Warning: Okay men…(and women)…This is it. The big one. The one we've all been waiting for….(I know Oliver's speech by heart)…

…This, my dears, is…the final chapter!

The Outline of a Mysterious Man

Not for the first time in his little bed, Evander Rosier, age five-and-a-half, was being consumed by a nightmare.

His breathing became quick and uneven, his cheeks flushed, his eyelids half-open, even though he was still fast asleep. With a small moan, he tossed and turned, his back arching, throwing his sheets and blanket unconsciously off him.

Flashes of images flew past his mind's eye, sounds and colors of the wildest imaginations, for the fear which had devoured him only the night before had returned...

Light…bursts of white light…someone screaming…and he was holding something…someone…

Evander and Mory clung to each other as the mean man advanced. He was speaking…but Evan couldn't hear it…

…Then, all of a sudden, there was a shock of green light and Mory was slipping…falling…down, down, down…and into the snow…

He moaned and clutched his pillow, which was wet with his perspiration.

The mean man turned on him and grinned evilly…he was talking…the screaming grew louder and louder…he raised his wand and pointed it straight at Evan's heart…

Across the room, Tobias lay in his own bed and scratched behind Virgilia's ears, whispering to her. The boy and the dog were sprawled underneath the covers, keeping each other company. On the way to his room after talking with Aunt Hestia, Toby had found the Baron's dog moaning pitifully on the second floor, so he stole the dog away and snuck her all the way up into the nursery.

With his hangings drawn close, they huddled together as he told her all about the Rookery. She had never been there before, he remembered, so he decided to relate it to her.

Just as he was about to start on his bedroom and all of its cool gadgets, however, Toby heard a loud moan, followed by a sharp cry, from his brother's bed. He looked up, startled, and wrenched open his hangings.

Evan was sitting up in bed, gasping. His sheets were in a tangled mess on the floor and he was looking around wildly.

"Er…Evan?" Tobias said tentatively. "Whassa matter? Was it another nightmare?"

For a moment, his little brother just looked at him, eyes slightly unfocused.

"Wh-what happened?" Tobias got up and padded over to Evan's bed.

Evander just stared at him. He cocked his head to the side, as though listening to some inner voice inside his mind; then a small smile broke through on his troubled face. He turned his over-bright eyes to Toby's own sea-green ones, and whispered, "Toby…he's back!"

Tobias furrowed his brow. "Who's back?"

Evan leaned forward, just inches from his brother's face. Then he split into a huge grin.

"Daddy!"

With their eyes set and their mouths drawn, John Rosier and Albus Dumbledore set off down the hall to rejoin the others and explain what had been decided. They both agreed that it would be best not to tell the others everything, at least not until the matter was researched more thoroughly and they both knew what was happening and who was responsible.

"There's no need for Irene to worry until she has to," John had said.

Before they left the room, though, John related everything that had transpired at the hospital. He pulled out the two notes with blood and green ink and explained to Dumbledore how they had helped him to realize that he was somehow mixed up in all of this.

Dumbledore was very interested in these articles. He examined both of them, muttering a spell John could only guess was to see what substance the parchment was made from and which ink was used…perhaps even to see if any fingerprints were left behind. John knew that that was an old-fashioned Muggle thing. All wizards had to do was see which wand committed the crime and they had their man…most of the time.

Dumbledore took a while studying them, murmuring under his breath while he peered over his spectacles. "This contains powdered dragon claw, unlike most wizarding parchments…so that would rule out Papyrus Pastor…and…what is this substance here? It looks like…gracious, but…ah!" He whipped off his spectacles and cleaned them before setting them back onto their crooked perch, peering intently at the note.

John looked over at his companion. "'Ah'?"

Dumbledore looked up, "Yes, 'ah'! This, my dear friend, is a single grain from a common species of grass known to mankind as the graminus secrete. There has been only one parchment-maker in the world who has ever been known to add this to his potions…though I am still not entirely sure why…the graminus secrete has some amazing magical abilities…"

John peered over the Headmaster's shoulder. "But if it has some amazing magical abilities, why don't they all use it? I thought you said it was a common grass."

"It is," Dumbledore stood up and straightened his robes, "…in Iceland."

So together, they strode out of the smaller, secluded room and into the front room, where Hestia, Irene, Marmie, and Biddy were still talking. As they spotted the two wizards, all four women stood up anxiously.

Albus Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles and looked solemnly at them all. "This situation is graver than I thought," he began. "John is indeed being framed----"

Irene started, and Hestia and Marmie both made gestures as if to speak, but Dumbledore raised his hand in silence.

"----And while I have no theory as of yet as to who is doing this, or why, John has agreed to meet with me every week so we can both investigate the matter more thoroughly…if that is all right with you, Irene?" he asked her kindly.

Looking flustered, she nodded, scrutinizing her husband under her eye.

"Bu', Headmaster, what about the goblins?" Marmie asked.

Dumbledore's eyes flickered and became a shade darker. "I will deal with them," he said quietly, leaving no argument.

