Hermione took a moment to look at the ceiling above her. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside and today was promising to be a bright spring day. She smiled and started to walk past the house tables, occasionally saying hello to some of her students.

"Good morning, Professor!" said a voice that sounded far too excited for a Monday morning.

Hermione turned around and smiled when she saw who the speaker was. "Morning, Arthur. How are you?"

"Great! That is, now that I've seen you, Professor," Arthur replied with his most winning smile. Hermione couldn't help but laugh. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Arthur was Fred Weasley's son. Arthur's mother, Angelina, may have given him her beautiful mahogany skin but what lay underneath the skin was definitely inherited from his father. Arthur was a very unique looking child; he had the Weasley red hair that clashed rather horribly with his dark skin. He was as mischievous as his father and uncle had been at Hogwarts. No doubt he hadn't done his homework and was trying to make up for it by trying to kiss up to Hermione. George would have loved to have seen his nephew. She sighed. There had been far too many losses during the final battle. Her heart ached to think that the person who had always made everyone laugh would never laugh again.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted as she realized she had reached the head table. She gave Headmistress McGonagall a smile and sat down next to Cassandra Hillock, who had taken up the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that year.

"Good morning Hermione. How are you?" Cassandra asked warmly.

"Exhausted and wanting to go back to bed. I'd like to kill whoever invented Mondays," said Hermione, as she laid her head down on the table.

Cassandra laughed. "What's wrong with you today? You're always the one who lectures me about how starting the week bright and early is the best way to 'discipline the mind and body'."

"Well, that was before Ron decided to deprive me of my sleep."

"Oh, now I see why you're so tired," she said with a wink. Cassandra Hillock was -- in a word -- charming. Her long blond hair seemed to have a life of its own and circled her face caressingly. She had enchanting green eyes that echoed the laugh that came from her mouth. One dimpled smile from her was enough to make all the men in a fifty mile radius melt. Her voice was smooth and pleasing; it sounded like music when she spoke. She was twenty three years old, but the way she acted sometimes made it seem like she couldn't possibly be a day over fourteen. She was stubborn to a fault and was likely to throw a fit if things didn't go the way she wanted. But somehow her childish antics made her all the more endearing. Although they were complete opposites, she and Hermione had become fast friends when she'd joined Hogwarts to teach. To this day, Hermione couldn't understand how and why Cassandra taught such a serious subject as Defense Against the Dark Arts; though it did rather amuse her to know that the most of the boys in Cassandra's classes had crushes on her.

"Well, I have some exciting news for you," said Hermione, saying nothing more because she knew it would drive Cassandra crazy.

Cassandra waited for Hermione to continue. When it seemed like she was going to do no such thing, Cassandra raised her eyebrows impatiently and said, "Well? Are you going to tell me what it is or not?"

Hermione made a great show of deciding whether or not she should tell her. "I don't know. I mean this type of news shouldn't just be told to anyone; especially not to someone who has a big mouth," she said, looking at Cassandra accusingly.

"I don't have a big mouth! Oh Hermione, please tell me! I'm dying of curiosity!" Cassandra pleaded.

"Are you sure you won't tell anyone?"

"Of course I won't tell anyone! Please, tell me!"

"Do you promise not to tell anyone at all?" asked Hermione, smiling inwardly as she watched Cassandra hesitate before she spoke again.

"Promise? But Hermione, you know if it's something big, I just have to tell someone."

"Well, I guess you'll just have to live without knowing then," Hermione said matter-of-factly, turning away from Cassandra and helping herself to some eggs and pancakes. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Cassandra playing a mental tug-of-war. She could almost picture the screws turning in her head. Finally, Cassandra seemed to come to a decision.

"Ok, I promise I won't tell anyone," she said in a voice that suggested she was about to walk off a plank.

"Alright, I'll stop torturing you. The news is that Ron proposed Friday night. We're getting married," she finished with a blush.

"OH MY GOD!" screamed Cassandra so loudly that the entire Great Hall stopped eating to look at her. "Er—I thought I saw a mouse," she said, giving a charming smile that caused everyone to accept her explanation and return to their food. Turning her attention back to Hermione, she said, "I can't believe it. Congrats, 'Mione! I'm so happy for you." She gave her a big hug and caught a glimpse of Professor McGonagall glaring angrily in her direction. It was outbursts like these that made the headmistress wonder what she had been thinking when she had hired Cassandra. When Hermione and Cassandra separated, Hermione held out her hand to show Cassandra her ring.

"It's beautiful!" squealed Cassandra. "Well, I'm glad Ron can do something right, at least."

"Hey!" protested Hermione.

"Just kidding, just kidding," Cassandra assured her. Well, kind of. She had never completely approved of Ron. He was a nice guy and all but he wasn't exactly the tall, dark, and handsome type. He had the tall part down but the rest was rather lacking. Still, it wasn't as though Cassandra was the one marrying him. Cassandra had been with a lot of men in her lifetime but she had yet to meet her Prince Charming. She smiled at Hermione and felt a genuine gladness for her friend's happiness. "So, who gets to be the maid-of-honor?" she asked, innocently pointing a finger towards herself.

Hermione laughed. "Of course you'll be my maid-of-honor."

The bell rang suddenly and the two friends' discussion about wedding plans was interrupted. The Great Hall immediately erupted into a mass of teachers and students scurrying to their classrooms. Hermione, taking one last look at the ceiling, resigned herself to another long week.

The following evening, several miles away, Harry and Malfoy arrived in a small village. They walked down one street and turned down a couple more, all of which held houses with broken windows and peeling paint. When they had apparently reached their destination, Harry took out a Put-Outer from his cloak and swiftly turned off all of the street lamps. He then pulled out a sheet of parchment and held it out so both he and Malfoy could see it.

"Read it and memorize," said Harry.

The noble and most ancient house of Black may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.