And we are now somewhat in line with canon CoS! We have actually reached the book timeline instead of the two months (and two chapters) bridging the gap between the end of first year and the start of the diary related drama. Which isn't to say that everyone's summer was as quiet as Harry's...

Friendly reminder that my pov characters have their own biases and filters that they're putting over their scenes and that their observations can't always be trusted (side-eyeing where Draco is busy moaning and groaning and therefore missing large parts of his father's nonsense at dinner and also where Elena is completely oblivious to several suspicious things, some more obvious than others)

Please also note that all dates/times that I put at the top of scenes are according to local time not GMT

Trigger Warning: there are oblique references to canon typical violence as typical of Death Eater activity in the section that takes place at Malfoy Manor.

29th July 17:02 – The Burrow

Ron frowned at the letter from Neville, then picked up the letter he got from Hermione the day before.

It was probably nothing…

…and I don't suppose you've heard from Harry have you? Only he hasn't been responding to my letters and I thought maybe it was something to do with the owl that I've been using…

…and how's Harry – I haven't heard from him, but he's probably been busy, and he is more your friend than mine. Emma hasn't said anything either, but then again I've only heard from her twice – she seems to be pretty busy – something with her Uncle I think…

Meaningless comments. He was overthinking it. Harry was probably just busy.

Too busy to write to his friends? Even just to say, 'thanks for the invite but I can't come'?

Ron frowned again and looked between the letters. It probably was nothing, and his parents were so busy…

He could ask his brothers though.

Bill and Charlie were probably busy and unable to floo, and Percy had barely left his room all summer, but the twins always had ideas. And he didn't have to listen to them if he ended up disagreeing.

Ron stood decisively – talking to the twins about it would definitely help.

He gathered the letters and went down two floors to the twins room.

There were no explosions or loud noises coming out and he didn't hear any devious giggling, so it was probably safe.

Knock. Knock-knock-knock, knock. Knock-knock.

Ron tapped the special seven-part knock on the twins door to let them know that it was him and not Mum, carefully avoiding the green spots that looked like paint but weren't and would turn him green and smelly for two days if he wasn't careful.

There was a moment of silence and then a slight scraping sound like something heavy was being pushed or dragged along the floor, before one of the twins yanked the door open just far enough to stick their head out and say "What?"

Ron squinted slightly for a moment, heard a low swear from behind the door, and deduced that it was probably George that he was talking to (it was so much easier to tell the twins apart when they were standing next to each other).

"Can I talk to you?" he asked.

"You are talking to me," most-probably-George pointed out, slipping out of the room and leaning on the closed door.

Ron sighed. They were plotting something – something that probably involved him, or George wouldn't be trying to keep him on the landing.

"It's important," he said, "I need your advice."

George stared at him for a moment before a massive shit-eating grin spread across his face.

"Why ickle-Ronniekins, I never thought we'd see the day – oi George!" he banged on the door behind him, "I do believe our little baby brother is growing up!"

George grabbed the front of Ron's t-shirt and dragged him through the suddenly open door, pushing him into a suspiciously free chair just sitting in the middle of the room whilst Fred – it was definitely Fred, which meant he had been talking to George – slammed the door and leaned on it, blocking his escape.

"So, you need our advice…" George said leadingly.

"What kind of advice could you possibly be coming to us for?" Fred asked, finishing the thought.

Ron grit his teeth – this was for Harry, if he was in trouble, it was worth having to put up with the twins in this mood.

"It's about Harry," he said, witnessing the twins looking absolutely thrown for the first time he could remember, "He hasn't been responding to my letters, and at first I just thought he was busy or maybe getting annoyed with me writing all the time, but he hasn't written back even once, and Hermione and Neville haven't heard back from him either, even though they've both written to him, so I think that maybe something's wrong."

Fred and George turned to look at each other and Ron wasn't blind enough to not notice the slight twitching of facial muscles and hands that meant they were having an entire conversation that outsiders were not permitted to hear.

Fred stepped away from the door to go and lean on one of the twin desks and George used his foot to drag over a footstool that they'd got from Merlin-only-knew where and sat on it.

"How many letters has he not responded to?" George asked, using his gentle please-don't-cry-or-Mum'll-kill-us voice.

"I dunno, loads. I've asked him to stay about twelve times though, after Mum said it'd be fine for him to come over. And I've written to Hermione almost as much and even though she doesn't respond to every letter she still writes back about once a week, but Harry hasn't sent me anything! And she and Neville haven't heard from him either so it's not just me! Look!" Ron shoved the two letters he was holding at George, who was closer, and George took Hermione's letter and passed it to Fred before looking at Neville's.

They both read quietly for a moment.

Ron couldn't stop talking, "And I know that Harry's muggles aren't the greatest and that they're not keen on magic so I thought that maybe they just told him not to write all the time but me and Hermione have been writing loads and you'd think that he'd write back at least once, just to say that his muggles don't like that he's been getting so much post and to stop sending him so many letters, but it's like he's not even reading them! And I mean, it's Harry. He doesn't make a fuss or anything and he's really nice about things so he wouldn't just ignore me even if I was annoying him and he said he wasn't looking forward to the summer because he doesn't really get on with the muggles, so I thought maybe that's why he wasn't writing but that doesn't make sense! Harry would tell me if the letters were a problem. He knows that I wouldn't get upset or laugh at him."