Hestia cleared her throat and sat down again. "So…you don't know whether he's being Imperiused, or cursed, or forced in any way? All you know is that he's being framed?"

Albus Dumbledore looked at her long and hard before answering. "There are no traces of the Imperius, Hestia. Neither are there any traces of any curse I've ever heard of. He is not being threatened, tricked, forced…but that is the extent of my knowledge. John and I will get to the bottom of it," he said.

Hestia studied him a moment longer, before nodding satisfactorily.

Albus Dumbledore beamed, though a bit too brightly, she noticed. "Splendid! Now if I could just----"

He was interrupted by a large clatter as Lord Balfour Marjoribanks bounded down the stairs and into the front room, looking breathless. "Dumbledore! If I could speak with you, please?"

The Headmaster gave a curt nod and followed Balfour out of the room. "Lead the way."

Those remaining exchanged glances.

"What in Merlin's name does Balfour want to speak with Dumbledore about?" John wondered.

Marmie shook her head, "Go ask the gnomes. I'm gonna go and make you some dessert…you're naught but skin and bones! Don' you know how ter feed yourself, John?"

John's face split into a grin. "Not like you do, Marm."

Hestia looked up, surprised. "But I though you were going to go home? It's nearly twelve o'clock, isn't Jim Bob waiting for you?"

"Nah. You leave that ornery man to me. I may love 'im, but that doesn' mean I can't have another family to take care of, as well." She heaved herself out of the chair and made for the kitchen.

Hestia watched her go with a look of surprise on her face. She had been with her beloved cook for nearly a year and a half now, but never before had Marmie come close to calling her family.

She grinned.

"It is getting late," Irene agreed. "Why don't we go and put your things in the bedroom, John? I promised the kids we'd kiss them good night when we got back…though they should be sleeping now."

John gave a wry smile. "I don't know, Irene. Knowing them, they probably propped themselves against the bedposts just to stay awake!"

Irene slowly sat up, groaning. She rubbed her stomach and winced. "My entire body aches. It has been a very long day…I feel like just crawling in bed…"

John stroked his tired face. There were bags under his eyes and it looked like he hadn't shaved in a while.

"That sounds like a marvelous plan, m'dear. Oversea traveling always seems to put five more years on me. Tell you what; when we get into bed, I'll show you a charm Healer Myrtilus told me about. It's supposed to give every muscle in your body a good rubbing, and relocate any misplaced bone. Sykes, one of my co-workers (you know the chap) said that his wife performs it after every mission, and it really works."

Irene leaned back into his arms, closing her eyes. "Mmmm! Sounds heavenly…"

They sat there for a moment longer, and Hestia thought they'd drifted off to sleep. "Should I dim the lights?" she asked dryly.

Idly, one of Irene's eyes opened. "No…no, we're moving. Give us a day or so, why don't you?"

Five minutes later, she could still be seen trying to help her husband up from the couch. With their joined efforts of painfully slow moving, they suddenly reminded Hestia of an elderly couple. "Biddy?" she asked, watching her sister and brother-in-law slowly exit the room.

Her house-elf looked up from her lap, where she was darning a pair of socks for Dingy. "Yes?"

"Do you think I'll ever act like that when I grow old?" Hestia asked.

Biddy studied her. "Depends, methinks, on if you ever plan on who it is you're goings to act like that with."

Hestia looked over at her friend. Biddy was sitting on her miniature chair next to the fireplace, her enormous brown eyes and floppy ears illuminated by the dying fire's glow. "You're right…" Hestia whispered. "You're very right."

"I knows I am," Biddy said truthfully. Then her ears pricked up when she heard the slightest sound. "And I am also right in thinking that something needs Biddy's fixing."

She set down her darning and stood up, staring up at the ceiling with a far-away look on her face that Hestia knew very well. Ever since they were little, Biddy would break off from their play and get that look on her face and her ears would stiffen, like she was trying to hear something from very far away.

Then, just as she was about to pop into another portion of the Mansion, Biddy glanced over at Hestia. "Perhaps you wouldn't be's so lonely," she said in her soft, high voice, "if you had a Lot, too."

Then she vanished.

Irene Hesperus Rosier made up the stairs with her husband, arm strewn through his and hands linked. They walked down the upstairs hall and passed the portraits in their nightcaps, with John's large suitcase floating in front of them.

They had decided to stay the night with Hestia and leave in the morning. It would be a bit of a disappointment for the children to leave so soon, they knew, but John felt that they had to get home as soon as was convenient. He wanted to put up new wards for the house and yard and do some more research on those notes. Both he and Dumbledore felt that, since the older wizard only had so much free time, John would take over the responsibility in looking at the notes while Dumbledore took over the arrangements with the goblins. They would meet together in Dumbledore's office on Friday and proceed with dissecting John's head.

John smiled ruefully. Dumbledore didn't put it quite in those terms, but that is basically what we'll be doing!

"How're the children doing? Think they'd be ready to leave in the morning, or are they having too much fun?" he asked.

Irene sighed. "They really love it here, but…I think they really miss home. They need to have consistency again, I feel. Things have a been a bit too…wild."

