"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"

"Yes, Remus, do come in." Dumbledore set aside the scroll he'd been studying, motioning to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "I hear things are going well with your classes? Always excepting that incident with young Draco Malfoy the other day."

"I count myself lucky that it manifested in a form I was able to stop." Remus took a seat, careful to keep the memories of that visit to his office tucked in the back of his mind. "Children will have these eruptions of magic from time to time, all the more if they haven't been well-taught how to govern their tempers. I've spoken with Draco about it, and I'm sure Pomona has as well. Depending on what she puts in his reports, his parents might even have a few words to say on the matter."

"And yet, I have a strange suspicion that to the young wizard in question, the opinion of those three which matters the most is your own." Dumbledore met Remus's eyes levelly. "Would you agree?"

"Students do sometimes form strong bonds with teachers who interest them, or with whom they feel safe and protected." Remus began to smile, seeing the twinkle deep in Dumbledore's eyes. "But somehow I don't think that's quite what you mean, Headmaster."

"It is not. Though if I understand the matter correctly, we must discuss the subject with care, lest we trigger unpleasant consequences." Dumbledore awaited Remus's nod before continuing. "In that case, let us make it a discussion of dreams. I have had some over the last few years which fascinated me, to the point where I began keeping a dream journal. As I awaken, I immediately record what I recall, and occasionally supplement those recollections by examining the memories in question through my Pensieve." He let his eyes drift to the shallow stone basin on a far shelf in the office. "Do you by any chance keep a similar record?"

"I do. If you'll allow?" Remus went to one knee when Dumbledore gestured for him to continue. "House-elf, please," he said to the air.

"Master Remus!" With a loud crack, a beaming female house-elf appeared next to him, hastily straightening her tea-towel kilt. "Kady is so pleased to see Master again!"

"It's nice to see you too, Kady." Remus held out two fingers, which were gravely shaken by the house-elf. "Would you mind going to my quarters and bringing me the little brown notebook on the nightstand by my bed?"

"Right away, Master Remus!" Kady disappeared again, and Remus returned to his chair.

"You always did have a rapport with the Hogwarts house-elves," Dumbledore remarked. "I believe certain of your friends were envious of your knack for obtaining what you actually wanted, rather than precisely what you had asked for."

Remus chuckled. "That's only because James set all their backs up in second year with that prank on the Slytherin table's serving platters. I did try to tell him he might want to trigger it from somewhere else, but he never was very good at listening…" Another loud crack cut off his reminiscence. "Ah, excellent. Thank you, Kady."

"Welcome, Master Remus." Kady passed over the notebook. "Is Master Remus needing anything else? Or Professor Dumbledore, sir?"

"Just my usual afternoon tea, if you would be so good, Kady. With service for two, of course." Dumbledore inclined his head to the house-elf, who curtsied and vanished once more. "So, to our discussion. Would it be fair to say that a majority of people who appear both in your dream life and in this world we inhabit are relatively similar in their two incarnations?"

"Far more similar than they have any right to be, in some cases. Though I believe I've met the reason for a part of that." Remus smiled reminiscently. "I must congratulate both you and Hogwarts on surviving seven years of Nymphadora Tonks relatively intact."

"Miss Tonks seldom went out of her way to find trouble, although trouble did seem to find her with alarming regularity." Dumbledore nodded, with a faint smile of his own. "Still, as you have said yourself, we survived. And now, her young cousin has joined us here, and seems determined to follow in her footsteps, even to being Sorted into her House rather than the one which is most common for his family."

"I hope that doesn't cause him problems at home." Remus looked down at his dream journal. "He may be only my student, but I can't help but worry for him."

"If I understand correctly, things are relatively safe for him in that regard at the moment. And should that change, I believe that I will have some amount of warning, and will surely share it with you." Dumbledore opened a drawer of his desk, taking out a small notebook of his own. "Now, if we might turn to a different subject, the evening of Halloween. In our own waking world, one of your fellow professors was injured by a person or persons unknown on that night. Whereas in the world of my dreams…"

"I'd been wondering if you were going to ask about that." Remus traced the knotwork design on the journal's cover with a finger. "Perhaps the strangest thing about these dreams, to me, has always been how very ordinary they are. One would think a wizard's dreams would be filled with impossibilities. Instead, until a few months ago, I dreamed of a life that even most Muggles would be relatively unsurprised to live. And then…" He turned his head to gaze at the floor, as though he could see through stone and earth to a corridor several stories below. "And then."