Fred and George spent another long moment having a conversation that only they understood.

"You know him better than we do," Fred said.

"But it does sound a bit worrying that no one's heard from him," George continued.

They both looked at each other.

"Write to him again," Fred said, and before Ron could object George interrupted him.

"Tell him that you're worried about him and that if you don't hear back from him by the 2nd or 3rd of August then you'll assume that something's wrong and come to get him."

"In the meantime, we'll plan like something is wrong, and if he writes back that everything's fine then it's no big deal," said Fred.

"We won't be able to do anything until Dad has another overnight shift anyway, since he'll notice if we go to bed earlier before doing something but if it's just Mum, she'll be too busy being relieved that she has less of us to manage without Dad around." George said, starting to sketch out the plan.

"Plus, even if she does notice that we've gone, she wouldn't leave Percy and Ginny alone to look for us so even if we get in trouble, we'll manage to get Harry first," Fred continued, and Ron was almost certain that the only reason that they were both speaking full sentences out loud while planning was because he was there and was involved.

"Dad's next overnight shift is on the 4th anyway, so that gives us a day and a half to carry out the preparations after not hearing from Harry," George said, looking up from what was apparently Dad's shift schedule, "What's Harry's floo address?"

Ron looked at him blankly, "Harry lives with muggles. They don't have a floo address."

Fred and George both stop and look at each other.

"Ok, new plan, we need a way to go and get Harry – Ron how's your flying?" Fred asked, completely seriously.

"That won't work," George said, shaking his head, "Harry's good, but he's not that good – he's only been flying for a year, no way he can fly all the way from – where is it that he lives, Ron?"

"Little Whinging, in Surrey," Ron said, chewing his lip nervously, "And if we're rescuing him then he's going to need to bring all his stuff anyway and we can't carry that on brooms."

"Good point, baby brother ours," Fred said, dragging the chair away from the desk he was leaning on and collapsing into it, putting his head on one fist as he hummed in thought, "We could take the Knight Bus?" he suggested.

"With what money?" George pointed out, "We'd need to sneak some out of Mum's purse and there's no way we're managing that without getting caught, not to mention how expensive Mum always says the bus is."

Ron tipped his head to the side. If flying was out and Harry couldn't floo and taking the bus was too expensive then- "What about Dad's car? I mean that's basically the same as flying but it doesn't need us to use magic and it doesn't cost money."

Both twins turned to look at him with thoughtful expressions on their faces.

"You know, Forge, I do believe that we've been underestimating our little brother all these years," said George

"Why, Gred, I do believe that you're right," Fred grinned, "And we'll make better time by car than by broom."

"We'll need to check on the map about where we're going but I think it'll be about three hours, maybe a bit over to get there and the same back." George said, jotting something down on a bit of parchment.

"So around six, six and a half hours round trip including picking up the speccy squirt?" Fred said, squinting at the ceiling as he tried to calculate.

The twins burst into activity, passing the parchment back and forth as they argued logistics and details and Ron slumped back in relief. He had a plan now. Now it just came down to whether or not Harry wrote back, and if not (which he probably wouldn't), then managing to borrow the car without Mum noticing.

Hold on Harry, we're basically on our way already.

. . .

31st July 19:54 – Malfoy Manor

Draco fought the urge to hunch down in his seat to avoid being dragged back into conversation. Between his younger cousin on his left, the girl he was technically betrothed to on his right, and Pansy's really annoying older sister across from him, he was desperate for a distraction. Honestly – Niamh and Emma weren't like this! Neither was Granger for that matter. None of them were raised as pureblood scions though.

He didn't huff, his parents and grandmother weren't that far away, but he did shove another bit of bread in his mouth, so he had an excuse not to talk.

He tried to look at the clock without looking like he was looking, and Blaise caught his eye from where he was charming Critical Camellia and surreptitiously playing noughts and crosses on scrap parchment with Daphne at the same time. "Eight o'clock," he mouthed as Critical Camellia blathered on about something to do with curling. Or possibly curtains, he wasn't certain.

He resisted the urge to sigh. Half an hour since the party started, half of the grown-ups hadn't finished their soup yet, and it was undoubtedly going to be an eternity before dessert and drinks and the opportunity to excuse himself. He mentally fumed over the seating placements – Grandmother Christy had insisted he sit with his future wife – not that he wanted one – and baby Lobelia instead of next to one of his friends. If he had to sit with girls, it could at least be with Daphne or Pansy who were fun! If Grandma Druella were here she'd have listened to him and at least not put Critical Camellia of all people opposite him.