They strolled down the dark hall and stopped at the closed nursery door.

"Should we wake them? Tell them you're here?"

John paused. "No…let them sleep. They've had a harrowing day. D'you suppose I'll wake them if I peer inside?"

Irene concealed her grin rather well; while he was talking, she had heard a sound from inside the room. "Why, they're sound asleep! How could you possibly wake them up? They won't even notice you're there," she said innocently.

The door creaked open and John peered inside.

"DADDY!"

There were two loud thuds as something knocked into him and a sickening crunch. He toppled backwards, narrowly avoiding his wife, and the two boys fell with him.

"You're home! Guess what we did today! I made this potion --- well, Lexa helped, I guess --- and then there was this ginormous explosion!----"

"----Daddy! Daddy! Mory got eaten! An' me an' Aun' Hessy went for a walk and guess what?----"

"----And I can't believe you missed it! There were fireworks everywhere! Plus, I think one actually hit the Mansion. And we had dinner and Pr-Pr-Proseffor --- I-I mean Professor Dummydoor --- Dumblefore --- Dumberdore----" Tobias stopped, confused.

Evander, however, kept on talking, "An' there was a storm, Daddy! But it's mostly gone now…I think…"

He disentangled himself from his dad and his brother and ran over to the nearest window. He was just barely tall enough to peak over the ledge and squint through the darkness outside. There was a rustle behind John and tousle-haired Alexandra appeared.

"Wh-wha's going on?" she asked sleepily, then squinted at her father. At once she brightened and squealed, "Daddy!"

John laughed as she launched herself at him and he was knocked to the floor for a second time. Evan ran back over and sat himself right on top of his sister, who was sitting on their father, who was half-on and half-off of Toby. The oldest boy, however, kept on talking animatedly, undaunted by all the weight now settled on his right arm.

For a while, John tried desperately hard to listen to all three conversations at once, but finally he had to give up. He looked up at his wife, who was standing beside the door with a smug smile on her face. "A little help here?" he asked dryly.

Irene just looked down at him, chuckling. "So much for going unnoticed!"

Biddy the house-elf was walking along a hall as well, but she was several floors higher. She had climbed all the way up the creaky, old stairs to the topmost floor of the Hesperus Mansion.

The halls were black as night, the empty doorways that stood on either side loomed over her small body. Most of the storm had blown itself out, but the rain kept falling across the western half of the British Isles.

It was much colder up here, she decided. No one usually came to the top floor, they were so busy with all of the other ones. Biddy herself wouldn't even have been up here, if it hadn't been for her suspicion that one of the windows was broken.

House-elves could, of course, just pop from one room to the next if they wanted. However, Biddy had only been living at the Mansion for a year. She couldn't possibly be expected to know the arrangement of room and furniture in just that short of time, and she didn't even know the layout of the fourth floor. She didn't want to pop right into a table, after all! So she went as high as she could remember, which was the third floor, then walked up the last staircase.

Biddy cocked her head to the side, listening. Her large ears were prone to catching the tiniest things. With them, she was able to tell whether there was any unwanted mouse or gnome in any quarter of the Mansion. Sure enough, she heard a faint banging that sounded like a door opening and closing by a draft…

She snapped her fingers and the candles in the brackets came to life. They crackled quite loudly for a bit, as if they hadn't been used in centuries, then settled down. With the hall lit, she set off down it, towards where she estimated the broken window to be.

When she was on the grounds a few hours ago --- when the fireworks were zooming about, and Mistress Irene and Master Balfour were yelling in the Greenhouse --- at first all she'd been able to see was Alexandra, leaning precariously out of the window. Biddy was just about to warn her about falling when a loud crash caught her attention. A Catherine Wheel collided into the large front window on the highest floor.

She'd forgotten all about it in the entire hullabaloo with Morgan, then Dumbledore, and then dinner. But now she was free, it was still there, and it needed fixing.

Though Biddy would much rather have had that firework crash on anything other than the fourth floor.

The cook was happy. She was marvelously happy, in fact. A towel slung over one shoulder, she set to bringing out pans and teaspoons and cups and other ingredients, whistling a merry tune all the while. She was making fudge.

She should be heading home, she knew. But tonight was Sunday night, which meant that her husband would be glued to the telly, watching the games. He wouldn't miss her.

Around her, ingredients were zooming out of the cupboards, stacking themselves on the counter. Sometimes she worked so vigorously that they bumped right into her head. But not tonight --- instead, they floated around with a sort of spring in them, as if dancing to her tune.

Dumbledore would be leaving soon, she knew, soon as he finished talking with the Baron. She wanted him to try some of her delicious dessert first, though. He'd never stayed for desserts before…he was in for a surprise, because tonight she felt like adding a twist. So, as she melted the chocolate and added more flour into the mix, she moved over to the cupboard on the far right, and started rummaging around. Then she found it.

"Ah-ha!" she said, turning the jar over in her hands. Raspberry jam. She chuckled, knowing that there was no possible way he would leave without at least trying some of this. The temptation would be far too great.

