The Return

"Professor?" Harry whispered incredulously, leaping off the bed. He approached the woman. "Professor, what are you doing here?"

Grace thought she saw his eyes flicker to her for a second before they turned back to the woman.

"Harry?" she said uncertainly.

"There's no time to explain here," said the woman. She had black hair pulled tightly into a bun and a stern face. "We had to use an unregistered Portkey, Professor Dumbledore has just been looking through the name book …"

"The name …?"

"Potter, there's no time," the woman with black hair insisted. She picked up one of Sarah's baby books from the desk. "This will have to do," she muttered. She pulled out a funny looking stick and pointed it at the book, which flashed blue for a second, then returned to normal.

"Harry!"

Grace stood up, afraid of what was going to happen.

"Are we leaving now?" Harry asked.

"Yes, now, come on, quickly, we've got ten seconds. You too, girl, don't sit there staring!"

"But Professor, she's a-" Harry started to say as he grabbed hold of a corner of the book.

"I-"

"Just touch the book," the woman said. "Hurry," she added. "We've only got a few more seconds …"

Grace sat motionless on the bed, unable to move.

The woman sighed impatiently and grabbed her hand. Grace had a sudden unpleasant feeling of something jerking at her someplace in the region of her stomach, and then the room dissolved around her.

They were nowhere; the three of them were flying through a world of color …

And then they landed. Harry grabbed onto Grace's sweater to stop her from falling. She straightened up and stared around at their new surroundings.

It was a dirty, grungy neighborhood, one Grammy would never have approved of. Grace wondered for a moment how high the crime level was, but not for long.

The dark-haired woman gathered her and Harry closer to her own body. She kept the stick out and reached into her pocket. After a few moments she produced a piece of paper, which she thrust into Grace's chest.

"Read it and memorize quickly," she whispered.

Grace looked at the thick paper. In thin, spidery handwriting it read:

"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmould Place, London."

"I-" she began, but the woman grabbed the paper back from her.

"Think over what you've just read," she whispered hurriedly.

Grace did so, bewildered. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmould

She gave a quick gasp as a house materialized in front of them. If she squinted slightly, she could read the number on the door. 12.

"Professor, I didn't want –" Harry began, but the woman cut him off again.

"I know and I'm sorry, but there was no other place we could talk, in now, hurry!"

She pushed the children through the door, using her stick to lock it behind her.

Sticks … Grace stared at the woman's stick … she had seen something like it before, in Grammy's house … she could remember asking Grammy about it, but Grammy hadn't wanted to say …

Something clicked in her mind. Wands.

Wands were sticks, and only witches and wizards used wands.

Something must have dawned on her face, because the woman said, "Yes, that's right, child. Professor Dumbledore's waiting down in the kitchen, Harry, could you …?"

"Sure," he said. There was definitely something sad in his voice this time, but Grace barely registered it.

"Harry, she's a witch!"

"I know," he said. "That's one of my teachers."

"You – you're a witch too?"

Harry chuckled. "A wizard, Grace. I'm a wizard."

Grace stared blankly at the floor as they walked, barely aware of where Harry was taking her. It was obvious Harry had been here before. He led her down a stone flight of stairs that opened up into a large, underground kitchen.

The only person in the room was an old man with a long beard and sparkling blue eyes. He seemed to be waiting for them. Grace's hazel eyes and the man's blue ones connected, and she let out a small, frightened smile.

"Ah, so Professor McGonagall got you both here all right. Welcome to headquarters, Grace," the man said.

"How'd you …?"

"Don't worry about it," Harry said. "Professor Dumbledore knows everything …" He wasn't smiling. And there it was again, that strange sadness and sarcasm underlying his words.

"Harry," said the man. Dumbledore. He walked the short distance that separated them and pulled Harry into a tight embrace. Harry stiffened and pulled away.

"Still human, then," Dumbledore said happily. Harry looked very much like he wanted to say something, but he looked down at Grace and closed his mouth.

Then he spoke again, but she was sure it wasn't what he had wanted to say. "Professor, what's she doing here?"

"Have a seat, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You too, Grace. I have a lot to tell you both and not much time. You will have to be back at your aunt's house in a few hours."

"But sir, I thought that-" Harry began.

"No, Harry, it is not time for you to leave yet. A few more weeks and then we'll see.

"Now, this afternoon I decided to check the name book in my office. The name book," Dumbledore said, seeing the look on Harry's face, "records all the magical children born. Every summer, it lists those who will join Hogwarts that year, along with their addresses. I had intended to send out school letters to all the students with tomorrow's post.

"I was looking at this book when I saw a certain name, a name I had been watching carefully for, for many years now. What surprised me even more was the current address listed for this child."

Dumbledore looked directly into Grace's eyes.

"Grace Potter."

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AN: Now, honestly, how many of you guessed that was coming? I thought it was pretty obvious, but hey, I'm the author! Let me know what you thought when you REVIEW!!!! Thank you. I really do appreciate it. This is me when I get a review yay! I got one, now I have ... FIVE whole reviews! Yippee! Did you like Dumbledore's font?

Disclaimer: Nothing in this story belongs to me, except Grace and her story. The rest belongs to wonderful and amazingly talented JK Rowling.