Marcel, Greg's admittedly charming cousin, was proving why he worked with children by entertaining Lobelia so that she wasn't bothering him (Draco had already made his thanks very clear and received a wink from Marcel that he was fairly certain meant "you're welcome"). Astoria, meanwhile, was having a furious whispered argument with Theo about arithmancy, despite still being a year out from starting Hogwarts and the fact that arithmancy wasn't taught until third year. A glance down to the end of the table showed that Greg and Cinnie were finger fighting under the table while Basil, Pansy, and Vinnie were discussing something in low tones, something that they probably weren't supposed to be talking about, if the way that they kept glancing up the table towards the grown-ups was any indication.

He resisted the urge to sigh again. His mother was sitting miles away, halfway up the table and Cousin Kieran and his husband were both on his side of the table which meant that he'd have to be rude and lean if he wanted to talk to them.

He smiled slightly when he saw Tommy turn to look at him and wave. He checked to see that none of the grown-ups were looking at him and waved back, before pulling a face.

He checked again. Greg's parents were busy talking to Pansy's about something and his simpering cousin – who was supposed to be helping with Tommy – that was why she was sitting next to him – was profoundly ignoring him and making cow eyes at Mr Nott – who was probably old enough to be her dad, gross.

He waved at Tommy and made a few funny faces at him. He hastily stopped when Mipsy came by and removed his bowl – she would tell mother if she caught him being rude or undignified – Dobby was nicer and let him get away with it if nobody else noticed. Where is Dobby anyway? He's supposed to be removing stuff from the table so that Mipsy can keep an eye on the food.

His thoughts abruptly died when he saw Miss Tatia staring at him with an amused smile. Oh, sweet Salazar, she absolutely saw me making faces for Tommy didn't she?

She glanced up the table towards where his parents and her sister were sitting, before bringing her finger to her lips and smiling slightly. Our secret.

Draco breathed out in relief – Daphne's aunt was so cool. Why couldn't Aunt Edda be like her?

"-your brother?" Greg's awful cousin said a bit too loudly to Mr Nott, and abruptly all conversation at the table died.

Everyone stared in their direction, some with more judgement than others. Draco frantically racked his brains to figure out where the faux pas was.

This Mr Nott was Theo's Uncle Christopher, wasn't he? How did his family tree go? Theo's dad was the oldest of his generation and an only child… He had four cousins in his generation? Draco was pretty sure it was four. And two of them were witches and were sisters to another. Which meant no brothers?

Wait. Nott. There was a Nott in Grandma Druella's family tree. Didn't she have a brother-in-law that was a Nott? Making him Draco's great-uncle. He resisted frowning as his thoughts raced. Yes – Alexander Nott was married to Grandma Druella's brother Noah Rosier, with two kids. Wait, no. Oh Merlin! Of course, everyone was glaring at Medea. Talk about putting your foot in your mouth!

"I'm afraid I haven't spoken to my brother in a decade," Mr Nott said stiffly, his admittedly still quite handsome face set in a grim expression, "Not since what happened in the aftermath of the war with my brother-in-law. He's been quite estranged from the whole family ever since, and I haven't seen my nephew since before he started Hogwarts – so for understandable reasons I really would prefer not to talk about it."

Medea looked mortified – clearly she hadn't paid enough attention to her genealogy lessons and which family members were rude to mention in public. "I'm sorry," she stammered, "I had no idea."

"Quite." Mr Nott said shortly, "Excuse me, Narcissa, but I feel the need for some fresh air, is there a patio or a balcony I could go to?"

"Of course," Draco's mother said, "Here, why don't I show you somewhere you can take a minute and you can come back whenever you're ready."

Mr Nott nodded his thanks to her, and Draco's mother was a flurry of politeness and hospitality as she showed him to the evening parlour, which opened out onto a raised patio over Grandmother Christy's favourite flower beds.

Conversation slowly resumed as Medea hastily turned to Tommy and started wiping her baby cousin's hands so that she had something to do other than sit in horrified silence.

Miss Tatia took over the conversation with Lobelia as Marcel leaned over the table to quickly hiss at his sister about the missteps that she'd just made.

"-honestly no wonder Christopher left, the whole situation is an embarrassment!"

"-can't believe he actually cut off his own family-"

"-else can you expect when you marry for love? It was a foolish-"

"-hear right? Did Alexander Nott actually stop his son-"

"-really an embarrassment for the whole family! Good riddance-"

"-would be romantic if it wasn't so ridiculous-"

"-surprised given the family he married into-"

Draco caught snatches of conversation as everyone started talking at once.

Draco's father cleared his throat rather loudly and everyone stopped talking. "I would like to remind you all that my wife is half Rosier and the man that you are discussing is her Uncle – one who was rather beloved in her youth and who stood for her at our wedding. A wedding, which may I remind you, took place when we decided to marry for love."

The grown-ups all looked rather cowed at the reminder, especially Greg's father who had been rather loud in his own opinions.

"Be that as it may, Lucius," Theo's dad said silkily, "My cousin's behaviour is an embarrassment to the family, and if he hadn't cut off all contact before my father died, then I would have disowned him when I became family head, for such unbecoming actions and for expressing such disdain for the Dark Lord's cause. I can only hope that despite his untoward influence, his son will express better judgement. Indeed, as the two have apparently spent some time in company of the boy's other family, I can only hope that the Rosier family," he sneered the name, "Have been a better influence than my deluded cousin."