Yes…there was no doubt about it…Mistress Marmalaida Dunblane had him in the palm of her hand.

Dumbledore peered at the miniscule dot on his palm.

He was standing in the Baron's laboratory, which connected to his suite of rooms in the northeast parts of the Mansion on the second floor. Surrounding him were all sorts of odd instruments and diagrams relating to the complicated portions of plants. There were long tables pushed up against the wall with bits and parts of poisonous leaves, dissected fungus, enlarged roots, and plenty of other varieties of the plant species.

One wall was covered in windows, giving light to all its occupants. Yet another wall was shelved with dozens and dozens of books; Albus could read such titles as Flesh-Eating Trees of the World… Hopping Around the Horticulture of Europe…and Fundamental Fungi: Friend or Fiend?

"…You see, in a normal mushroom, there is a reproductive structure called the basidiumwhere the basidiosporesare produced," Lord Balfour was explaining patiently. "What you are looking at now is a piece of the gill that houses the basidia which, in turn, houses the spores."

Behind Lord Balfour, on the wall that held no other object, was an enormous painting. It was far larger than any other in the Hesperus Mansion, and it had a very sturdy yellow frame. At first glance, Albus thought the man in it to be Balfour himself, but...he leaned closer to look more closely at the tall, handsome man in bright blue robes, large dragon-hide gloves, and brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail. He could now see that this must be the great Beaumont Marjoribanks, Balfour's great-grandfather.

"Do you see the spores?" Balfour Marjoribanks asked beside his shoulder.

Albus peered closely at the little gill, then looked at Balfour and shook his head.

"That's because there aren't any!" Balfour answered. He threw up his hands, further proclaiming his frustration. "Each mushroom can produce over a billion spores, yet there isn't even one spore on here! There isn't any such thing, as far as I know, as a mushroom without a reproductive system. Instead, there is some sort of…substance…that I've never come across before underneath the cap of this one here----"

He broke off, massaging his temples. "The point of the matter, Dumbledore, is that this mushroom is the only one of its kind. I believe it may even be extinct, because it just doesn't match up with any other fungi in any of these." He tapped one of the numerous set of books on his desk.

Albus glanced down. The Encyclopedia of Toadstools sat beside three old and battered copies of One Thousand Magical Herb and Fungi…Mushrooms: the Common and the Uncommon…and The Britain Medical Guide for the Magical Botanist.

Balfour sat down hard in the wheeled chair behind him, setting his elbows on the table and putting his head in his hands.

Albus Dumbledore studied his former student. "It looks to me," he said slowly, "as if you could use some assistance."

Balfour looked up and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"

Hestia stared at the glowing embers. The front room, which had so recently held seven occupants, now housed just the one.

The fiery red hue lit her face in the dimmed room. The only other light came from two candles hanging on the wall. It was dark outside…very dark…and she was quite alone in this room, but she couldn't help thinking about what it was Biddy had said last…

Perhaps you wouldn't be so lonely if you had a Lot, too…

Lot had been Biddy's mate. It wasn't but four months after Hestia's parents' deaths when the two had entered Hogwarts. Since Biddy had sworn never to leave her side, arrangements were made and Biddy accompanied her to the castle. Biddy spent most of her time with the other house-elves in their quarters, and though she didn't really serve Hogwarts, she still cooked and cleaned with the others during that seven-year stay.

It was during that time that Biddy met Lot.

One of the coals shifted and there was a sparkle and a crack. Hestia drew her legs under her, not taking her eyes off the fireplace.

Perhaps you wouldn't be so lonely if you had a Lot, too…Hestia knew that that was Biddy's way of saying that she knew there was something missing in Hestia's life.

She gave a small snort of irony. How funny was it that she, Hestia Hesperus, world-known author with thousands of fans, and never seen without a friend beside her…was lonely? If anyone had a right to be as alone as she felt, it was Albus…

The poor man, she thought. There is only one person who has even come close to sharing half his intellect and that is Nicholas Flamel. He used to be part of an elite group back in the early nineteen hundreds…but he's the only one left of them, now.

I wonder what it must be like…living life as a solitaire…no one to really look up to at all…always trying to live up to everyone else's expectations.

How can he stand it all?

She smiled and shook her head, not even trying to fathom the mind of her dear, century-old friend.

But then again…she did know someone else who felt so alone going through a difficult time. Back when You-Know-Who was at the height of his power… he'd had only himself and his sister, both running from the wrath of this dark wizard. There was nowhere for him to hide…no one for him to turn to…except for the Muggles…

Within seconds, Hestia once again became engrossed inside the depths of her mind. She had returned to that scene at the docks with the lone young man searching for his newfound friends…

…But what happens next? How in Merlin's name is he able to…and the Death Eaters…why did they…and what about David? How does he get from one place to another without…well, without the obvious?

She sighed, frustrated. She hated being a writer. She hated it with a passion…all of these thoughts, all of these ideas and plots and riddles and puzzle pieces…all leading to nowhere!