"Indeed an unexpected guest at the Halloween feast, or perhaps I should say a pair of guests." Dumbledore's face was grave. "I wonder, Remus, if you have anything you wish to tell me, about that night in our own world."

Remus let his eyes rest on the cover of his dream journal once more, then opened it and retrieved the piece of parchment he had tucked inside. "I received this on the first of November," he said, leaning forward to lay it on Dumbledore's desk. "Written by DictaQuill, so I couldn't tell you who it's from. But it lines up a little too well for my liking." He raised his eyes to meet Dumbledore's. "You asked me a question, the day we met at the Three Broomsticks to discuss my joining the teaching staff. I have an answer for you now."

"And that answer is?"

"No." Remus shook his head. "No, I don't trust him at all."


"You know, that really is a very ugly hat," said Hermione in a thoughtful tone, looking at the gaudy orange knitted creation Harry had donned, along with his warmest cloak, before joining his friends in the Quidditch stands.

"You're ashamed to be seen with him, stairs are over there." Ron pointed a mittened thumb in the general direction he meant.

Hermione sniffed. "I never said that."

"What do you think of Gryffindor's chances today, Harry?" asked Draco before Ron could escalate things any farther, warming his hands over the bluebell fire Hermione had conjured inside an empty jam jar one of the house-elves had found for her. "New Seeker, but the rest of the side's pretty well seasoned, had a chance to come together and shake out the kinks, even if a couple of them were just reserves last year…"

"Fred and George say Wood's been working them hard, so we've got a shot at least." Harry looked around the little group. "Going to get awkward any time our Houses are playing anyone other than Slytherin, isn't it?"

"Problem for another day," said Ron, lunging to one side and catching Trevor as he attempted to make a leap for freedom. "Here you go, Neville. Ever thought of looking into a toad-harness?"

"I tried." Neville shook his head, taking his pet back. "Nobody makes any."

"Maybe you should make one for yourself," suggested Hermione. "We'll help, if you like."

"That'd be great," Neville began, but broke off with a little squeak as cheering rose around them. The two teams had emerged from the locker rooms, Gryffindor in scarlet, Slytherin in green. Orion bared his teeth and growled softly at the Slytherin team, before breaking off with a breathy huff like a laugh.

"And the teams take the field," Lee Jordan's voice boomed out across the stadium. "A special welcome to the newest member of the Gryffindor team today, Seeker Rosie McGann, replacing their former star Charlie Weasley, now off chasing dragons instead of Snitches—his brothers Fred and George still with us, of course, a very fine pair of Beaters for Gryffindor, and their skill is sure to be needed today, defending their teammates against the foul play common from the Slytherin team—"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor—Madam Hooch on the field now, signaling for start of play. Bludgers away—Snitch away—Chasers at the ready—"

The whistle shrilled through the air, and fifteen brooms rose into the skies.

Quidditch, as Harry had expected from everything Ron had said about it, was a hectic game to watch, with broomsticks and balls in constant motion up and down the field. The biggest cluster of movement always centered around the Quaffle, but the Beaters made little darts of opposition here and there as they defended their own teammates from the Bludgers and pounded them towards those wearing the opposing color. Terence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, stayed in the thick of things much of the time, while Rose McGann of Gryffindor had chosen to fly high above the action, a choice Harry thought he would have made for himself as well.

"And it's Slytherin with the Quaffle now, Chaser Adrian Pucey for Slytherin, ducks a Bludger, a Weasley, and has a clear fly towards the goal, just him and Gryffindor Keeper Wood—Pucey shoots but Wood tips it away, nice save by the Gryffindor Keeper, and now it's Katie Bell with the Quaffle, Chaser Katie Bell for Gryffindor, headed back up the field with Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint hot on her twigs—Bludger incoming, but that is blocked, nice interception by the other Weasley—by the way, if anyone knows how to tell them apart, please see me after the match, there's ten Galleons in it for you—"

"Jordan!"

Harry glanced over at Draco, who was smirking. "You going to take him up on that?" he asked under the noise of the crowd.

"Nah." Draco shook his head. "More useful to have blackmail in reserve for them, in case we ever need it."

"Fair point." Harry turned back to the match, frowning as a flicker of motion caught his eye. "Hey, look over there," he said, pointing towards the Slytherin goalposts. "Is that—"

A few rows away, someone screamed.