Silence reigned as no one wanted to get in between Lord Nott and Lord Malfoy when they got into such a public disagreement. Draco could almost see the debate raging across their faces as the guests tried to decide who was worse to offend – the family of the man in question who's word on the matter should be final, or their gracious and distinguished host who had opened his home to them for the evening and extended an invitation for all who wished to stay the night and join him for breakfast the next day – an invitation which most of them had already gratefully taken him up on, their House Elves having already retrieved overnight belongings and placed them in guest rooms under Mipsy and Dobby's guidance.

"I'll thank you not to insult my mother's family while you are a guest in my home, Lord Nott," Draco's mother swept into the room like the Lady of the House that she was, tone so frosty it was practically Arctic, "After all, despite some unfortunately disowned relations, which may I remind you is something that can be claimed by practically every family in this room, not a single legitimate member has made anything but a respectable marriage and they have been proud members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight since before either of us were born. If the Rosier family were not perfectly respectable," his mother bit out the word, her fury clear in every syllable, "Then my father would never have been permitted to court and marry my mother, regardless of the circumstances. Certainly, my father's nephew would not have been all but engaged to my mother's youngest cousin if the Black Family had not been convinced that the Rosier line was anything but an excellent example of what makes a proper pureblood." His mother's expression had not flickered from icy disdain at all during her speech, but Draco saw the first hint of rage in her eyes as she took a breath, "Remind me, Lord Nott," she said dangerously, "When was the last time a member of your family married a Black? Was there ever an occurrence where two Notts married a Black in successive generations?"

Draco did not need to think particularly hard to know the answer. His mother had taught him her family tree as thoroughly as she had that of the Malfoys. You are after all, still a Black, and will hold claim to the family until you have an heir, you become Lord Malfoy, or the Lord Black disowns you, whichever should come first.

Lord Nott's sour face said that he knew the answer to the rhetorical question too. In the last 250 years no Nott had ever come close to successfully courting a member of the Black family. And given his mother's raised chin and steely eyes, it would not happen in her lifetime, even if she had to ensure it personally, no matter that the Black line was dying out.

Family comes first, my little Dragon. Always. And if someone insults that, you make them regret it. Do not let an attack on your family pass unacknowledged. No matter who it is aimed at or who the culprit is.

His mother's words were reinforced by her actions.

Draco could see that his father wasn't happy about it, and that they'd probably argue about it in private before he apologised (father never won arguments against mother. Not when it was important), but he didn't contradict her and instead turned to Lord Nott to see how he would respond.

Everyone else was darting glances between the two like it was a duel – and they didn't know who would win – Lady Malfoy or Lord Nott. Most of them looked shocked, no one ever thought that Draco's quiet, friendly, and good-natured mother could be so vicious and cutting. They all forgot that she was a daughter of the Blacks and had learned their lessons on ruthlessness and mercy well. Draco hoped that he would learn to use them just as well as she did one day.

Lord Nott pursed his lips unhappily, "I apologise, Narcissa-"

"Lady Malfoy," she interrupted him, her voice silken steel, daring him to argue.

"-Lady Malfoy. I spoke out of turn, and meant no insult, the topic is merely upsetting and tends to bring out the worst in me." He inclined his head to her in apology, with ill-concealed irritation that no one was going to call him out on, "And Lucius, I apologise for disrupting the meal with such ill-chosen words. My insult was unintentional, and I regret to have caused such."

Draco's father glanced briefly at his mother, before turning back to Lord Nott, "Think nothing of it, familial disagreements are a," he paused, "-difficult topic at the best of times. Certainly, the Malfoys have their own share of shameful family members. It is dreadful that it was brought up at all and we should have changed the topic immediately. I apologise that such discomfort occurred at my table."

"You are forgiven, Lucius. Lady Malfoy, will you accept my apology for causing such distress?"

Draco's mother smiled tightly, "Of course, Theodore," she emphasised his first name, "You must have been truly upset to insult your hosts in such a manner."

Draco shared a wide-eyed glance with Theo, both of them understanding the line that had just been drawn.

"Food now?" a tiny voice piped up in the silence left in the wake of the stare down between Draco's mother and Theo's father.

Theo shut his eyes in despair – it was his little sister Rosaline.

Draco's mother laughed, in genuine amusement, he was pretty sure, "Of course, Rosaline, it does look like everyone's finished with their soup, doesn't it?" she said gently, before turning and calling for Mipsy and Dobby to clear the table and bring out the next course.

Theo and Draco both let out identical sighs of relief under the cover of the renewed chatter that was about anything and everything but what had just occurred.

"Thank Merlin your mother likes children," he said to Draco, "That could have turned nasty, and if your mother hadn't been so kind about it, father would have been utterly furious with Rosa," he winced, "He's probably still furious – he hates losing face like that, but at least he won't take it out on her, since she let him get away with his pride intact."

"He was going to lose his temper?" Draco asked in concern, far too familiar with his housemate's uncomfortable home situation and the dangers of his father's temper.