"Why, oh why, oh why?" she muttered, recalling the lines of one of her favorite childhood Muggle characters.

She leaned back and looked up at the high ceiling; the intricate pattern etched across it reminded her forcefully of the choppy, rocking waves. They cut through the pasty marble, changing it into something quite remarkably like…

Peering up at it, she cocked her head to the side. It did…especially if you tilted your head to the side, and it was almost upside-down, then it almost did look like one of those Muggle contraptions…

She gasped. She had it…she knew what she could do. Mind you, it would take a bit to piece together, but if she played it right…

She had to look it up, to see if it was possible.

Dazed, with an absent-minded grin on her face, she hurried off to her library.

Everything else could wait.

A door slammed. There came a shrill sound, like the tinkling of breaking glass. Biddy glanced edgily over her shoulder, but the hallway was empty…nothing was there.

Then she saw it. In a large, empty place --- it looked like it used to be some sort of ballroom --- there was an enormous window on the far wall with more than half of the glass scattered around the dusty floor.

Biddy picked her way through the debris, studying the window. There was no way to tell whether all of the pieces were there…not when the damage was done with this much force. She couldn't just snap her fingers and have it be completely new again…if there was something missing…or even worse, what if there was a piece behind her? It would have to go through her body to return to the window.

Lightning flashed off in the distance, signifying the last of the storm. Outside, the rain dripped idly down. Biddy glanced out onto the darkened grounds…then froze.

Right beside the outside gate, next to the black, empty road, was two figures. One was far shorter than the other, muffled in a bulky cloak, but the other was definitely a man, speaking in a soft, low voice.

Biddy's ears tensed. She listened, hard. That voice…it sounded faintly familiar. Where'd she heard it before? She racked her mind for several minutes, ending up with nothing.

The man outside pulled something very small out of his cloak and gave it to the much shorter figure. The latter received it and said something in a deep grumble.

Biddy gasped. She knew who --- or rather, what --- the shorter one was…and it could only mean trouble.

Just then, both of them stopped talking and sharply turned their heads.

They were looking right at her.

In a room with a large bed, a partial family was gathered. They would talk quietly, some would even shriek with laughter…after which, they were almost immediately hushed by the other, quieter members.

However, they hadn't been gathered but five minutes when the last of them came in, rubbing her sleepy little eyes, her golden hair spread about her like a halo. Immediately she crawled under the covers with the rest of her brothers and sister, nestled onto her daddy's lap, and nuzzled her head into his chest, beside her mother's own golden head.

"And then what happened?" Dad whispered.

"And then Aunt Hestia came!" Alexandra said, her cheeks flushed. "The thunder grumbled and the lightning flashed in every direction, and the doors flew open! And we jumped! But…I wasn't frightened. Toby was, though! His eyes got big and his eyebrows flew up --- like they do when he's scared, you know, they go into this sort of arch----"

"They do not!" Toby protested. "And I was not, either!"

Alexa smiled sweetly and patted her brother's arm. "Oh, don't worry, Tobe…we believe you. Honestly!"

Tobias just scowled at her before grumbling at the bed sheets. His sister turned back to their father. "And then, oh you'll never guess what happened next, Dad! But she came striding in, holding Vanny, who was all wet and shivering --- poor baby! --- and she went right up to Dumbledore, looking him right in the eyes, and said----" Her eyes sparkled as she drew in her breath. But just before she was about to repeat what exactly it was her aunt had said in the most uncanny impersonation, she was interrupted.

"Alright, alright, Alexa, we don't need a play-by-play!" Irene said, hastily. She saw her daughter's expression, and knew that this conversation would go on all night if Alexandra wanted it to.

Alexandra let out her breath and pouted. Daddy reached over and kissed her on the head. "Maybe another time," he said, "But for right now, Mummy and I need to tell you all something."

Immediately, the children's ears perked up. "What? You need to tell us what?" Alexa said.

"Di' we get a…a…di' we get a new bafftub?" Evander asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

Mum chortled. "A bathtub? What on earth, Evan?"

Alexandra scrutinized her mother. "You're not havin' another baby again, are you, Mum?"

"Ha!" Tobias guffawed. "Then there'll be three boys and only two girls!"

"How d'you know it'll be a boy?" Alexandra asked, affronted. "It could be a girl, you know. We aren't all that extinct!"

"That's what you said last time, Lex! And look what happened to this shrimp!" He plopped his hand down onto his little brother's head, messing up his hair.

Morgan suddenly squealed. "Ooh! I know! It's a unitorn! You bought me a unitorn! Is it outside, Daddy? Can I see it right now, Daddy? Hmm?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Mory, that's impossible."Tobiassaid conversationally. "Daddy can't catch one! He's just can't run fast enough!"

Their father let out a roar of laughter. "Now wait just one minute! Everyone just hold on to their Sickles, alright?"

They swiveled in their seats to look over at him.

He raised an appraising eye over them. "That's better. Now, number one: Evan, we are not getting another bathtub, we already have three."

"But one's being used for my chizpurfle establishme----" Tobias began.