Harry spun, his attention pulled away from the match, as more screams joined the first one. People were jumping onto benches, snatching out their wands, shoving towards the stairs, shouting for prefects and teachers—

"Look out, it went under the seats!"

"Be careful, it went in between the sections!"

"What's it?" Ron asked, peering towards the source of the sounds.

"Er, Ron?" Neville's voice shot up higher than usual as he stared at something on the floor of the stands. "Maybe don't move."

Ron looked down, and his face drained of color. Hermione pressed her hand over her mouth. Orion interposed himself between Ron and Draco.

A wedge-shaped head on a sinuous body poked out from under the hem of Ron's robes.

Taking a deep breath for courage, Harry dropped down into a crouch, summoning one of his most distant memories of his life as Henry, a talent discovered by accident in his mother's vegetable garden on a warm summer evening. Orion eyed him dubiously, but then snorted once, as if granting permission.

"Hello," said Harry, the sound coming out as a soft, breathy hiss. Ron made a small whimpering sound as the snake's head turned to focus on Harry. "You're scaring my friend." He extended his arm. "Would you mind coming over here instead?"

The snake flicked its tongue, considering. "Your friend is warm," it responded, its speech sluggish in the way Henry had come to expect from snakes that were too chilled to think clearly. "I do not like the cold."

"Nobody does. But if you come with me, I can take you somewhere warm." Harry edged a little closer, sensing rather than seeing Hermione and Draco sidling together to block the view of what he was doing from anyone else in the stands. "A human there will give you prey to eat. Will you come?"

For one long moment, the snake hesitated—Orion's lips were pulling away from his teeth, Hermione's hand was in her wand pocket, Neville was glancing fearfully back and forth between the little tableau and the source of an officious voice nearby—

"You do not smell like fear." The snake sampled the air with its tongue once more. "And you are also warm. I will come." Slithering out from under Ron's robes, it climbed up Harry's outstretched arm and disappeared under his cloak just in time as Professor Lupin and Percy descended the stairs towards them.

"Everything all right over here?" asked Percy, looking from Ron's white face to Neville's trembling hands. "What in the world has been going on?"

"We're not sure." Hermione shook her head. "There was just a lot of screaming, and it startled everyone. But I think we're all right now."

"Yeah," croaked Ron, nodding jerkily. "Be fine now."

"If you're sure." Professor Lupin turned to go, then paused. "Here," he said, removing a rectangular item from his pocket and handing it to Draco, who was nearest. "If anyone needs a bit of bolstering."

"Thanks, Professor." Draco pulled the wrapper off what Harry could now see was a bar of chocolate and began snapping off pieces, handing them around. "None for you," he scolded Orion, smacking away an inquisitive muzzle. "You know better than that."

Orion lay down on the floor of the stands, pouting.


"So where'd this fella come from, then?" asked Hagrid in his hut, peering at the snake where it lay contentedly in the bottom of a bucket, a bulge in its middle testifying to the whereabouts of the mouse he'd provided. "Too cold fer his sort to be out an' about, they oughta be hibernatin' by now…"

"I suppose someone could have conjured it." Hermione was gazing out one of Hagrid's windows towards the stadium, where the Quidditch match was still going on. "That sounds like something the Slytherins would think was funny, to see if they could scare the younger students with it."

"Worked a treat on me." Ron took another bite from his third piece of chocolate, most of his color now restored. "So how come you never told us you're a Parselmouth?" he inquired of Harry.

"It never came up." Harry shrugged. "Not exactly something there's a call for every day of the week."

"What's a Parselmouth?" asked Neville from his place near the hearth, where Trevor was basking contentedly in the heat the fire was putting out.

"Someone who can understand snakes, and talk to them in their own language." Hermione turned away from the window. "Supposedly Salazar Slytherin could do it, and that's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a snake. All the Founders had a special talent, really, Slytherin's is just the best known…"

"Hang on, I had to study this last year. Let me see if I can remember it." Draco held up his hand. "Helga Hufflepuff was talented with plants. She could make seeds sprout or flowers bloom on command. Maybe you're related to her, what do you think?" he asked Neville, whose eyes widened. "Godric Gryffindor never got burned, to the point where he could touch fire, like picking it up with his bare hands. No Flame-Freezing Charm, either, and not one of the special ones like you do," he added to Hermione. "And Rowena Ravenclaw could heal wounds and illnesses wandlessly, though she probably doesn't have any descendants left today who could use her power. Her daughter died before she had any kids, and her son was a Squib."