Theo darted a glance up the table, "He was gritting his teeth like he only does when he's on the verge of losing it. There's no doubt for anyone that your mother came out on top in that conversation, and he hates losing face like that. Least of all to a woman that doesn't even know how to fight."

Basil snorted from down the table, the other kids all having been listening in to Draco and Theo's hushed discussion, "Anyone that thinks Aunt Narcissa doesn't know how to fight has forgotten that she grew up alongside Bellatrix Lestrange. And anyone that thinks that she doesn't come out on top any time she decides to, has never seen her eviscerate Grandmother Christy in an argument."

"Your mother wins arguments with Dowager Malfoy?!" Blaise demanded, "My mother says that she's impossible to reason with and that the only reason she'll still represent the Malfoy family at all is because your mother is such a good friend to her."

Draco couldn't help sitting up a little straighter and smiling smugly, "Mother always wins. She says that it's important to pick your battles so that you only fight the important ones – you can let other people win if it's not important – that way, when it matters you have the upper hand over your opponent, and they won't expect you to devastate them with the tricks that you've been hiding. That's how she won the argument with father about sending me to Hogwarts instead of Durmstrang, even though Grandmother Christy hates Professor Dumbledore as much as father does and took his side."

"That's so amazing." Astoria said, sounding jealous.

"Hey Draco," Pansy said, leaning over Vinnie a bit rudely so that she didn't have to talk so loud, "No offence, but you're no longer my favourite Malfoy. I've decided. I want to be just like your mother when I grow up."

Draco shrugged. That was fair. Mother was his favourite Malfoy too.

"Aunt Narcissa is the best!" declared Cinnie, then beamed up at Greg, who nodded in agreement. He was so soft for little kids.

Everyone dissolved back into conversation, mostly about whether Draco's mother was more or less scary than Blaise's mother – Blaise's mother was on her fifth husband after being widowed four times and Blaise had quietly and non-verbally confirmed that she was responsible for at least three of the four previous deaths – how she kept convincing men to marry her really was amazing. Draco's mother on the other hand, had just gone toe to toe against Lord Nott, who everyone knew was one of the most dangerous followers of the Dark Lord still outside of Azkaban, and won.

Draco thanked Dobby when he brought around the next course, before throwing himself back into the debate. Because obviously his mother was better. She wasn't a lawyer and she still always won.

He idly noted that Dobby seemed off, his hands were a bit shaky, and he seemed jumpy – he kept glancing at Draco's father like he was checking if he had noticed him. Draco dismissed the thought – he was probably just worried that his father would notice that he'd switched off with Mipsy when he wasn't supposed to. Draco's father wouldn't notice – he never paid attention to the servants when he had guests.

Draco checked on Dobby as he worked his way around the table and caught half a sentence from his father's conversation about not needing to worry about a new law before being thoroughly distracted by Lobelia waving a fork at his face and asking why he wasn't eating yet.

It probably wasn't important – if his father wasn't worried then it would be fine.

. . .

5th August 08:28 – Ministry of Magic, Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Morgana suppressed a yawn as the lift came to a stop.

"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services." The now-familiar voice chimed.

Morgana stepped to the side to avoid running over a wizard from Magical Maintenance and ducked around a witch holding a very tall stack of files that she was fairly certain worked down in DIMC, before finally managing to leave.

"Hold the doors!" someone called from down the hall.

Morgana stopped, turned around, and held the lift doors open for who she belatedly realised was Arthur Weasley, one of the very few employees in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, and the father of no less than six boys that she'd attended Hogwarts with. He looked rather a lot like Bill and Percy, or they strongly resembled him, and she'd come to know him as a kind if slightly bizarre man that had all sorts of questions about muggle technology.

"Thank you," he said, panting, having run the last thirty metres to the lift.

"You're welcome," she said, and noticing that he was carrying his briefcase and looked rather tired and travel worn added, "Have a safe trip home."

He nodded at her in gratitude and stepped into the lift as she stepped away.

Morgana suppressed another yawn as she turned into the MJL Office, and Luce Gregory smirked at her as they passed each other.

"Late night?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows a little.

Morgana stared at him blankly for a moment before saying flatly, "My brother has taken offence to the fact that I have decided to move out and spent half of the night banging on the wall between our rooms and talking overly loudly on the phone, before blaring an alarm three quarters of an hour before I usually get up. No, I did not have a late night, I just didn't sleep well."

Luce grimaced sympathetically, "I'm on my way down to Level Five for some coffee – do you want me to bring you some?"

Morgana sighed in gratitude, "Luce, you are a god among men, I would love some coffee."

He laughed at her slightly, "I wouldn't go that far," he said, "Two shots, three sugars, yeah?"

Morgana nodded.

"Oh, and since I have you, did you hear about what they're saying in IUM? About a flying car?"

Morgana sent him a scathing look that probably lost some of its effectiveness when she had to suppress another yawn, "Why would anybody enchant a car to fly?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, to see if they could?"

"That's got to be illegal – what if somebody non-magical saw it?"

Luce raised one shoulder and made a face, "I looked into it just now, and it turns out, its actually not illegal, not as long the person who enchanted the car had no intention of using it to fly."