"Number two!" Dad glared at him. "Alexandra, your mother is not pregnant, and----"

"Actually, John…" Irene said, quietly.

Biddy gave a small squeak of alarm and popped in her fright. Immediately, the horror of she had just done hit her. She had vanished without a destination. That meant that wherever she was traveling right now was a place based on her fear.

A split second later, she reappeared, but just where, she had no idea. She was standing in complete darkness. Whereas before there had been moonlight and candle flames, now she couldn't even see her ears in front of her face.

Drip…drip…drip…

Biddy stiffened. She snapped her fingers, and a small ball of fire appeared in her hand. Holding it out in front of her, she looked around cautiously. She seemed to be in some kind of…tunnel. The floor looked like it was just dirt, but she could feel stone slabs underneath. And the walls…they were so grimy and moist that it was hard to tell.

She didn't know what to do…she could pop right into the living room, or even go all the way back up to the fourth floor (she thought that "up" was the right direction, anyway…she had a suspicion that this was the lowest point of the Mansion). That window needed to be fixed sooner or later…she'd just rather it be later, such as when it was sunny and bright, and those two…people…weren't there anymore.

But, on the other hand, this Mansion was her mistress's and Biddy felt rather uneasy about the fact that there was a portion of it she did not know about. If the magical enchantments covered the Mansion like a dome…they would stop at the grounds, which meant that something could tunnel far under the earth and come up…

Here.

Her enormous brown eyes peered cautiously through the darkness, down the long tunnel on her right. Somehow, it just seemed…friendlier in this direction then the one behind her.

She took a deep breath, twitched her ears forward, and held her ball of fire in front of her. Courage gathered, and wits drawn in about her, she took a timid step forward, then another, and walked deeper into the tunnel.

Meanwhile, a dozen feet above her, a lone figure was sitting at a desk, oblivious to the world around her.

Hestia was writing furiously. Her eyes were alight with determination, her hand was red from being in the same cramped position, and her mind focused vividly on one single thing --- the climax of her story. Wonderful ideas poured out of her, like juice slowly squeezed from a lemon. They engulfed her every being, ensnared her every senses, entwined her very soul until she was no more than a knot of brambles.

She could spare no thought or emotion for what was happening around her. All she cared about was getting it down on paper in the most refined way possible. The world could have flooded, the library could have blown up around her…what care had she for the simple things of the world? For the universe she had created inside the depths of her mind was much too glorious for reality.

Why, even if Albus Dumbledore himself were to prance into the library, she wouldn't even have known. Unless, of course, he ----

"Aaauuugghh!" Hestia gave a strangled yell and jerked up.

"Gracious me!" said Albus with mirth obvious in his voice. "Who could have known that neck massages gave witches heart attacks?"

Hestia took a deep breath, telling her body to calm down. Nothing's wrong…you're not being attacked, no one wants to kill you…though I wouldn't say the same for him!

She smiled sourly up at him. "But as you very well know, Albus, I am not most witches."

Albus studied her. "Perhaps a bit too bitter for my taste, wouldn't you agree, Balfour?"

Hestia heard Balfour's deep laugh from the doorway. "Yes, she can be rather sour at times, but I can put up with her. Perhaps one of the very few who can!" he said smugly.

Hestia's eyes glittered with mischief, but Balfour, unfortunately, could not see it. Neither could he see the tip of her wand move ever so slightly, but he certainly could taste the consequence a split second later. There was no ignoring the bitterest taste he'd ever come in contact with, which was now filling his mouth.

He jumped backwards with a muffled yelp, and the frothing bubbles filling his mouth to the brim sloshed onto the floor. Albus chuckled at the sight of him, while Hestia smiled sweetly.

"Is that sour enough for you?" she asked.

John stared at his wife.

"I meant to tell you sooner, honestly," Irene finished weakly, "But we kept on being interrupted, what with the…er…" She glanced over at the kids, who all looked awestruck. "----The thing I had to talk with you about at the hospital, and then, what with the window breaking and that mushroom exploding and all…there were just more important things," she said.

"Oh, honey!" John wrapped his arms around her and kissed her nose. "There's nothing more important than you and our children. Even if one of them I haven't met yet!" He gave a foolish grin and leaned down to smack a noisy kiss on his wife's belly. The children giggled and took this as the perfect opportunity to bounce on the bed and all talk at the same time.

"A baby! A baby!" Morgan shrieked. "I love babies! Carrie-Down-The-Street has a little baby brother, and she says he's the cutest, most yummiest, most --- most huggy baby there is!"

Evander squirmed until he was right beside his mother, then he too began covering her stomach with five-year-old kisses. Irene couldn't stop laughing. It really tickled her when he did that.

"Is it a boy or girl? A little man or a little woman? Male or female? Masculine or femini----?"

"Merlin, Toby! She wouldn't know yet! Stop being so annoying!" Alexandra scolded, then turned to her dad, "But that wasn't all you were going to tell us, were you, Daddy? You said that both you and Mum had to tell us something, not just Mum."