"Descendants?" Ron repeated, looking intrigued. "So you mean if Neville really was related to Hufflepuff, like her seventeen-times-great-grandson or something, maybe he could make plants grow just by wanting to?"

"He could." Hagrid chuckled. "Matter o' fact, you've all met someone who kin do one o' those things Mal was just listin' off—" He stopped short, a concerned look coming over his face. "I shouldn'ta told yeh that. Forget I said it, would yeh? Not my place ter tell."

"Pick up fire with his bare hands." Harry started to smile. "I saw someone do that, just a couple weeks ago…"

"Oh, shut up." Draco glared at him. "It was bad enough having to apologize to Smith in front of the entire House, do you really have to rub it in too?"

"That's not what he meant and you know it." Hermione reached across to snap off another piece of chocolate from the much-diminished bar Draco was still holding. "But that's who you meant, isn't it, Hagrid? I'm quite sure I've seen Professor Lupin touching things that ought to have been too hot for him to handle."

"Well, if yeh already know." Hagrid nodded. "That's who it is, all right. Not sure if it's related ter those old stories about Gryffindor or not, but Remus always had a knack with fire. Stopped one from breakin' out here in the Forest once, back when he was sixteen. Dry summer, that was, not a drop o' rain, an' a lightnin' strike sparked off a burn before the students'd been back a week. He an' his friends spotted the smoke from Gryffindor Tower, an' led a bunch o' the students out the windows on their brooms to help fight it…"

Reminiscences of other students Hagrid had known in his fifty years at Hogwarts filled another several minutes comfortably, until a burst of cheering from the Quidditch pitch caught everyone's ear, and Ron and Draco declared themselves recovered enough to return to the match. Hermione and Neville accompanied them, leaving Harry and Orion momentarily alone with Hagrid.

"Strange how fast life kin change," said Hagrid, shaking his head as he closed the door behind the others. "One night, or one day, s'all it takes sometimes. Like that day Professor McGonagall took you 'round Diagon Alley. Never woulda thought I'd meet you there, 'specially not on my way back from pickin' up—" He cut himself off guiltily.

"You did say Professor Dumbledore was expecting you with something that day," Harry recalled. "Is it whatever that three-headed dog is guarding? Fluffy?"

Hagrid blinked at him. "Here, now, how'd you know his name?"

"Fred and George told me," said Harry, stifling a smile. "They find out all sorts of things they're not supposed to know." Orion snorted under the table. "So is he yours, then?"

"Ain't that the truth," said Hagrid darkly. "Yeah, he's mine, I bought him off a Greek chappie down at the Hog's Head last year. But what he's guardin' is none o' yer business, you understand me? Forget he's there, it's not yer problem, it's between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel, nobody else. Yeh got that?"

"Got it." Harry nodded, restraining his whoop of excitement with some difficulty.

Orion covered his eyes with a paw.


"Nicolas Flamel," Hermione repeated under the renewed noise of the crowd in the stands (the score now stood at Slytherin seventy, Gryffindor sixty, though Alicia Spinnet was speeding towards the Slytherin goal hoops with the Quaffle under her arm). "I know I've heard that name somewhere, or seen it, but I can't remember where."

"I know someone I could ask." Draco patted his pocket. "Does an amazing job finding out unusual things about the magical world. It may take a little while, but she'll come through."

"She?" said Ron, Neville, and Harry almost in unison, as Orion's ears perked up.

"Oh, leave him alone," snapped Hermione. "Just because I'm the only girl in the school crazy enough to be friends with all of you—"

High overhead, a scarlet blur shot groundward with terrifying speed.


Dear 'Henry',

I'm so glad Gryffindor won the Quidditch match! Fred and George were worried about how the team would do now that Charlie's gone. It's good to hear their new Seeker is up to the job. I think I might want to play Quidditch when I come to Hogwarts, though I'll have to wait until I'm a second year, of course. Will you go out for the team next year, or do you prefer crosseball, like at your flying lessons?

The bit of story about the troll that you sent me was funny. I especially loved the moment where Ron was standing still with his wand held up in the air. That's exactly what he's like when something scary is over but he hasn't realized it yet. You must be very good friends with him already to know that.

I don't think I've ever heard of someone named Nicolas Flamel, but I can ask Mum and Dad if you like. Don't worry, I won't tell them why. Dad, especially, knows all sorts of strange little bits and pieces, so maybe I'll have an answer for you, or part of one, pretty soon.