Morgana frowned slightly, "I feel like that's exactly the sort of loophole that's going to come back and bite somebody and land them in a lot of hot water, especially if that rumour is true."

Luce smiled, "Eh, what can you do?" his smile softened slightly as he saw that she was still slightly bleary eyed, "I'll go and grab you that coffee."

"I could kiss you!" she called after him, and he raised a hand to acknowledge that he'd heard her.

Morgana finally made it to Division C and collapsed into her chair and dropped her head into her arms with a groan.

"Long night?" Madam Rosier asked.

Morgana made a complaining grumpy sound. She had no idea when Madam Rosier went home – she rarely if ever left before Morgana did and was almost always already in the office when Morgana arrived.

"Look alive, Pendragon. The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office had nine raids during the overnight shift, there were five more by the Auror Office, one by the Improper Use of Magic Office and another two by the CDSPO."

Morgana groaned and tried to burrow further into her arms.

"We have paperwork to do to make sure everything is on the up and up. Come on now, if we work together, we can get a fifteen-minute break before we move on to the reviews I've got you doing."

Morgana sighed and finally sat up. "Paperwork," she said, fixing a grin on her face, "How fantastic!"

Madam Rosier chuckled slightly at her sarcasm and floated a pile of parchment over to her desk. Morgana was very thankful that Luce had gone to get her coffee. She really owed him one.

. . .

9th August 10:33 – Summer Lake Farm

Elena dried her hands on the tea towel hanging beside the sink and grabbed one of the pre-prepared coffee packets from the cupboard. Making a pot of coffee for everyone was unlikely to go awry and she could use the caffeine.

She moved to go to the coffee machine, only for Sunny to jump up onto the counter and hiss at her when she went to lean over the cat.

"Seriously?" Elena said, "I'm trying to make coffee for everyone," she told the cat.

Sunny hissed at her again.

When Elena tried to lean over the cat, Sunny went to swipe at her, and Elena hastily backed away to avoid the claws. She tried to suppress her frustration, but it was a losing battle.

Before Elena could do something stupid, like actually try to fight the cat, Em came in and kicked her shoes off.

When she stepped into the kitchen and caught sight of the glaring match between Elena and the cat she paused, before shrugging and moving to wash her hands.

"What's going on?" she asked, scrubbing under her nails.

"I swear this cat hates me." Elena said without breaking eye contact with the cat in question.

"What? No, she doesn't." Em dried her hands, "Do you, Sunny?"

The damnable thing purred at her, as if Elena needed any confirmation that Em was absolutely the cat's favourite.

"Ok, what seems to be the problem?" Em put her hands on her hips and glanced between the two of them, as if she was a teacher and they were unruly students making a mountain out of a molehill.

"I'm trying to make a pot of coffee for everyone, and Sunny keeps hissing and swiping at me every time I go near the machine." Elena said flatly.

Em quirked an eyebrow slightly – it was quite impressive how expressive she could be with just her eyebrows – Elena had seen her have a whole argument with Jonny-bach where all she did was raise and lower an eyebrow and he'd responded as though she was saying full sentences before simply giving in.

"Is this true, Sunny?" Em asked the fluffy nightmare.

The cat made a loud mrow sound and leaned into the hand she ran over its ears.

"Alright, give me a sec," Em said, pulling out the machine and checking the plug and connectors, "If Sunny's being stubborn then there's probably something wrong, somewhe- ah! Found it."

"Found what?"

"There's some kind of faulty connection back here, looks like it got damaged somehow – I'll tell Caleb, see if Ness can do anything about it – it's her kind of thing. Probably shouldn't use it in the meantime though."

Em unplugged the machine and pushed it into the corner of the counter where no one would use it by mistake. Sunny purred and then curled up in front of it before opening an eye and staring straight, almost pointedly, at Elena.

"But- coffee!" Elena said desperately – the idea of not being able to have coffee suddenly unbearable.

"What? Oh no – don't worry about it, we've got a pot for the stove somewhere 'round here." Em said, leaning down to rummage through the cupboard underneath where the coffee maker normally stood.

Elena looked away from her bum when she realised that she'd been staring for too long to appropriate. "What do you mean for the stove?"

Em made a noise of triumph and stood up with a very old-fashioned pot for making coffee – Elena was fairly certain that she'd seen one in a museum before.

"Why do we have that?" she asked, fairly certain that she had no idea how such a thing even worked.

Em hummed slightly, holding her hand out for the coffee packet as she moved over to the sink, "The pot?"

"Yeah – I mean it's so old fashioned – why have something like that when there's a perfectly serviceable coffee machine? Well, most of the time anyway."

Em laughed slightly, "If you think this is old fashioned you should see where I live – the stove is so old that it still runs on wood, and our kettle hangs over an open fire half the time."

"You're joking!"

"Not even slightly. The kitchen's basically Victorian."

"Wow – I can't even imagine."

Em shrugged, putting the coffee into the pot, "It's home. And it gave me life skills such as how to make tea and coffee on a stove rather than with a coffee machine or electric kettle." She put the pot on the stove, and switched it on, glancing at the clock as she did so, "Pass me some tea?" she asked, filling the kettle, and putting it on to boil.