John leaned back onto his pillows, still winded about the fact that he was going to be the father of five children. "Wha----?" Irene elbowed him. "Oh…yes…er, your mother and I were talking, and we think it would be best for all of us to leave for the Rookery tomorrow morning."

At once, there was an uproar of complaints.

"Tomorrow? In the morning?" Alexandra's voice rose in a whine.

"Bu' can't we stay and----" Tobias started.

"No," John said shortly.

"Bu' Daddy! What about my baby plants? Who's gonna take care of them? Who's gonna feed them? An' love them? An' sing to them? I ain't got no other unitorn babies in the world!" Morgan cried, her cheeks flushed and her eyes suddenly a lot more blue --- the two guarantees for another crying fit.

"Oh, my little fairy." John drew her in and kissed the top of her curls. "What about your little garden at home, eh? I bet your petunias miss you whole great big bunches! And those little yellow roses are probably blooming right about now as well…you wouldn't want to miss it, now would you?"

Mournfully, his youngest daughter shook her head.

Evan sat on his mother's lap, watching the interchange with his thumb stuck in his mouth. He was very glad they were going home…he missed it a lot. Of course he loved his aunt, and Uncle Balfour, and Marmie, and even Old William very , very much, and he loved exploring with his brother and sisters, too…but he just liked home. That's all.

"Mummy?" he asked quietly. When she turned to look at him, he put his hands on her cheeks and lowered her head until they were eye to eye.

"Yes, Vanny?" She asked him seriously.

"'Fyou've got a baby in your tummy, then does tha' mean tha' I can't be your baby anymores?" He looked sadly at her.

"Oh, darling!" She smothered his face with kisses, making him giggle. "Of course you'll still be my baby! You'll always be my baby, sweets, and don't let anyone ever tell you any different, okay?"

He nodded, then yawned sleepily. A lull came into the group huddled close together on the bed as the children tried desperately hard to blink back their tiredness. There were a few more whispered conversations, and one more bicker between the twins, who were trying to decide on whether it who would be the first to wake up at night. Alexandra said it would most likely be her because Toby --- with his tossing and turning --- would probably kick her in his sleep. Tobias, on the other hand, was convinced that Alexandra would spend another dream-filled night walking around the room and waking him up.

Dad spoiled this argument by saying that he didn't care who woke up, as long as they left him and Mum well enough alone.

Finally, at five minutes to twelve o'clock, the last of them drifted off. John and Irene lay in the midst of a tangle of arms and legs and held each other's hands.

"A baby," John whispered lovingly. "We're going to have another baby!"

Irene chuckled softly. "Yes, dear."

"How far along are you? I mean, when did we…"

"I…it's hard to tell for now, but I feel as if I'm around…eleven or…twelve weeks?" She furrowed her brow.

John smiled dreamily, then shook his head and calculated quickly. "So…around December? Close to my birthday?"

Irene's eyes twinkled. She knew how much her husband wanted to share birthdays with one of the children. Morgan hadn't been quite there yet when she was born, and Evan bypassed it completely.

"Perhaps," she answered. "She might even be born on Christmas! Mmm…I'm not too sure I want that, though…"

John sat up. Alexandra, who had her head on his stomach, moaned and turned over. "Sh-sh-she? You mean it's a girl?"

"I'm not for sure yet, so don't get any ideas, you! So far, this pregnancy has been a lot closer to Morgan's though. So I'm guessing."

"Can the Healer tell what it is yet, though? Or is it still too soon?"

"Mmm…" Irene thought, "Well, I haven't really been sick at all, unlike when I was pregnant with the twins and Evan, but I haven't broken out yet, like I did with Mory, either. I'd say give it another week or so and it'll be safe to see a Healer."

"How about Andie?" John asked immediately. "She specializes in these sort of things----"

"----You mean in women's uteruses?"

"----And your previous two Healers have already retired, so…" John trailed off expectantly.

"So, I think it's far too early to decide on who should deliver the baby, John! She might not even be available, anyway."

John made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded remarkably like he was just about to whine.

Irene made a face at him. "You only want her because you had a crush on her at school!"

John immediately went on the defensive. "I did not!"

She glared sideways at him.

"Erm…alright…I did…but that does not mean that she isn't the best, and you know I only want you to go to the best! Besides," he sneaked a glance at her. "D'you honestly believe that I would bring my wife into the delivery room, while she's in labor, and start hitting on the married Healer while my baby's being born?"

Irene laughed. "It has happened before, you know! You definitely wouldn't be the first."

John grinned and kissed her soundly. "Good."

For another minute, they were completely occupied with each other, until John abruptly broke away and sniffed.

"What's that smell?" he asked. "It smells like something bloody delicious!"

He got out of bed and wondered to the hallway, sniffing the entire time. Irene gave him a good whack on the head as she disentangled herself from her sleeping children as well. "It had better be if you forsake me for it!" she said in affronted tones, following him down the hall.