Of course I'm not afraid of you because you can talk to snakes. What kind of sense would that make? Though I do think it would be fun if you put that into your story too, maybe as something Harry Potter did while he was still living with the Muggles, something that he didn't realize yet was magic. What if his relations took him to a zoo and he started talking to the animals there, the way people do—and one of them started talking back? But you don't have to use that idea if you don't want to. It's your story, after all.

Write back soon. Even November doesn't feel so gray when I get a letter from you.

Your friend,

Ginny


Dear Remus,

Did it feel weird and disconnected to you for a while after you left Hogwarts? Like you weren't quite sure where to put your feet? Suppose you had it worse than I do, though, since you finished up right in the middle of the war. All I've got is a hefty workload, a demanding mentor, and a little cousin with a positive genius for causing trouble. Which, if I didn't say it before, sorry for that stunt he pulled in your class. I swear he knows better than to light people on fire, or if he doesn't, it's not for lack of my trying.

In any case, that modifier on the Tracing Spell you taught me has been saving my life these last couple weeks. Kingsley was super surprised to see me doing it—says he'd heard of it, but thought only Unspeakables knew how to cast it. Is there a story behind that? If I shouldn't ask, just say so, but it's got me curious now.

I mentioned to Mum I'd met up with you, and she says to say hi from her. Maybe you could drop by sometime during the Christmas holidays, if you haven't got somewhere of your own to be, and if your headaches aren't too bad. Are there certain times they're worse than others? Maybe related to weather, or stress? Mum's got her own potion she brews for headaches, so I might send you a sample if you'd be all right with that.

Think I've babbled on long enough for one letter, so I'll wrap up for now. Lovely seeing you, and I hope we can do it again soon.

Take care,

Tonks

P.S. I'll be down at Hagrid's on the first Friday of the month like usual, to work on that fake school report for Harry's relations. If you really did want to get involved, that's the time.


Dear Mal,

I can certainly look into that name for you, but it may take a little while. Daddy's work is very demanding just now, and my own research on nargles is at a critical point. Please be patient, and I'll send you the information you need as soon as I'm able to get it.

Thank you again for your notes on last month's issue. It's been so kind of you these last few years to read them in advance, so we can correct any spelling errors or printing problems before we go to press with the entire run. Your help with the advice column is also much appreciated.

I hope your mother is well, and your friends and Orion. Daddy and I are doing just fine. It was lovely to hear about the Quidditch match. Do you think students at Hogwarts would appreciate hats with their House's emblems on them? Perhaps enchanted to make the proper noises? Though I suppose it would be hard to hear the snakes, and I'm not at all sure what sounds badgers make. Perhaps I should start a new project so that I can find out.

Hope to hear from you soon.


Dear Sirius,

Well, I'm finally getting close now. By Christmas, I should have it finished. The potion that will do what I've wanted for all these years. Turn me back into a Muggle, the way I always should have been. Do the same for my daughter, if she'll allow it. Or maybe I should say, our daughter.

It looks so strange, written down in black and white. Our daughter. Meghan Lily. You never even knew she existed, Sirius, and now you never will. How I've hated you, all these years, hated you and loved you at the same time, for giving her to me. Forcing me to go on living, go on learning, go on working, for her sake and for mine. I can't be a fit mother for her if I neglect myself, now can I? And she doesn't have anyone else. You made sure of that.

Of course, you're not the only thing I love and hate at the same time. I wish, sometimes, that I could know if you ever dreamed in Azkaban. If you dreamed of a life with me, with Meghan, with Harry. Free, happy, together, the way we ought to have been. The way we could have been, if you had made different choices. I almost hope you did, just so you could suffer all the more every time you woke to your miserable reality. Why should I be the only one to live with that kind of pain?

I wonder what I'll dream about, once I lose my magic.

I wonder who I'll be.

I wonder if I'll ever be able to stop loving you.


(A/N: Have to be honest, that final section was not in my outline document. I was about to wrap up the chapter, and then my fingers typed the opening of one more letter. After seeing who it was to, and knowing who it was from, I figured it belonged here after all.

Things seem to be moving along pretty well, don't they? Next chapter should get us just about to Christmas, which will be an eventful time in both worlds. Some of the events you'll like, while others you might not. Keep reading, and please respond if you can. It really does make a difference.

On that topic, a quick shout-out of thanks to Elenna123 and EmlynMara, for sending some incredibly awesome reviews these past couple days! You got me through a rough emotional time and you get the very big thank you hugs from me!)