"Which one?" Elena said, opening the cupboard, knowing from experience that there were nearly fifty different blends, and several were only for specific circumstances, and having learnt the hard way that there were some that couldn't or shouldn't be drunk if you didn't know what you were doing.

"Bottom row, third from the right, it's a general blend that everyone likes and can drink."

Elena made a noise of confirmation. "But you didn't answer – why is there such an old-fashioned coffee pot just lying around in the cupboard?" She took her pill packet out of the cupboard whilst she was there and moved over to lean on the table.

"There's a kettle for the stove too – it's isolated enough out here that if the electricity gets knocked out then it can take days, or even weeks sometimes if the weather is bad enough, for it to get fixed and useable again. It's the same reason we have oil and gas lamps for the barns and stables, an old-fashioned boiler, enough candles to open a candle shop, and enough back-up generators that we can provide electricity for the farm for a week if we need to. And also, a ton of non-perishables and canned food in one corner of the basement."

Elena raised her eyebrows, "Wow. That bad?"

Em hummed and moved over to the stove to remove the coffee pot and turn it off, "The weather here can get pretty bad and quite a few of the roads flash flood if the storm's bad enough. We've also been snowed in enough times that the wisdom of having back-up food for a few weeks is pretty normal, although that hasn't actually happened for quite a few years now." She poured the coffee into what Elena had presumed was a spare teapot and put it on the table, before turning off the kettle before it could whistle and pouring the water into the other teapot to brew.

Elena poured herself some coffee, screwed the lid onto her mug, and put the pill packet back in the cupboard after popping one out, "Well, I guess that's something to look forward to then."

Em laughed, "Yep, pretty much. But you get used to it quickly enough, it's a fact of life in places like this. Home can be even worse if I'm being honest – at least here there's a bus link that they try to keep clear."

Elena winced in sympathy then lifted her mug in an approximation of a 'cheers', "Thanks for helping out with the coffee, I've got to go and muck out the barn now, so I guess I'll see you at lunch." She quickly tossed the pill back and swallowed it, chasing it up with a mouthful of scalding coffee.

Em grimaced in sympathy – no one liked barn muck out duty – the cows really could make a mess – and turned back to take the filter out of the teapot, "Good luck!" she called over her shoulder as Elena pulled her boots back on.

Elena heard her thanking the cat for helping evade another misfortune as she left and reconsidered the fluffy monster hating her. That was the second time it had saved her after all. The thing with the tea the first time could have been nasty.

. . .

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Jones,

We are delighted to welcome you back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for your second year. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and new equipment for the year. Please ensure that your robes still fit and that your protective gloves, telescope, cauldron, phials, brass scales, and wand are all undamaged and in good condition.

Term begins on 1 September. Please catch the Hogwarts Express at 11:00 from Platform 9 ¾ on this date. Platform 9 ¾ can be accessed from the following train stations: Belfast Great Victoria Street Station (Béal Feirste Sráid Mhór Victoria) Belfast (between platforms 3 and 4), Cardiff Central Station (Caerdydd Canolog) Cardiff (between platforms 3 and 4), Dublin Connolly Station (Stáisiún Uí Chonghaile) Dublin (between platforms 1 and 2), Glasgow Central Station (Glaschu Mheadhain) Glasgow (between platforms 1 and 2), King's Cross Station London (between platforms 9 and 10), and Manchester Piccadilly Station Manchester (between platforms 13 and 14). Platform 9 ¾ can also be accessed via apparition or at the Floo Address "Hogwarts Express King's Cross". Residents of Hogsmeade are reminded that they must present themselves and their luggage at Hogsmeade Train Station promptly at 18:11 to make their way up to the school with the rest of the students.

If there are any extenuating circumstances, new health arrangements, wellbeing arrangements, or changes in home circumstances, please inform us by owl by no later than 28 August so that arrangements can be made and our records may be updated. If you prefer to inform Madam Pomfrey and your Head of House of non-urgent arrangements privately, please ensure that you do so by no later than 6 September. Any health arrangements are ideally made by owl before arrival (preferably by 28 August) or absolute latest by the start of classes on 2 September in person. Any further queries may be made by owl by no later than 24 August.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Second year students will require:

Set Books

STUDENTS ARE REMINDED THAT THEY MUST HAVE ACCESS TO A COPY OF ALL BOOKS ON THE BOOKLIST FOR USE IN CLASS AND THAT SEVERAL BOOKS ARE USED THROUGHOUT THEIR SCHOOLING

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 2) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
Extreme Incantations by Violeta Stitch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart
Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart
Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart

Students who wish to compete in Quidditch must bring their own broomsticks. They may enquire about Quidditch try-outs with their House Team Captain in the first week of school. Quidditch robes and equipment will be provided. If a student has any health conditions, please speak to Madam Pomfrey before try-outs.

Students may bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

STUDENTS ARE REMINDED THAT THEY ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY PETS THAT THEY BRING TO HOGWARTS. STUDENTS ARE FURTHER REMINDED THAT THEY MAY BRING NO MORE THAN ONE PET TO HOGWARTS.