He seemed not to have heard her, however, as a satisfied smile broke out across his face. "We Rosier men always knows when something is cooking, Irene, mark my words! And my delectable sniffer tells me that it is indeed the very smell of homemade fudge…with a twist!"

Irene rolled her eyes as she descended the stairs behind the "Sniffer".

"With a twist"? And he calls himself a genius! How can you tell the difference between regular fudge and fudge "with a twist"?

She snorted with laughter.

Men!

Biddy stopped. She smelled something…and it was coming in this direction…

She peered down a corridor that led off to her right.

It smelled really good…most definitely a dessert…and there was no doubt about the cooking being Marmie's.

She heard a faint cry sounding down the dark tunnel she had been about to enter. She pricked her ears, but the aroma of fresh fudge was too great.

She smiled, and shook her head. Curiosity could wait. She had a plate of yummies with her name on it, and she wasn't about to pass it up.

She turned right and hurried up the sloping floor.

Thus it was in the gorgeous front room that they gathered once again that night. The fire nearly burst with excitement at being the only source of light in the dim room. The ceiling stretched high above them, its choppy, intricate engravement dancing in the firelight's glow.

They all talked and laughed, the two Rosiers, the two keepers of the Hesperus Mansion, the house-elf, the Baron, and the Headmaster. Far above them came the soft snores of the children, who had fallen asleep at last after the three times they'd been put to bed. All was quiet and dark outside, and the night thankfully devoid of any mysterious beings lurking outside the Mansion's gates...

He watched as the goblin left with a cold grin on his face. His customer was satisfied, the package had been delivered, and he himself had a pleasant visit he had yet to make. All was well with the world. Of course,he had failed abysmally this afternoon and he knew he would have to pay in blood...

But it was worth giving up his life or more in order to accomplish what he was planning.

He chuckled softly at the twisted images springing up in his mind, then he drew his cloak about him and started of down the street. It wasn't as good as his other cloak, but it would do. In less than a few months, why, he would be able to havehis pick of the best!

But not quite yet, he reminded himself. First you're going to need to find a new place to live. The Rookery's owners are coming back in the morning and you have to have all of yourstuff moved out by then. They'll never be able to tell the difference.

After all, you're only the best!

To any normal observer, itlooked as ifthe mysterious man had just vanished into midair. To the magical witch or wizard, however, he had simply used the instant means totravel from one place to another. And, of course, to a certain witchwho went by the name ofHestia Hesperus, it was thisvery wizard who would be thecause of so muchchange inher future...and he had just Disapparated from outside of her window.

She couldn't know that this man was not as he first appeared. And, of course, she couldn't possibly be expected to know that it was this very same man whom she had met before, both in real life...and in the realms of her Fore-token Orb.

For thiswizard had around him the very outline of a mysterious man.

Meanwhile, in the Mansion, there was burst of joyful laughter.

The fudge was brought out, and a hint of raspberry scented the air. One of the four wizards shot a triumphant look at his wife, while the eldest of the group perked up and eyed the plate of fudge with a gleam in his eye.

And it wasn't long after that when a sudden hush filled the group as a woman walked in, the very essence of happiness, with a manuscript in hand. The dim light danced across half her face, leaving the other in a dusky glow. Her eyes shone with a hidden secret that she was simply bursting to tell them. She took a deep breath and looked around at them all.

"I've finished it!" was all she said, but the words carried such weight that a tingle went through the wizards and witches gathered on the red and golden couches. They all looked up at her, a smile on their faces, silently encouraging her to open the small book to the front page and read them her delightful story.

She cleared her throat, her fingers trembling, and felt the rough edges of the delightfully thick parchments, relishing in the feel of a fully complete book.

"The Tempest," she read aloud, the emerald ink glinting in slanted letters off the title page. "Written by Hestia Hesperus in the summer of nineteen hundred and ninety-one."

She glanced up as those around her quickly situated themselves comfortably. Her beloved friends and family all looked up at her, ready to listen to her delightful tale of adventure, friendship, bravery, and love.

For one lingering moment, she captured their faces in her mind, their smiles, their selves, and promised to remember this forever. Then, with their quiet nods beckoning her on, she turned the page and began to read…

" 'Sir, I invite your highness and your train to my poor cell, where you shall take your rest for this one night; which, part of it, I'll waste, with such discourse as I, not doubt, shall make it go quick away. The story of my life and the particular accidents gone by since I came to this isle…'"

Author's Note: Thus, the beginning tale of my series is ended. And thus it will be continued in a few months' time, but shall be under the new name of "A Wizard's Tale"...unless I should find another title more befitting.

Thank you so much, all of your reviewers! (Namely, Whydoyouneedtoknow, Mistress Editor, Scott, and Rosie).

In a week (or more, or less) I will post the prologue of a new story "The Tempest". It has nothing whatsoever to do with the Rosiers or the Hesperus' or the Mansion. It takes place in Somerset, England on the eve of October 30,1981.

I hope you all have enjoyed this chapter. It's one of my favorites! Good luck on your own stories, and give Anne Walsh a good pat on the back for beta-ing for me!

Cheers!

Love, Hestia