(Parents may enquire separately by owl about animals other than an owl, a cat, or a toad, but should be aware that animals other than those three may be refused at the school's discretion. No pets larger than knee height will be permitted. Small pets or animals that are typically prey to owls and cats should be brought at the owners own risk.)

. . .

17th August 11:24 - La Place Bellecour, Lyon, France

Merlin checked her watch from where she was standing by the statue of Louis XIV. Aislinn appeared to be keeping with her habit of tardiness. Merlin had been waiting for nearly ten minutes and she'd been late herself.

"Hey, Mam!"

Merlin spun around at the sound of her daughter's voice.

"Shh!" she hissed at her, "Are you crazy? What if someone heard you?"

"Please. No one's listening. And even if they were, we're speaking in English, not French."

"I look about twenty-five, at most. We could pass as sisters or cousins. Or maybe aunt and niece at a stretch. And don't assume that just because we're in France that no one here understands English."

"Well yeah but you're actually my mother and also technically my great-grandmother, no matter what age you look." Aislinn said in Welsh, thankfully not completely ignoring the second part of the sentence and instead choosing to speak in a language that was less likely to be spoken by someone wandering around central France, "I've spent the last two and a half months here with Oncle Gideon, I really don't need another lecture." She added, sighing.

Merlin raised an eyebrow at that, wondering what her daughter had done to lead her uncle to lecture her. "Speaking of which – dragons?"

Aislinn winced and chuckled nervously. "Yeah… about that…"

Merlin's eyebrow climbed a little higher as she waited for her daughter to come up with something. Over the years she'd perfected her uncle's famous 'Eyebrows of Doom' and her 'Mam' look, the combination of which tended to lead to most people under the age of twenty-five tripping over themselves to confess to any recent wrongdoings.

Aislinn scoffed at Merlin's stern look, "It's not like you weren't also involved. In case you've forgotten, you were the reason that that letter was even written. And you're always telling us to be there for our friends when they need our help!"

Merlin blew out a heavy breath, Aislinn had always been stubborn.

"I meant emotionally," she said, attempting to keep her tone even, "I was not referring to helping Charlie Weasley illegally smuggle a dragon out of Hogwarts!"

By this point they were weaving through crowds of tourists exploring the Vieux Lyon

"Of course," Aislinn's voice was sarcastic. "I mean it's not like you've ever done anything illegal." She raised her eyebrow right back at Merlin and Merlin couldn't help the grin that played around the corner of her mouth. She rolled her eyes.

A sharp left took them away from the thickest crowds and towards the more magical part of the district. "You're grounded. And don't think this conversation is over." She warned, stepping through the wards that prevented those not in the know from accidentally setting foot in the wrong place.

"Of course not. Never." Came the sarcastic reply, as her daughter slipped past her, eager to avoid a continued interrogation and lose her mother to an extended conversation with Gideon Pelletier.

. . .

The Malfoy Manor scene ended up a lot longer than I had intended and there may also be things in this scene (and others) that seem to contradict things mentioned earlier. Please refer above to how the people talking having their own biases and also bear in mind that there are certain situations where some (or even many) characters are missing or omitting information deliberately

Did I write out a whole seating plan for the Malfoy Manor dinner so that I knew who was there and spend excessive amounts of time naming all the characters and determining their ages and backgrounds? Yes. Did I spend several hours researching different dinner parties to try and figure out how their seating plans work before tossing most of it out of the window? Also yes.

I had a lot of fun writing the Hogwarts letter for the second years, since in canon we only see what the first year letters say and there must be a difference between the first year letters and the later years. I also had trouble trying to figure out when the Hogwarts letters for older students go out since there is zero consistency in canon except that in OotP the letters go out about two days before the school starts and Mrs Weasley mildly comments that they're out "late". First years seem to get their letters in mid to late July and presumably muggleborns get theirs in person (and possibly earlier than those from magical backgrounds). Since Ginny's letter comes with her brothers' letters in CoS I've decided to assume that first years with at least one older sibling already in Hogwarts get their first letter at the same time as their sibling(s). After that I just chose a range of dates and decided that the letters go out sometime during that range depending on how easily Dumbledore can find a DADA teacher.

As an aside: there are events going on in the background that I've written on my timeline of events that I am either not writing or that have been cut, primarily (but not only) over in Amelia's ongoing mission to reopen those cases, both because writing political intrigue is not my strong suit and also I'm trying to keep my chapters between 5k and 10k, but like with the full scene of Amelia discussing exactly what was going on with those cases in ch1, I may still put them into a side story for completeness at a much later point.

The next chapter is technically half written now but it's also already almost at 10k, which means the final version is probably going to end up way longer than I would like and I just know I'm going to end up having to cut things out…

On a final note, for those of you who are interested in how Merlin saved Lancelot from the Veil at the start of s4, I've posted a short one-shot as a standalone explaining it called "Love and Sacrifice" that you can feel free to consider as canon to this series.

If you want to talk then feel free to come and find me over on tumblr under the same name